#but on other days its not short enough but then its like

[heich0e]

"I find you exasperating."

You go out of your way to step on a particularly dry looking leaf along the path—stained a deep, golden colour and curling at the edges where it rests waiting for the weight of your foot—just to hear the way it crunches beneath the sole of your shoe. At your side, Kakashi's attention is still on the book in his hand, the pages spread open only with his thumb and pinkie finger while the other three support the cracked spine. He doesn't spare you a glance, but he does deign to respond with a curious little hum.

"That's an awfully big word."

The lazy way he says it is enough to irritate you, but his condescending words are almost too much for you to bear. You stop in your tracks, fists curled tightly at your sides, and the white haired young man doesn't so much as slow in recognition of it.

It's fall in Konoha, and while the days are still warm and bright, the breeze that whisks through the village's winding streets is cool. The annoyance you feel prickling under your skin is enough to insulate you from the chill. To numb you to its bite.

You swoop down, dragging your hand lightly along the path to retrieve a handful of small, smooth stones—no larger than the tips of your fingers. Without a moment's contemplation, you launch one at the back of Kakashi's head, and watch as it bounces off dully.

He keeps walking.

"Irksome."

Another pebble hits the ground after ricocheting off the back of his headband.

"Vexatious."

The next makes contact with his right shoulderblade.

"Antagonistic."

He catches this one—just like he could have caught any of the previous three—without even turning around to watch you throw it. His hand, the one not holding his book, shoots up to protect his ear before the pebble can make contact. He holds it pinched between his thumb and forefinger for a moment, still leisurely walking away from you, before he flicks it to the ground.

"You're being so childish today," Kakashi calls back over his shoulder. "Are you sure I'm the antagonist here?"

You hear it then, the smile in his voice, and even though it would only serve to legitimize his accusation it almost makes you stomp your foot petulantly.

"Kakashi!"

Finally, he turns to face you, and even though his mask conceals most of his expression, you can tell it's hiding a grin beneath it. He tilts his head to the side, as though waiting for you to continue.

"How many times have you read that stupid book?"

The familiar novel is closed now, and his page marked, though you're not entirely certain when he did either of those things. He glances at the paperback, as though considering it carefully.

"How many times am I allowed to admit to before you call me a pervert?" he asks.

"You are a pervert," you answer, immediate and sure, while slowly walking towards him to close the gap he put between the two of you. "And you would be even if you were illiterate."

"That's not very nice of you to say," he says, tipping his head back and sighing profoundly as though your insult caused him great pain.

"It's the truth, though."

Kakashi peeks down at you from the corner of his eye as you stand by his side. Without thinking, you reach out and grab the sleeve of his jacket, averting your gaze.

It's quiet for a moment. Just the two of you, the fall breeze, the scattered pebbles, and that atrocious romance book.

"You've been gone for a month," your voice is quiet when you finally speak again. So soft it risks being carried away with the wind.

Kakashi didn't even tell you he was leaving before he was sent off on this last mission; you had to find out from another shinobi the next morning, and all they could tell you was he was gone and they weren't sure when he'd be back.

This isn't unusual with Kakashi. It's happened more times than you care to count. Missions that force him to leave the village at short notice are unavoidable—assignments like that to be expected for any shinobi, but particularly for one of Kakashi's rank.

It doesn't make it any easier.

You've thought about bringing this up to him before. Thought about asking him to tell you when these sorts of things come up. Thought about explaining to him how awful it feels to be the last to know. Thought about telling him what those long days apart feel like in this village without him.

But you don't.

Part of it is pride, you think. You're too stubborn to be the one to show your hand like that. To be vulnerable in front of him in such a mortifying, humbling way. Somehow the mere idea of making any of those admissions seems more embarrassing than trailing along behind him tossing rocks at the back of his head.

Another part is fear. You don't want to be the one to speak this thing between the two of you into existence. To give it shape. To breathe life into it by giving it a name. You and Kakashi have always lived in intentional ambiguity. A certain uncertainty. You're not quite friends, you're not quite lovers, you're not quite anything at all.

You're just the one who's left waiting for him to come home.

And then there's the last part—the biggest part—that holds you back. The part you don't quite know how to explain. The part that tells you to bear the pain of missing him, to swallow down your longing, for his sake if not your own. The last thing Kakashi needs is the burden of knowing his duty makes you ache while he's away. That his absence keeps you awake at night. He's got enough he needs to shoulder without you adding to the weight, and this is the least you can do to try and help him carry it.

You let his sleeve slip from your grasp.

"Sorry," you mutter under your breath, shaking yourself from your momentary stupor.

"Are you acting out because I haven't given you enough attention?" Kakashi asks, only his voice is different now than it was a moment prior. Sincere in a way that upsets you more than when he's being intentionally annoying.

You finally bring yourself to look at him, but only to shoot him a narrow-eyed glare.

His own gaze is disarmingly soft when you meet it. Unexpectedly tender. Perceptive in ways you usually choose to overlook.

So much so, in fact, that you're too stunned to even flinch when he taps his book against your forehead.

"Ok, ok," he says with a shrug, spinning on his heel and continuing on down the path at an idle pace, leaving you dumbfounded in his wake. "If you wanted to borrow it, you could've just asked!"

[wandascrush]

Runaway Bride

Summary: There’s only one person you really want on your wedding day

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Weddings, love, crying, running away, lots of angst

Song: Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen

You were out of breath by the time you got there, crisp cold air hurting your chest. Your throat was as dry as sandpaper. Natasha was there, waiting for you like she always was. Your legs were tired from running, broken nude heels in your hands, beautiful and forgotten. The white flowy, soft fabric of your dress touched your body delicately, dragging and picking up the color from the wet mossy grass. Sore legs lowered down to sit on the grass next to the girl who once captured your heart…but she was silent. Just you two, alone. The air was so cold it hurt your bones. 

   You rested your head against the large oak tree that sat behind you two, making a little cove under its branches. So many thoughts were racing through your mind, “I’ve ruined everything. What will people think? I have to say sorry.” But once you saw your favorite spot waiting for you, with your favorite girl, everything melted away. You shouldn’t even be here right now, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Natasha, but she was the only person that ran through your mind. 

   “Long time no see, Natty.” 

    You’ve gotten used to her silence though, it kind of became her new character trait these days. Sometimes you pretended it didn’t hurt anymore, but it always did. A little more each time. Rain droplets started to fall around you, wetting every inch of dirt and stone. More green from the grass started to slowly seep into the beautiful white fabric of your dress. You knew her deep gaze was on you, looking at you with pity…maybe with love? 

   Your chest tightened as you blinked hard, vision blurring, “I was supposed to get married today, you know,” a sad laugh escaped your throat as you played with the fabric of your dress, “I looked beautiful. My hair was done and my makeup was perfect and-I was supposed to be happy today,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I was supposed to be standing at that altar, looking into her eyes, promising forever. But I couldn’t even say the words. Because every time I looked at her, I saw you. And I hated myself for it.”

 “I’m so tired of missing you…and funny enough, I thought getting married would make me happier. But all I see is you. When I say my vows, it’s your name they’re written for.”

I think of you all the time, now that you’re gone.

    The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through the dress. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds and angry wind. Digging your manicured fingers into the soft mud, it felt like the only grounding thing. The feeling of mud seeping under your nails was the only anchor you had.

   You checked your phone, trying to wipe the rain off of it and realized that you’d already been there for over an hour with Natasha. You needed to get back, answer all the missed calls and texts. This would be the last time you two saw each other…something inside you was certain about it. Shaky legs stood up, using the big oak tree as support and grabbing the bouquet you forgot about next to you. 

   You slowly kneeled down in front of your first love, first everything, and pressed your forehead against her cold grave stone, “If love could have saved you,” breaths came in short, sharp gasps, salty tears falling into your mouth, “you would have lived forever, my Natasha.” Soft lips kissed the engraving of her name as you gently lied the bouquet down for her, grabbed your broken heels, and said goodbye. It took all your strength to not look back as you walked out of the private cemetery.

[binniesbooks]

Ok ok soo lets start with Yeonjun SINCE i think you said unti palang sya sa acc mo SOOOOOOO.. thinking abt teaserdom!yeonjun x sub!reader

Scenario isss, reader is fucking horny, its 3am and shes still awake (she has insomnia like me) she suddenly had a wave of horniness and how did she deal with that??? She masturbates, trying so hard not to make a sound since yeonjun is sleeping so pretty beside her (he's awake and aware LMAO) anddd like its not enough for her so she slowly takes yeonjun's hand and uses it to pleasure herself 👹 ( and we all know what happend after that👀 to be more detailed, yeonjun is a tease and edges reader ahhweibaiw ) the rest is yours to write fayee💓

It may not be the best BUT i thought abt this last night and i just had to request it to someone AFGRHRBRBRBRB

ALSOOO THIS IS WHAT IM IMAGING WHAT YEONJUN LOOKS LIKE IN THIS REQUEST WJSJSJSJSJSJ just change the pants into shorts hehe

• A HELPING HAND

YJ 999 .F25 2024

wc 2.2k

pairings performerbf!Yeonjun x insomniac!reader

warnings teaserdom!Yeonjun, sub!reader, self-relieving, mentions of medication for insomnia, pornographic video clips(?), light somno if you squint, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie (+ anything I've missed)

faye's note took me so long, mock board wracked my brain. So thankful classes got suspended so I took the chance to write lol. HAHAHAHAHA

special thanks to dear @aduh0308 i love you, hun.

"Goodnight, love, 'm sorry, too sleepy," Yeonjun muttered, lips pouty and voice sleepy.

"Goodnight, Jjunie, sleep tight," you answered, slowly combing your fingers through his hair.

With a low hum, you felt his hot breath against your neck. His little snores hinted that he drifted to sleep already, too tired from practicing all day.

Your eyes were so full of him today too, as you watched him repeatedly practice his dance performance, "Guilty". Yeonjun's figure was so sexy. His toned abs were revealed multiple times as he slid his hand under his shirt to hold his chin and cover his mouth.

Yeonjun is so particular in what he does, he wants everything to be perfect. So he always tries his best to get into the emotion of whatever he is doing. That’s the reason why he looks so extra sexy in the video he filmed for his performance, his white shirt riding off his abs.

Yeonjun nuzzled his face closer to your neck, unconsciously trying to find some warmth from you in your air-conditioned room.

It'd already been 4 hours since he fell asleep, however, you, on the other hand, weren't sleepy even for a bit. These past few days, you haven't had enough sleep, as your insomnia kicks every night. So when Yeonjun tossed and turned around lying flat on his back, you think of an idea to make yourself feel sleepy since your medication hasn't been helping. These past few days, you've been resorting to touching yourself to feel tired and fall asleep. But you thought, maybe tonight you should let it pass since your boyfriend was fast asleep next to you.

As you were scrolling on Yeonjun's phone, trying to find something to watch or read, you suddenly thought of opening his gallery.

You were met with an unfamiliar album entitled "for my pretty girl". The album quickly piques your interest as you open it. Your mouth hung open when you saw it was a compilation of videos where Yeonjun was clearly touching himself.

Your plan to abstain from self-relief for tonight? Revoked.

You opened one of the videos as you listened to his voice in the background.

"Mmhh... ngh... Love... Please, more..." Yeonjun's voice was so whiny, the camera kept on shaking as his abs kept on clenching. His huffs and pants got louder as the tip of his cock leaked. His shaky breath could be heard as he stopped stroking his cock, the full view made you notice how it harshly twitched, eager for touch.

"Fuck, love, I can't wait to feel you around me, I missed you," he huffs.

You opened a few more videos of Yeonjun desperately touching himself and whispering behind the camera how he badly wanted to feel you squeeze him.

Until you found yourself with your hand slowly circling your clothed clit. "Jjun...." you whispered, biting your lip to prevent any loud noise that would come out of your mouth. You placed the phone beside your head as you listened to his voice in the video whimpering and whining.

You slipped off your pajamas, quickly tossing them on the floor as you pressed your head further against your pillow, trying to suppress your moans. Your slender fingers played with your arousal, and your other hand crept under your shirt, pinching your nipples. Your breathing was ragged and shaky as you tried to suppress it once again.

Feeling a little bit needy, you carefully slid your digits inside you, curling and pumping them inside, trying to reach the right spots. Your body shook from pleasure, your lips swollen from how hard you were biting them. The squelching sound made it so filthy as you pushed your fingers in and out. "Yeonjun..." You whispered his name once again, your voice coming out as a croak. You tried your best to stay quiet because you didn't want him to wake up from you trying to relieve yourself.

Suddenly, your slender fingers felt shorter than usual. Still unsatisfied, you grabbed his hand, intertwining his fingers with you first before settling it down on your pussy. You decided to use his pretty fingers to get off. You gasped loudly when you slid his finger inside you. You didn't pay much attention to it, losing the chance to notice that his fingers were a bit stiff as if he were controlling them. Holding his hand, you guide his fingers in and out of you, desperate to cum.

With a few more pumps, a little bit more of biting your lips, and a heart-pounding experience to suppress your moans, you were just about the edge. "A b-bit more," you muttered, bucking your hips up. "'m so close, 'm gonna cum," you huffed, eyes closed, head pressed on the pillow.

Then his hand stopped. No, you didn't get to cum yet. His hand came to a pause from moving, hell, it was even pulled away from you. You whined from the empty feeling until you heard a rustling sound from beside you.

"You're using my hand to get off? How dirty are you, pretty girl?" Yeonjun chuckled, turning to his side and using his elbow to support his body to face you, giving his fingers kitten licks.

Your eyes widened as you pulled the blanket over your body, stuttering your excuses, "N-no! I can explain love, p-please this is.. it's not w-what it looks like!"

"Hmm, fuck, you taste so sweet, love," Yeonjun moaned, still sucking on his slick-covered fingers.

"Yeonjun," you gulped.

Yeonjun laid on his back again, pushing his white shirt up, exposing his toned abs as he ran his hand under it. "Mhh..." he moaned teasingly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Stop that," you pouted, quietly sliding your hand under the sheets, trying to relieve yourself again. You slipped your finger inside you again, though your silent gasp didn't go past Yeonjun without him noticing it.

"My desperate girlfriend," he cooed as he hovered above you, pulling the sheets away, catching you red-handed. He pulled your hand and sucked on your fingers as his moans vibrated through your skin.

You were too embarrassed to look at him, so you tried covering your eyes.

"What makes you so shy now that you weren't earlier?" he whispered, lowering his head on your tummy. The hem of your shirt was caught between his teeth as he pulled it up. He looked over you with his hooded eyes as he dipped his head down once again, planting a kiss on your upper abdomen.

You couldn't help but tangle your fingers on his hair as you watched him. Yeonjun pressed his tongue flat on your burning skin, licking a long stripe from your navel and up.

His kisses moved down to your waist, giving it a few splotchy red marks. Without tearing his gaze on you, his tongue grazed your clit, making you dig your heels on the bed and arch your back, too desperate to feel him.

Yeonjun held both sides of your waist, his thumb gently massaging your flushed skin, as he continuously teasingly grazed your clit with his tongue.

Just when you thought you could relax for a bit, he suddenly licked a long stripe on your folds, making your body shiver and your grip tighten against his soft locks. You lifted your hips up, trying to meet his lips and tongue again, but he just pushed you down, making you whine.

"No no no no, pretty. Have sum' patience," he cooed, landing a slap on your thigh and making you yelp.

Dipping his head down once again, his sharp tongue prodded at your hole. His hum resonated around the four corners of the room as he felt you tug his hair a little bit harder.

"Fuck, Yeonjun, please..." you whined, trying to lift your hips again.

He hoisted your legs on his shoulder, tucking his hand under your thighs as he started to lap on your wet folds.

"S-stop... Ahh!"

Your squirming and trembling figure made him pull you closer to his mouth as he ate you out. Your heels digging onto his back as you feel yourself getting wetter, your fingers clutching the sheets underneath you. The obscene sounds he made makingthe knot in your stomach tighten.

"Close... So close..." you whimpered, trying to grind on his mouth.

But to your disappointment, Yeonjun pulled away, his nose, mouth, and chin glistening with your arousal. "W-what the hell!" you exclaimed, eyes teary.

"You wanna cum that badly, sweetie?" Yeonjun smirked.

"Please, please, please," you pleaded, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as your pussy clenches around nothing.

Yeonjun swiftly removes his thin shirt, grabbing both of your hands and tying his shirt around your wrists. "Only if you become a good girl for me," he said, tightening the makeshift rope.

"I'll be good, love, please. P-please let me cum, l-let me cum," you whined.

"Really?" he taunts. "Even if I do this?" Yeonjun slid his two fingers inside you and immediately withdrew it.

Your thighs were shaking as you yelp, "Wanna cum, wanna cum, please!" you cried loudly.

Yeonjun could only chuckle at you as he watched you rub your thighs together.

"Aren't you too horny, pretty girl? My videos made you this horny? Hm?" His fingers crept up your body, twisting your nipples in the process.

"Fuck fuck fuck! Ahh! More... Hng!" You didn’t even know the words or noises coming out of your mouth, you just desperately wanted to cum right now.

"Look at you, you're such a mess. Still unsatisfied even after using my videos and fingers to get off," he snickered.

"You should be a little patient, darling. Just like this guy in here," he added, palming himself through his black shorts.

"D'you wanna get my dick wet?" he asked, kissing your temple. You nodded frantically, unsure of what you were agreeing to, but you just need him.

Yeonjun rose to his knees between your body, pulling his shorts down a little to expose his hardened cock, kissing his lower abdomen. You bit your lip as you watched him repeatedly pump his cock.

"Mhhmp, this feels nice, fuck," he smirked, closing his eyes as he looks up. His adams apple bobbed u p and down as his mouth opened and closed simultaneously from the pleasure.

"Want to feel you, Jjun," you pouted, rubbing your thighs together again.

"You wanna feel me? Wanna be my cocksleeve, baby?" he smirked. You nodded at him again, biting your lips as you imagined him fucking your brains out like he usually did.

"Patience, pretty," he giggled, pressing the tip of his cock on your swollen lips.

Just when you were about to open your mouth and suck him, he pulled away. "Nah-uh, you're a bad girl, so eager for a mere cock. What are you, a slut?" he frowned, making you feel embarrassed. You covered your face using your tied hands.

"Covering your face? Wanna miss the fun part?"

When you peeked between your fingers, you saw him stroking his cock as his pre-cum shines on the tip of his cock.

"Whenever I'm not with you, I touch myself. I made a compilation just for you to watch how I badly wanna fuck you. Fuck-- " His brows creased, feeling the hair on the back of his head stand up.

"Not wanting anything other than to fuck you when I'm stressed," he muttered, his grip on his cock tightening as you heard him grunt.

"J-junnie, please, wanna cum with you," you whimpered, not being able to watch him any further.

"Sure!" he smirked as he aligned himself against your throbbing core.

You felt the good stretch as you gasped and a guttural moan ripped through him.

Yeonjun started moving inside, strings of curses coming out of his mouth as he felt you clench. He made sure to thrust deep to reach the parts where you and his fingers couldn't. Yeonjun practically pressing his hips on yours just to make you feel full sent you reeling.

You looped your arms around his neck to pull him closer, your fingers tangled on his locks once again as you felt him raw inside you.

"B-bit more... I'm gonna cum--"

Yeonjun still inside you, edging himself at the same as his body trembled from the sudden halt . "Fuck," he whispered.

"No no no no please, please no baby, I'm so close, I'm so close please," you cried out loud.

"H-hah, you're so desperate, pretty girl," he huffed, pressing his hips against you once again.

He then lifted his hips up for a bit. "Fuck yourself on me, show me how desperate you are, " he taunted.

No need for him to say it twice. You started moving your hips, fucking yourself on his cock, and burying him inside you as deep as possible. Until he decided to meet your hips halfway, making you feel him on your throat. The shallow thrusts make you whimper, and your body trembles.

"Gonna fill you up, need to fill you," he muttered through gritted teeth, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

"Please, please, please!"

With a few more thrusts, your body convulsed, and strings of moans coming from you caused Yeonjun to bust.

"Fucking shit!" he hissed as he let his head fall against your chest. He slowly moved for a little while, letting the two of you ride out your high, draining himself inside you.

His body felt burning hot against your skin as your hearts thumped hard together. Your pants and huffs filled the room, which made it feel steamy even when the air- conditioning is on.

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Ch. 3: I hear your voice in my head

Dom Price x Fem Reader

MDNI/NSFW/18+

CW: Dom/Sub, Bondage, Sex Work, Pain Play, Spanking, Temperature Play (shower), Spit, Voice Kink, Size Kink.

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2)

AO3

You sat back on your heels with your hands folded in your lap as he walked in.  His bootsteps seemed to vibrate across the wooden floor beneath your pillow.  A steady gait, with all of the suspense of a drum roll.

As you faced the high-backed chair, you could only make out the top of him until he made his way closer into view.  He was tall enough when you were standing up.  But on the ground at his feet, he eclipsed everything else around him.  There were no windows, no ceiling.  Just his thighs giving way to his waist, his arms and shoulders. 

Your head tipped back as far as it could just to take him all in, and even then, you came up short of meeting his eyes.

“Already off to a good start, I see.  You look lovely, sweetheart.”  He appraised you in a way that was both agonizingly slow and methodically brief, as he took off his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves

“Thank you, sir,” you answered, to the spot on his chest where his flannel shirt opened in a V.  It earned you a quick bob of his head in approval. 

He was starting you off easy.  That much was clear.  Like a teacher on the first day of school.  Throwing you softball questions to gauge how much of the summer reading you’d done over break.  How you responded determined how far he’d push you, and which side of him you’d get.

Could he see the goosebumps spreading across your skin at the mere sound of his voice?      

“Next time, I want you to look at me when you say it.”  He bent down only slightly, aiding your efforts just enough that you could obey. 

His clear eyes glinted patiently between his dark lashes.  Dark brows, dark beard.  They were like signal fires along an unknown path.  No choice but to give yourself up and follow.

“Yes, sir.”  A slight smile pulled at the corner of your lips as the first flutter of heat worked its way from your cheeks down to the echoing emptiness in the cradle of your hips.

“Good.  I like to begin with an inspection.  To assess your readiness, and to make sure your healed from the previous session.”

“I’m ready,” you quickly admitted when his bare hand grazed against the side of your cheek.  You turned into it, starved for even the slightest touch of his roughened palm.

“And I like to take my time exploring what’s mine,” he rumbled, firmly snagging a hold of your chin.  A gesture that simultaneously chastised you for speaking out of turn, and possessively staked his claim. 

You let out a surprised breath, and he took the opening as an invitation to slip his fingers inside your parted mouth.  Two at first, and you instinctively flattened your tongue and closed around their impressive girth. 

“That’s it.”  A short hum of approval followed, as your eyes slipped closed while you sucked them deeper into your throat.  “Don’t overexert yourself just yet.  There’s plenty of time to show me how much you can take.”

He let you savor him a bit before he pulled out with a wet pop of skin and spit, and you nearly fell forward at the loss.  You licked at the salty trail his skin left behind on your lips.  

“Turn around and bend over the stool.”  He pushed a plushily upholstered ottoman closer behind you.  It was the perfect height to kneel and bend against as your arms fell over the other side. 

“Open your legs wider, don’t be shy.”  He folded up the hem of your skirt and brazenly pawed at the meat of your ass in wide circles.  You felt the stretch and pull at your exposed holes, and you wondered if the pads of his fingers were abrasive enough to leave scratches behind. 

In the way his voice had already left etchings on your mind.

“Christ, you’re soaked.  Have you been touching yourself?”  It was barely even a question, the inflection missing from his even tone.

“Yes.”  He pulled his hands away at your answer, leaving a chill in its absence, intentionally.  “Sir,” you quickly corrected.

“Good girl.”  A harsh clap to your backside was your reward.  It smarted with a sharpness that caught you off guard.  He wasn’t taking it easy anymore.  “What do think about when you play with my sweet little cunt?”  His hand returned between your legs, and with it, a probing forefinger glided along the sensitive split of your folds.

You jumped at the sensation, pulling away from the intimacy of it.  How long had it been since you were touched like this?  Ghost had only ever let you use toys on yourself.  Those were the rules, for your safety and his.  Where were the rules now?

This is what you wanted...

“This, sir,” you answered with more certainty than you felt.  Another slap, and your muscles melted into the ottoman and your legs parted wider to brace for the next impact. 

But it didn’t come.  Instead, he pulled back and cleaned off his slick smeared fingers along the side of your thigh.

“This, sweetheart, is just a warm-up,” his low, sardonic voice crooned, as his hands snagged in your hair and arched you back far enough to see him towering behind you.  The back of your head hit the front of his thighs.  “I’ll try to take it slow this time, but no promises.”

Oh fuck, he was good, you shuddered at the thought.  The unknown.  The waiting.  The surprise.  He ticked the boxes of your kink like he wrote the book himself.  Like he’d been paying attention.  You almost broke scene in your gratitude, but you kept your eyes trained up at him, wondering if he could see it written all over your face.

He must’ve, because for a moment, he broke too.  A subtle crinkle at the corners of his eyes, a brief softness that you would’ve missed if you blinked.  Just before he bent down lower, and spit on your face.

He released your hair as you sputtered in shock when it hit your closed lips with a warm splat.  Your tongue darted out to taste the small piece of himself he offered to you.  Not a kiss so much as a wad of spit on the palm to seal the deal.  A promise to take care of you.

As you moved to catch the drop that rolled down your chin, he took hold of your wrists and held them above your head.  With a quickness that left your mind spinning, he knotted a loop of smooth rope around each one, binding them together like a sturdy set of cuffs.  He slung another loop over the exposed wooden beam along the ceiling.

Handy, you thought as he tied it off with a slipknot that left you hanging up on your tip toes.  Once again, the ottoman slid underneath you, but this time you kneeled on it.  He eyed you up and down, making sure you were secure before letting go of the steadying arm at your waist.

You weren’t weightless.  You knew this about yourself.  No one picked you up and carried you around because you were so tiny and pocket-sized.  You were just a woman, and hadn’t met someone big enough to throw you around like you were made of air.

You had substance.  You were made of things.  Matter and atoms, and particles, or whatever.  Flesh and bones.

So, when you hung there suspended, it felt like a dream, and all you could do was focus on the parts of you that felt contact.  Your wrists.  Your knees.  The ropes that cut into your skin, the plushness that kept you from hitting the floor.  You established your center of gravity and braced for the worst with an anticipatory thrumming low in your belly.  Deep within the cradle of your hips.

Nothing would pitch you over.  You could take anything. 

True to his word of being honest about what he was going to do, he flashed the paddle in front of you.  As wide as his hand, it was made of wood and wrapped in leather.  It made Ghost’s crop look like a feather duster.

You let out a clarifying breath through your teeth, licking at your spit-soaked lips to find that tether.  To his promise that burned sweet like spearmint and menthol tobacco.

“Anything you want say before we start?”  His rough-edged voice posed both challenge and threat.

It was the first stop on the train, you reminded yourself.  And he was making sure you knew you could get off anytime.

“No, sir—”

The words barely left your lips before he delt the first blow.  The slap of leather to skin echoed through the house, bounced off the windows and the walls. 

You didn’t scream, not yet, but the sting welled in your eyes to match the blooming fire on your ass.  When the second one swiftly followed, and even harder than the first, you nearly swallowed your tongue to stifle a gasp, wondering if he wanted to hear you. 

But you weren’t an actress.  This wasn’t for show.  If he wanted to hear you scream, to see you cry, he had to earn it.  Right there alongside you.

The third and fourth came slower and with slightly less force, but the fifth nearly rattled your teeth. 

“Oh, fuck!”  You finally exclaimed, no longer able to blink back the tears.  

“You liked that one, did you?”  He had the nerve to laugh behind you.  Was he emboldened by your feedback?  Was he enjoying this as much as you?

It wasn’t long before you lost track of how many whacks you’d taken.  He didn’t bother counting them aloud like some clock ticking away the time.  There wasn’t a limit.  The only one who could stop it was you.

“Had enough, yet?”  He checked in, winded from his own exertion. 

“No, sir.”  The words came slower, as if you had to pluck them out of a messily discarded pile in some dark corner, the more your strength drained away.  You were so close.  Right there on the brink.  You could see it like a trail disappearing over the horizon.

A steadying hand found your shoulder, squeezed warm and firm, as he moved closer behind you.  Enough to whisper in your ear.

“I’m not going to stop until you break.”

With the last command, and a final searing crack, you felt the fresh gush of squirt as you finally let go.  The scream you’d been waiting for.  That maybe he had been, too.

The sweet release that stole your breath and your mind, and dragged you all the way under.  And he hadn’t even touched you.  There was no vibrator strapped to your thigh.  Just a gentle hand on your shoulder.  The polarity to the abuse on your ass.  Nerves flayed and blown wide, you still needed the one thing that would pull you back together.

“Touch me, please,” you whimpered, with a voice hoarse from crying.  “I need to come.”  Deep in the subspace, you sagged limply against your bonds. 

“I can’t deny you anything, sweetheart.  Not when you ask so nicely.”

He pulled the quick release on the rope and caught you against his chest.  Sitting back on his chair, he held you facing forward onto his lap.  You were boneless, propped up only where he held you tightly in his grip.  Careful not to hold your neck, he instead wrapped his forearm under your breasts, cupping one in his palm through the thin silk fabric of your slip and pinning your bound wrists to your chest.

His other hand started at your mound of curls and trailed lower, parting the folds to slowly reach the tender bud at its apex.  He brushed it once, twice, before reaching lower.  Swirling circles around your opening, tracing along the trembling rim before gliding back up again. 

You squirmed weakly against his hips, desperate to touch him back.  To guide his hand where you wanted him to go, but you were helpless to do anything but weather his patience.  To be led at the pace he set.

His beard grazed the top of your shoulder and along the side of your neck.  In your addled brain, you imagined that he kissed you there, that his lips and tongue and teeth met skin.  That the ragged breaths of his need matched your own.

As his thumb worked the pearl of your clit in faster, deliberate circles, those thick fingers you suckled earlier slid deep into your walls.  The achingly tight stretch, combined with the precious friction brought you to a roaring climax of moaned oaths and sounds you’d never heard before.

“You did so good.”  You felt his hot breath against your shoulder as you shattered around him, along with a quick, supportive peck of his soft lips.  Too soft and too brief to register over the riot in your blood.  “I’m feeling generous.  Let’s try something else.”

A pouty whine of doubt was all you could offer, still in the incomparable thrall of an orgasm in subspace.  You couldn’t say no.  So deep under his sway, you’d give him anything.  Let him do anything.  There was no room for resistance in that vast, cloudy place. 

But you didn’t know what else was left.  What laid ahead was too far beyond your reach.

No thoughts, only sensations.  You couldn’t even focus enough to see beyond the fog.  All that held you up was the sound of his voice.  The strength of his arms as he lifted and turned your dead weight, hooking your wrists around his neck.  His hand never leaving your throbbing cunt.

“None of that.  You’ll like it, I promise.  But you’ll have to trust me.”  He curled his fingers forward, hooking deeper in a way that had you muffling your wild shrieks into his chest.  “You do, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, until he pulled his fingers away.  You clenched down harder and sank against them, but he slipped them free despite the protest.

“Words, remember?  Need to know you’re still with me.”  He swatted your cheek with the same sticky, wet palm.  Not enough to hurt, but it pulled you back out just enough to speak.

“Yes,” you answered, biting your lip to see if it was still there.  That you weren’t just a cloud of disembodied mist.  “I trust you,” as another slap opened your eyes to meet his. 

He really expected you to keep up the formalities after what just happened?  The world was a different place.  Surely the continents had shifted, and the oceans had dried up.

But there he was, you noted as he came into focus.  You hadn’t just imagined him.  Those signal fires lit up to guide you once more through the dark.  There was a freckle on his nose.  A dimple just above his beard.  He seemed to pause as well, and you realized how firmly he was pinched with restraint.  How tightly he held his own need for release. 

If it was a word he wanted, you’d give it to him.

“Sir,” you finally finished, with a small smile pulling at your tingling cheek.

“There’s a girl,” he said with a low chuckle, as he carried you to a different room.

One that smelled like sandalwood and citrus, with walls of such a bright white that you buried your face further into his shoulder to shield your eyes from it.  The fuzzy, light flannel was a soothing contrast to the sting at your backside.  It still pulsed and burned with each course of blood through the muscle and fat.

“You made quite a mess of yourself, I’m afraid.  Need to clean you up.”  The sound of creaking metal and the spray of water were harsh to your ears.

A strangled sound escaped your lips, half a cry, half a whimper.  This was going to hurt.  Your overexerted pussy perked up at the prospect of it.  It was a devious little thing, swollen and puffy with eagerness that your body could survive another round of punishment.

No, it wasn’t punishment, you corrected yourself.  It was what you needed.

He set you down slowly onto the closed toilet seat, untied your hands and pulled the silk shift up over your head like a doll being undressed and put to bed.  The sleek porcelain was so cool against your bare skin that you shivered at the loss of its paltry heat. 

“I’m right here.”

Keeping his eyes on you and his hands not far away, lest you fall over, he arranged a chair made of PVC pipe into the open shower area and stripped from his own clothes with a quickness that spoke to his own enthusiasm.  It was either that, or a natural efficiency with which he did all things. 

Pants, shirt, boots.  Until all that was left was the dark hair that covered him in varying degrees of masculine thickness from head to toe, and his briefs.  An erection tented the fabric to such a painful degree that you reached out for it, only to be distracted away.

“This one’s all about you.  Don’t tempt me to change my mind,” he slanted you a look that guaranteed you’d regret it as he mouthed at the back of your hand absently.

Two kisses?  You could get greedy for them if you weren’t careful.

But before you could muster any disappointment, he had you by the arms again and positioned you over the makeshift chair.  You sat astride it, with your ass facing just out of the stream of water and an opening below for easy access between your legs.  Your tits draped over the top.

He kneeled in front you, all the better to watch you to submit to him, when your rational brain was clamoring to find your safe word.  Abraded skin meeting hot water was a next level consequence that you weren’t prepared to face with him.

You usually did that part alone with a bottle of wine, your comfort candle, and your favorite movie waiting for you on the softness of your sofa.

But the endorphins that kept you down in the subspace also kept you pliant, giddy with desire.  Fearless.  Reckless, you would’ve argued, if you’d been in some other state of mind. 

Not when you still felt the aftershocks of bliss, and the rawness of your paddling.  Instead, you did your best not to flinch as he directed the steaming water along your skin.  Where you expected a searing torture, there was instead a satisfying burn.  Just shy of scalding.  Just shy of too much.  It heated you up like a cauterizing iron to a wound.  A healing type of hurt. 

Unlike a misplaced hand shying away from a hot stove, you leaned into it.  Arched against it like a bear to tree bark.  That itch you’d never been able to reach.  Dark and subterranean, it skittered around underneath, unable to be caught by the light.

And just when you thought you’d had enough—when the nerves began to die out under the overwhelming blaze—he turned it up hotter still.  A new wave of pleasure and pain, as the backs of his knuckles caressed the needy patch of your sex. 

Violence on one side, and serenity on the other.  Like two sides of a coin flipping end over end into an infinite universe.  It built a force within you that finally collapsed on itself, consuming you whole.  Slower, and somehow more shocking in its intensity than the first.

“Is this how stars are made?”  The last dizzying thought before you slipped beyond reach.

You awoke as if from a dream some time later, with your head in his lap and wrapped in a velvety soft gray robe.  Big enough to fit you like a blanket, it must’ve been his.  The clarity hit you fast, and you sat up with a start.  The waiting surge of adrenaline that always followed a scene found you well-rested. 

“I am so sorry.”

“Easy now.  Here, drink this.”  He adjusted himself to move with you, not letting you go as you tried to bolt, and tipped a bottle full of water towards your lips.

It even had a straw.  How thoughtful. 

“Thank you,” you added, not able to meet his assessing gaze.  Had you even said that yet?  Where were your manners?

“You’re welcome,” he answered breezily.  As if not really knowing what to say himself.

Probably because you squirted all over his expensive looking ottoman and said weird things about turning into a constellation when you came your brains out.

“I don’t want to keep you any longer.  I didn’t mean to take up your whole day.”  You looked at the clock and couldn’t believe it was already evening.

How long had he sat there just holding you?  Your empty stomach reminded you of the food you’d meant to stop for on the way home.

“Are you hungry?  I can order dinner if you want to stay a bit longer.”  He sounded more confident after you’d drained the water and handed it back to him.

You never wanted to leave the cocoon he’d wrapped you in, but it was best to take it slow as you stood to find your discarded clothes tucked behind the sofa. 

“I actually made plans, but next time, yeah?”  You assured him, when he looked at you so vulnerably that you reached for him.  It was only a brief touch to his forearm, but he seemed surprised by it.  “Will you send me your availability?”

A shitty way to say, “You just changed my life,” but you hoped there would be a next time.  That there was still more you could do for each other. You still had to hold up your end of the bargain.

“My calendar’s wide open, sweetheart.”

[kurooscopy]

a/n (ada's notes) - just a short one (~800) to get back into things. selfship coded yearning, timeskip!kuroo, reader is referred to as "lady"

- ᓚᘏᗢ

kuroo tetsurou is not a snuggler in the mornings.

even though he has the volume turned down low, you always find yourself stirring when his alarm goes off in the early hours of the morning. the curtains are shut, but you know it's still dark out, just as it is every time he extricates himself from your grip and slides out of bed.

for the first few minutes, you pretend to be asleep - maybe you'll be convincing enough to trick your body, too. you listen to the rustles of papers and clothes as he shuffles around the room quietly. but then there's a heavy bump, followed by a curse, and your act is broken with a muffled, bleary giggle.

kuroo feels his way over to you through the dark, patting along the mattress until his hand finds the lump under the covers that is your leg. then, his lips find their way to your forehead - or rather, your eye. another giggle.

"sorry," he murmurs, still half asleep himself. "tried to be quiet."

"come back." you stretch your arms out for him, seeking his warmth. not even the best sleeping impression in the world could make up for the loss of his body next to yours.

he huffs the tiniest laugh. "don't say that, or i'll never leave."

and he has to, you know he has to. it's barely been a couple months of him at the jva, but he loves this job. you can see it in his eyes as you talk over dinner, or when the both of you work together in the home office, keeping each other company. you know he loves this job.

as he takes your hand and kisses over your knuckles, each and every one getting its own small affection, you know he loves you too.

so instead of telling him to come back, you whisper a quiet "have a good day," and softly pinch his cheek. he pretends to nip playfully at your fingers.

"it'll be better once i get home."

you don't feel him for a bit after that, drifting in and out of sleep as he, presumably, raids the kitchen and tames his hair and does all the other things he needs to get ready for the day.

by the next time he appears at your side, it's sunrise. his hand brushes over your cheek, cold from the water of the sink rather than the residual warmth of the sheets.

he presses a kiss into your hair. "see you tonight, baby." roused, you roll over to face him.

he laughs softly at the way you crinkle your nose when his tie tickles your face. he rubs his thumb over the crease in your brow until it disappears. you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and he wraps his arms around you.

kuroo's always been an early bird, but maybe somewhere deep down, he yearns for the art of the morning snuggle.

"love you," you mumble into his neck. slowly, he leans in further until his full weight lies comfortably on top of you. your favourite blanket.

"i love you, too."

it could be sixty seconds or sixty minutes that you lay there together, savouring the last moments of comfort before facing the day. all you know is it's never long enough. not with him. he trails little kisses along your jaw and behind your ear, not caring that your hands clutching him tighter will wrinkle his shirt or mess up his hair.

then, it ends, as all good things do. he pulls back for one last kiss - a real one this time - and you hold him by the collar so he can't run away from you too quickly.

you're too busy contemplating that he tastes like toothpaste to notice his fingers creeping up your sides.

tickling, he's found, is the only thing that gets you to push him away instead of pulling him closer. and if he must leave you, grumpy and sleepy and reluctant as you are, he'd rather hear a squeal of laughter before he goes.

"begone," you manage to wheeze once he lets up on his assault, holding a defensive arm out in front of you. "you're the worst." you can just make out his grin in the dim light creeping through the window.

"you're not a very good liar, baby."

"hmph. bring melonpan from that place near the station on your way home."

"whatever the lady wants." he shoots you a wink before slipping out the door, and then he's gone.

but his smooth cologne that rubbed off on your cheek lingers for the rest of the morning, a lasting kiss to tide you over until you're finally back in his arms.

[starlostastronaut]

SUNSETS AND BUCKET LISTS

han jisung × reader - fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au - 1.8k

summary - spending your last day with your best friend before school should be sad, but this time it took an unexpected turn

cw - use of yn?

links - masterlist

so! i'm almost late but, still made it in time. i guess you could call this ji's bday fic (tho there will be more sunshine twins content coming soon), but most importantly, happy birthday katsy!! ( @catiuskaa ) this one is for you <3333

and shout out to my mars who saved me several times writing this. not proofread and idk what is that ending, but i hope you like it! <3

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Jisung whispered into your ear, his hot breath spilling over your skin, making you shiver and instantly startling you awake. Or mostly awake. Still half asleep, your brain only registered that someone is in very close proximity to you and we do not like that, before your hand tightened on your plushie and you whacked Jisung in the face.

“Ow, what’s that for?” he whined, dramatically holding his palm to the right side of his face. His mischievous grin was replaced by a scowl and he looked at you like you just stole his dog, not simply hit him with a stuffed cat. With your consciousness finally catching up to speed, you realized that it was not an alien coming to abduct you, but it was Han Jisung, your best friend since you were three years old. And he carried the title proudly, always mentioning your sixteen years long friendship to anyone who (did not) care.

“Sorry, Ji, oh my god!” You swiftly rose up on the bed, it was a miracle your head didn't collide with Jisung's as well. “I thought you were, I don't know, a pervert or something.”

“YN,” Jisung sighed. “It's literally just us two and our parents. There's a security system in the house. How would a pervert even get in?”

He was right. Growing up in the same town, just three houses away, your families have known each other very well. It was a tradition that started when you and Jisung were old enough to travel and actually understand a vacation. Your families always rented out the same beach house to spend the last two weeks of summer holiday together.

By now, you knew the place front to back, being able to move around while blinded and you would be just fine. So Jisung was right, but you couldn’t possibly let him have the win so easily.

“I don't know,” you shrugged. “They always find a way?” Jisung gave you an unimpressed look. “Okay, okay. But it's still your fault. You shouldn't have woken me up like a creep.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Jisung rolled his eyes and grabbed your hands, quite literally dragging out of bed and out of the warm comfort of the covers. You hissed and a shiver ran over your skin as your, due to the summer heat barely clothed, body made contact with the cold floor. “Come on, get up, we have so much stuff to do!”

Jisung let go of your hands, bouncing around happily. You shook your head, amazed at the amount of energy he had so early in the morning. Had he eaten just sugar for breakfast?

You slowly stood up, rummaging through the closet for some clothes. “Turn around at least, perv,” you laughed, smacking him over his chest with a shirt. Jisung laughed, but left the room, giving you privacy to change. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you put on the first shorts and shirt you found. It's not like you were going to meet many people so who cares, right? On your way out you grabbed a hoodie too. The summer was in fact nearing its end and the mornings were often chilly. And knowing Jisung, you will have breakfast outside.

As per your prediction, the small outside table was full of food, with Jisung impatiently waiting for you, bouncing his leg and playing with a fork.

After a quick breakfast, Jisung shared his plan for the day. You listen in disbelief, wondering how he wanted to fit all of that into one day. Despite your doubts, you were going to do everything for it to happen though.

This was your last day together. In pursuit of your respective dreams, you and Jisung not only attended different universities, but in different cities too and the distance made it even harder. In order to visit each other, you would have to spend several hours traveling, and that was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You tried, but then a test came up, or a friend's birthday party or Jisung was sick… After three months you gave up trying, resigning to seeing your best friend on Christmas and summer only.

It was hard enough to leave him last year, but you called each other a lot. In the beginning that was. Once you got your bearings and university properly started, you were often so exhausted you fell asleep on the video call. Or didn't call at all, because Jisung forgot to charge his phone in the whirlwind of classes and deadlines.

You never knew it was possible to miss someone so much. Being without Jisung felt like someone was slowly tearing off your limbs. And when you saw him at Christmas, it felt like the puzzle finally found its missing piece. A week later, in your dorm room with friends and soju, some revelations were had, but by the time summer came around, your mind was in a completely different place.

And this time, knowing what kind of year you were up against, letting go of Jisung for another several months suddenly felt impossible. Knowing this shared vacation was coming, both you and Jisung made a list of activities to do and places nearby to visit. But with how excited you both were, you put off checking boxes in favour of lazing around, watching anime, going to the pool and talking for hours.

So there you were, left with a list impossible to complete by the end of today. Yet nothing would deter you from trying.

“I think I'm actually gonna die.” You fell onto your towel, lying motionlessly on the beach. Not even having enough energy to watch the sunset, which you would have taken countless pics of any other day.

By some miracle, you managed to complete Jisung's entire checklist for the day, which left you completely exhausted. You were seriously thinking of asking Jisung to carry you back, because unlike you, he seemed as if powered by the air he breathed - he hadn't run out of energy the whole day.

“Noo, you can't die yet. We still have to check off the paddleboard at the sea,” Jisung said. And there it was, he actually brought the paddleboard down to the beach. You saw it lying next to your things when you sat back up.

“Ji, seriously?” you laughed. “You can't swim? And it's dark.” The idea seemed a little funny and a whole lot crazy. It was one thing to be at the pool, where there was a bottom and a limited amount of water. To go to the wild, open sea, in the dark, and tired after the whole day? k

“Actually… I can. Kinda. Lix taught me,” Jisung admitted. You knew who he was talking about, Jisung wouldn't shut up about his roommate and new best friend Felix, he actually mentioned him in about every conversation he could. It was kind of cute actually. You were worried Jisung would struggle, being an introvert with social anxiety, but Felix waltzed into his life and saved him for you.

“Okay…” Felix teaching him solved one problem at least. But you still didn't feel like it was a good idea. “Ji, do we have to? What if something happens? We're tired, we're alone here…”

Jisung’s shoulders slumped. “Right, yeah you're right. I just had this plan and I wanted to… nevermind.”

That wasn't fair. Now you felt bad. God, why was Jisung so cute? “Maybe we could… I don't know. Put it just by the shore and sit on it?” you suggested, wanting to make Jisung happy. You would do anything to make him happy, even go out on the sea when you thought about it.

Alone together on the beach, the sun setting over the water, the atmosphere was romantic. And thought your brain, because all your feelings that you pushed aside to focus on quality time with Jisung, now came rushing back all at once.

Jisung's face lit up. “Yeah, we can do that. I guess it counts as completing.” You helped Jisung push the paddleboard just behind the first waves, sitting on it with your feet in the water, still in the safe distance to the shore.

You looked over the horizon, the sun reflecting on the water begging to be photographed. “Selca?” you asked. Jisung nodded and leaned closer, posing for the low quality picture. With barely any natural light left, the photo was bound to be blurry and dark, but you always liked that kind of aesthetic anyway.

Feeling daring in the moment, you pressed your lips to Jisung's cheek. Barely, just a few seconds, but enough to capture on your phone.

“YN…” Jisung whispered. If it wasn't so dark, you would see the pink dusting his face.

“Sorry, I just… I just had to,” you said. What did you have to lose anyway? You were leaving tomorrow morning and wouldn't see Jisung for another few months. “I had to know what it feels like,” you whispered.

Jisung lowered his gaze, choosing to look at the waves rather than looking at you. Somehow, the silence was scarier than a rejection of your implied confession.

“Say something Ji, please,” you begged, not knowing how to bear the crushing weight of the silence anymore. You feared what message it carried.

“You crossed the last box for me.”

Before you could ask what it meant, Jisung took out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to you. His checklist of activities for the vacation. When you unfolded the small ball of paper, your eyes skimmed over the completed activities, all the way to the last one.

Kiss YN in some super romantic moment.

“I planned to tell you,” Jisung spoke up. “How I feel. I guess you beat me to it.” He lifted his head to look at you. “I did understand it correctly, right? It wasn't a platonic friend kiss, because Felix sometimes gives me those and if it was then forget everything I said because-”

You surged forward, interrupting his rambling with your lips on his. It was a wonder you didn't fall off the paddleboard, with how much force was used. You felt him freeze and smile, as he slowly kissed you back, overcoming the initial shock and surprise.

And you kissed, until there was no sun in the sky and your parents had to go look at why you took so long. That night, you laid in Jisung's bed, making promises and wishes for the upcoming year, already making plans, determined to not give up this time.

Somehow, coming back to campus and the insanity your university could be sometimes, wasn't as hard as it was last year. This time around, you had something new to look forward to in the darkest moments of endless texts and assignments. You had a boyfriend and a promise to keep. No giving up this time. And you both dutifuly kept it.

Jisungie <3

still alive after that test?

YN <3

barely

i'm dead inside and lonely

my roommate's out this weekend on a family thing

leaving me all alone in this dorm

Jisungie <3

good thing i have no classes this friday

see you then ynnie <3

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[chestersturniolo]

𝙰 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

inspired by one of my soft!matt headcannons

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

It was your one-year anniversary, and Matt had been acting mysteriously all day. There was something about the way he smiled, the way his eyes sparkled with a secret he couldn’t wait to reveal. You had tried to guess what he was up to, but every time you asked, he just gave you that familiar grin and said, “You’ll see”

As the evening fell, he took your hand, leading you outside. The sun was starting to set, the remnants of daylight casting gold across everything. “Where are we going?” you asked “You’ll see” he repeated with a soft chuckle.

Matt now stood behind you, his hands gently cupping your eyes. You giggled, feeling a wave of excitement. He was close enough that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. He walked you abit further along, your eyes still covered. After a short walk, you reached a quiet spot, Matt halting your steps. “Ready?” he whispered in your ear

You nodded in response, and slowly, he uncovered your eyes. As you blink a few times to adjust your vision, your breath catches in your throat.

You let out a small gasp, “Mattttt-” you coo, your voice soft with disbelief, “it’s exactly like—”

“Our first date?” he finished, cutting you off gently, his voice filled with accomplishment. His face lit up, beaming as he hung his head,resting his chin on your shoulder, his hands slipping to your hips, holding you close from behind.

You blinked, still in awe as you took in the scene before you. A large blanket was laid out on the grass, its plaid pattern familiar. On top of it, the same exact foods you shared on that first date. There was the bunch of grapes you had made into a game of throwing into each others mouths, causing you to laugh until your bellies hurt. There was the same small fruit salad you had picked at while talking for hours, and even the same bottle of lemonade he had awkwardly spilled that day.

Every detail was perfect, right down to the basket beside it, overflowing with both of your favourite snacks. Next to it, was an enormous bouquet of flowers.

It wasn’t just a picnic—it was a memory brought to life, with even more care and thought than the first time.

Your chest tightened with emotion as you realized just how much he had remembered, how much thought had gone into recreating this moment. You could feel his heartbeat against your back as he held you, his face still resting on your shoulder, watching your reaction with quiet pride.

“You remembered everything” you whispered, almost to yourself. He let out a soft laugh, his cheek brushing against yours. “Of course I did-“ he murmured. “How could I forget?”

As your eyes flickered back over the scene, taking in every detail, It was as if time had looped back on itself, and for a moment, you were the same girl from the very first date, filled with nervous excitement, while he was the boy who made your heart race.

But today, a year later, everything felt even more profound. More real. Because now you knew each other so deeply, shared so many memories, and created a bond that was stronger than ever.

“Happy anniversary” he whispered, his voice full of love.

You turned in his arms, looking up into his eyes. “Happy anniversary” you echoed, smiling up at the man who, a year ago, had stolen your heart—and continued to make you fall for him, over and over again. A year of falling.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i

[thefearedashantis]

Touch Grass

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Reader makes Remus stand barefoot in grass to help his chronic pain

Warning: its pretty short

"Is this really necessary?"

You step into the grass with a frown “didn’t you say you were having a flare-up?”

“Killer”

“Then yes, it’s necessary.”

You and Remus have only been living in this house for a few months. It fell on the more expensive side of what you could afford, but you'd both agreed to cut back on a few luxuries until you developed a suitable spending cushion.

You'd chosen it because it was the only spot you'd viewed that really had your sole requirement. A yard. Even if only a measly few feet of it.

You thrived off being outside. A few minutes of sunlight and fresh air a day were enough to breeze you through a rough week. Sometimes, you would even retreat out here for hours at a time to just stare at the sky and listen to music. Falling asleep on more than one occasion.

All you had to do now was convince your indoorsy boyfriend just how beneficial the investment could be for him as well.

It's a beautiful day.

A perfectly clear blue sky. The neighbourhood in a lull as afternoon sweeps in. Signs of life drift over your high fence, allowing you to imagine what you couldn't physically see. Muffled chatter from a television, someone watching old reruns. The smell of freshly baked pastries, an oven timer chiming. The squeals and giggles of a child echoed by the rowdy grumble of a dog. That in particular was a sound you heard quite often these days. The people that lived directly beside you had a young son who relished in terrorizing their new Golden.

A gentle touch presses into your hip, startling you.

You turn to face Remus and almost break out into tears at the sight of him, already feeling guilty for forcing him off the couch.

He looks so frail for such an otherwise tall, imposing boy. Dark hair sticks to his damp forehead, sweater haphazardly thrown over his drooping shoulders. His skin is washed, cracked lips melded together in a grimace, and eyes glassy where they stare at you. Heavy lidded. He sways on bare feet. Fingers bunch into the fabric of your shirt and pull taught. You stumble a step at his grip.

Reaching out, your arms circle his waist “Here, lean on me." He's slumping forward before you've even finished offering. His face settles into the space between your neck and shoulder. He inhales deeply, suppressing a groan only for your benefit. With a sharp intake of air, he rubs his nose into your skin, allowing the next bellow of pain to slip free. The grisly sound of his teeth grinding makes your heart clench.

You're such a horrible person.

"Only for a few minutes Rem," you promise, sliding your hand into his hair to massage his scalp. He's putting much more weight on you than he usually allows. You have to lock your knees to steady you both.

“I'm burning” Remus complains.

You squint up at the sun. There's no cloud cover to protect you from its battering rays. "Sunlight is good for you." He'd been shut away in the house all week, with the curtains closed.

"Not if I end up with skin cancer."

You remind him of the sunscreen you'd so lovingly slathered on him prior to your journey outside. The citrusy aroma of it lingers on him. "The spf was pretty high."

This doesn't seem to appease him. Warm breath billows across the front of your face as Remus shifts to your other shoulder, hiding himself from direct contact. He does feel pretty warm. Overheating wouldn't do his exhausted body any good.

Tapping him twice, you try to dislodge your intertwined limbs. "I'll get you a hat." Some water as well. He could rest on the porch steps until you get back. You wait a beat for Remus to let go, and when he doesn't, tap him again.

"I'm fine like this," he mumbles, kissing the hollow of your throat lightly

You ask if he's sure but receive no response.

The two of you stand in the centre of your yard in comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Occasionally, Remus will groan and rearrange himself, to which you can provide little comfort other than a firm rub on the back. You don't want to disturb him, so you keep busy by wiggling your toes in the grass. It rained last night, the soil still damp. The cool ground feels good.

After a while, Remus eases some of his weight. Leaning up, he bumps your foreheads together. Cheek to Cheek, he rests his lips against your ear, sending a pleasant jolt down your spine. He whispers, "So what's the science behind this?"

"Well, it's called grounding." As soon as you say it, you feel stupid.

Remus has dealt with chronic pain for as long as you've known him. Has tried every remedy there was. Who were you to think you'd found all the answers from one of your silly little deep dives.

Your palms start to get clammy. How could you explain to him that you were forcing him into discomfort to satisfy your own curiosities.

"Go on, don't get shy now." Remus can feel the sudden tension in your posture. Pressing in closer, he virtually fuses your bodies together.

"Imagine your body is like a phone," you start. "You have to recharge it regularly for it to work properly. Grounding is like plugging your phone, yourself, in. When you do it, you connect your body to the electrical energy of the Earth. Simple things like walking barefoot on grass or leaning against a tree or deep breaths of fresh air can rejuvenate you." And just to sound like you have some sort of good reasoning you tack on "Its supposed to be anti-inflammatory." At least that's what every nature healing blog you'd read claimed.

Remus remains quiet as if he's waiting for you to say more. Your nerves fizzle with embarrassment.

"Is it working?" You wonder aloud, more to yourself than anything.

Remus tips the two of you side to side with a long hum. Nimble fingers play at the edge of your top, gliding upwards to push at the pluff of your tummy. "I'm not sure, but you’re soft."

You struggle to contain a giggle when they slide even higher. Up and up until they brush along the underside of your chest.

Yanking his hands down, you nip at his chin. "A few more minutes, and then we’ll go inside." Maybe you'd even reward him for not laughing outright at your idea.

My back hurts - XoXo Jermaine

divider: @plutism

[lagataprrr]

is it possible to get a short blurb of Satoru and plus size girl friend and how they go costume shopping, and he sees reader staring at a ghost face mask

hehehe

OH! I LOVE THIS

I hope this satisfied your ask <3 currently still working on chapter five of the series and its taken me longer bc kind of stuck on a scene lol

Ghost face Mask

"What about this one?" You ask, and Satoru looks up from the rack of costumes he was looking through to look at you. He raises a brow at the costume in your hand of what seemed to be a sexy witch, it was a long dark purple sleeveless dress, that had a slit that probably stopped high enough on your thighs. It brought purple gloves and a black witches hat and a garner belt for the exposed thigh???

Satoru's mind began playing a scene of you coming out of his room dressed in it, how sexy you'd look prancing around in it while wearing your hot platform boots. He could see himself dragging a hand up the slit of the dress, caressing your calves and up your thick thighs. In fact it would be so easy to slip his hand between your thighs and touch your pu-

"Baby?" Satoru is snapped out of his daydream at your voice. Clearly knowing the look on his face as you let out a laugh, putting the costume back on the rack and walking elsewhere.

"Wait," Satoru pouted, grabbing it and stuffing it into the basket he was carrying for you. "I like this one too."

"Toru, I only need one costume. You've said yes to four of them, we're gonna have to choose one."

"We can get all of them."

"Halloween is only one night."

"It can be halloween every night if you just wear these for me." He says, arm wrapping around your waist, as he presses a smooch on your cheek. You giggle and softly push him off from his antics.

"Let's find you a costume." You say as you pulled his hand, finding the men's costume area. Eyes scanning through the many options, as you found a couple of possible ones. "What about this one?"

"You want me to be your sexy doctor, hmm?"

You grin, stepping over to him as you leaned into him dramatically. "Oh yes, doctor. Somethings terribly wrong with me."

His hand comes to your waist again, dramatically dipping you back and lifting one of your legs up making you squeal. "Of course, my sexy patient, I as your doctor will do a thorough full body check up," He says, momentarily letting go of the basket on his other hand to grip the thigh of the leg he'd raise. "Starting with the most vital place." Unabashedly patting your inner thigh, so fucking close to your cunt.

"Satoru!" You gasp, laughing loudly, probably catching the attention of a few onlookers but paying them no mind. He leans down and kisses you a couple of times before letting you stand normal again, still attached to your lips. You're giggling into the kisses, never a dull day with your boyfriend. He picks up the basket again and takes the costume from your hands and puts it in it. "So that one?"

"We can keep looking, you already have a sexy nurse one picked out so I can match it. Now let's find one about a wizard or warlock or something so I can match that sexy witch costume." You shake your head and glance around the racks, though your eyes caught a white mask that was hanged up near a corner of a display. Walking over and pulling it off the mass of masks from the wall and suddenly it was you who were having lewd thoughts about this costume.

A ghost face mask. And suddenly you're remembering all the hot tiktoks you'd seen on your for you page, about girls having a fun time with their boyfriends while wearing the mask. And fuck, you could definitely see Satoru in this.

He'd be standing on the doorway to your bedroom, mask on, his full on toned chest on display, delicious rippling abs and toned V on his hips leading down to a pair of black pants and boots covering his lower half. And then it was an image of you being fucked by him, ghostface mask still on, you're on your stomach, his full weight on you as he had both your hands behind your back. Cock dragging in and out of your pulsating cunt. The skin of your ass and thighs rippling at his hard thrusts, the contionous sound of skin slapping against skin.

All the while you're staring at the mask, Satoru caught on to the look on your face. Blown out pupils, completely out of it in your little head and he has the biggest smirk on his face. He takes quiet steps towards you and stands directly behind you, a hand slowly gripping your hip to pull you back into him. This makes you look back at him, now out of your little daydream.

"We're definitely getting that."

You clear your throat, a nervous laugh stumbling out of your lips. "What? Why?"

"I've seen your TikTok for you page while you've showered." And your jaw drops, he smirks at you, hands grabbing the mask out of your hands as he walks away to look at other costumes. "Come on baby, the faster we find other costumes the faster we can get home so I can put on the mask."

Credits to @super-marvel-dc for the gojo divider!!! the Ghostface pic I found online and added a purplish filter on it for the purposes of this blurb

I've added this to the Blame it on the Club's Playlist| Series Masterlist, under Blurbs :))))))

Tag List:

@bankaixx

@shiftinghoe

@uniquecutie-puffs

@thewomans-stuff

@plathsotherib

@lanaismotherrrrrrr

@fangirllookingforlife

@tluvr777

@sunehry

[exy-conspiracies]

I've seen the other theories about the Foxes being into demon worship or human sacrifice or something and they're all WRONG. This goes way further back. This goes right back to the founding of exy. Back when Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama invented the sport, there was no indication that it would be anything but a random game kids played on the street. But fast-forward about a decade and suddenly exy is an up-and-coming sport with a huge cult following and then suddenly its popularity jumps and it becomes like a real sport. Which, if you think about it, is really suspicious. Normally it takes AGES for things to be deemed a real sport - just ask skateboarders. It's almost as if there was some mysterious entity backing exy - you know, like, smoothing the way, ensuring there was funding, influencing the right people. Which leads me to my hypothesis: exy itself is a product of demon worship and human sacrifice on the part of Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama.

Now, I don't know exactly if Day and Moriyama actually killed anyone to make exy happen (i'd be shot by exy fans for even suggesting it as a possibility)....BUT, it is interesting that Kayleigh Day died when exy was at the cusp of becoming nationally recognized. It's almost like her death was what propelled exy over that edge. Maybe it was some sort of dark magic gone wrong. Or, more likely, her death was the bargain made with the demons to ensure that exy would thrive. Maybe she was a willing sacrifice, or maybe the demons only demanded the life of one of its founders and Day just drew the short straw. Maybe the demons wanted Day because she was pretty and a woman, and Moriyama wanted their dream to succeed enough to accept the sacrifice of his best friend. Like I said: I don't actually know the details.

My point is, dark magic DID NOT start with the Foxes. It started with the founding of exy and the Foxes are merely a cog in the greater working of darkness. (I have a few theories about how the Foxes came to be involved but this is getting to long and it's a different topic.)

(- @afurtivecake)

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[baekuras]

Making myself in the Sims and doing dress up to see if I can throw together a work appropriate outfit that isn’t seen as boring, lazy or too overdone(because that’s not me) and @ my coworkers: I think I just have a boring basic face y’all

[formosusiniquis]

When Mike Wheeler, red faced and still faintly tear stained, asks him how he knew he liked both Steve doesn’t know how to tell him it was his sister.

Before Nancy Wheeler it had only been boys. Before Nancy Wheeler Steve had been sure he was gay and knew well enough to keep it to himself; dating around enough to earn himself a protective reputation. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Marcus Summers, from the baseball team, during freshman year. Steve had gone to every game, and had been forced to make up excuses about schoolwork and his other commitments when asked why he hadn’t tried out for himself. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Tommy Hagan. The summer between seventh and eighth grade had been very kind to Tommy, he was sunkissed and boy next door sweet, Steve had wanted to hold his hand and count the freckles across the bridge of his nose. 

Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been his first love, a boy who only visited one summer, the year Steve turned ten. His name had changed every time they hung out but he’d favored E’s. Eli, Emmett, Elliott, Eric, Excalibur, Excelsior, and once for about an hour Wayne. His hair brushed his chin in pretty brown curls and his big brown eyes were always bright with excitement. He always got storm off mad when any of the other boys they’d played with that summer said he was acting like a girl, E would run off to the woods and Steve would always follow. E always came up with the best games anyway, he didn’t like playing soccer or HORSE or anything else with rules that couldn’t be bent; he preferred imagination games where they were knights or wizards. He didn’t laugh when Steve said he always liked playing house, but never wanted to be the dad because why would he want to be someone who never wanted to spend any time with his kids. E who, while insisting on being called Samwise all day, was his first kiss.

Cause he knows what Mike wants to hear. He’s seen the way Mike and Will have danced around each other since the last portal closed. He’s heard the things Mike has said to and about Will. He’s heard all about the week that Will was in the Upside Down. He’s heard all about the summer of ‘85. He’s heard all about the final off again that seems to officially mark the end of Mike and El romantically. He knows that Mike wants him to say that he’d never even thought about boys before he met Eddie. That there’s just something special about Eddie that makes him want to give up his lady killing ways. That Eddie was different. That it was okay that he was having these scary new thoughts, maybe Will was just an exception.

And Steve doesn’t know how to have that conversation. When he realized he liked both it was a relief, that maybe he could have something normal and wouldn't have to spend his life lying or hiding. 

But Eddie was different. Eddie was special. Eddie was probably it for Steve which is scary in a different way that he’s not ready to touch yet -- not when it’s only been three months.

There’s never been another girl since Nancy Wheeler, not really

There will never be another boy after Eddie Munson.

So he tries to help, as best he can. It’s easier with Eddie there, not quite dozing against his shoulder -- the kid’s emergencies always seem to come so late at night these days. “When I was ten, there was a boy whose name kept changing who decided prince charming should get to kiss his faithful knight. And when I was sixteen, your sister-”

Mike’s goodwill diminishes quickly as his sister gets introduced to the conversation.

“Stevie,” Eddie says. It’s not an admonishment for bringing up Nancy. It’s awestruck and watery. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember the first boy I ever loved," that word catches up with him a second later. Remember. 

Cause there's Eddie with his riot of brown curls and his Bambi eyes. Eddie, who has explained why soft feminine words chafe against his skin leaving him itchy and anxious. Eddie, who has an Uncle in Hawkins. Eddie who moved to town the summer before he entered high school with a buzzed head and his mother's last name. Eddie who finally settled into an E he liked best.

"Wheeler, here's a tip from me to you," Eddie says, his advice is always better received than Steve's anyway, "if you have to ask you probably already know."

"Straight people don't really spend much time wondering if they aren't really straight," Steve agrees.

They don't rush Mike out the door, a crisis is a crisis and even in the wake of new discoveries Mike deserves to be heard out. Deserves a chance to cry and rage and feel those emotions someplace safe from his Reaganite father -- just as much as Will deserves to have someone who knows what they want come to him, deserves better than experimentation.

They cross the bridge from late into early by the time Mike sets off. The sun is creeping up over the horizon and Mike looks solid, certain; the dawn hints at the man he is growing up to be. Though every instinct of Steve's begs him to drive the kid home, Eddie's soft hand lingering at his hip holds him fast. They wave instead, encouraging Mike to go home and to bed before he does anything; knowing his front bike tire is already pointed toward the Byers-Hopper place.

"The first boy you ever loved, huh, Stevie?" Eddie teases before the door has even managed to click shut.

"And the last, I'm hoping, if I play my cards right."

"You were always pretty good at that. You were the only person that summer who called me by my name, except Wayne."

"It was your name." He knows that's too simple. Knows how hard Eddie has had it, continues to have it. But that summer it had been that simple, Eddie trying on names like shirts each one fitting until they didn't. "For what it's worth, I like Eddie a lot more than Excalibur."

"Oh fuck off, I was going through a fantasy knight phase. Which I know you remember."

"Right a phase, and how much longer is this fantasy 'phase' going to last?"

They're the kind of tired that makes you feel drunk, when Eddie tackles Steve and sends them both to the floor and to giggles. Eddie might not have been his bi awakening, but Steve is pretty fine with him being his everything else.

[nashvillethotchicken]

Thinking about Lestat seeing Louis’s eating patterns as a waste of his gift/himself while Armand gives Louis food that he literally can not enjoy or digest just so he has something on his stomach

[puppyeared]

ive made myself more wet and pathetic

[b4kuch1n]

crumbs in your bed

transcript

[coughloop]

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