#but the second one is all I could think about during the stream

[fortunefavorsthebrave-dude]

saw furiosa it was. a movie.

[katsu28]

rain, rain, (don't) go away

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you put your trust in a handsome stranger in the midst of a bit of bizarre wet weather. what could go wrong? (4.6k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: not quite the summer lando series i've been working on but the idea for this came to me in a dream a while ago lmao

It doesn’t often rain in Monaco. Especially not during the summer. 

So when you feel a drop splash against your forehead, then another, you’re wildly unprepared. You squint up at the rapidly darkening sky like it's personally wronged you, and you’re met with another raindrop, this time in your eye. 

Part of you wonders if you could try and make it home before it starts to pour. The other part knows it would be an impossible feat given your lack of a car and how far you’d have to run in such a short amount of time. Even as you ponder the thought, the occasional drops turn into a heavy drizzle. 

You barely make it under the nearest awning before it really starts to come down. All around you are people scrambling to get out of the rain and somewhere dry, caught off guard by the unexpected downpour like you are. 

“Crazy rain, huh?” You startle at the sound of a voice from next to you, gaze snapping to your left to see a man huddled under the same awning, most likely having come up with the same idea you did. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologizes, holding his hands up in surrender. “I take it you weren’t expecting rain when you left the house today either?” 

You scoff, chuckling. “Was anybody?” 

You tear your eyes away from the sky to look at him once more, and to say you’re pleasantly surprised is an understatement. 

Your awning buddy is awfully attractive, and looks to be around your age too. A form-fitting black sweater stretches across broad shoulders, paired with baggy blue jeans that might not have worked for everyone, but definitely suits him well. He’s smiling at you too, a lopsided grin that has you intrigued by him. “The one time I didn't check my weather app before I headed out.” 

“You actually check the weather app?” He chuckles, tilting his head. 

“You don’t?” 

“Can’t say that I do. Usually I just trust the vibes when I look out the window. Didn’t really work out today, though.” He holds his palm out from under the makeshift shelter, letting the rain pool in his hand before dumping it on the ground, flicking his fingers to rid them of the excess drops with a scrunched nose. “Is this your first time in Monaco?” 

You shook your head, smiling softly. “I live here. You?” He bobs his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s never rained like this though, especially this time of year.” 

“If it’s any consolation, I reckon it’ll stop soon. It’s usually pretty quick—” 

A bolt of lightning flashes through the sky right at that moment, followed by a clap of thunder not five seconds later. If it continues on like this, you might be stuck here forever. 

“Huh! Maybe not.” The man sounds amused, aiming a sympathetic smile at you. You can’t help but chuckle, and you notice it makes him perk up a bit, looking pleased with himself. “Hope you don’t have anywhere to be.” 

“Honestly? I don’t. But I’d rather not be standing under this awning til the storm lets up. Could be ages, by the looks of it.” 

A stream rushes its way down the street, carrying a sad swirl of leaves down the storm drain at the corner along with it. It seems everyone else has come to their senses and found somewhere warm and dry to wait out the sudden storm because when you look around, the two of you are the only ones still outside. 

As if the man can sense what you’re thinking, he speaks. He’s smiling hopefully at you, head tilted invitingly. “There’s a cafe down the block that was open before it started to rain. Care to join me?” 

Normally, you’d be wary about a handsome stranger inviting you to an unknown location. This seems like one of those situations you’ve been warned about, but right now you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s about time you put yourself out there, take a chance for once. You’re pretty sure he won’t try to kidnap you. 

“I’d love to.” You reply. You peer out at the dreary grey sky again, lips twisting into a grimace. “Is it just me or does it seem to be raining harder?” 

“I say we make a break for it. Run like hell on three.” He says firmly. You nod and he does the same, holding out his hand. You slip your fingers through his without a second thought. “One, two, three—go, go, go!” 

You both take off in a wild sprint down the sidewalk, splashing through puddles on your way. He giggles the whole time, peals of laughter bouncing off the cobbled street that sound gleeful. You’re laughing too, because who would’ve ever thought you’d be running through the rain hand in hand with a guy you’ve only just met?

He tugs you along, leading the way to your destination confidently. Well, as confident as one can while being half-blinded by a torrential downpour. 

You nearly slip as you make a poor attempt at a sudden stop when he finally slows, and you probably would’ve ended up flat on your ass if he hadn’t grabbed you by your forearms, steadying you with an infectious grin that you can’t help but return. 

The bell above the door rings when the two of you stumble inside, soaked to the bone even in the very short time it took to get down the road. But you know what they say, when it rains, it pours. 

He shakes the rainwater from his hair not unlike a dog would shake out its fur, and in the process splatters you with the droplets. Normally you wouldn’t be too happy about it, but you’re already drenched and he’s very cute, so you don’t mind. 

The place is pretty much empty when you look around, save for a handful of other patrons doing their own things. It’s cute though—cozy and warm, the smell of coffee beans and something sweet floating through the air. You never noticed it before, but it’s exactly the kind of cafe that you love. 

The man seems to notice that you’re still holding hands, because his cheeks turn pink and he drops it, smiling rather bashfully. 

“Sorry. I’m Lando, by the way.” He introduces himself softly, rubbing the back of his neck. You tell him your name and he repeats it, testing it out on his tongue. You’re not ashamed to admit you like the way it sounds when he’s the one saying it. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” 

“I’m gonna go order something so they don’t think we’re loitering. Preferably something hot, because I’ve got water in places water definitely shouldn’t be.” He shudders, pulling his soggy sweater away from his torso as proof. “Do you want anything?” 

You ponder for a moment before responding. “A latte sounds amazing right now. I’ll pay you back, of course.” 

Lando shakes his head, backpedaling towards the counter. “My treat. You just sit there and look pretty.” You roll your eyes playfully at him, but smile nonetheless. “Oh look, you’re doing great already!” 

That makes your cheeks grow hot. You’ve just met Lando and he’s flirting with you, and you don't mind at all. In fact, you have half a mind to flirt back. 

He finds you at a table soon after, balancing two cups and a concerningly large paper bag. You pop to your feet, carefully grabbing the bag to ease the load, and peer into it. There’s at least five different pastries inside, all of them looking absolutely mouthwatering. 

“I hope you’re hungry. Got convinced to buy a few things by the lovely old lady at the counter.” Lando says sheepishly, sliding into the seat opposite you. “Very persuasive, she is.” 

You shrug. “I could eat.” 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, chatting with each other like you're the only two in the world. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to him too. He’s funny and quick-witted and he talks very animatedly with his hands, you notice. You find it cute. 

Lando tells you about himself, asks about you and your life story, and you find yourself settling in nicely with his friendly nature. This isn’t a date by any means, but he makes it feel like one by the way he truly pays attention to you and what you're saying, nodding along closely with rapt attention. As far as listeners go, he's a fantastic one. 

You’ve also learned a lot about him. He was born and raised in the UK, but moved here a few years ago for work. What exactly did for work, he wasn’t too forthcoming with, but you don’t pay it any mind. You’ve just met, after all. You’re not expecting him to tell you his whole life story. 

But it also doesn’t feel like you’ve just met. You aren’t sure why, but Lando has this way of making you feel like you’ve known each other for ages, of making you feel comfortable and at ease with every word out of his mouth. 

Your clothes and hair have just started to dry out a bit, and you’re having a great time. Such a nice time, you don’t even notice the girl approaching your table. Lando sees her before you do, and he smiles politely. 

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you guys, but are you Lando Norris?” She asks hopefully. She looks young, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Her eyes flick to you, and you can tell she’s nervous, so you smile back. You’re confused to say the least, but you remember what you were like at her age. She reminds you a bit of yourself. 

Lando nods. “I am, yeah. What’s your name?” 

“Valeria. But everyone here just calls me Val. I’m the owner’s granddaughter, so I work here all the time.” 

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Val.” 

She looks positively starstruck now, hands trembling as she holds up her phone. “Would you mind if I got a photo with you? You can totally say no if I’m interrupting something, I—” 

“You’re alright, love, don’t worry.” Lando stands, moving into selfie position next to her. The poor girl’s arm shakes so much you’re positive the photo won’t turn out clear at all, so you slide out of your seat too. 

“Here, let me.” You take the phone gently, motioning the two of them to scoot closer to get them in frame with each other. 

Val looks a combination of relieved and grateful, while Lando gives off nothing but a cool, albeit reserved, confidence. The same kind of confidence a celebrity might have when approached by a fan of theirs. But certainly Lando couldn’t be famous…right? 

You shake away the idea, snapping a handful of photos before passing it back to her, figuring there can never be too many to choose from. She beams bright, hugging him quickly, then to your surprise, gives you a hug as well. 

“Thank you so much! I’ll get out of your hair now. Enjoy your food!” With that, she hurries away with a bounce in her step, disappearing into the kitchen. 

You turn to Lando with arched brows. “That was interesting.” 

“So interesting.” He echoes, but his tone makes it sound like he doesn’t quite agree. 

“What are you, famous or something?” You mean it as a light jest, but Lando looks guilty for some reason. He beckons for you to take your seat again, sliding back into his own before offering you a sheepish smile. 

“Um, there might be something I haven’t told you yet.” 

“Shit, are you actually famous?” 

“...Yeah, kinda.” You arch a curious brow, and he sighs, but not in exasperation. “I’m a Formula One racing driver. For McLaren.”

Formula One…racing…it all sounds slightly familiar, but you can’t quite place it. Then it dawns on you. 

Lando isn’t just a local celebrity—he’s literally world famous. 

You’ve heard your friends talk about the races before, a few of your relatives who keep up with the sport, but you’d never paid it any mind. It just wasn’t something you could see yourself being interested in. That really famous race that takes place here in the streets every year that makes traffic an absolute fucking nightmare the whole week, Lando drives in that race, and countless others around the world, if you recall your limited knowledge correctly. 

He’s…cool. And he’s sitting right here with you in a tiny cafe, and you had no idea who he was. 

“Oh my god, you must think I live under a rock or something! This is so embarrassing, I—” 

“No, no! I’m not—I don’t go around expecting everyone to know who I am, I swear. It’s just that most people usually do recognize me, and it saves me the whole ‘having to tell them I’m famous’ thing, which always just makes things really awkward, and…yeah.” 

“Things don’t have to be awkward.” 

“No?” 

“No. We don’t even have to talk about it.” 

“We don’t?” He sounds a tad wary, but when you nod, the tension in his posture melts away. Relief floods his features at once. “Thank you. It’s actually quite nice to meet someone who has no idea what I do. Makes me feel normal for once.” 

“Glad my lack of sports knowledge makes you feel like a regular guy,” You joke, nudging his foot with yours under the table. He gives you a light kick in return, infectious smile back in full bloom once again. You quite like it when he smiles. 

You’ve just moved on to a new topic that has nothing to do with Lando’s job when his phone buzzes, making him jolt in surprise. He digs it out of his pocket, and when he sees the name flash across the screen, his eyes go wide. 

“Sorry, hang on. I’ve gotta get this.” He says, hitting the answer button. It’s a quick phone call, and you try your best not to eavesdrop, but whoever is on the other line has Lando worked up when he hangs up. 

“Everything okay?” You ask lightly. Lando bobs his head quickly. 

“Yeah, it’s—I, uh, I’ve gotta go. I forgot about a work event, apparently. That was my press officer, wondering where the hell I am and how fast I can get there.” He sounds disappointed, smiling almost sadly. “So much for feeling normal.” 

You try your best not to let your face fall when you nod. “I should get going too. Get home before the next freak summer rainstorm.” 

It’s nice when you step outside. You tilt your face up towards the sky, feeling the sun warm your face. This is the Monaco you know and love. Though if it hadn’t rained, you would’ve never met Lando. 

He turns to face you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for the nice afternoon. I had a good time.” 

“Me too.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” 

“Maybe you will.” 

“I certainly hope so.” He says softly. You shift slightly on the balls of your feet, suddenly feeling awkward. You’re not sure how to leave things with him, and it looks like he feels the same by the way he mirrors your actions. “Um, I really should leave, so…goodbye, I guess?” The look on his face tells you that leaving is the last thing he wants to do, but he has to. 

“Bye, Lando.” 

“Bye.” He echoes, one more time before turning away from you to head down the street. 

You can only bring yourself to wait a few seconds before you call his name again. He turns around instantly despite his hurry, meeting your gaze. You want to say something to him that’ll make him remember you, because chances are you’ll never cross paths again. If you were brave enough, maybe you'd even ask him for his number. But you’re not, so you don’t. Instead, you just smile at him. 

“Thanks for the latte.” 

If he’s disappointed, he hides it well. He smiles back at you, warm and bright like the sun beginning to peek out from behind the clouds. “Of course.” 

You watch him walk away, fighting that pesky little feeling in your gut telling you that you’re making a mistake by letting him go. It’ll go away soon, and you’ll go on with your life like you’re meant to. 

-------

You find yourself going back to the same cafe often, whenever you're out and want a little treat before you go home. The pastries are always still as delicious as the first time you had them, and you’ve become well acquainted with the staff as the time goes on. 

Oh, and that feeling you had when you let Lando leave without a word? 

It never went away. It’s still here, worming its way into your thoughts every chance it can get. 

You’re a little embarrassed to admit that every time you walk into the cafe, you hope you’ll see Lando. It’s wishful thinking more than anything, hoping he’ll be there when you go. He’s probably busy doing his thing anywhere but here, busy racing around in the world to the tune of thousands of screaming fans. You’re not sure if he even remembers you, or the afternoon you’d spent together. 

Why would he? In the world of Lando Norris, world famous Formula One driver, you’re probably just a speck of dirt in his rearview mirror. 

The thought gets pushed to the back of your mind as you step up to the counter to order. Val beams at you from behind the register. 

“Hey, Val,” You greet the young girl warmly, returning her smile. You’ve become quite fond of her and her youthful energy, and she always brightens your day. “How’s business going?” 

“Oh you know, same old.” Val waves an absentminded hand in the air as she keys in your usual order with the other. Her smile turns mischievous at the same time, like she knows something you don’t, and you narrow your eyes at her, already knowing what she's going to ask. “Have you heard from Lando?” 

“No, I haven’t. How’s summer school going?” 

She makes a funky face at you, rolling her eyes. “Boring. Way to change the subject though.” Before she can press any more about Lando, someone calls her name from the kitchen. “Ugh, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfy, wait for your order, you know the drill!” 

You chuckle to yourself, heading straight for your usual table by the window to wait for your name to be called. 

You like to sit while you enjoy your food and drink, watching the people and cars go by outside. The streets of Monaco are always busy and bustling, but being in here feels like a pocket of peace. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

Your brow crinkles at the sudden voice, because you know for a fact there are at least four or five other empty tables available other than the one you’re currently sitting at, but this person chose to to ask you. 

Pocket of peace…disrupted. 

You let out a short sigh through your nose, turning your head from the window to politely tell them to find another seat, preferably at a table that isn’t yours, and that’s when you see him. 

Lando is grinning at you when you look over, lopsided and endearing just like the first time you met him. 

“Oh fuck!” You can’t help the expletive that falls from your mouth at the sight of him, even though there’s a thousand other things you’d told yourself you’d say to Lando if you ever saw him again. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, and he’s rocking on the balls of his feet slightly like he’s nervous as he waits for you to do something other than curse at him. “Lando! I—you—hi.” 

“Hi,” He echoes, shoulders creeping up towards his ears. All you can do is stare at him, wide eyed in disbelief. “Mind if I sit?” 

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes, you can sit.” You fumble over your words like you’re not used to speaking, feeling your cheeks flame embarrassingly hot. Lando just chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you. “Um, so how’ve you been?” 

He rubs at the back of his neck, bobbing his head. “Good! Bit busy. We had a triple header the last three weeks, so it’s just nice to be home again.” 

“Oh, I bet. I don’t think I’d be very good company if I couldn’t sleep in my own bed for three straight weeks.” 

“That’s fair. Though to be honest, I’ve gotten scarily good at falling asleep anywhere. If it’s a flat surface, I can nap.” 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.” 

“Impressed would be mint. Otherwise I just sound like a dumbass.” 

You laugh at that, and in this moment, you realize just how much you’ve missed Lando. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself to forget about him, to convince yourself that there was no point in pining after someone you’d only spent a few hours with, it all came back to this. You missed him because you like him. 

“I need to tell you something.” He blurts suddenly, bracing his elbows on the table. 

You nod, expression turning thoughtful. Whatever thoughts you’re having about liking Lando can wait. “Sure, go ahead.” 

“This is gonna sound unbelievably weird and maybe even a little bit creepy, but I need to get it off my chest or else I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Lando looked nervous. The bouncing of his leg you can feel under the table and the way he plays with his fingers supports your theory. 

You cock your head at him, reaching across the surface to steady his fidgeting with a hand over both of his. His gaze snaps down to your touching hands, and you can see him visibly gulp. 

“What’s going on? Are you okay, is something wrong?” 

He shakes his head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. Everything is…the opposite, really. Everything is right. Meeting you, finding my way back to you—here of all places. I don’t believe in fate or anything like that, but this sure feels like something along those lines.” 

“Lando, I—”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that afternoon. I tried everything. Nothing worked. I couldn’t get you out of my head.” He confesses. His fingers curl around yours gently, thumb stroking over the ridges of your knuckles. “If I’m being completely with myself, I think it’s because I didn’t want to get you out of my head. And I just got off the plane an hour ago, but instead of going home and passing out like I usually do, I came here, hoping that somehow, you’d be here too.” 

“Can I say something now?” You ask lightly, stifling a giggle. 

His cheeks flush an embarrassed pink, and he motions for you to go ahead. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. I talk too much when I get nervous. I’m working on it, I—fuck, sorry again. You go. I’ll shut up.” 

“I still think it’s cute.”

“Is that the only thing about me you still think is cute, or…?” 

That gets another laugh out of you. You chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze. “Not at all. I still think all of you is cute, and…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either. We haven’t known each other long, but I really like you, Lando.”  

“I could kiss you right now.” 

“What’s stopping you?”

You don’t have time to second guess your newfound confidence before he’s leaning across the table, sliding a large hand over your jaw and pressing his lips against yours. Lando kisses you softly—gentle, like he’s worried you’ll pull away if he’s too forward with it. 

You’re fully aware that you’re smiling like a madman against his lips, but in your defense, he is too. His eyes open slowly when you pull away, almost tentatively as if he’s not quite sure what just happened actually happened. 

He leans back just enough to study you, letting his gaze flit around your face, taking in every detail he possibly can. All while he grins larger than Cheshire cat, like he’s a kid whose parents just told them they could get whatever they wanted at the candy shop, instead of kissing you for the first time. 

“I was gonna be nice and bring you your order, but it looks like you’ve already got something sweet.” Val’s voice cuts through the moment, and when you look over at her, she looks over the moon. 

“Lando, you remember Val, right?” 

“Uh huh,” Lando hums, holding out his hand for a fist bump that she happily gives him. “Thanks again for the heads up.” 

“Hold on, what? What heads up?” 

The two of them share a look, like they’re debating whether or not to tell you their secret. Then Lando sighs, giving her a go ahead nod, and she squeals, setting your food down. 

“Okay, so you know how you come in here all the time after work? Well me, being the keenly observant, brilliant young mind I am, noticed a pattern. You come on the same days, at the same time, and you never stray.” She explains excitedly, all but bouncing on the balls of her feet. You aim a questioning glance over at Lando, who just gives another amused nod.

Val continues excitedly, “So I’m expecting you today, right? But then the door opens and guess who walks in? Lando! He asks me if you’ve ever come back here after that one day and I’m like oh my god, you have no idea! So I tell him to wait a half hour for you, and now you’re both here and my matchmaking skills can be put to rest.”

“Are you being serious right now? Really, I can’t tell.” 

She tilts her head, popping a hand on her hip. For the same girl who’d been so nervous to meet Lando just weeks ago, she’s got a surprising amount of sass in his presence today. “Why would I not be serious? I’m basically a genius, and I expect to be invited to the wedding. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“Alright, that’s enough, cheers, Val!” Lando blurts, shooting her a pointed look. 

“Can I get paddock passes for making this whole thing happen? Preferably Monaco but I could probably make it to Monza too. Imola is a little far.” 

Lando blinks at her for a few moments, probably seeing if she actually means it. When all she does is raise her eyebrows, he concedes. “Maybe. I’ll make some calls, see what I can do.” 

“Fantastic. Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone!” 

You both watch as she all but skips happily off, then turn back to each other. 

“She’s…definitely something,” You sigh, shaking your head. Secretly, you owe her everything. 

“Eh, I dunno. Kid’s growing on me.” He reaches across the table, lacing his fingers through yours with a fond twinkle in those pretty eyes of his. 

“How serious are you about those paddock passes?” 

“I mean…she did help me out massively. I’d have missed you if it weren’t for her.” Lando shrugs, rubbing an absentminded thumb over yours. “I hope you know I would’ve come back until I found you again. Everyday, if I had to.” 

“Me too.” 

If you’d told your past self that a bizarre summer rainstorm in sunny Monaco would’ve led you to where you are right now, you wouldn’t have believed it. But now, as you sit here with Lando, smiling at each other like complete and total idiots, you’ve never been more grateful for a bit of unexpected rain.

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[reidrum]

i cannot stop thinking about reader giving jesus hair spencer a blowjob, and him using the hair tie he keeps on his wrist to put her hair up

hair tie | s.r

a/n: hey so this made me insane. also i wrote this really fast if it seems rushed that’s why. may we all be manhandled by jesus reid in the near future amen

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, blowjob, softdom!spence lowkey, reader has hair long enough to be tied up, can be read as gn!reader but lmk if i missed something!

wc: 888

——————————————————————————

spencer’s long hair was definitely a choice. he grew it out to his shoulders purely because he couldn’t make it to a barber, and simply because he didn’t really care. it did become a hassle when he’d be hunched over his desk finishing reports and strands of hair would fall forward and obstruct his eyesight.

he found that he would waste so much time when he paused to push his hair behind his ears (two minutes and thirty seconds slower, he counted). he’d come home to you and complain wondering how all women dealt with the long hair if it just always flew in front of them. how did you get anything done?

then one day when spencer came home from work, you had a small surprise for him. a pack of 100 black hairties.

“so you can just put your hair up in a little pony or man bun and keep working!” you’d exclaimed.

he was so endeared by the gesture, he rarely ever tied his hair up but he never left the house without a hair tie on his wrist. he liked having the option if he needed it, plus it always reminded him of you when he saw it.

the few times he’s used it are during intense heat waves in dc, when he’s dealing with toxic chemicals and such, and when he’s with you.

when he goes down on you, his hair would never stay in place. and it irked him to have to remove his fingers from you in order to fix it. you found it so hot though. he was deathly hot, but he really didn’t understand what it did to you when he was on his knees tying his hair up for you.

until it happened to him, of course.

he had come home from work, tired from the day at the office. you led him to the couch and told him to sit and relax while you took care of him. he spreads his legs open and leans back onto the couch, his arms fanning outwards to rest on the ledge, “you’re too good to me, baby.”

you were down on him, moving your head and back and forth on his length. you traced the underside vein with your tongue, getting as much as you could down your throat. the sight of you dribbling spit all over his cock sent him into another orbit. it was messy, lewd, and outright fucking hot.

but that hair of yours kept falling down your cheeks and blocked the beautiful view of him fucking your mouth. he rakes his hands through your hair, but as much as he could hold it on his own, your ministrations were too good for him to keep a good grip on it.

in a haste move, he removes his hands and you look up at him in confusion at the loss of contact. you watch intently as he rolls the hair tie off his sleeve, the one that you got him, and watch him tie your hair up in a haphazard ponytail.

jesus fucking christ.

you whimper at the gesture, overwhelmed by the feeling of him tying your hair up. he feels you falter for a second, before you raise both hands to the remaining of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth and hollow your cheeks out.

“fuck, angel, that’s so good—oh my god,” he mewls, “you like it when i tie your hair up? like when i—shit— use my own hair tie on you?”

you moan around his cock, sending vibrations throughout his body which he responded with a long groan, “bet you didn’t think this is what i’d use the hair ties for huh?”

he stares down at your face, tears streaming down both sides as you keep him in your mouth, as he twirls the ponytail in his big hand and tugs.

“baby, oh my god, fuck i’m gonna come.” he lets out, and soon he releases himself into your mouth as you swallow every last drop. you pull your mouth off his cock, leaning your cheek on his inner thigh as you stare up at him trying to catch your breath.

“holy shit.” you breathe out.

he laughs, “holy shit is right,” he strokes your hair gently, “was it actually hot when i tied your hair up?”

you look at him incredulously, “are you joking? the fact that i bought it for you to use, that you keep it on your wrist all the time, and that you used it on me when i was sucking you off, i could outcompete the sun right now.”

he pulls you off your knees to sit on his lap on the couch, “i’ll make note of that, my love,” he softly kisses you. cuddling further into his chest, you both end up falling asleep on the couch tangled all up in each other.

later down the line, spencer realizes that those cheap black hair ties aren’t all that great. they break easily and he finds it pulled out his hair, and probably your hair, a lot.

to solve this, spencer buys a pack of baby pink scrunchies that he keeps on his wrist at all times. he read somewhere they’re easier on the scalp. morgan makes fun of him for it, and while spencer rarely uses the scrunchies for himself, looking at the pink on his wrist always made his cock twitch a little no matter where he was.

[hoshifighting]

Hey I want to ask if you could do seventeen talking during sex like not during an orgams but just like you know sex please and thank you 💖

how seventeen talks to you during sex

seungcheol is not much of a taaalker during sex, but when he does speak... is all about control, he wants you to be following every single orders he asks. “stay still,” his grip on your thighs firm. “i want to feel every. inch. of. you.” or... “move your hips, just like that,” “good girl, keep going.” likes the way you are completely under his control, craving his approval.

jeonghan’s method of torment is different; he loves seeing you struggle. “do you like that? can you tell me how it feels?” his questions come between thrusts, making it hard for you to form coherent answers. your stuttered responses amuse him

joshua is gentle, almost reverent in the way he touches you. he’s not one for dirty talk, but his coos and murmurs are just as effective. “you’re so beautiful,” but when he’s mad, the filthy words spill from his lips. “you think you can just tease me like that? take this, you little slut” his words are rare but works everytime.

junhui doesn’t mean to dirty talk; it just slips out. “god, you’re so tight” he moans, his hands gripping your hips. “feels so fucking good.” his words are natural and unfiltered, an honest expression of how good you make him feel.

hoshi can’t keep his mouth shut, narrating every sensation, every reaction. “god, you’re squeezing me so tight. love how you feel around me.” his words are a constant stream, making you blush and squirm.

wonwoo’s quiet exterior hides a filthy mouth. “you like being fucked like this, don’t you? such a dumb little slut for me.” his harsh words contrasting with the tenderness in his eyes, making you feel cherished even as he reduces you to a whimpering mess.

jihoon is typically quiet, but his words are clear. “keep your legs spread,” he instructs “don’t move or I’ll stop.” but when he’s feeling more romantic, his tone softens. “i love you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves within you.

minghao has become surprisingly vocal, his initial reluctance giving way to a newfound enthusiasm. “so tight around me. fuck, keep clenching like that.” his words make you clench tigther around him, a reaction he’s learned to love, encouraging him to keep talking.

mingyu can’t stop moaning and whimpering, his rambling almost constant. “oh god, oh god, you feel so good. can’t stop, can’t think.” his voice is breathless, his words barely coherent, but the reason behind them makes you feel powerful, knowing you’re the one making him lose control.

seokmin balances sweetness with nasty. “u’re the love of my life,” he says, before his tone shifts. “now take m’cock like the dirty little slut you are.” his dual nature keeps you on your toes

seungkwan’s sassiness comes through in his teasing. “do you like that? answer me.” his questions are a challenge, and when you can’t answer, he laughs softly. “come on, tell me how much you love it.” he knows you can’t form coherent words, and he loves every second of it. “i’ll take that moan as a yes.”

vernon likes to hear you talk, his questions designed to hear you yapping ab how good it feels. “does that feel good?” “tell me, baby. let me hear you. i dare you.” his low, steady voice encourages you to speak, even as the pleasure makes it difficult. he relishes every stuttered word because he needs to hear your struggling to answer him, each broken word turning him on more.

chan’s thoughts spill out uncontrollably. “fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. “god, i love fucking you. you feel so fucking good” his words are bare and sincere, no filter between his thoughts and his voice. his lack of filter even shocked you at first.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🎮 Go Outside and Touch Some Grass

*part of the best of both worlds series*

Driver: Max Verstappen Genre: SMAU/Fluff Occupation: Streamer

☆ TAG LIST IS CLOSED ☆ *if you were not tagged I could not find you*

f1wags has posted

liked by y/nsworld, streamermax, and 3,204 others

f1wags in honor of max reaching 1 million subscribers on twitch, here is a little biography for the new fans

max emilian verstappen is a dutch streamer most known for his hilarious sim racing and trying to play call of duty. max has been dating red bull's number 1 driver, y/n l/n, since late 2021. he is 26 years old, only 3 years older than y/n. as of right now, he lives in Monaco with l/n in their shared apartment, but does have another house in the Netherlands close to his mom (y/n and he go there often).

the pair has two bengal cats, jimmy and sassy, that they both love.

max was most known for dating model kelly piquet from 2019 to early 2021, but the couple had a mutual breakup. max first met y/n at a fan event after max placed first in one of the first Red Bull F1 challenges. everyone says they hit it off during summer break.

a little hidden fact is that max used to kart with Ferrari's Charles Leclerc when they were younger. an interview video resurfaced and many fans now love to tease the two whenever they're seen together. click here for the link!

max is very well loved in the f1 community since he is l/n's second public boyfriend. they couple are very private but not hidden, just the way they like it. please treat our cat loving wag well!

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y/nl/n1 has posted

liked by maxverstappen, y/nsworld, and 2,304,930 others

y/nl/n1 and that's number 9! simply lovely to have equaled my record once again this year! hoping I can hit 10 and 11 during this triple header!

thank you to all who came out today. you mean the world to me 🧡

see all comments

maxverstappen I love you schatje! keep up the good work 🧡

y/nl/n1 🧡😘

y/n.nation every time I try to beat max to the likes but he's always there first

maxs_keyboard I was once just a fan of max, but I'm glad I'm an f1 fan now!

simracersunite anyone else here from that tweet this past weekend? didn't even know this sport existed

cashmoney meeeee! but now that I've seen this queen dominate a lot of men, I'm here for her now

charles_leclerc maybe let us make some new records?

y/nl/n1 how about you just start winning more? 🧐

maxverstappen what she said Charles ☺️

charles_leclerc I will cause another incident max 😒

redbullracing that's our girl 🧡💙

maxverstappen no. mine.

y/nsworld congrats queen 👑

maxverstappen has posted

liked by y/nl/n1, maxverSTOPen, and 23,209 others

maxverstappen glad to be back in the paddock to cheer on my lovely girlfriend! thank you redbullracing for the invite :D

see all comments

maxverSTOPen EVERY TIME I TRY TO BEAT Y/N AND SHE'S ALREADY HERE???

streammv was glad to see you on the big screen max!

maximillianver GUYS WHAT ARE ALL THESE F1 FANS DOING IN THE LIKES

maxsworld 🤺 stay back we had him first

y/nl/n1 my lucky charm 🥰

maxverstappen I think you can win without me but thank you 🥺

twitchoverall what's next, someone is going to tell me that Lando Norris is also an f1 driver and not just a streamer??

ln4fan uh mate, I think you need to sit down for this one

maxskeyboard HAPPY 1 MILLION SUBS MAX

y/nl/n1 has posted

liked by y/nschild, maxverstappen, dior, and 3,203,847 others

y/nl/n1 quick back home before Silverstone!

max wouldn't get off his stream tho, so I had to kidnap him (sorry twitch)

see all comments

y/nschild LET IT BE KNOWN I WAS HERE BEFORE MAX

charles_leclerc let me know if jimmy and sassy want to have a play date with Leo 😊

y/nl/n1 definitely soon Charlie! maybe summer break?

maxverstappen our children are not going to play with that dog

y/nl/n1 but maaxxx, they can be besties 🥺

charles_lerclerc 🥺

maxverstappen fine. one playdate is all you get leclerc.

maxsworld I guess we can't gatekeep max anymore 😭

max&kelly I still think max could do better 🙄

biggestkellyhater please rethink your statement. kelly was borderline a pedophile and max was so depressed he didn't stream for months. we should be thanking y/n for making max the happiest he has ever been

y/nxmax and that's on PERIOD 💅

verstappencats awwww jimmy and sassy update 🥺

streamonmax sooooo when is the next stream king?

TAG LIST: @scuderiadevils @marauderssworld @mehrmonga @glitterquadricorn @sinofwriting @splaterparty0-0 @ayohockeycheck @evalynkillgrave @bookishnerd1132 @vellicora @misty-inferno @minkyungseokie @khaylin27 @how-what-why-huh @theblueblub @zacian117 @fly-me-away @blueblink @ilove-tswizzle @sinnerpalace @thatgirlmj @spilled-coffee-cup @iangelofmusic @suns3treading @roszszs @2pagenumb @ietss @morgan-getty @younxii @phantomxoxo @pastryboyyy @lolzzzzzzzzzz @halleest @ggaslyp1 @skepvids @mil0sworld @u5dthsduttd @silkenthusiasts @coldcola @annispamz @fionaschicken @littlegrapejuice @boiohboii @crashingwavesofeuphoria @lancestrollsgf @tribbisweetdear @graciewrote @lozzamez3 @residentdegenerate @e-nonsense

[apollos-boyfriend]

Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that

okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed

this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.

DAY 3 EDIT:

now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.

day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new

day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).

the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.

[confusionmeisss]

“𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫” 𝐠𝐟 - 𝐦. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

🫧 matt sturniolo x fem!reader

🫧 in which you play dress to impress with matt during one of his solo streams

🫧 fluff

🫧 1.4k words.

🫧 hi lovelies!! thank u so much for reading! i was playing dress to impress and i was like just thinking like when i say im a gamer this is what i mean. i play the silly fun games. so i wanted to write matt with a girl like that as well. i hope u enjoy!!!! much love!! <3 masterlist

You sat on the bed, back against the headboard and one headphone in your ear watching Matt play Fortnite. It could honestly get a little boring, but Matt was cute to look at when he got upset, so you persevered.

“Oh, yeah she’s right over here,” you hear Matt say with a chuckle. You look up from your hand where you were peeling a piece of nail polish off your finger to see him leaning over looking at you.

“Hi,” He says with a grin.

“Hello. Weren’t you just playing Fortnite?”

“Mhm. But they asked about you,” he says, pointing his thumb to where the Twitch chat is on his screen.

“Ah,” you let out, getting up from the bed, you make your way over to Matt and sit yourself down on his lap.

“Hey y’all,” you say with a wave. “How is everyone? I hope you’re behaving yourselves.”

You feel Matt place his chin on your shoulder as you're reading through chat.

“‘Where did you get that shirt?’ Well, thank you for asking mattsbabygirl33, I found it in the depths of Nick's closet. Swear that kid has too many clothes,” you answer with a small laugh.

“‘Thoughts on cuddling?’ I love cuddles! Matt and I alternate between big and little spoon throughout the week!”

“Don’t tell,” Matt grumbles, burying his face into your neck. You reach a hand up to run it through his hair.

“Sorry love,” you laugh.

“I think as penance you have to finally give in and play a game on stream.”

“Can I at least pick the game?”

“‘Course,” Matt says, placing a kiss on your cheek.

You grin and lean forward, placing your hands on the mouse and keyboard.

“Don’t look, I want it to be a surprise!”

“Ok,” you hear Matt chuckle as you click around, before you start typing, then more clicking.

“Alright! You can look now!”

“What,” Matt asks slowly, “are we playing exactly?” He’s eying the block model on screen with confusion, and it makes you giggle.

“Dress To Impress! It’s a game on Roblox! I play it all the time when it’s real slow at work.”

“Okay. How do we play?”

“So, well right now we’re in intermission, but once that’s over we’ll be given a theme, and then we’ll have to dress up to the theme, and then we’ll model and vote, and see who ranks in the end. Then we do it over again.”

“Okay, sounds easy enough.”

You smile as you look at the screen noticing intermission is gonna be over in six seconds.

You eagerly lean forward, placing your hand on the keyboard. Grinning once you see the theme pop up.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐄

You got this in the bag. You practically grew up on Barbie.

You look over at Matt. “Ready?”

“Totally.”

You start moving your model around, making your way over to skirts to start off your look, going for the classic Barbie Life in the Dreamhouse. Once you’ve chosen your skirt and changed the color to fuchsia, you start looking for a top, then move on to shoes, before moving on to accessories.

“You have two minutes left!” Matt informs you.

“Oh trust me that’s plenty of time,” You respond, making your way towards the salon section to do hair and makeup.

“Which blonde looks better?” You ask Matt, switching between the two colors.

“Second one.”

You nod. “I was thinkin the same.”

You click the spacebar and watch your model hop out of the chair before you make your way over to the skin tone changer.

As soon as your model hops out, the screen goes black and states that voting is about to start.

The first model starts walking down the car walk and stops to pose and for you to vote.

“What the hell?” Matt says. “They’re not even on theme!”

“Yeah, that happens a lot,” You say with a sigh, keeping the vote on one star.

You and Matt vote and commentate on the next few outfits before it’s your turn.

“Oh, it’s us!” You clap happily. “Ok we have to pose,” you add after, moving the mouse toward the poses.

“I wanna pick,” Matt says, reaching over, making you move your hand.

“You gotta be quick with it.”

“Got it,” he says. You watch as he clicks through the poses, his tongue peeking out a little in concentration.

“Oh, our turns up!”

“We were the last to go, so now we see the top three winners.”

You both watch the screen change to announce the top three, the both of you hoping to be up on the podium somewhere.

“What the fuck!?” Matt exclaims, throwing his hands up, his brows furrowing. “None of them were even on theme!”

“As it happens,” you sigh, scrolling to see where you ended up ranking. Sixth place out of eight.

“I wanna play again,” Matt decides. “But I wanna dress the model this time.”

“Alright,” you agree easily. “We'll just have to wait in intermission before we’re given a new theme.”

You feel Matt nod as he rests his head back on your shoulder as you start to undress your model.

“‘This is why I can’t play this game, it’s just filled with nine year olds who don’t understand the theme’ Yeah, I feel you,” you respond to the chat. “That’s why I only really play when it’s slow at work, cause then I can’t publicly get too pissed.”

You’re reading through the chat, seeing if there’s anything else you wanna respond to when Matt taps your thigh.

“Eight seconds,” he mutters.

“Well, you’re dressing to impress this round, so get your hands ready mister.”

His hands snake around you to land on the keyboard and mouse and as soon as they land the next theme appears on screen.

𝐘𝟐𝐊

“Oh this should be so easy!” You gasp. “All you have to do is channel your inner Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, even Tarayummy!”

“You’ve got this,” you say, placing an encouraging kiss on Matt’s cheek.

“Mhm,” he hums, concentrating on getting his model over to the shirts he seen you pass earlier.

As Matt moves around to dress his model, you start reading through the chat again.

“‘Matt’s concentration and commitment to such a silly game is honestly so cute wtf’ Yes yes, I would have to agree, cvntynickk,” you laugh.

“‘Y/N, we need you here more often so he plays more than just fortnite!’ Ah, that’s kind of you chappellswift, but I don’t wanna be intruding too much,” you respond with a shy smile.

“Never intruding,” Matt mutters.

You smile at that, but it won’t stop the feeling.

“‘How to have a relationship like Y/N & Matt, no borax no glue plsss’ Just find someone who treats you right and respects you and the rest should really fall into place,” you say with a smile.

“Done!” Matt says.

You look over at the game and let out a gasp.

“Matt you did really good!” You look over at him to grin at him brightly.

“Thanks,” he says with a shy smile and slightly reddening cheeks.

The screen changes and voting commences. You and Matt go through the same process as last time. You watch Matt carefully choose each rating like this is America's Next Top Model and not a silly Roblox game.

Once it’s time for the winners to be announced, you feel Matt sit up just that bit straighter, and you struggle to reign in your smile at how serious he’s taking this.

The top three are revealed and,

“What the fuck!” Matt yelps out. “This is bullshit! None of what they’re wearing is y2k at all!”

He reaches over to see where he ranked and you watch as he stops and sees he got fifth place.

“Fuck this,” Matt huffs, leaning back in his chair. “I’m done with this game.”

“Alright then drama queen,” you laugh, exiting out.

“Thank you for having me, but I’m gonna go and get a treat now because I need my daily dose of sugar. Hopefully Chris didn’t eat all the donuts,” you mutter, placing a kiss on Matt’s head as you get up; Matt trying to get you to stay but not too hard knowing how you get without your sugar dose.

You wave bye to chat as well. “Maybe you guys will see me next time.”

“I’m so in love with her,” Matt says quietly to chat, but you hear it as you close his bedroom door; it makes a giddy smile appear on your face.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: The faces the jjk men make before, during, and after they cum ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Includes: 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐, 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊, 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐, 𝑯𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊, 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐, 𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒚𝒂 Cw: mentions of penetrative sex, no gendered pronouns nor desc of readers no no square (?)

(a.n) I wish I can stream the faces and the noises I pictured to y'all while I wrote this. heavenly

MDNI

Toji Zenin

His face when he first feels your warmth surrounding his fat tip- it's like a scowl. Almost infuriated that you could be so fucking warm and so welcoming.

Eyebrows furrowed and squinted eyes, his lips pursed in an almost pout. As slow as he tries to be as he's sliding into you, he would rush it- being able to feel the sting as he stretches you. Needing to desperately be fully shoved inside of you- so badly he could feel it run down his spine. 

I have yet to express this, but I think Toji makes such a cute face when he's close. During the act itself, he can control it- making sure to keep his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together. 

And when he feels that all too familiar feeling pooling in his tummy, Toji knows. He knows the face he makes when he cums is embarrassing. (It's not, it's so hot)

So every time he's close, he drops his head, allowing the black strands of hair to cover his expression as he quickening his pace. 

Toji’s eyebrows pinch up, unfurrowed, and almost like he’s getting lost in his pooling orgasm. His eyes squeeze tight together, his nose scrunches- barely present but he feels it happening. 

His lips part in the cutest way- bottom lip quivering as he fucks himself into you- trying to keep his moans low. And god- the light blush on his cheeks- so fucking cute.

All too embarrassed to let you see him like this- so he’d keep his head dropped. 

The first few times Toji did it, you assumed he was looking down at his cock thrusting into you. But all it took was one glimmer of his ‘o’ face for you to find determination in seeing it next time, somehow finding yourself on top. 

Riding him as his eyebrows threatened to unfurrow- he was practically using all his strength to keep them pinched.

In that moment Toji was so close to turning you into a reverse cowgirl position, his hands on your hips ready to turn you- only you planted your hands onto his chest. Over excited to see the long-awaited expression.

Toji tried turning away, only for your hand to cup his chin and turn him to face you- pressing a sloppy kiss to his parted lips with half-lidded eyes, grinding yourself onto him as quickly as you could manage, just to see. 

And there it was- in all its glory. Verging on pathetic the way his lip quivered against yours. His light blush and the little glimmer in his eyes. 

But as quick as it arrived, it was gone even faster when he realized you did this on purpose.

Which only caused him to start mocking the faces you make during intercourse. 

Choso Kamo

Awe poor Choso, I hate to say it but most of the time it looks like his soul is about to leave his body. Bordering on ascending to the afterlife. 

The second the first centimeter of his tip breaches your entrance- all the air in his lungs is knocked out.

Lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly glides into you, if his eyes weren’t closed- you'd see them threatening to roll back just from the feeling of your warmth surrounding him. 

If you asked him- Choso would say he was able to feel your warmth all over his body. Feel it shiver in his shoulders as he slid into you at an agonizing pace. Even if the fucked out expression he had, told you one thing- he was cautious enough to not slam into you. Fearing he would cum prematurely if he did. 

And that face only follows him during intercourse. It's even more evident in missionary- if that were possible. 

His hands gripped so fucking harshly on your hips as his eyebrows knit together. Choso’s thrusts start slow- gradually quickening and losing any pattern or rhythm.

I think with Choso, when he's so close he can feel it loom over him- creeping up his back and over his shoulders as he tries to control his hips. Not being able to keep a set pace, nor steady the way he breathes. 

With him, his thrusts are deep and rough once he gets close. And his face, god his face. Call me biased, (I am) but it's my favorite one to picture. Especially when he tries to breathe properly, practically hyperventilating as he tries. 

Choso unwillingly empties his lungs when he's close, caving his chest as his eyes threaten to roll to the back of his head. Eyebrows knitted and a droplet of sweat trickling down his temple. Teeth clenched with a pouty bottom lip, flashing his bottom row of teeth. 

When he's pouring himself into you- his shoulders shudder as he tries to inhale, one of his eyes daring to shut as they roll to the back of his head. 

And if we're talking JJK universe, you know damn well his nose stripe leaks a lil when he cums. Especially when he's overstimulated himself, because you just feel so fucking good. 

Choso’s hips don't hesitate to go lazy once he empties himself into you for the last time. Finally able to breathe properly since the moment he slid into you.

Idk why but I hc that Choso cannot control his breathing when he's fucking. Like either he keeps a somewhat steady pace and has to manually breathe, or he can focus on breathing and have unpatterned thrusts. It's one or the other, never both.

And after, he has a little glow on his face, a light blush on his cheeks as he smiles with a satisfied sigh. Eyes closed- too fucked out to even want to open them. Physical embodiment of :3 

Kento Nanami

The face Nanami makes when he first slides the tip of his cock into you- it's almost like a wince. A shuddering gasp leaves his lips as he slowly works himself into you. Fighting off every urge that's shouting at him in his mind to fully sheathe himself in your warmth. 

As he's working up his orgasm, Nanami tries to keep his eyes open. Practically straining himself as his grip tightens on whatever part of your body he's bracing on to. His lips part as he started panting lightly, a light blush adorning his cheeks.

Even more blushed, is his chest. The rosiness in his cheeks roams down his neck and chest- making the skin there warm to the touch. A light sheen of sweat on his pecs as his nose threatened to crinkle, to Nanami it was probably one of the most embarrassing things of his ‘o’ face. 

But it was always sooo cute, you always knew he was close whenever his nose would crinkle ever so slightly.

Nanami always tries to hold out as long as he can, wanting to be sure to please you before even considering himself. 

But when it's his turn, his eyes flutter closed, his eyebrows pinch upwards as he feels the coil in his tummy burn inside of him. Nanami never needed to voice he was about to cum, his expression did that job for him. 

Teeth gritted as his head tipped back- Nanami tries to keep the pace he held before, but the roll of his hips becomes sloppy- almost trying to push himself past that edge. And when he finally cums, he inhales a small gasp. His shoulders trembling as his hips tried to keep their pace, hoping he could ride himself down, only for his trembles to rumble onto his chest as he thrusted slowly. 

More of a groaner than a moaner in my opinion, like teeth-gritted throaty groans as he cums. It completely contrasts with how pretty he looks.

And after, his forehead still damp as he sighs. His eyes threatening to close as he feels the afterglow replace the blush on his cheeks. Small smile on his lips as he exhales with a content hum. 

Satoru Gojo

One of the few that hurry the process of being inside. His lips parted and eyebrows threatened to knit as he felt you pull him in.

Teasing you for the vulgar squelching of your warmth- that was practically sucking him in. Doesn't take long for him to bottom out- a shuddering exhale leaving him as he feels your warmth surround his shaft. 

Pretty known thing in the fandom that he looks like such a slut when he cums. Eyes half-lidded, teeth clenched with a pretty blush on his cheeks, and his nose crinkled in the slightest. 

Satoru’s eyebrows would pinch upwards and he would thrall his head back, unashamed moans coming from his throat as he pushes himself to another orgasm. 

I think we've all agreed that Gojo moans without embarrassment or shame, Satoru lets you know you make him feel good by just his sounds. God if I can put y'all in my head so you can hear how I picture him sounding. 

When Gojo cums, the face he makes is almost like he's practiced it a million times, like he's studied how pretty he looks when he cums. But nope, when you bring it up he's just like “I make a face when I cum?” Like yes you do, and you look so fucking pretty when you do. 

I'm sure if you tell him how pretty he looks mid-way through- he would probably start twitching and writhing at the compliment. All but telling you to shut up- threatening he’ll cum if you don't stop. 

Unbelievable how the light sheen of sweat on his forehead only accentuates it, and how delicate his eyelashes look as he tries to keep his eyes open. 

As he comes close, the knot in his lower tummy becomes undone- his pace starts faltering, relishing in the warmth you've so generously provided for him. Instead of thrusts, it's more like his hips start rolling against you, his back arching mid-way through dragging his cock out. 

When he finally cums, his hips shiver the tiniest bit, directing them into his shoulders as he huffs ragged breaths with whimpers sprinkled between them. 

And after, as he's winding himself down from the shivering orgasm, his face would be formed in utter bliss. An almost glow on his cheeks as the corners of his lips dare to curl into a smile. Practically fucking himself dumb from the continuous strokes he would roll with his hips. 

Overall, a very pretty face when he cums. Almost too pretty -.-

Hiromi Higuruma

When he first slides in; the corner of his lips curl into a smile, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief at how your excitement squelched around him. Almost perplexed at how your slick easily invited him in. 

And when he'd be fully nestled inside of you, all it takes is one mindless clench of the muscles surrounding him for Hiromi to place his forehead against your chest. Fearing if you continue he might cum too soon.

This man’s face betrays him when he cums. Looks like he's on the verge of sneezing when he gets close.

For sure Hiromi’s hands start trembling, almost like he edges himself but he doesn't stop thrusting. Making sure to hold out as long as he can, his head threatening to tip back as he starts huffing heavy breaths. His mouth goes slack-jawed as he lets out throaty moans from his lips. 

Hiromi’s eyebrows pinch up, eyes shut as he lightly flares his nose with the tip of it twitching. He tries to warn he's close- incoherent words smothered in moans leaving his lips as his thrusts start to falter their pace. 

And always, always. The millisecond before he cums- he inhales sharply. A mix of a gasp and a wince before he's pouring himself into you. His eyebrows furrowed with half-lidded eyes, his heavy breaths turn into louder groans as he tries to wind himself down from his orgasm. 

Most of the time Hiromi ends up overstimulating himself trying to stay inside of you for as long as possible.

If he has you bent on all fours, his knees give and his thrusts turn into lazy humps as he presses his chest onto your back. Causing you to fall with him onto the sheets, getting an earful of his grunts and ragged breaths for air. Not caring if his mouth is right next to your ear- 

If he's fucking you in missionary, his elbows planted on the bed, give. Causing him to press his chest into yours- bordering on crushing you as his hips try their best to move. 

Getting an up-close look at his face- fucked out and gasping for air. His light grunts take a certain raspiness he only gets when he's overstimulating himself. The very tip of his nose flushed and his lips parted as he rode out his orgasm.

The look on his face when he finally gets the strength in his limbs to look at you- he looks almost tired, with slow blinks and puffy lips. But it's full of almost tranquility. 

Hiromi looks at you with eyes full of peace, as though you were the one that granted him that. 

Suguru Geto

I think out of all of them- He's the only one who keeps a somewhat poker face while he slides in, a low gasp evades his lips slowly sinking himself into you. The occasional wince, pouting his bottom lip to flash his teeth when you clench around him with a quiet hiss. 

Suguru’s expression he tries to keep- slips through his grasp as he fully allows himself to sink into the surrounding feeling of your warmth. Letting his eyebrows quirk up in the slightest. 

The light blush on his cheeks deepened in the slightest feeling you pull him in. Even if it wasn't your intention, somehow you always welcomed his cock. Which only made it harder to keep his hips from roughly thrusting into you with no warning.

But Suguru was no monster, even if every single brain stem that pulsed in his skull- shouting at him to thrust and keep thrusting till his hips gave out. He always granted you the courtesy of slowly pushing into you.

And when he's fully burrowed inside, a low grunt shudders from his lips- being able to feel his cock pulse against your walls.

Another one that has such a pretty face when he cums. No matter what is happening- if his hips are snapping at an unbelievable pace, riding him, if you did something to piss him off- the churning face of his orgasm is always the same.

Suguru’s eyebrows furrow with a light pinch upwards, his cheeks blushed a rosy pink with parted lips. Feeling the warmth in his tummy overfill, he filters the light moans from his throat with his lip tucked between his teeth.

When he's close- Geto likes to keep his hands full, be it two hands on your ass groping harshly- on your tits, a handful of hair- whatever. I'm sure he likes keeping his hands full while he succumbs to the orgasm he tried to suppress. 

And as his hips threaten to lose rhythm, louder grunts fall from his nibbled lip, and his hands only grip harsher, no use in warning you he's cumming when it’s already being done. But his eyes are shut tightly, more grunts littered with small whines leaving his throat. 

Suguru’s lips part slightly, blushed cheeks tingling and a trembled bottom lip. A loud groan rumbles from his chest as his face scrunches, bowing his head down and focusing on trying to keep a steady pace. 

Geto’s grip on whatever part of your body he had his hands full with- gripping even harsher, so sure he would leave you sore whenever he let go. 

The best part was watching his eyebrows unfurrow, the way the proof of his orgasm melted off of his face as he came down from a pinnacle. The look of pure serenity replaced it as he inhaled every breath you exhaled. 

Naoya Zenin

Hmm, with Naoya it depends on whether you like him or not. 

On one hand, we have Naoya who makes the most absurd face when he first slams himself into you. Almost mixed with a grimace and a glimmer of a smile on his lips. The face he makes borders on ugly. I mean let's be real here, Naoya wouldn't give you more than a few milliseconds to get used to the sudden intrusion. 

Every. Single. Time, the sudden thrust into you almost makes him cum. And as you've told him- ‘that won't happen if you go slow’ he still would do it. Goosebumps rise on his shoulders from feeling you hug his cock almost too tightly. The warmth in his tummy shows him that maybe. Just maybe, you were right. Though he wouldn't admit it. 

If he holds out long enough, the face he makes as he's close is a stark comparison to his pretty sounds. I'll give Naoya that, he sounds very pretty when he's close. Little whimpers you can tell came out of his lungs unwillingly. 

And his face- it's almost painful. Like every thrust he stutters against you, pains him. Naoya's eyebrows furrowed so harshly, his nose scrunched and his teeth gritted. Shining when he parts his lips in a sneer. 

And on the other hand, we have Naoya, who is too pretty for his own good. 

If he allows it, his eyebrows slightly peaking up as his lips part. A shuddering exhale leaves his lips as he bullies his cock into you. Not as harshly as the other hand, but still tries to be fully nuzzled inside of you as fast as he can. 

As Naoya works himself up, the blush on his cheeks ever present as he feels himself start coming undone at the seams. 

I am a firm believer in Naoya making little whimpers and moans during any kind of intercourse, which he tries to hide. Of course. But they always come out, muffled or in an attempted grunt that he only forced from his throat to disguise them.

And when Naoya’s close, so close- he feels it rumble up his spine and surround his chest. He finally stops repressing his pretty sounds and fully enthralls himself in focusing on cumming. Not caring if you saw his crinkled nose or his pretty blushed cheeks. 

His eyebrows pinched in pure delirium as he unloaded himself into you, shoulders shivering and his eyes lightly blinking shut. Just fucked out enough to not care if you heard the unfiltered whimpers fall from his lips. 

Naoya’s jaw threatens to go slack as he rides himself down, his eyes clenched tight as he feels you milk him for anything he has to give. 

And after, even if he turns over without a care in the world, uncaring if you're clean or need help. His face is littered with undeserved ecstasy as he pretends to go to sleep. The light blush on his cheeks still evident even as he sighs contently. (bitch)

-

Shorter than my usual stuff but im planning a lengthy gojo fic for tmmrw. plus im incuding naoya more often, he might have a permenant spot now in my multi fics. hmmm

[heartysworld]

Love, Lando, Milo // LN4

Lando Norris x Female Reader

Where Milo turns out to be more supportive than his dad

W. C: 2k

A/N: Milo has become a constant in my Lando fics, but since I don't see anyone complaining, I will keep on including him

MASTERLIST

The night was still. The kind of stillness that should be soothing, but instead, it felt heavy and uncomfortable. You shifted again, trying to find a position that didn’t make your back scream in protest. It was nearly impossible. Every time you thought you had it, your bladder demanded attention or a new wave of nausea rolled through you.

You tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb Lando more than you already had. His breathing was steady and deep beside you, the sound normally a source of comfort. But tonight, it only highlighted how restless you were. You turned again, hoping to find that elusive comfortable spot, but it was no use.

Around 3 AM, you got up for what felt like the fifth time. You shuffled to the bathroom, your swollen feet aching with every step. After relieving yourself, you wandered into the kitchen, craving something to eat. Anything to soothe your grumbling stomach and kicking baby. You grabbed a banana and slowly made your way back to bed, hoping this time you wouldn’t disturb Lando.

But as you slipped back under the covers, Lando stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Again?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with irritation.

“Yes, again,” you snapped back, unable to contain your frustration anymore. For the past few days, Lando's been complaining about your midnight adventures around the house as his sleep schedule struggled as much as you did if not even more. At first, you didn't say anything, apologizing and closing your eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. However, as the days passed you felt like your were getting lonelier by the hour and evem more responsible for your fiancé's discontent with the situation in your own home, the sleepless night and constant tossing and turning.

“I’m pregnant, Lando. It’s not like I’m enjoying this.”

“Well, I’m not getting any sleep either,” he retorted. “I need to be in top shape during the season. This lack of sleep isn’t helping. No wonder I haven't been able to get anything done for the past week. It's useless.”

His words felt like a slap in the face. Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. You felt overwhelmed, emotional, and incredibly vulnerable.

“You think I don’t know that?” You choked out. “You think I want to be up all night? I can’t help it! Im supposed to enjoy my pregnancy and relax as much as possible before our baby arrives! In reality, I'm feeling guilty and responsible for both mine and your inability to rest well! ”

Milo, sensing the tension and seeing your tears, started barking at Lando, tugging on the leg of his sweatpants as if to say, “You upset mom! Fix it!”

“Great, now I’ve upset the dog too,” Lando muttered, but his anger was already dissipating, replaced by guilt. He looked at you, seeing the tears streaming down your face, and his heart broke a little.

You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You grabbed a blanket and headed to the spare bedroom, which was soon to be the baby's room. You moved as quickly as possible, your belly preventing you from moving with your usual pace. The room was quiet, and the rocking chair near one of the windows looked inviting. You opened the window next to you to let some fresh air inside the room. You settled into the fluffy cushions on the chair, pulling the blanket around you. Seconds later, Milo trotted into the room after you. He lifted himself onto his back legs, his front paws supporting his weight against the upholstery of the chair.

You lifted the little man onto your lap, smiling as he snuggled against your belly as if he knew you needed comfort.

''There hasn't been a day during which I've regretted your arrival into our lives, my tiny love." You said as you caressed the soft fur between his floppy ears. Milo's cold nose occasionally bumped against the palm of your hand as he sniffed around.

The tears flowed freely down the cold surface of your face, silent and hot in contrast. You stroked Milo's fur, the rhythmic motion helping to calm you down. The rocking chair creaked softly as you rocked back and forth. The movement seemed to help soothe your loud inner voice that kept producing negative thoughts one after another.

Some time passed, and you weren't sure how long. The door creaked open, and you saw Lando standing there, his expression mixed with regret and sadness.

“Baby, ” he whispered, stepping into the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just���I'm stressed. But that’s no excuse.”

You looked up at him, the tears still glistening in your eyes. “I’m trying, Lando. This isn’t easy for me either.”

He knelt beside the chair, taking your hand in his. “I know, love. I know. I’m an idiot. I should be more understanding. Please come back to bed. You need your sleep. We'll solve this in the morning, okay?”

You nodded, wiping your tears. “Just… don’t forget we’re in this together, okay?”

He leaned in and kissed you, soft and gentle, his lips lingering on yours. “I promise. Come back to bed? We can figure this out together.”

You stood up slowly, Milo jumping down to the floor. Lando wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you back to your bedroom. The bed felt warm and inviting, and as you settled back in, Lando pulled you close as much as your protruding belly allowed him.

Milo jumped onto the bed, curling up at your feet where he usually spent his nights. Lando kissed your forehead, his hand resting on your growing belly.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you” he whispered.

“Goodnight,love you too.” You replied, feeling his warmth and love surrounding you as sleepiness began to take over your tired body.

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You woke up feeling a bit more rested, your body still aching, but your heart felt a little lighter.

Lando was already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a soft smile. “Good morning,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Morning,” you replied, smiling back. Milo stretched out beside you, having moved up on the bed during the night , now wagging his tail lazily.

“How are you feeling?” Lando asked, concern etched in his eyes.

“Tired, but better,” you admitted. “Thank you for coming to get me last night.”

“I’ll always come for you.” He said, his voice full of sincerity. “We’ll get through this together.”

You spent the morning in bed, talking and laughing, enjoying the calm before the chaos of the day. Milo provided endless entertainment, his antics making you both laugh.

That evening, after a long day of preparing the nursery and spending quality time together, you were exhausted. You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the soft surface of the pillow. Lando stayed up a little longer as his mind kept wandering.

He looked over at you, your face serene in sleep, and his heart swelled with love. He gently placed his hand on your belly, feeling the slight movements of your growing baby.

“Hey, little one,” he whispered softly, not wanting to wake you. “I know I need to be better for your mom. She’s doing so much already, and I need to support her more. She needs her sleep, and I shouldn’t have been so harsh.”

Milo tilted his head, watching Lando with curious eyes before settling back down. Lando chuckled softly, patting Milo’s head.

“We’re a team,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your mom, Milo, and me. We’re going to be a great team, and we’ll always be here for you. I promise to be better.”

He leaned in and kissed your belly, then your forehead, before settling down beside you. Milo snuggled up at your feet, the three of you finally finding a moment of peace.

As you slept, you felt Lando’s hand still resting on your belly, his presence a comforting anchor. The journey ahead might be filled with challenges, but with Lando’s love and support, you felt ready to take on the journey of being a parent.

MASTERLIST

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[tamajiki2]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒!! 🫙 𝐒. 𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒;

student/teacher relationships,

facefucking, age gap, pred reader,

manipulation and blackmail, top reader,

hehim amab reader, general dark content.

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄.

it was a fucking mistake.

that was all aizawa could think of as he shakily knelt on the shiny white tiles that floored his office. sure, it was a mistake, but it was one he could actually feel. and best of all? it felt good.

a hazy night dancing with coworkers and a few too many drinks. terrible decisions, and groaning into the crook of someone's neck. a blurry face, and the hard imprint of a cock rutting against his back. he could hardly see anything, let alone remember. bright white and a loud, shuddering orgasm. he could've sworn he was floating.

however, his fun was promptly put to an end when he was met with one of his third-year students sitting lazily at the desk chair in his office the following morning.

"[ name ].", he warned.

you smiled. what you were so giddy about, aizawa wasn't in a hurry to find out. you were usually a quiet, mild-tempered kid who remained comfortably around his friends, and never behaved outside the norm of the average student.

he watched, puzzled, as you ignored his call and rested your legs on top of his desk.

so what was up with this brazen display of confidence?

"i don't think you understand the situation you're in, teach.", you chuckled and pulled your phone from your pocket. that fateful day, he was too wasted to recognize you and you were too horny— sorry, ambitious to reject this shining opportunity right in front of you. you turned the screen so that aizawa could see its contents clearly.

his heart dropped.

it was him, sprawled out on pure white sheets. his eyes were half-lidded and hair disheveled as he was fucked on camera. he looked like a mess. he hardly even had the sense to cover his face while the flash raked over his entire body.

you waved the phone around, watching aizawa's eyes follow it with a gaze of pure resentment. "sleeping with a student, mr. aizawa? gee, that's terrible. you could lose your job over something like that, you know?", you hummed, voice light and teasing.

aizawa opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

you continued, "it's alright though, i have no intention of telling. as long as you do me a teensy favor..." you gestured for him to come close and aizawa knew he had no choice. aizawa grit his teeth as you stood, now face to face with him.

"on your knees."

which brought him to now.

aizawa stared down at the floor when the familiar jingle of metal scraped at his ears. then, the rapid clinking sound of a zipper. a pool of dread filled his stomach. a long pause during which he didn't dare to look up.

two light slaps against aizawa's cheek. you were already hard. he couldn't miss the distinctive feeling of veins pulsing against his skin.

"open wide.", you singsonged, pressing your tip to aizawa's lips.

reluctantly, he did, and immediately wished he hadn't as you gagged him on his cock. you didn't waste a second setting a brutal pace. you gripped him harshly by the hair, groaning something about how sexy he was. but aizawa couldn't hear you over his own rhythmic choking. aizawa desperately grasped at your thighs.

"ghk—", his back was arching, body trying to struggle against your hold. his eyes were burning.

globs of saliva and pre streamed down his chin and splattered onto the floor. you fucked his throat pliant; aizawa could feel every trace and curve of your cock in his brain. you looked down at him and, god, that almost threw you over the edge. his eyes were sparkling and wet with tearful shame. he no longer had energy to glare at you. not like it would do anything anyway, with your thick dick down his gullet. stray hairs stuck to his face which framed it like a pornographic painting. aizawa kneaded the back of your thighs in a wordless plea. that only drove you further into your descent to orgasm.

he thought that he'd surely die at a particularly rough snap of your hips. you had tangled more of his hair into your grip, like a ponytail, and were punching the back of his throat. aizawa whined loudly.

"shit, you feel so good. 'm gonna cum."

you were rolling your hips now, instead of thrusting like before. aizawa thought that was worse. he was forced down to your hilt where he would stay for what felt like hours, gagging and swallowing around your cock while you humped impossibly deep into his skull.

you couldn't think of anything else except the feeling of his throat tightening around you. damn, he was addictive. you leaned over him further restricting his movements. there's a strangled noise from under you.

'it's almost over', he thought, but 'almost' didn't seem like 'almost' anymore as you began an onslaught more viscous than the last. aizawa found himself fading in and out of consciousness, his vision light and blurring. 

one last snap of your hips and you were buried deep into him. he felt your seed scorching his already-sore throat. you pulled away, absolutely relishing in the mess you made of shota aizawa.

a thick layer of fluids coated his face and dripped down the front of his longsleeve. while he coughed and spluttered for air, you felt oddly endeared to him. you gently massaged your hands through his hair.

"i'll see you later, teach.", you said sweetly.

again, the rustling of clothes followed by that metallic 'zzzip'. your sturdy hands left him and aizawa swallowed thickly. he was sure he looked terrible. he did his best to wipe away the worst of it with his sleeves. the fabric felt like knives dragging across his raw skin. he let out a deep sigh upon hearing your descending footsteps and the door slam shut.

he noted his next class starting in a few hours and grimaced. he'd have to hurry and clean up if he wanted to make it in time. beforehand, though— he looked down at the crotch of his pants that were dark and sticky with cum— he had a situation to deal with.

“shit.”

[ an; hey so let me know if you guys like this facefuck and aizawa mmm yum yum si or no ]

[etherealyoungk]

dance in the rain | kim mingyu

SUMMARY: in which mingyu drags you into the rain to play for fun.

PAIRING: mingyu x reader

THEMES: established relationship, fluff

WARNINGS: kissing, terms of endearment, rain

WORDCOUNT: 1300

A/N: this was such a random idea because i remembered how much mingyu loves throwing water on carats during the encore and just thought he'd be the type to drag you into the rain and play. also bc it's been raining sooo much here.

"oh my god it's raining again", you declare dramatically as you turn to look out the window. the rain pours down hard, the grey clouds hanging in the air with no sign of disappearing anytime soon. it had been like this since last night and persisted all afternoon.

"i thought you liked the rain", he counters, giving you a glance from the couch, his phone in one hand.

"i do! just maybe not when it's raining non-stop and feels like the end of the world", you exaggerate and he chuckles softly from where he's sitting.

mingyu watches you for a few seconds before he stands up, walks towards the front door, and opens it. the gush of cold air and the amplified sound of the rain pouring down makes you snap your head up.

"gyu what are you going?", you ask, confused as he just stands there by the door, watching the rain fall in the front yard of your house. "watching the rain", he says, like it was no big deal. he reaches out to collect some drops in the palm of his hand. you watch for a few seconds before getting up and walking over to him.

"wouldn't it be fun to play in the rain? this reminds me of back in college when me and the boys would do the most insane shit and jump around in the rain", he says, reminiscing. one thing about mingyu was that he loved the water and has always been drawn to it. staying true to his golden retriever nature, he loved splashing around in the water, playing around and having fun.

he turns around to you, a mischievous smile slowly gracing his lips. you look at him, the dots in your head connecting when he looks at you with that look—that look that he was definitely up to no good.

you raise an eyebrow at him, instinctively taking a step back. “oh no,” you warn, already sensing trouble brewing, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "babe", he says, his tone almost pleading, that grin playing on his lips like that could help convince you as he takes a step forward.

he gives you a fake frown before turning and he runs right into the rain, the cold water drenching him instantly. you gasp. he only laughs, and it's an infectious sound that cuts through the loud rain. "gyu you’re insane!” you tell, but he only grins back at you, his pretty canines peeking out. he reaches his hand out, beckoning you to join him.

"no way", you tell from the doorstep, watching the rain pour down on mingyu, but he looks so content. "babe please, this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience", he says, trying to persuade you, stepping forward.

"kim mingyu, don't you dare", you warn again, watching his eyes sparkle with mischief. "it'll be fun", is all he says and before you can protest further, his hand holds yours, tugging you into the rain.

the cold rain hits you, shocking you as it soaks through your clothes. “mingyu!” you yelp, water streaming down, drenching you and splattering against your cheeks.

"you're such as ass, oh my god", you exclaim after a few seconds when you realise the absurdity of the situation. you're soaked head to toe, standing in the cold rain because of mingyu. the chill of the water and rain clings to your skin, but it's hard to be mad at mingyu when he looks at you like that - like you're his entire world.

"dance with me", he says, his eyes still sparkling as he reaches out for your hand. he gently pulls you closer, his other hand resting on your waist. depsite the cold rain, you can feel the warmth radiate from his touch.

with a soft smile, he begins to slowly sway, guiding you both into a gentle rhythm. your hands instinctively find their way to his shoulders, and for a moment, everything else fades away; the rain, the chill, the chaos - it was just you and him.

mingyu spins you playfully and you giggle softly as you twirl, and he dips you, holding onto you securely. you both burst into a fit of laughter before he lifts you back up, holding you against him.

“see? it’s fun!” he says, his grin wide and bright, completely unbothered by the rain-soaked chaos.

“you know what would make this moment even better?” mingyu asks, his voice soft. “what?” you ask, looking up at him. the rain had slowed down a bit now, falling a little slower.

before you have time to process his actions, he swoops down and lifts you into his arms, cradling you bridal-style. “mingyu!” you exclaim with a mix of surprise and delight as he holds you close. he spins you around and you laugh, holding onto him.

"okay okay, i get it", you tell after a few spins, still giggling, clutching onto him tightly.

finally, he slows down, stopping to look into your eyes, the playful glint replaced by something softer and more intimate. holding you steady, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “now, for the grand finale,” he murmurs.

with the rain falling on you both, he closes the distance, capturing your lips with his in a soft, sweet kiss, the kind of kiss that feels like a delicate promise. you melt into his embrace, feeling the cool rain on your skin contrasting with the warmth radiating from his body. as the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck. when he finally pulls back, his gaze finds yours again, and you can see the affection he holds in his eyes,

“so, was that the best kiss of your life?” he asks with that mischievous grin of his.

you roll your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips “maybe”, you say with a shrug, trying to act nonchalant.

“maybe?", he repeats, fake pouting. “i guess i’ll have to step up my game", he says with a twinkle in his eyes. "well, good luck with that,” you shoot back playfully. he laughs again, still holding you securely in his arms. "challenge accepted".

"you're ridiculous", you tell, smacking his chest . "and yet you still love me", he says without missing a beat, grinning at you.

“look at us,” he says, a dreamy smile on his face. "soaked, silly, but happy.” you couldn’t help but grin at his words, your heart swelling with warmth.

he turns around, carrying you inside and setting you down in front of the bathroom. you change quickly, slipping into some dry and warm clothes. you put on mingyu's hoodie, and it envelopes you like a warm hug, the familiar scent wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. when you emerge from the room, mingyu is already in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled and damp from the rain. he looks at you with a soft smile, and you feel a rush of affection.

"ramen?", he prompts and he smiles at the way your face lights up at the mention of ramen. "yes please", you tell, following mingyu to the kitchen. he fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove, before turning around to face you, the both of you waiting for the water to boil. he crosses the kitchen in a few quick strides, lifting you onto the counter and you sigh softly as he looks at you, his hands resting on your waist. his lips are on yours, kissing you again and warmth blooms in your chest as you kiss him back.

you pull back slightly, looking at him. "by the way, if i fall sick tomorrow, i'm blaming you", you tell, poking his cheek lightly. he smiles softly.

"i'll take care of you sweetheart, don't you worry", he assures, mumbling against your lips before kissing you again.

taglist: @joshuaahong @paindivinemp3 @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852

@wheeboo @weird-bookworm @mirxzii @naaaaafla @icyminghao

@lvlystars @writingmeraki @wootify @ihrtboo @kyeomyun

@n4mj00nvq @yoozuku

[moonlinos]

Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back. 

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday. 

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

[sonarspace]

RAIN, REGRETS, & REDEMPTION. KENTO NANAMI

SYNOPSIS: promises made in the rain often get washed away, leaving echoes of what might have been CONTENT: angst. nsfw. PAIRING: ex-husband! nanami x reader. WC: 2.7k

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

it's been over five months since you filed for divorce from nanami. they say it gets easier with time, but it feels like it just gets harder every day. you miss him so much, it’s like a part of you is just gone.

you still remember that day so clearly—pushing him out the door and yelling “get out!” before collapsing on the floor, tears streaming down your face as it hit you that your marriage was really over.

it’s hard not to feel bitter when you think about how his career seemed to take over your whole life. the rare moments of intimacy—only on birthdays and your anniversary—felt more like a formality than real connection. it’s like your entire relationship was reduced to those fleeting moments, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.

the days after were a blur. you tried to stay busy, but every corner of the apartment was haunted by him. the layout of the living room, your habit of leaving your shoes by the door, his favorite mug next to yours in the cabinet, his second pair of glasses on your bedside table—everything was a painful echo of his absence.

what hurt the most was that he didn’t even fight for you. he didn’t fight for your relationship. it ended so abruptly, like a chapter closing with no chance for a rewrite.

so you did what you could to move on. you packed up everything and decided to move out of the apartment, sending his belongings back through his lawyer since you no longer knew where he lived. yet, selfishly, you kept his sweater. it was the only piece of him you allowed yourself to hold onto.

you decide to spend one last night in the apartment you both once shared, before the divorce would be finalized tomorrow. after tomorrow, you'd be free from everything that connected you to him. the place was empty, with nothing left but your mattress on the floor in the bedroom and the refrigerator in the kitchen.

you pull on his sweater, feeling its familiar warmth, and then catch your reflection in the mirror. you can’t help but think how pathetic it all seems. trying to shake off the feeling, you pour yourself a glass of wine. just as you’re about to head out onto the balcony, the doorbell rings, cutting through the quiet of the empty apartment.

you frown, wondering who could be ringing the doorbell at this late hour. when you open the door, your wine glass nearly slips out of your hand. there he is, standing in front of you—the man who caused you so much pain. whom you still can’t help but long for. his messy blond hair is tousled, like he’s been running his hands through it anxiously. his clothes are crumpled, his shirt hanging out of his pants when it’s usually neatly tucked. he’s breathing heavily, as if he’s just ran up twenty flights of stairs to you.

the sight of him, unexpectedly at your door, floods you with a storm of unresolved feelings, making your heart ache with bittersweet emotion.

“elevator’s out of order, huh?” he says, his voice heavy as he catches his breath. you stare at him, struggling to find your words.

“what are you…” you're about to ask, but he cuts you off.

“can i come in?”

you stand there, your feet rooted to the ground. you’ve replayed this moment countless times during your lonely nights, imagining if he’d ever come back, if he’d ask for your forgiveness. now that he's here, the reality of it is almost too surreal.

you’re about to shut the door, the sight of him too much to handle. but he stops it with his foot. “please, baby,” he says softly, and it almost makes you melt. you quickly remind yourself to stay strong. “you don’t get to call me that,” you snap, sounding like a petulant kid even though the endearment tugs at you.

his eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of regret and desperation. “i know you don’t want to see me, but—”

before he can finish, you sigh and step aside. he walks through the door, and the emptiness of the place hits him hard. memories start rushing back—the way you'd run up to him and hug him when he came home from work, the new recipes you’d tried out together in the kitchen, those late nights on the couch where you’d read while he worked on his laptop. his eyes fall on the open bedroom door, spotting the mattress. the nights you spent together, a mess of tangled limbs.

his throat feels tight, and before he knows it, his eyes are filled with tears. you see the look on his face and without thinking, you set the glass down on the kitchen counter and pull him into a hug. he clings to you, holding you like you’re the only thing anchoring him. his knees start to wobble, and he pulls you down with him. you both sink to the wooden floor. his body trembles as he takes in shaky breaths, trying to hold back his sobs.

you press a kiss to his hair like you have countless times before when he sought comfort in your arms. “kento,” you whisper softly, the name feeling heavy on your tongue. “please,” he whispers back, his voice broken and desperate. you know what he's asking for, but it's too late. “you’re too late,” you say, struggling to keep your voice from wavering.

he pulls back from your shoulder. you both gaze into each other's eyes. the unspoken words hang heavy between the two of you. “i’m sorry,” he says in a broken whisper. the words you've been longing to hear for the past five months. the apology should be bringing you some sort of relief, right? but all you feel is guilt. overwhelming guilt which threatens to spill from your eyes. why didn’t you fight harder for both of you? why did you just pin the blame on him and give up after only one attempt?

as if sensing your turmoil, he cups your cheeks and leans his head against yours. “don't even think about blaming yourself,” he murmurs, his voice soft and reassuring. his hands are warm on your cheeks. his warmth seeps into you, pumping your heart. it's too much in the best way. god, you've missed him so much.

“kento,” your voice chokes. he kisses the tears streaming down your cheeks, his lips brushing against your skin with a featherlight touch.

“no more tears,” he says, giving you a sad smile. his thumb gently brushes away the last of your tears. he stands up and offers you his hand. you take your glass of wine as he grabs the bottle and leads you out to the balcony. you both stand under the night sky, covered with heavy clouds with the promise of rain.

you sip your wine silently while he takes a swig directly from the bottle. after a moment, you place your glass on the floor and, without a word, he hands you the bottle. your fingers brush against each other as you pass the bottle back and forth. you somehow find yourselves moving closer.

he turns his head to look at you as your head rests on his shoulder. you’re unsure who makes the first move and you couldn’t care less. your lips brush against each other, both of you hesitant, unsure if you should cross the line or not. you don’t know if it’s the emotions of the night or the alcohol in your system, but before you can think too much about it, you close the gap and press your lips against his.

the bottle slips from his hand and shatters on the floor as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek. his thumb moves under your jaw, tilting it higher to deepen the kiss. he groans into your mouth, and just then, the rain starts. fat, heavy drops fall over both of you as you lose yourself completely in the kiss.

the kiss starts slow and gentle but quickly turns needy and desperate as you both give in to each other. he walks you back into the apartment, blindly shutting the balcony door behind him with the rain muffled outside. he pulls away, breathing heavily, and his hand moves to the hem of your drenched sweater (his). “looks better on you than it did on me,” he smiles tenderly as he notices.

he waits for a moment, his eyes searching yours for permission to remove it. you nod and the sweater is off before you can blink. your pants follow next. you start unbuttoning his shirt as he kisses you again. both of you blindly make your way back to the bedroom. your hands find the waistband of his pants, and as the back of your feet meets the mattress on the floor, you yelp, falling backward and pulling him down with you. the sounds of your chuckles fill the empty apartment.

the room fills with tension as you both quiet down. kento’s finger gently tucks back a strand of hair behind your ear. "i missed hearing that," he murmurs sincerely. before you can respond, he captures your lips. his tongue presses against your lips and you part them, letting him in as the kiss deepens and becomes urgent.

his hands roam over your body with confidence, each caress of his fingers making you gasp against his lips. he cups your breasts, making you arch into him. he pulls back from your lips and trails teasing kisses down your neck and jaw.

he takes a moment to slip off your bra, leaving you just in your panties. seeing the blush spread across your cheeks, he grins. "you're so fucking beautiful," he breathes, his voice hoarse with need.

his hands continue their exploration, setting your skin ablaze. he parts your legs and positions himself between them, his fingers grazing over your thighs, savoring every inch. he takes in a shaky breath as he gazes down at you, reminding him of the first time you were together.

“ken, please,” you whimper, voice trembling with need. he chuckles at your desperation. “patience, my sweet love.” he spreads your legs wider, making you gasp as his tongue presses against your drenched panties. “haven’t even done anything yet, and you’re already so wet?” he asks with a cocky grin.

his eyes flutter closed as the taste of you seeps through the fabric, his nose pressed against you, sending shivers through your body. your hands instinctively find his hair, tugging him closer. his breath is hot, teasing, as his tongue traces the outline of your folds, every lick driving you closer to the edge. unintelligible sounds spill from your lips as your breaths grow heavier.

his fingers slip beneath your panties, grazing where you need him most. he teases you, taking his time, relearning your body, savoring every reaction. when he pushes two fingers inside, he growls low, “so warm, so eager.” your hips buck up, seeking more.

he withdraws his fingers and slides your panties off, his eyes never leaving you as he pumps himself slowly. he watches the way your lips part, how your eyes darken with desire. without breaking his gaze, he slides into you, and you both moan in unison. the stretch is overwhelming, your hands instinctively grip his shoulders as your body arches, shuddering under the intensity.

his lips trail kisses across your collarbones, his breath ragged against your neck. “tell me you missed me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need and vulnerability.

“i missed you so much,” you breathe out. he groans softly at your confession. his lips crash into yours, a messy attempt to kiss as his movements grow more desperate, deeper.

for a moment, the past five months of pain, regret, and loneliness seem to melt away. it’s just the two of you, tangled up and breathless, your bodies slick with sweat and desire.

outside, the rain pounds against the windows, a loud backdrop to the soft, urgent sounds of your carnal needs. the heavy rain against the windows blends with the symphony of your mingled breaths and whispered names.

your moans grow louder as he picks up the pace, your walls clenching and holding onto him he moves in out of you. your senses blur together, the pressure inside you builds fast. that tight coil in your stomach winding impossibly close to snapping. your muscles tense as you edge towards your release.

your nails dig into his back, your body trembling as you feel yourself teetering on the edge. his grip on you tightens like he’s afraid to let go, afraid of losing this moment—or you—all over again.

“i’m sorry,” he chokes out, his voice cracking as he presses his forehead against yours. his thrusts slow but grow deeper, each one filled with a desperation that cuts through the haze of pleasure. “i’m so sorry.”

the words hit you like a wave, and your chest tightens. it’s hard to breathe, your heart torn between the intensity of your orgasm and the pain of remembering everything that brought you here.

but for just this moment, you let yourself drown in both. the pleasure and the ache intertwine, your moans mixed with soft sobs as you finally come undone in his arms.

your body trembles beneath him as you try to catch your breath, still reeling from the intensity of it all. he stays there for a moment, buried deep inside you, holding you like he never wants to let go. his fingers trace your cheek, catching a stray tear, and his lips press against your skin—soft, desperate.

“don’t leave me,” he whispers, voice breaking as he buries his face into your shoulder. his chest heaves, and he pulls back to meet your eyes, pleading.

you can barely breathe, the weight of it all crashing over you. he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering, trembling, like he’s holding on for dear life.

“i should’ve fought for us,” he says, voice cracking under the strain. “i messed up, but it’s not too late. i’ll talk to the lawyers tomorrow—i’ll fix everything.”

his words hang heavy in the air as he kisses you again, slow and tender, like he’s sealing a vow. and despite the conflicting emotions inside you, you let yourself lean into it, into him, just for tonight.

when you wake the next morning, the light filtering in through the curtains, you feel his warmth still pressed against you. for a brief moment, you think it’s a dream—one of those bittersweet fantasies you’d had over the last few months.

but then you feel his arms tighten, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck. “good morning,” his voice gruff.

“i’ll talk to the lawyers today,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing. “i’ll make it right.” you give him a sleepy smile and he chuckles fondly. you hear him moving around quietly—getting dressed, gathering his things. “i’ll be back soon,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “we’ll figure it out.”

the morning is gray, the skies still heavy from last night’s rain. you hear the sound of his car pulling away, hoping when you wake up next, this will all be over. but when you do, it’s not the sound of him coming back that wakes you—it’s the phone ringing.

the roads were slick, the rain turning everything into a slippery danger. they say he didn’t see the other car coming, didn’t have time to react. your heart sinks as you hear the fragments of the message: “accident,” “wet roads,” “collision.”

the phone drops from your trembling hand. the world around you blurs as you fall to the floor.

you rush to the hospital, your mind racing. when you finally get to the icu, you find him there, motionless but breathing. a rush of relief floods through you as you see the steady rise and fall of his chest.

you sit by his side, gripping his hand tightly. the steady beeping of the monitors fills the silence in the room. you don’t know when he’ll wake up, or if he’ll wake up at all. tears slip silently down your cheeks as you whisper, “i’m here, kento. i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

A/N: product of me listening to pink in the night on repeat for the past two days. likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[ruruumin]

hi!! I came across you and I thought your work is really amazing!! This is my first time asking something like this haha but for everything a first :) I really love figure skating and I was wondering if you could make a oneshot or any headcannons of the reactions of blue lock characters haha (mostly rin nagi and sae)! (sorry if I made some mistakes, English is t my first language)

ice, ice, baby!

₊˚ ᗢ blue lock various x figure skater! reader.

⤷ what kind of relationships rin, sae, and nagi (separate) would be in.

itoshi rin

“if you’re going to do something, do it with your entire heart.”

rin met you when he was only ten years old. you were his next door neighbor with a feverish dream to become the best figure skater in the world. although it may have been one of the loftiest dreams anyone might hear, he believed in you the same way you did for him. and together, he will see you perform all over the country, with him in arms waiting.

so when a cold rainy day comes and the two of you were walking home together under a shared umbrella, he wanted to say something. but you beat him to it. standing in front of your door, you turned around and smiled, saying only two things: i will be leaving to russia tomorrow morning to train with a new coach. 

this first part came as a no brainer to him, of course you would leave. just as sae did a few months ago, you were beginning to flap the wings you were blessed with. however, the second part was what kept him on his toes, heart punching up to his throat: and i love you, rin.

after departing in the morning, he would stay up late to watch your performances on television. even when he had early practice, it was complete habit to see you on screen. your presence on the ice was unmatched by many of your cohorts in russia. cold and calculative, yet free flowing. like a confident stream you graced the fields with a polished play. alongside a perfectly timed quad axel, it placed you right at the top of the world.

the ultimate power couple. when you’re at the kiss and cry, you’ll say his name to the camera before blowing a kiss. meanwhile, whenever he scores a goal, he’ll raise his fist in a catching motion, bringing it up to his lips as he hides his faint smile behind his hand. your performances will always be dedicated to each other and it drives the press mad (rightfully so). 

when you return to japan, he’s the first person that you see at the airport. in only a matter of seconds, with his extremely long legs and speed, he is wrapping his arms around you tightly, inhaling your scent as he lays his head on your shoulder. 

he would immediately take you back to all your favorite places. during your time away, he had taken a multitude of pictures and sent you dozens of instagram reels of cafes. now that you were here in his arms, it made going to them all the more real (or maybe not, with you sitting in front of him, enjoying a mont blanc and latte, it feels like the perfect dream). 

sleeping in the same bed as him had never felt any better. while you knew him to be a drooler, you would have never expected him to be clingier than a koala. he is keeping you flushed against his chest the entire night. if you think about getting water, he will follow you with arms tangled with yours. 

itoshi sae

“i’ll carve my name into ice while you all watch in awe.” 

the only other person with the same amount of arrogance as him was you, a rebellious teenager he found on the streets of spain. you tried to pickpocket him on his first day in the country. instead of reporting you to the police, he asked you one simple question that changed the trajectory of your life: if you had the chance to do anything, what would it be?

some people viewed you as a lost cause in the figure skating world. having started extremely late compared to your other peers, your name was rubbish and caked in dirt. however, it never stopped sae from coming to see you after every practice, watching as you practiced your spins and salchows underneath the dim lights of the arena with a coach he’d hired. to him, you were a diamond in the rough that just needed a push.

he didn’t think much about your relationship until it was late at night. you were walking back with him to a hotel, face covered with masks to avoid intruding paparazzi. it started off with small talk, like family and friends (you learned he had a very cocky but sweet brother back in japan), but it quickly diverged into something more intimate that had the two of you walking into his room with intertwined pinkies.

when it came time to perform in the qualifying rounds, you had plunged the stadium with wails and tears. overcoming the country’s beloved skater by a wide margin, you stood above everyone, head raised high as you pointed up to the cameras, hardening your gaze as you mouthed sae’s name. you must have known he was watching from the corners of the locker room. 

the world of figure skating was going to change with you, a new generation skater that rose from nothing. 

sae feels immense pride when it comes with you. even though there were many curve balls thrown in your direction, whether it be from bad press or his persistent fanbase, the smile you hid beneath the covers reassured him that you were going to stick it out. nothing in the world could compare to the happiness you felt when you were with sae. because with him, you knew you could do anything.

dates typically consist of fancy meals or sightseeing trips. he isn’t particularly drawn to these activities himself, but what motivates him is the thought of treating you to something new. whether it be a pretty dessert from down the street that costed an arm and a leg, or seeing the stars as you walk along the beach, he’ll dedicate a huge chunk of his income to letting you see the world in its fullest.

matching photocards on the back of your phone cases. sae uses a clear one so he can flip his phone around and stare at you before every game. while some think he’s admiring your smile (as beautiful as it is), he’s actually sees you as the perfect rival to his games. although you were both in different sports, the two of you constantly pushed each other to your limits, showing the world what it means to be the very best. 

nagi seishiro

“there is no point in anything if you aren’t going to have fun.” 

he wasn’t interested in figure skating until he came across one of your performances on youtube. it was really early into middle school when he started watching you. one of the reasons why he started was because you skated to a lot of his favorite songs from video games he liked. the second reason was because you looked like you were having fun. 

unlike most figure skaters he’s seen, you made the sport look enjoyable (he thinks everyone else looks extremely constipated when they’re too focused). with a beautifully confident smile, you danced across the ice, performing triple axels and a perfect biellmann spin. you skated as if you truly loved this sport, and this was the selling point for him (maybe this is when he started to be called a certified fanboy).

when he arrived to blue lock, the first thing he wanted to win back was his phone so he could keep up with your recent uploads. even when you aren’t posting something figure skating related, your miniature q&a sessions were entertaining enough to keep him awake for the rest of the night, much to reo’s dismay (he wanted to sleep early for once).

the best thing reo had gifted him were a pair of tickets to see you perform at one of the biggest skating rinks in the country. nagi was almost shaking in his seat in excitement, eyes wider than saucers when you stepped into the arena with the prettiest outfit known to man. you blew kisses and waved to the audience, giving them your signature smile. you suddenly stopped in your tracks to deliver a long kiss in nagi’s direction, something that sent him into an early cardiac arrest.

your relationship with him blossoms after seeing him at the local convenience store. the two of you had awkwardly reached for the same cup noodle. even though you were dressed in a simple, oversized black hoodie and a mask that hid half of your face, he easily recognized you by the sound of your voice. nagi’s phone would have dropped to the ground if it wasn’t for you catching it midway. when the screen lights up with a picture of you as his wallpaper, you smile and type in your number, throwing his phone back to him as you take the cup noodle and leave.

you and him would text consistently. after every practice he would immediately rush over to his phone to see if you had left any messages. expect a lot of back and forth photos. nagi’s pictures consisting of things he saw that reminded him of you while you sent him photos of yourself at practice or a recent choreograph. 

imagine how shocked your youtube fanbase is when you show up with your 6’3 boyfriend who barely shows up on camera because hes too tall for your tripod. you’re teaching him how to ice skate and although he started as a wobbly giraffe, he easily picked up a lot of tricks. he might not be the best at doing jumps but his footwork was impeccable (you like to tease him about switching careers but he lazily replies with his face in your shoulder about how much work it’ll be). 

[astralnymphh]

thinking about painslut!ellie who likes getting scratched up by long nails.. ✮

nothing— and i punctuate nothing, compares to the painful bliss of feeling nails as whetted as a great white's jaw of knives tear red valleys into her shoulder blades. hell, ellie encourages you to mark up her back. not necessarily by words, though. a sort of fucking frenzy will kick in, and she'll embolden those claws to bite with her hips, rolling on yours, dragging her soppy folds all over your cunt. ellie angles herself in various ways; draws her groin under yours to hump your clit directly, positions and splays her pretty bush as she bounces on your bud, plasters her pussy full–on and circles the skin 'round. an unorthodox aim to get you wailing, "yyesss ellie!" as you cum against her puffy pussy and straightaway, without hesitation tracing your fingertips up her supple, dry–scored skin, you dip pressure beneath the jut of her shoulder blades and shred the flesh. "fuck! fuuck!" els' winces to your ear, growlish on the lobe as she nips it, "yeah, make me fucking bleed baby, fuckin' bleed." almost knurling her back into your clawing palms, seizing and clenching up her rump on your cunt as her cum spills lubricous and frothy inside your pussy lips, hiking herself up just so you could visual the honeyed webs keeping you two connected. "hurts so good, mhmm, so fucking.." but she is nay of breath and hazy of her heart and eye, the added zap to her climaxing core and the throbbing affliction of fresh crimson dashes oozing tiny beads of blood, sanguineous delight, offering of the pale mistress moon— has her merry to pass out. collapsing, her orangey sweat breasts fall to yours and squish like two pancakes, damp waist laying next, and lastly her chin hooking a home upon the nook of your neck, parting breaths she longs to not be livened of soon enough. "thank you.. thank y' thank— mhh, thank you." ellie recites a push of praises through your collarbone, her hand draped limp on your bicep wiping it's thumb so gentle with care, the ghostly graze dithers your brain a second— a moment you skip and fuzz the realization of a warm drip streaming on your rib during, the grasp of what that dribble was hitting you like a brick. "ellie, ur' back— y'need to.. huhh.. band-aid.." exhausted, little heaves clog your throat through the words, but ellie slacks her head up and renders them useless regardless, "mh–mm, it's fine. don't need 'em tonight." she gauzes your light worries in a tone that sifts through you, relaxes you, crafts you a reason to wonder 'why bother', and lie there lackadaisical as her kisses pepper cold on searing skin, a dozing meadow under the twilight sky of her sleepy gaze and in her arms like earth crust and soil fertile. sprouting in you a drug–like miasma that eats your thoughts and lulls your physical senses into a numb horizon, the last thing perceptible is the wash of air above you and a weighted thump beside you, leading you to believe ellie had bet on falling asleep as well, happy as a parakeet with liquid–iron proof of her bloody lovemaking flowing like a waterfall of bitterness down her back.

however, that proof had leaked and dotted the bedsheet come virgin daylight, adding one more thing to the laundry basket. ౨ৎ

[peachsukii]

✮ content. little thoughts related to this post. fem!reader. mentions of mental health struggles & blood/wound care. reader is a little mean to herself. angst w/ comfort + fluff. softie bakugo.

Lost in the nothingness inside your head, you don’t have time to react when the cup slips from your hands, crashing into the sink with a loud crack. It was an accident, but you can’t help thinking that the universe is out to get you, and somehow, that you deserved it. Your favorite mug laid in ceramic slices, shattered under the running water of the kitchen sink.

“The hell was that?” Bakugo calls from the living room while making his way to the kitchen. “Did ya—”

He stops, the look on your face sending a chill through him as you stared into the sink basin, eyes unfocused and hazy. Carefully, he approaches you and turns off the water.

“Sweets, you’re bleeding,” Bakugo says hurriedly, a hand coming to take the shard from your grasp. When did you even pick that up?

“Lemme clean you up, yeah?” It’s phrased as a question, but Bakugo won’t take no for an answer — it’s not in his vocabulary. He runs into the bathroom and back to the kitchen in the blink of an eye, first aid kit in hand. The tin bangs against the counter as he throws it open. He lets out a breath before taking your hand to examine it further.

“Doesn’t look like anythin’ is stuck in the cut. Here,” Bakugo pauses to turn the faucet on and pushes your hand under the icy stream of water. “S’gonna sting, but cold water helps numb it.”

“Might make me feel something,” you mumble monotonously. “Other than stupid for dropping the damn thing.”

“Hey.” Bakugo orders sternly, fingers instantly finding your chin to turn your gaze toward him. “None’a that. Shit happens, you didn’t break it on purpose.”

You roll your eyes at him when he lets go, unintentionally getting snippy at his words. “Sure, I’m constantly terrible at everything because shit happens. Can’t be that I’m a failure of a hero, or at everything lately.”

“Stop.” Bakugo’s hands tremble as he rummages through the first aid kit to find what he needs. He hates seeing you spiral, loathes hearing you talk so poorly about yourself during these episodes. “S’not your fa—”

“But it is my fault!” You don’t mean to interrupt him, but your emotions are getting the best of you in the moment, the pain begging to be released at any cost. “All this misery and pain is exhausting. I should’ve let the villains take—”

Bakugo unexpectedly slams the first aid kit closed and shuts you up instantly. You’re speechless, the sudden outburst shaking you out of your self pity party and shifting into concern for him.

“…Katsuki?” You ask sheepishly, knowing full well your words cut him deeper than any knife could.

“Please…stop.” He turns his back to you, a hand coming to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. The air is heavy, the only noise being the water trickling over your wound. All he wanted to do was take care of you, fix your physical wounds in order to help heal your emotional ones. "Not sayin' ya can't be upset, just...don't say shit like that."

He’s right, you know he’s right.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” Bakugo turns back toward you, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “Don’t wanna think about you not bein’ here is all.”

Before you can stop yourself, the question spills over your lips. “But Katsuki, why are you here?”

He hesitates for a few seconds, cycling past the urge to spit back something sarcastic or harsh to such a stupid question. You think for a moment that he’s considering leaving without a word, the hurt in his eyes evident from your negative attitude.

“Do I need a reason?” He tilts his head before lowering his eyes back to your hand, gently taking it in his and flipping your palm toward him, dabbing the excess water away from the open cut. “Y’know if I didn’t wanna be somewhere that I wouldn’t bother.”

“Yeah, but—”

He holds his free hand up to interrupt you. “M’here ‘cause I happen to love your ass and don’t like seein’ ya down. I won’t leave ya when you’re strugglin’, what kind of hero would I be then?”

You don’t mean to, but scoff at the mention of being a hero. “Always gotta be the hero.”

Bakugo stops to take a deep breath before invading your space, dropping the cloth from his hand and encasing you in a hug, his dry hand pushing your cheek against his chest. “Listen, sweetheart. Fight me all ya want, but as long as my heart is beating, m’gonna be here to take care of you. Sunshine or rainstorms, good and bad times. We figure it out together. I’ll keep drillin’ it into your head until you believe me, no matter how long it takes.”

There’s no point in arguing any further or being stubborn, Bakugo always knew how to win that race. A graceful surrender is your best option. He lets out a dry huff of victory at your silence, a tiny grin plastered on his face when he pulls away from you to return to the first aid kit.

“Now lemme wrap up your damn hand before you bleed all over my kitchen, then I’ll take ya to get a new mug. Deal?”

Your lips curl into a half-smile, suddenly feeling a little lighter than earlier, even if it’s just for a moment. “Deal.”