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withwritersblock · 1 day ago

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Teenage Dirtbag

~Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus but the 1D cover~

Author's Note: requested! this started out as one thing and then it ended up be 5k words of idk! Summary: Jack falls for the quiet girl in the group Warnings: nothing too bad Word Count: 5,746 Jack Hughes x fm!reader

They were the definition of mutual friends. Her best friend was dating his brother’s best friend, so they only interacted in groups. As in, he was always the center of attention and she was observing quietly. They have been mutual friends for a few years now, only sharing a few conversations here and there.

It was the first summer that the boys were all free and so were the girls. It was Luke’s idea to have everyone come to the Hughes’ lakehouse. The entire groupchat was ecstatic and talking about their travel plans. But since Y/N was only really friends with Hanah and her boyfriend John. Y/N was always quiet during the group hangouts so she didn’t think anyone else would notice if she didn’t want to come to Michigan.

She thought at least until Jack had texted in the chat asking if she was planning on coming. She told the chat that she was planning on it and everyone was ecstatic to have the whole group there for the entire summer.

Which is how she ended up in a plane flying to Michigan. She was sitting beside Hanah and John. John was on the isle seat with his rested on Hanah shoulder as he was dead asleep. They were landing in thirty minutes and he had slept the whole flight despite Hanah’s constant chatter. Y/N would mumble a few replies but she was in her own little world.

She was not someone who enjoyed a lot of attention or even being social for a long time. Which is why this group was usually at a distance. She loved being around them but she also needed time away from them.

Two whole months with them felt like a nightmare because she was the only one that didn’t thrive in social situations.

“We’ve got a summer of concerts and a summer on the lake, how are you not excited?” Hanah begged as she took a hold of Y/N’s hand. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“I am excited for relaxation,” Y/N offered as she glanced to the next row to see Jack and Luke chatting somewhat loudly.

Hanah rolled her eyes dramatically as she delicately took a hold his cheek. Y/N watched them intently, a sting of jealously coursing through her body.

“It’s going to be an amazing summer,” Hanah mumbled as she kept her gaze on John. Y/N nodded as she shifted her gaze down towards her phone for the remainder of the flight.

Once they were off the flight the walk through the airport took forever since the boys kept getting stopped for photos and their Uber driver was all the way at the back of the Uber pick up line. The rest of the groupchat was flying in from all over North America and were planning on meeting at the house.

The Uber driver finally pulled up in front of them and Luke happily took the shotgun seat and forced everyone else to squeeze together in the back of the Kia. Because they were in need of an extra seat Hanah simply sat in John’s lap to create an extra seat. The Uber driver didn’t realize that when his car had five seats, it included himself. Jack jumped in and sat in the middle seat, leaving Y/N to sit against the window.

She kept her gaze towards the window despite Jack and her own knee forced to be against one another. “Sorry, last time I cheap out on Ubers,” Jack mumbled as he leaned towards her. She forced a smile onto her lips as she met his gaze for a second.

It’s fine,” she mumbled as she tilted her head towards the window.

Jack kept his gaze on her for a moment before he looked back down towards his lap.

The drive to the Hughes’ lakehouse was only twenty minutes but it was definitely the longest twenty minutes of any of their lives, beside Luke. He was comfortable and eating the driver’s snacks he offered. Zero hesitation in the process.

As soon as the car was put into park, Y/N instantly opened the door and slipped out. She kept it open as she walked towards the trunk and immediately pulling all of their suitcases out. Jack instantly followed in pursuit, keeping his distance. He pulled the last of the suitcases out and closed the trunk. Jack shifted his gaze towards her for a second before he started dragging two suitcases as once.

Quinn, Trevor, and Cole all jogged out of the house, shirtless and excited to see everyone. This was only the third time she’s seen the three in person since the group chat was made. Which is another reason as to why she was unsure as to why she was invited.

“Look at that the plans made it out of the chat!” Cole shouted as he instantly ran around to give each person a hug. Y/N hugged him back hesitantly but the hug last less than a second it seemed.

“Everyone grab a suitcase, we gotta assign roommates,” Quinn let out excitedly. Everyone listened and didn’t seem to care about the situation except Y/N. She kept her own suitcases dragging behind her as she slowly walked towards the entrance of the house. The only person she truly knew in the house was Hanah, and she knew she was going to room with John. But who would that leave Y/N with?

Once they were inside it was obvious the house was huge and yet it still looked like a frat house. It was clean but the decor definitely gave boy. She stood awkwardly beside Hanah while she glanced towards Jack. His hair was covered with a backwards hat now and he had a wide grin on his lips.

She’s always found him attractive, it’s hard not to but he was always so out there. She brought her gaze back towards the tile beneath her sandals.

“Okay, we have five rooms. Which means some of us will have to get snuggly,” Quinn teased. His gaze was dancing around the room, meeting everyone’s eye for a moment. “Obviously John and Hanah will be sharing a room because-well,” he paused as he pointed towards them. The room giggled. “And Y/N you can have your own room.”

“Why does she get her own room?” Trevor whined jokingly.

“Because that would be weird to tell her that she had to share a bed with one of you assholes,” Quinn said while shaking his head, a chuckle falling from his lips.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. She lifted her gaze to nod towards Quinn. He smiled towards her before he started his shpeel again. “Jack, you can either have your own room or pick between Trev and Cole because Lukey and I already decided to share,”

“I’ll have my own room, thanks,” Jack let out with a wide grin on his lips.

“I didn’t want to spoon with you anyway,” Cole let out, the entire room started to laugh, even Y/N.

“You guys can have my room,” Luke mumbled towards Trevor and Cole.

“Come on, Y/N, I’ll show you our private rooms,” he let out teasingly to the whole group. Everyone started to disperse towards their own bedrooms. Y/N stayed still for a second, her heart jumping into her throat. Alone with Jack. For the first time, ever.

She nodded as she reluctantly followed after him, dragging her two suitcases behind her. The two rooms that Jack and Y/N were in were on the main level while every other room was on the second floor.

Jack opened one of the doors, tossing the door open. “That’ll be your room,” he let out before he spun around to face her. Shyly, she smiled towards him as she started walking into her room. He furrowed his eyebrows, leaving his suitcases in the hallway. She took a hold of one of the suitcases and tossed it onto the bed, a huff of air leaving her lips in the process.

He leaned against the doorway, his hands holding the top of the doorframe. She spun her head around, seeing him standing there. Her heart was beating out of her chest. Swallowing hard she turned her whole body around to face him.

“How did you end up being friends with Hanah?” Jack asked as he slowly dropped his hands to the side, stepping into the room further. Furrowing her eyebrows, she awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest. “I-I mean you’re so quiet and she’s… so not,”

Y/N stifled a laugh as she reached down and took a hold of her other suitcase. She placed it beside her other one and let out a huff of air before she turned her gaze towards Jack.

“We sat next to each other in second grade and I guess she took my silence as a yes to being friends,” she mumbled, he smiled softly. “Which it was at the time,” she continued meeting his eye.

He squinted his eyes sightly as he scanned her frame subtly before he swallowed hard. He stepped back while running his fingers through his hair. She turned around and opened the suitcase. “At the time?” he asked softly.

Taking in a deep breath, Y/N began to pull out her different clothes. Many of them were for dinner, clubs, or swimsuits. “Sometimes I get so tired of being social,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze away from him.

“I get that,” he mumbled, chuckling softly. “This group is all yappers except maybe John-but if you ever need a break don’t be afraid to just leave. We understand,” he explained softly.

Her lips fell into a pout as she turned around, meeting his eye and nodded. He smiled towards her before he slipped out of her room. She dropped her gaze towards the floor. A grin forming to her lips.

~~~

It had been two days since they arrived and it was safe to say that Y/N was already exhausted from all of the group hanging out. She’s done at least for today. Which is why she hasn’t left her room yet She was laying on her bed, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest as she was watching Pretty Little Liars.

A few soft knocks hit her door. She shut her eyes harshly as she quietly forced out, “Come in.” she laid onto her back as the door was softly cracked open. Jack peeked his head inside holding a mug of coffee in his hand.

“I brought you coffee,” he let out quietly as he slipped inside, he delicately shut the door. She pouted her lips as she slowly sat up slightly. “Splash of cream? Right?” he asked as he cautiously handed it over to her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she immediately brought the mug towards her lips. He winked towards her as he sat down beside her. She placed it onto the nightstand beside her. She met his eye for a moment before she dropped her gaze back towards her lap.

“We’re heading on the boat soon, do you want to join?” he asked. Subconsciously, her face scrunched up in disgust. He chuckled. “It’s okay, I’ll have my phone on me so text me if you want us to come pick you up,” he muttered, looking into her eyes.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she shyly dropped her gaze towards her lap. He stood up and walked out of the room, not turning back to meet her eye. Shutting the door delicately, he walked down the hall towards the rest of the group and they were all in their swimsuits and walking around slightly stir crazy.

“Is she coming?” Hanah asked hopeful. Jack shook his head as he shoved his hands into his swimtrunk’s pockets. “What, that’s bogus, I’ll grab her.”

“Leave her be, she wants to relax in bed,” Jack let out while chuckling.

“Well who am I supposed to hang with,” Hanah asked with a pout on her lips. John threw his hands to the side with his mouth falling open. “You don’t count,” she said delicately tapping her hand against his arm.

“She wants to be alone that’s all.” Jack continued as he walked backwards towards the door, “We have a boat to get drunk on, come on,”

The whole group started to happily walk out of the house. Jack glanced down at his phone, somewhat expecting a text from her but there was nothing. He sighed as he followed the rest of them out into the heat.

~~~

It was several hours later and everyone was quite drunk beside Jack and Y/N. They were slap happy, giggling and enjoying every drop of alcohol they were drinking. Jack didn’t want to take care of them anymore and decided to see if she would like some company.

He walked up to the door, knocking softly and another echo of come in. He delicately pushed the door open, he peeked his head inside. She lifted her gaze up from her computer and smiled towards him.

“What are you doing Jack?” she asked as he slowly slipped inside.

“Can I hang in here?” he asked quietly. She tried to stop the grin forming to her lips. She nodded as she closed her computer and placed it onto the nightstand. “Did you leave the room at all?” he asked teasingly as he jogged around the bed to sit on the other side.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she met his gaze, “I did, I showered, thank you,” she let out sarcastically. He barked out a laugh as he tilted his head back against the headboard.

They sat together in silence for a few minutes, neither of them looking towards one another. Jack was not used to enjoying quiet, he usually hated anything that was quiet. In his life, quiet meant something bad was happening. But Y/N thrived in the quiet. Maybe even the happiest when it’s just her and silence.

But she does look happy, maybe it was an act or maybe she was actually content with him sitting beside her.

“What are you doing?” she asked again, tilting her head to the side to meet his gaze. He pouted his lips, shaking his head slightly. “We barely interact for years, I think these past three days is the most we’ve interacted… ever,” she expressed.

He smirked as he continued to look into her eyes. “You’ve always caught my eye,” he let out quietly, subconsciously inching towards her.

“Really?” she asked shyly. He hummed as he continued to look into her eyes. “Okay,” she let out softly. He chuckled quietly as he tilted his head back, looking up towards the ceiling.

“What were you doing?” he asked, pointing towards her laptop. Her eyes lit up as her lips curled up into a grin.

“I was working on my manuscript,” she muttered. He grinned. “I started it years ago and now I’m just rewriting and editing it,”

“Can I read it?” he asked. Instantly, she shook her head, “Oh come on!” he let out while laughing.

“No,” she let out giggling, taking a hold of laptop and placing it on the floor, sliding it under the bed.

“When it’s finished can I read it?” he questioned pursing his lips forward. She nodded as she leaned her head back against the headboard. “Good,” he let out. After a few seconds, he tilted his head to the side to admire her side profile. “What’s it about?”

“Jack,” she scolded softly.

“Right,” he muttered as he fought a smile on his lips. He looked back down towards his lap. She giggled as she took a hold of the TV remote beside her and turned on the TV. “What are we watching?” he asked. She simply shrugged before she climbed under the covers. Jack watched her before he followed in pursuit.

“Any preference?” she asked barely above a whisper. He shook his head while pouting his lips. Nodding, she pulled up Hulu and went to the episode of Law and Order SVU she was on. He furrowed his eyebrows harshly as he stared towards her. Shifting her gaze towards him, she fought a grin on her lips.

“Who just puts on Law and Order?” he questioned. She shrugged as she shifted her gaze back towards the screen. “God, you are so weird,” he let out while laughing. She rolled her eyes playfully.

~~~

“She lives!” Hanah teased as Y/N emerged from the hallway. Y/N rolled her eyes as she flipped her off. She wandered towards the empty seat beside Jack.

She sat down and Jack trailed her frame as she sat down. Her frame was covered with loose shorts and a tight thing long sleeve pajama shirt. He pressed his lips together as he tilted his head back against the couch for only a moment.

“Sorry,” Y/N muttered as she sunk into herself. Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he glanced towards Hanah for a second before he looked back towards Y/N. He could that the little joke Hanah said actually hurt her feelings.

“We’re going to the shops, if you want to come with,” Jack asked softly. She met his gaze and nodded. He smiled widely before shifting his gaze towards the group.

“Yes!” Hanah cheered loudly. Y/N forced a grin on her lips before she shifted her gaze back down towards her lap.

The entire group started engaging in conversation, Jack was talking loudly with Trevor about something relating to videos they have to shoot in August. Y/N shifted her gaze towards him, watching him laugh loudly and be the center of attention. The way he laughed and smiled widely was different from how she saw him last night.

It was how she usually saw him. Cracking jokes and laughing loudly. He was always the center of attention, he was Jack Hughes afterall.

She smiled softly as she continued to admire him, maybe secretively maybe not. She didn’t care, a lot of the time no one even noticed that she was there. He shifted his gaze briefly towards her, smiling once he met her eye before he went right back into his conversation.

It was an hour later and they were all at the shops that were full of pastel beach themed colors. The first shop they went to were stereotypical tourist gear but they stuck around to look at the tiny trinkets.

Y/N took a hold of a tiny racoon that was in a fishing boat. She stifled a small chuckle as she continued to look through each of the tiny things. Jack stumbled beside her, nearly knocking over a lamp. He steadied the lamp while meeting her gaze. She chuckled as she took a hold of a tiny frog sitting on a mushroom. She held it up towards him and he squinted his eyes while he fought off a laugh.

“Are you planning on buying anything?” he asked, she shrugged as she continued to show him the weirder and the weirder desk decorations. “You sure you don’t need a dinosaur dressed as a--astronaut?” he asked holding it up towards her. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“That’s insane,” she let out as she took a step back away from the table. He smiled towards her as he pointed towards the exit, where majority of their friends were already heading. She smiled shyly as she followed after him.

“Y/N, this next store has swimsuits, maybe you shouldn’t go in since you don’t like to go swimming,” Hanah said with a smirk on her lips, intending to make a joke.

“Hardy har,” Y/N said while crossing her arms over her chest.

The next store was strictly clothing and everyone was actually pulling things to try on and potentially purchase. Y/N was looking at a handful of dresses. The dresses she had pulled out her skin tight and in many different shades of colors. One of them had long sleeves and she was excited to try it on.

Jack was watching from the distance, he was in the men’s section looking at the random hoodies. He’s always kept an eye on her, something about her always intrigued him. Sure, it was how she would go hours without talking while hanging out or how she would be shyly hiding in the corner of any party or night club.

She was stunning, that was no question. So gorgeous and so comfortable with trying to make sure no one noticed. But he did and he was determined to become close to her. He needed to know more about her.

He pulled the hoodie from the clothing rack and rolled his eyes before he placed it back onto it. He lifted his gaze again to see her walking towards the dressing room. He followed towards her, he shoved through the small crowds of people to try and meet up with her.

There was a line waiting for the two rooms that were available. Jack walked up beside her, smiling towards her. She spun around slowly meeting his gaze, she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Jack,” she mumbled.

“Tho-those are nice,” he let out awkwardly. She squinted her eyes as she furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I think so,” she expressed as she kept her gaze on his. He glanced down towards the dresses before he looked back up to meet her eye. “What are you thinking?” she asked as her lips curled upward in a small smile.

“Oh nothing,” he muttered, “Just gonna try on some clothes, I think,” he pursed his lips froward. She glanced down to his empty hands. He held his hands up and fought off a chuckle.

“You don’t have-” she trailed off.

“Yeah, I realized that. I don’t honestly know what I’m doing,” he explained while laughing. They moved up the line as someone exited.

She smirked as she tilted her head to the side. “Jack,” she let out. He hummed while shaking his head, “Did you just want to see me try these dresses on?” she questioned teasingly. His mouth fell open as he fought a grin on his lips.

“I was n-not-that is so, yeah I think so. I honestly don’t remember,” he said while avoiding her gaze. She pursed her lips forward as she tried to meet his eye, deliberately moving her head side to side.

“Jack,” she said.

“Yeah,” he let out as he finally met her gaze.

“Maybe later,” she whispered. He grinned as he nodded before he quickly stumbled away from her. She dropped her gaze towards the floor, smiling shyly.

~~~

Finally they all returned to the house, several bags of trinkets and clothes in all of their hands. Y/N delicately placed the bags onto her bed when she heart a small knock on her door. She rolled her eyes playfully as she muttered a come in. He peeked his head inside as he slipped inside. He shut the door behind him and locked the door behind him.

“I was promised a haul,” he mumbled quietly.

“I thought the word that left my lips was a maybe,” she uttered as she turned around to meet his gaze.

“I think you want to give me a haul,” he teased. She rolled her eyes as she dropped her gaze towards the floor for a moment. Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he scanned her suddenly worried features. “You okay?” he asked softly.

“What are you doing?” she asked, keeping her gaze on the floor.

“What?” he asked softly.

“Why are you all of a sudden acting like we’re friends? I mean I was fine playing along but seriously, Jack, what are you doing?” she asked, her lips quivering as she spoke. His eyes scanned her features, watching her waterline fill with tears. “Because if you are just doing this because you feel bad for me-”

“Why would I do that?” he asked softly, he took a step towards her. She pressed her lips together shaking her head, “I have been dying to get to know you. When I told you you’ve always caught my eye, I meant that,” he expressed as he took another step towards her.

“We are friends because I listen when you talk and I know you listen when I talk. We’re friends because I enjoy your company even when you don’t feel like talking. I know you enjoy my company because you keep letting me in. We’re friends because I see you,” he explained as he looked deeply into her eyes, something he hasn’t gotten to do. Her eyes were still teary.

“Okay,” she muttered.

“Okay,” he let out as he nodded slightly.

Her lips curled upward softly as she took a deep breath. “Sit,” she mumbed as she pointed towards her bed. He smiled softly as he listened. “Close your eyes.”

He smirked as he shut his eyes while shaking his head back and forth. She picked up her phone and started playing her playlist softly, she delicately rested it onto the dresser beside her before she started to slip her jean shorts off of her frame. She pulled the tanktop off of her body as she picked up the gold dress.

It barely covered her ass as it was tight against her curves. It was lose along her chest to show off her cleavage. She sighed as she her bra off and kept her underwear on. She slowly slipped the dress on, adjusting it to make sure it fit her perfectly.

The soft hum of the music made this more intimate than what she was expecting but she didn’t mind it. “Jack,” she let out barely above a whisper. He opened his eyes excitedly as he scanned her frame. His cheeks instantly flushed red as he continued to scan her frame. She shyly crossed her arms over her chest.

He shook his head as he stood up. Delicately, he took a hold of her arms and put them on her side. “Let me see you,” he whispered. She looked up towards him, fighting a small smile on her lips as she looked into his eye. “Oh my god,” he said as he hovered his hands around her frame.

“I’ve got like four more,” she mumbled as she continued to look into his gaze. He nodded as he bit his bottom lip, he slowly sat down.

“I don’t know how they’ll beat this one,” he mumbled as he watched her walked towards the plastic bag. She pointed towards him, he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip before he tilted his head back while shutting his eyes.

She slowly started to slip the dress from her frame again.

~~~

For the next few weeks Jack and Y/N would disappear together towards the end of the night. Since their rooms were in the same hallway, it didn’t cross anyone’s minds that they were hanging out together. Because no one’s truly noticed.

Jack was sprailed out on his bed as he waited for Y/N to join him. She was alone in her room, getting into comfortable clothing before she slipped away towards his room.

His feelings for her were starting to come more and more up front. After her little fashion show a few weeks back, he hasn’t stopped imagining what she would look like without the skin tight dresses on her frame. Nothing happened between them that night but she definitely could tell that he had some sort of feelings towards her. At least he thought it was obvious.

He held his phone above his face as he scrolled through his TikTok feed. He was chuckling at a few of the videos. His door was creaked open and Y/N had peeked her head inside. He pulled his phone away to meet her gaze, he smirked before he rested his phone onto the side table.

“Hi,” he let out as he watched her twist the lock on the door. She pressed her lips together as she watched Jack scan her frame. She was wearing a matching gray set of loose shorts and a tight tank top. He bit his bottom lip trying to prevent a wide grin forming to his lips.

“It’s weirdly quiet, are you sure everyone’s still here?” she asked as she pointed behind her. Jack shrugged as he patted the empty side of the bed. She rolled her eyes playfully as she climbed under the comforter and rolled onto her side to face him. He smirked as he kept his gaze on her lips.

“We’ve got the second season of New Girl to start,” he mumbled. She nodded as she inched towards him slightly. Subconsciously, he reached his hand over and took a hold of the base of her neck. He brushed her hair away from her face in the process. Her eyes widened slightly as she met his eye. He was breathing almost heavily but she wasn’t sure.

There was a moment where she felt her body erupt in flames. He continued to stare towards her lips, craving the taste of them. She swallowed hard as she felt her breath stuck in her throat.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly as he glided his thumb along her skin. He pressed his lips together as he scanned her features. She shook her head slightly almost instantly. He leaned towards her hovering his lips over hers.

Slowly, she shut her eyes as her lips tingled with anticipation. He smirked before he leaned closer. His lips pressed against hers softly, almost as if asking for permission. His lips were soft and warm as he waited for her to part her lips; to grant him access.

Parting her lips she took a hold of his shirt as he started to roll her onto her back. He adjusted the comforter on them, tossing it lower as a giggle fell from her lips.

Every glide of his fingertips, created goosebumps all over her body as her chest felt heavy. Her breathing became more rapid as he rested both hands on either side of her. Her hands took a hold of his cheeks.

Slowly pulling his lips from hers, he started trailing his lips down her neck. He began to suck and bite the skin just below her ear. She stifled a sudden gasp of air as she tiled her head back as she ran her fingers through his hair.

He pulled away, devouring her lips again. His hand started to toy with the hem of her tanktop.

“Oi, Jackaboy. You are needed in the basement, we’ve got a pool tourney starting!” Trevor shouted as he banged on the door. Jack instaly fell onto his back, staring towards the ceiling. His breathing heavy. “And can you find Y/N? She’s not in her room, we need another team,” he shouted as he banged his hand onto the door.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll find her. Just give me a second,” Jack shouted as he stood up from the bed. He shifted his gaze towards her, stifling a laugh.

“Let’s go man,” Trevor shouted again.

“I’ll meet you down there, damn,” Jack said as me was looking into Y/N’s eye. She fought off a grin as she pulled her knees to her chest. Trevor banged on the door before he wandered away.

Jack jogged around the bed to meet her on her side of the bed. Hovering over her, he took a hold of her cheek. “We got a few minutes of me searching for you, we could uh-” he trailed off as he scanned her features. She pursed her lips forward as she tilted her head back against the headboard. Leaning towards her, he delicately pressed his lips against hers.

“Let’s go,” she mumbled against his lips. He pulled away, pouting before he stood up from the bed. Looking down towards her, he stepped back.

“Lead the way,” he muttered pointing towards the door. She smiled as she slid off the bed. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes trailed her frame.

She peeked her head out of the bedroom to see no one in sight and they both started down the hallways towards the staircase towards the basement. Before they started down the steps, she turned around to meet his eye. “Don’t look at me,” she let out barely above a whisper.

“I can’t look at you?” he asked while meeting her gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered. He smirked as she started walking down the steps.

The rest of the evening ended with a tremendous victory for Luke and Quinn. They wouldn’t stop bragging at how much better they were than everyone else. It was obnoxious but regardless the evening was fun.

At first John and Hanah slipped away to their room. It was soon followed by Trevor and Cole. Quinn, Luke, Jack, and Y/N were the only ones left. Y/N was starting to fall asleep on the beanbag. Quinn chuckled as he rolled his eyes playfully.

“Y/N, maybe you should head up to bed,” Quinn offered. Her eyes shot open as she shook her head slightly. The boys shared glances before Quinn and Luke shot up from their seats. “We’re gonna head up too,” Quinn muttered as he shifted his gaze to Jack, smirking slightly.

Jack waved the brothers off as he stood up from the beanbag. He stood above her, he glanced back towards his brothers who were already half up the stairs. He held out his hand towards her. She smiled towards him as she gladly took it.

He guided her towards the stairs, their hands still interlocked. They climbed up the stairs and Jack kept looking back and forth to check and see if any of their friends were around them.

He continued to guide her towards his bedroom, walking past her room. Delicately, he unlocked the door and guided her inside. She smiled towards him as she watched him locked the door behind them. He stood in front of her, meeting her gaze.

“So where we we?” he asked as he delicately took a hold of her waist. She smirked as she rested her hands onto his chest. “Come ‘ere,” he mumbled as he pulled her towards him, kissing her softly. She giggled against his lips as she glided her hands from his chest towards the base of his neck.

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httpsdana · 3 days ago

Note

ciaoo!! how about max's girlfriend being the biggest lestappen shipper and makes fun of him and he just plays along with her with all that norris inchindents recently they just purely gossip on their day off. probably like a domestic fluff. cooking and whatnot.

thank you. love your work btw, incredible stuff!!

Rumor Has It~Max Verstappen

・❥・prompt list ・❥・masterlist ・❥・who I write for

y/n leaned over the counter, watching as Max stirs the pasta sauce on the stove, the delicious aroma filling the kitchen. He’s trying to keep his focus on the bubbling sauce, but her relentless teasing has him breaking into a grin every few seconds.

“So… when’s the wedding?” she asked with an exaggeratedly serious tone.

Max side-eyed her, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Who’s getting married?”

“Oh, don’t play clueless” she said, folding her arms as she leaned a bit closer. “You and Charles. Obviously. The F1 power couple the world has been waiting for. Come on, Maxie, we all see the way you two look at each other.”

Max snorts, shaking his head. “You’re insane, you know that?”

y/n gasped with mock outrage. “How dare you dismiss my beautiful ship! I’m practically the captain at this point.”

Max laughs, finally giving up on stirring the sauce to turn and face her, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Yeah? Well, if I’m marrying Charles, does that mean you’re left alone to dream about me from afar?”

She rolled her eyes, reaching out to poke his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Verstappen.”

Max caught her hand, tugging her a bit closer until there’s barely any space between them. “Then stop with the Charles jokes. He’d hate you for it, anyway.”

“Oh, he would not,” she insisted, brushing off his comment. “Charles has a sense of humor. You two are just too shy to admit your feelings. Besides, I’m sure he’s off gossiping about us right now. Maybe with Lando. You know how much Lando loves a good rumor.”

Max raises an eyebrow, stifling a chuckle. “You think Charles and Lando gossip about us?”

“Oh, please,” she said, waving her hand. “I bet they’re talking about all the hot drama from the paddock. Anyways, apparently Lando’s ego has gone from medium to extra-large lately?”

Max sighs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t even get me started on Lando’s ego. Sometimes I think he just loves hearing himself talk. I mean, did you hear him the other day? Talking about how he was ‘definitely the best driver’ and that I got lucky in Brazil for going from 17th place to first?”

y/n let out a giggle, covering her mouth. “I know! I’m like, buddy, calm down. He’s sweet, but there’s a lot of ‘me, me, me’ going on lately.”

Max shakes his head, exasperation all over his face. “I swear, he’s like a puppy. One compliment, and he’s bouncing off the walls. And don’t even get me started on him dating Magui, the influencer who used to be with Joao Felix. The same Magui who cheated on him, like, a million times. Lando swears it’s not serious but come on.”

“Oh, he lives for it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s totally wrapped up in her whole ‘cool, edgy, unattainable’ vibe, but she’s just trying to be relevant. You know she’s doing everything she can to become a WAG.”

Max snickers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I thought we were bad at keeping things private.”

“Please, we’re saints in comparison,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. “And speaking of secrets…” she leaned in, voice lowering, “do you know how Alexandra and Charles met?”

Max raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “No, how did he meet her?”

“She was friends with his ex and her sister” y/n said with a sly grin. “Can you believe it?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Guess Charles has a type—and a way of meeting them through friends. Wasn't Charlotte also friends with the girlfriend before her?”

y/n laughed, nodding. “Right? And I swear, Alexandra and Charlotte look exactly the same. It’s like he’s got a specific blueprint for girlfriends or something.”

Max’s arms slid around her waist as he pulled her even closer. “Seems like Charles might have some explaining to do.”

y/n leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth against her. “it's fun knowing everyone’s secrets. Like how Pierre’s girlfriend, Kika, has that whole beef with Magui. She can’t stand her.”

Max raises an eyebrow, a grin forming. “Why am I not surprised? Didn’t Magui basically try to become a WAG overnight?”

“Exactly. Kika can’t stand it. Magui’s been copying her style, her posts, everything since the two stopped being friends. I swear, she’s just trying to outdo Kika at being the ultimate F1 girlfriend.”

Max shakes his head with a chuckle. “Kika’s a sweetheart; she deserves better than that drama.”

She laughed, tightening her arms around his neck as he hugged her close. “You know, we could give Lando a run for his money in the rumor department.”

Max laughed, kissing her once more. “You know what? I’m okay with that.” He leans down, murmuring in her ear, “As long as I’ve got you.”

She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face as she pulled him in for a proper kiss. This was their little slice of paradise—gossiping, cooking, and just being together with Max, in this lovely, imperfect chaos that’s all her own.

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witchywithwhiskey · 12 hours ago

Text

another man’s marks

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're texting with your situationship when he asks for a nude photo—but you're covered in marks left by another man. wanting to see what he'll do, you send a photo of yourself, and you're rewarded with a very torturous and enjoyable reaction.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), masturbation (m), come play, bdsm elements, a lot of biting and marking, orgasm delay, choking, some breath play, some pain play, some dacryphilia, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, some aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 7.3k

a/n: so this post came across my dash and i had the thought 'ok but what if you sent a situationship a picture covered in another man's marks?' and i started thinking about how toxic situationship bucky might react and then i wrote the first draft of this fic very quickly 🤭 i actually really love toxic bucky but i'm a little nervous to share this because i just want you all to love him as much as i do 🥺 (and, actually, he's not as toxic as i originally intended but y'know what, that's ok i think). i hope y'all enjoy ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

Let me see your tits, baby.

The text message drew a huff of noise from you, one that was half laugh, half scoff. You were laying in bed, already wearing your pajamas—an oversized tee and panties—and catching up with your situationship, Bucky Barnes, before you went to sleep.

His request wasn’t entirely out of the blue. After asking how your day was, Bucky had started complaining about his day, and you’d known the man long enough to know those kinds of conversations often led to him asking you to send a photo of yourself—though he usually wanted a picture of what panties you were wearing.

Most of the time, you didn’t hesitate to take a picture to send to him. But that time, you paused.

You liked Bucky. You liked talking to him and hearing about his day, and when you were together, you had fun. Plus, you liked sending photos of yourself to him, and you enjoyed the fact that he wanted to see your body when he wasn’t with you. It stroked your ego when he asked for a photo, and he always responded with filthy praise that turned you on.

But that particular night, you had a problem preventing you from simply taking a photo. And, really, the problem was partly to blame on Bucky.

From the beginning, he’d said he didn’t do relationships, he’d told you he wasn’t ready to commit to just one person. He’d been clear and up front about what he wanted, and it was nothing more than a situationship, which was fine with you. You liked him, but you weren’t going to beg for more.

But you’d also decided that if he wasn’t going to commit to you, then you certainly weren’t going to clear out your roster just for him. You weren’t going to be one of those girls sitting at home pining away for some guy. Not even Bucky Barnes.

Which, in a long, winding way, led to your current predicament.

After all, there was a difference between Bucky being vaguely aware you were still hooking up with other guys—since you occasionally referenced your roster—and him seeing the evidence of it. And you had to wonder how he’d react if you took a picture of your tits in the state they were that evening…

It had only been about a day since your last hookup, and your mind wandered to the night before. You’d met up with one of the other guys on your roster, John Walker, and had a decently enjoyable dick appointment. You hadn’t expected Bucky or any of the other men on your roster to ask for pics, so you’d let John do what he wanted to your body.

If there were two things you knew about John Walker, it was that he and Bucky hated each other, and he loved your tits. John loved playing with them, he loved sucking on them, and he loved leaving hickeys all over them. Which he’d done the night before—and then proceeded to give you a not very satisfying orgasm.

Sure, it’d done the trick in the moment, but not even 24 hours later, you were already restless again, your body needing a proper release, which you knew Bucky could give you. But you weren’t planning to see Bucky for at least a couple days, not until the evidence of your hookup with John had faded.

Lifting your shirt, you looked at John’s handiwork. Your tits were dotted all over with at least a dozen tiny little love bites, and your body warmed as you remembered the knife-edged pleasure that came along with each little mark. They were so recent, the bruises were still reddish, not having yet fully faded to a dark purple.

As you looked at them, you had a devious thought—what would Bucky do if he saw John’s marks on your body? Would he blow you off, stop talking to you, maybe even ghost you? Or would he need to see you so badly that he’d come over to your apartment? Would he fuck you and give you the release you needed?

Thinking through your options, you knew it would be the kind, respectful thing to send Bucky an older photo, one of your tits when they were entirely unblemished. You had plenty of photos like that on your phone—and Bucky probably wouldn’t even notice if you sent him the same photo twice.

Or… You could send Bucky a photo of your tits covered in another man’s hickeys. You could, if he asked, tell him exactly who had given you all those hickeys. And then, you could see what Bucky would do about it.

A wicked smile crept across your face as you came to a decision.

Lifting your shirt again, you arched your body toward the light in your room, making sure the marks were clearly visible on your skin, then you snapped a photo of your tits. Before you could talk yourself out of the idea that was probably toxic and definitely a little mean, you sent the photo to Bucky.

His reply was almost instantaneous.

Who the fuck did that to you.

You bit back your mischievous giggle, even if you were alone in your room and there was no one to hear the evil way you wanted to cackle at Bucky’s response. Excited thrills raced through your veins, warmth blooming between your thighs at the anger laced in his text message.

You knew you’d be pushing him further toward anger by answering his question—you knew how much Bucky and John hated each other—but he’d asked. And besides, you were hoping he’d take out all that anger on your body in the most delicious of ways. So you sent a simple response.

John Walker.

You waited for Bucky’s response.

And waited.

But as the minutes ticked by and Bucky didn’t text back, your heart sank more and more, and the delighted smile on your face flattened into a frown. You began to think Bucky might actually be ghosting you.

For only a moment, you let yourself feel disappointed at the way your phone didn’t light up with another text from your situationship, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to be sad over a man like Bucky Barnes. Even if he fucked you way better than John Walker or any of the other guys on your roster. Even if you liked him more than any of the other guys you’d been with.

Hauling yourself up from your bed, you went through your nighttime routine, brushing your teeth and washing your face while listening to music. It wasn’t until you were about to slip into bed and go to sleep that your phone buzzed with a new text message.

Your heart lept into your throat when you saw it was Bucky and you scrambled to read his response, eager to know what had taken him so long. Your breath caught in your throat and excitement buzzed wildly through your veins when you saw what he’d written.

I’m outside. Open your door.

A shiver of anticipation zipped down your spine as you bounded out of bed, an ecstatic grin spreading across your face at the realization that you’d got what you wanted—Bucky was at your apartment. And he was going to do something about the photo you’d sent him.

It took all your self control not to run to your apartment door and fling it open excitedly to greet Bucky. Instead, you forced yourself to take your sweet time padding to the door, your movements deliberately lazy as you unlocked it and swung it open.

Bucky Barnes loomed on the other side, his head hanging between stiff arms, his hands braced on either edge of the frame like he was holding himself back from kicking down your door. His broad shoulders were bunched up, his short, brown hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it. His chest was heaving as he breathed harshly.

When he lifted his head, the stubborn possessiveness in his darkened blue eyes slashed right through to your heart. He’d never looked at you that way before, and you had the terrible, fleeting thought that you could get used to being the only girl Bucky looked at so possessively.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Then, Bucky stalked forward, crowding you into your apartment and gathering you up in his strong arms while he kicked the door shut behind him. It closed with a rough slam that had your pulse skittering in your veins, your heart already pounding in your chest as Bucky crushed you in his arms.

His gaze held yours and there was something about the emotions swirling his eyes, a mixture of uncompromising possessiveness and lustful determination, that felt dangerous. Not to your body, but to your heart.

“You got a lotta nerve sending me a picture with another man’s marks on you,” Bucky growled as he walked you backward toward your bedroom, his hands groping your hips and ass like every inch of your body belonged to him. “You weren’t trying to make me jealous, were you, baby?”

His words were a furious hiss that he punctuated by ducking down and snapping his teeth at your plump lower lip, biting you roughly enough to wring a gasp from your lungs. Between your thighs, you could feel your pulse pumping needily, your body aching for so much more of Bucky’s rough treatment even as you forced yourself not to cower and submit like you wanted.

Pushing against Bucky’s shoulders until he leaned back and you could catch his eye, you quirked an eyebrow at him in a dry expression of amusement.

“You’re a big boy, Bucky,” you said, before pausing to run your tongue along your lower lip, feeling the tender spot he’d bitten. Dark satisfaction swirled in your chest, but you made yourself shrug indifferently. “And I’m not your girlfriend—so if you’re jealous, that’s your problem, not mine.”

“You let him mark you,” Bucky snarled, an accusation in his tone as he stared deep into your eyes.

For a moment—just a brief moment—you saw a hurt look in Bucky’s gaze, and it pricked at something deep in your heart. Something you refused to look at or examine, especially not with Bucky standing right in front of you. You didn’t want to think about the fact that Bucky might’ve been hurt by your actions, or that you cared about his feelings enough to want to apologize.

But you supposed you could take pity on him. You’d tormented him enough for one night.

“Yeah,” you said, cocking your head to the side, a sly smirk curving your lips. “And what are you gonna do about it, daddy?” You practically purred the final word, knowing how Bucky would react to it.

Just like that, the hurt vanished from Bucky’s expression and heat sparked in his icy blue eyes, a menacing smile pulling across his face.

“You wanna see what I’m gonna do about it?” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Oh, baby, you’re not fucking ready for what I’m gonna do to your pretty little slutty body.”

Bucky crowded into you, pushing you backward until your legs hit your bed, and then he was shoving you down to the soft blankets. You crawled backward into the center of the bed while Bucky toed out of his shoes and took off his jacket, leaving him in only a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants.

Once he’d tossed his jacket somewhere in your room, he didn’t waste anymore time, prowling onto the bed and using his hands to push up the hem of your oversized tee. His head fell to your body, his teeth nipping harshly at your soft belly to make you squeal and squirm as he worked his way up. He delivered the same treatment to the curves of your brests and the delicate skin of your collarbone.

When his face finally hovered above yours, his breathing was harsh and his expression was filled with a determination so stubborn, you knew you were going to have a long night while Bucky showed you why you shouldn’t let another man mark your body.

“You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve got so many of my fucking marks on your body that you won’t even think about sending nudes to anyone else,” Bucky growled, tugging off your tee, pushing your legs open so he could settle between them, and descending on your tits.

He found the first of John’s marks and sank his teeth into the skin around it, sucking hard on the already aching bruise. The spot gave a little twinge of pain from Bucky’s rough treatment, but it only mixed deliciously with the pleasure he was dragging from your body, and your fingers threaded into his hair, clinging to him while he sucked on your skin.

Bucky worked the reddish-purple blemish relentlessly with his mouth and teeth until it was bright again, and so much larger than the mark John had left. Then, when he was done, Bucky moved on to the next hickey, scraping his teeth over the bruise and wringing a helpless cry from your lips before he sucked the curve of your tit into his mouth.

It went on like that for you didn’t know how long, Bucky working methodically down and across your chest, sucking and biting every bruise John had left behind on your body until each one was replaced with a new, bigger mark.

If you begged Bucky for more—or tried to push his furious mouth down toward your pussy, which was throbbing almost painfully with need—he’d simply narrow his eyes at you, giving you a look like you’d known exactly what you were getting yourself into when you’d sent that photo to him. Then he’d work his mouth even harder, even more roughly against your body, until you were tossing your head back into your pillows and moaning your pleasure.

By the time he was done, you were nothing more than a whimpering, pleading mess beneath him. Your eyes were filled with tears of desperation, and your inner thighs were sticky with the sheer amount of desire soaking your panties and coating your trembling flesh.

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a sob, shoving at Bucky’s shoulders to get his attention as he roughly kissed a spot in the valley between your tits, licking and sucking a new hickey into your skin.

At the sound of your ragged voice, Bucky lifted his head, but you could already tell by the determined glint in his eye and the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted just yet.

“Hush, baby,” he rasped in a dark, patronizing tone, lowering his mouth back to your chest and sucking on the hickey he’d just left. “Daddy’s just getting started marking your beautiful body with all the pretty little bruises I want.” His voice was a rough growl that reverberated beneath your skin.

Between your thighs, you could feel more of your desire trickling into your panties, which were already soaked all the way through and sticking to your clammy skin. A whine worked its way up your throat and spilled from your lips before you could stop it, your legs squirming around Bucky’s sides, trying to grind your cunt against his body but unable to get the angle right.

While you wriggled frustratedly, Bucky paid you no mind, shifting down your body as he picked a spot for his next mark. When his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your belly, you cried out, arching up off the bed and spreading your thighs wider to make room for Bucky’s broad shoulders.

Your fingers twisted in his soft brown hair, trying to push his head down further, until it was between your thighs, whimpering a soft sob of, “Bucky, please.”

But Bucky was having none of it. Despite your pleading and protests, he took his time, only peeling your panties away from your soppy wet cunt after taking his time leaving a trail of hickeys on your belly.

When he saw how wet you were, Bucky chuckled and murmured, “Such a messy little slut, baby.”

He’d said the words fondly and, if you weren’t mistaken, there was affection in the curve of his smile that had you feeling something you didn’t want to look at too closely. But your treacherous heart beat a little harder all the same.

Then his words sank into your lust-soaked mind and heat bloomed in your face at the gentle degradation. But what little shame you could conjure up only mixed with the burning of your desire as you stared down into Bucky’s darkened eyes, holding his gaze while he took off your panties and tossed them somewhere in your room.

He turned his focus back to the juncture of your thighs, shoving your legs wide open and smirking when you let out a helpless little moan at the feeling of the cool air brushing against your heated, dripping cunt. You were so worked up, you could feel your inner muscles clenching around nothing, needing to be filled with something.

“Your pussy’s winking at me, baby,” Bucky rumbled, laughter in his voice as he spread your pussy open with his fingers. You could feel it, your body winking at the man between your thighs like you were begging him to slide inside you—his fingers or his cock, you didn’t care. “She wants me bad, doesn’t she, baby?”

Bucky’s taunting words had you covering your face and letting out a low, tortured groan even as your hips twitched, your body yearning desperately to be filled, to be fucked. “Bucky,” you whined, drawing out his name pitifully as your hips bucked into his hands, seeking more of his touch.

But Bucky didn’t oblige your body’s request. His hands skimmed away from your pussy and along your thighs to hold you behind your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest so you were bared fully to his heated gaze. When you peeked out from between your fingers, you saw him staring hungrily down at your cunt, but at your movement, his gaze flicked up and caught yours.

“Do ya want me that bad, baby?” Bucky purred, ducking down to nuzzle his scruffy cheek against your inner thigh—so close to where you needed him, but still too far away. On instinct, your hips bucked upward, trying to press your pussy against Bucky’s face, but he held you down, grinning as he went on. “Ya want daddy’s fat cock to pound into your cute little cunt, huh, baby—want it hard and rough so you’ll be feeling me in your pretty pussy for days?”

“Oh god yes—yes, please, Bucky—daddy, please, I need your cock,” you babbled desperately, your hips squirming as you humped the empty air, seeking any part of Bucky that you could grind your aching cunt against. You didn’t care if it was his mouth or his cheek or his shoulder, you needed something.

Instead of giving you that, though, Bucky turned his face and sank his teeth deep into your thigh, hard enough that your pussy pulsed violently and you thought you were going to cum. But you didn’t.

Once the blinding sensation of pain and pleasure passed, you knew you wouldn’t manage to tip over the edge just from Bucky’s teasing. You weren’t going to cum until he finally paid attention to your pussy, and somehow you suspected Bucky knew that.

“Tell me how bad you want me,” he growled, sucking on your skin and beginning to leave a new mark on your inner thigh. His gaze was locked on yours as he stared up your body, past your heaving chest that was already littered with his marks, commanding you with the stubborn, possessive look in his eyes to do as he said.

“Want you so bad, daddy,” you cried, your whole body trembling like a leaf in a bitter autumn wind. Tears of frustration and need were pooling in your eyes again and you knew that if Bucky kept edging you for much longer, they were going to spill down your cheeks. “Want you more than anything—anything—please just fuck me!”

Bucky’s eyes glittered, the possessiveness is his gaze deepening and turning into something feral as he stared up your body. Finally, his mouth pulled away from your quivering thigh—after he placed one last affectionate kiss on the mark he’d left.

“Tell me you want me more than John fucking Walker,” he spit out, shifting his head to your other thigh and sinking his teeth into your soft flesh as he held you pinned to your bed with his thick biceps wrapped around your legs.

Your heart fluttered in your chest and your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected to get such a reaction out of Bucky when you’d sent him that picture of your tits with John’s marks all over them. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Not when he was looking at you like you were his while he sucked yet another mark into your skin.

“I want you so much more than him,” you murmured. “I want your marks on me, I want your cock and your cum in me—I want you, Bucky.”

The words tumbled from your lips—the ones Bucky had demanded—and you were more than a little surprised by the vehemence in your voice, and how easy it was to admit you wanted Bucky more than John.

Sure, you’d known he was a better fuck than John, but things with Bucky felt right in a way they didn’t with any of the other men on your roster. Like the two of you fit together somehow.

And that scared you. It scared you enough that you rushed on, forcing yourself to raise an eyebrow at Bucky and muster a dry tone as you asked, “Is that what you wanted to hear?” You could detect the hitch of emotion beneath the taunting tone of your voice, but with any luck, Bucky wouldn’t.

Thankfully, he seemed not to notice, responding to your words by growling into the soft flesh of your thigh, his eyes narrowing into a glare. He gave the hickey he’d sucked into your skin one last pull, then pushed himself up.

Before you could beg again for him to fuck you, Bucky roughly grabbed your hips and flipped you over. His teeth sank so hard into the plush curve of your ass, you screeched into your pillows. There was more pain than pleasure that time, but Bucky knew the edge you liked to walk and he didn’t give you more than you could handle.

As it was, even more wetness flooded between your thighs and you writhed beneath Bucky’s big body, all the small stinging aches of the marks he’d left blending with the pulsing throb of need coursing through your veins. It was enough to break the damn of your tears and you sobbed into your pillows.

“Bucky, please, please, I need your dick,” you cried, straining your neck to look at him over your shoulder.

Bucky’s dark blue eyes were narrowed into slits and when he finally pulled his teeth from your ass, he continued glowering at you, looking grumpy and almost entirely unbothered by your pleas. You knew he wasn’t entirely unaffected, though, because his cock twitched against your thigh when he saw your tear-stained face.

“Tell me you won’t do it again and I might consider giving you some dick,” he growled, holding your gaze as he ducked down to lick and soothe the bite mark he’d left on your asscheek.

“I won’t send you another picture covered in John’s marks, I promise,” you rushed to say, arching your back and whining. Your body was moving on its own, trying to present your pussy to Bucky, but he only scraped his teeth over the mark he’d left in your skin.

“Not good enough,” Bucky grumbled, shifting to your other cheek and sinking his teeth into your ass, giving you another bite mark. When you hissed at the pain, Bucky relented, stroking his tongue over the spot as he sucked on your skin. “No one else gets to mark you but me.”

You had to look away to hide the way your eyes rolled at that demand. Bucky wouldn’t commit to you, but he wanted you to promise you wouldn’t let another man mark you. Fucking men. You glared into your pillows, not saying anything and hoping he’d drop it if you didn’t respond.

He didn’t.

“Say it, baby,” Bucky growled, leaning to the side and slapping your ass. He managed to hit the exact spot he’d bitten, which was tender from his teeth and mouth, making you cry out. “Say I’m the only one allowed to mark you.”

“Men who aren’t my boyfriend don’t get to make demands like that, James,” you snarled, turning to glare at him over your shoulder.

The two of you glared at each other for a long minute. You knew Bucky could be stubborn, but you could be much more stubborn when you wanted to be—and you fucking wanted to right then. If Bucky thought you were going to let him dictate what you could or couldn’t do with other men while he refused to commit, he had another thing coming.

Slowly, Bucky shifted up onto his hands, climbing up your body with the languid movements of a predator until his bigger form covered your smaller one.

Still, you glared at each other.

His hand pushed his sweatpants down until his cock bounced free, the stiff length slapping your ass lightly. His precum immediately started leaking into the valley between your cheeks, and your pussy pulsed in desire.

Still, you glared at each other.

“Say it, or you’re not getting my dick,” Bucky rumbled obstinately, pushing his stiff length between your thighs to drag against your dripping wet slit.

You sucked in a sharp breath and arched your back, giving him more of your pussy to rub against—but that didn’t mean you were going to submit to his ridiculous demand. And he wasn’t going to turn you into a liar.

“Say you’re my boyfriend, or you’re not getting my pussy, daddy,” you retorted, putting as much mocking sarcasm into the nickname as you could manage.

Bucky’s eyes flashed with so much annoyance, you couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that curled your lips, which only made his face contort in even more frustration.

His hand reached between your thighs, pressing his cock deep into your slippery folds until the head caught at your tight hole. But he didn’t push inside. Instead, he let the tip slide through your folds to grind against your clit.

Need and desire pounded an unceasing drumbeat beneath your skin, your hands curling into fists in your blankets as you bit back a desperate moan. But you didn’t let your face go slack with pleasure, you kept right on glaring at Bucky over your shoulder, even as he repeated the motion, teasing your tight little pussy with the head of his big cock.

Finally, something in Bucky snapped and he ducked down, capturing your mouth in a savage kiss, his lips and teeth attacking yours until both of you were breathless with need. You were practically vibrating with it beneath Bucky’s big body, and even his arms were trembling when you blinked your eyes open as he pulled away.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, baby,” Bucky rumbled, his voice so low and gravelly, you felt its deep tenor roll down your spine and settle deliciously in your core. As he spoke, he tilted his hips just the right amount and pushed the head of his cock into your dripping hole, making both of you groan in pleasure.

“Right back at ya, daddy,” you quipped at him, your voice embarrassingly breathless as you clung to the blankets of your bed and arched your spine, pushing back into Bucky as he pressed forward.

It took one long, glorious moment for Bucky to sink the full length of his cock inside your drenched, sopping wet pussy, and you nearly blacked out at how good it felt after so long of his teasing torture.

He was bigger and thicker than any man you’d ever been with—though you’d never in a million years admit that to him—and it was always a little overwhelming when he first slid inside. But you loved it. You loved the way your body stretched to fit him, the way you could feel your pussy wrapped so snugly around his thick length. You loved the way you could feel him throb and twitch inside you, especially when he was close to cumming.

And you could tell by the way his cock was twitching inside your tight hole that he was already close. That was good, because after all his teasing had worked you up, you didn’t think you were going to last long anyway.

Bucky gave you a moment to adjust to his size while he yanked his t-shirt over his head. Then he was pressing his bare chest to your back and pushing you deeper into the soft blankets of your bed until you lay prone beneath his strong body.

Only then did he pull his hips back, making you feel every delicious inch of his thick cock, before slamming inside again. Wrapping his arm underneath your neck, he tucked his bicep beneath your chin and held you pinned to his chest, forcing you to arch your spine more and feel the way his hips clapped against your ass as he pounded into you.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, baby,” Bucky growled in your ear, grinding his cock into the depths of your cunt until you were whimpering beneath him. “You’re daddy’s good little slut, and only daddy can fuck your pussy the way you need it, isn’t that right?”

“Yes—yes, daddy, you fuck me so good,” you cried out, hands scrabbling at the bed sheets for leverage to push back into him.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he demanded harshly in your ear, the words sinking into the deepest parts of your brain.

A twisted smile curled the corners of your mouth because you knew exactly what Bucky wanted to hear, and you were only too happy to give it to him. It was safer to admit what you were about to admit because it was the heat of the moment, and you hoped Bucky would think you were just saying it to make him happy. Only you could know that you meant every word.

“You fuck me so much better than John, daddy,” you purred, pushing your hips back into Bucky’s thrusts, forcing him deeper into your cunt until you were so full of him, you thought he was imprinting himself on your very being. “Your dick feels so good, so big, daddy—you’re the only man who fucks me so good, Bucky, you’re the best dick I’ve ever had. ”

“Fuck—fuck, baby,” Bucky bit out, his mouth brushing against your cheek, his stubble rasping against your skin and making you shiver. He fucked you harder, faster, rutting into your slick cunt like he was trying to leave another mark inside you. “Rub your clit for me, wanna feel you cum on my fat cock.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You slid your hand between the blankets and your body, slipping it between your thighs and circling the tight nub of your clit with a viciousness that matched how Bucky was fucking you. Your inner walls clenched down hard on Bucky’s cock, dragging filthy groans from both your mouths as he pushed deeper and began grinding inside you.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Never felt anything so tight.” He let out a harsh breath, his forehead falling to your shoulder as he kept up his relentless fucking, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your release. “Feels like you’re choking my cock, baby—I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Choke me, daddy,” the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop yourself, the deepest recesses of your brain responding to Bucky’s words in a plea for one of your darkest desires.

Bucky’s bicep and forearm squeezed the sides of your neck instantaneously, giving you what you begged for and cutting off some of your air so you were forced to gasp for every little breath. You pussy squeezed tighter around his cock, wringing a rasping chuckle from the depths of his chest.

“You’re such a filthy, depraved little slut, baby,” Bucky murmured teasingly in your ear before nipping the shell with his teeth, dragging a ragged cry from your lips. “Ya like it when daddy chokes you, huh? Bet John fucking Walker doesn’t choke you like this, does he?”

“No,” you gasped, your voice hoarse but genuine as you admitted, “He’d never choke me—he’d never treat me like a slut.”

“That’s fucking right,” Bucky growled, somehow managing to fuck you even harder, his hips snapping into your ass so hard, you could hear the sharp clapping of his skin against yours even over his heavy breaths panting in your ear.

“I’m the only man who can fuck you like you need it—dirty and rough. That’s how you like it, isn’t it, baby—you like being fucked like a slut?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, as much in response to Bucky’s debauched question as to the feeling of his cock pounding into your cunt. You were so close—so close you could barely think, but you knew everything Bucky was saying was right. He was the only man who fucked you the way you needed it, and you needed to cum on his cock.

Thankfully, Bucky seemed to want the same thing.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled in your ear, his hips slamming his cock into your body hard enough to nearly hurt, but the pain-edged pleasure only pushed you closer to your release. “Cum on daddy’s cock while he’s choking your pretty little neck and fucking you like the filthy slut you are.”

Bucky’s words and his cock, and your fingers on your clit, sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and a ragged scream tearing free from your lips. Pleasure consumed you, body and mind alike, until all you knew was the sensation of ecstasy drowning out everything else.

It went on for one long, endless moment, pleasure pulsing through your being until it finally abated. Then, the world began to reform around you. Slowly, you returned to yourself, Bucky’s cock still driving into you, his thrusts turning wild and desperate as he growled in your ear.

“Fuck, you feel good, baby,” he was rumbling, rutting into you while your pussy squeezed him in a perfect clenching rhythm. “Feels like your cunt’s begging for my cum. Is that it? Ya want my cum that fucking bad, baby?”

“Yesss,” you moaned, your limbs melting beneath him as you savored the feeling of Bucky chasing his release in your body. “Want your cum, daddy, please gimme it,” you whimpered, weakly pushing your hips into his big body in a wordless plea.

Bucky grunted a soft, “Fuck,” and then pressed deep, burying his cock to the hilt in your still pulsing cunt as he came. He let out a long groan, his cock twitching against your inner walls while he emptied his balls into your pussy, the warmth of his cum filling you up.

It felt so good, your lips curled at the edges in a happy smile. Every part of you felt warm and satisfied, and you basked in the unmatched afterglow that came in the wake of getting fucked by Bucky Barnes.

When he was finally spent, Bucky eased his hips back, pulling out of you gently so he didn’t hurt your thoroughly used pussy. You appreciated the effort, even if you did feel a pang in your gut at the loss of him, like your body was mourning his absence.

Bucky rolled off you and flopped onto his back, leaving you limp and sated.

And cold.

The man who’d just fucked you better than anyone else ever had made no move to pull your naked body into his, but that wasn’t surprising. Bucky wasn’t the type to initiate post-sex snuggling, though he didn’t stop you from cuddling into him if you initiated it.

Gathering your strength, you heaved your body toward Bucky, draping yourself on top of him, wrapping an arm over his stomach and hitching your thigh over his hip. Your cooling skin pressed to his heated body as you tucked your face into his neck, cooing happily when his arm curled around your shoulders, holding you against his side.

But a post-sex snuggle wasn’t the only thing you’d been looking for.

Your mouth found the side of Bucky’s neck, your lips working against his skin, kissing and sucking and biting him while he rumbled soft sounds of satisfied pleasure. You didn’t stop until you’d left a hickey, but when you pulled away to get a look at it, you decided it wasn’t enough.

After all, you were literally covered in his marks.

So you went back to work, sucking on the hickey until the bruise was so big, there’d be no hiding it—not unless Bucky suddenly started wearing turtlenecks. Somehow, you knew he wouldn’t. You knew he’d wear your hickey proudly, even if it meant he might not get laid until it faded.

When you were finally satisfied with your work, you brushed one last kiss to the hickey, and settled down at Bucky’s side. Your cheek pressed to his chest and you listened to his heart thumping a steady drumbeat beneath his pecs.

For a moment, you were both quiet, enjoying the feel of each other. Then Bucky fished his phone out of the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, which he’d kicked off at some point. He held the device aloft over the two of you, tilting his head to the side and using the front-facing camera to look at the mark you’d left.

“I guess I deserve this,” he commented, trailing his fingers over the gigantic hickey. There was no anger or annoyance in his tone, though, only amusement. He skimmed his fingers down to your shoulder and gently rearranged your arm until the marks he’d left on the sides of your tits were visible. “Now we’re even.”

A snickering smile curved your mouth and you were about to retort that you weren’t anywhere close to even, but the soft click of Bucky’s phone snapping a photo cut you off.

Reaching up, you tapped the screen to show the picture and you had to admit, it was pretty cute. The hickey on Bucky’s neck was prominent and he wore a cocky grin on his attractive face while you smirked into his chest, his marks dotting your skin even though you weren’t revealing too much of your breasts.

It was the kind of photo you’d consider setting as your phone’s background if Bucky was your boyfriend.

He wasn’t, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still want it.

“Send that to me,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

But Bucky must’ve heard how much you wanted the picture, because he chuckled evilly, pulling the phone out of your reach. When you lifted your head to glare at him, there was a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“If I send this to you, you gotta promise not to let John mark you up again.”

That time, you let him see you roll your eyes while you reminded him, “Only boyfriends get to make demands like that, Bucky.”

Huffing a frustrated sigh and giving you a half-hearted glare, Bucky tapped the screen of his phone a couple times. A second later, your phone buzzed with a text and when you glanced at it, you saw he’d sent you the photo of the two of you.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I just don’t ever wanna see his fucking marks on your body again.”

You nodded your agreement, saying, “That’s fair.” It was the least you could do, all things considered.

Bucky laughed to himself at your easy agreement, then pushed you onto your back and spread your thighs while he sat up on his knees between your legs. “Now, smile pretty for daddy, baby. I wanna take some photos of all the hard work I did marking you up.”

A pleased grin pulled across your face. As much as you enjoyed taking pictures and sending them to Bucky, you loved it even more when he wanted to take pictures of you himself. So you laid on the bed and let Bucky position you how he wanted so he could take photos of his handiwork.

“You gonna jerk off to these when you get home, daddy?” you taunted, staring up at Bucky and smiling for his camera. “Gonna rub your cock to pictures of your marks all over me?”

Bucky’s eyes flashed and his cock twitched between his thick thighs, making your smirk widen. You knew you were provoking him again, but you couldn’t seem to stop.

“You gonna make yourself cum looking at photos of me covered in your marks, daddy?”

Your teasing comments led to you laying helplessly beneath Bucky, his knees keeping your thighs spread wide so you couldn’t grind against anything while he jerked himself off with his fist. The only thing he allowed you to do was knead and grope your tits, your pleasure mixing with aching pain from the bruises covering your skin.

Bucky came like that, his cum covering your fingers and chest in ropes of his seed, marking you all over again.

He took even more photos of the sight of your hands playing with your cum-covered tits, then fucked your pussy with his fingers, sounding very pleased with himself when he teased you for getting off on him making a mess of your slutty body and pushing his cum deeper inside you.

It was late when Bucky finally left your apartment, and you realized you’d been right. It had been a very long night. But even though you knew you’d only get a couple hours of sleep before work, it had been so worth it to text Bucky that photo of your tits covered in another man’s marks.

Over the next few days, Bucky demanded an endless stream of photos of the bruises he’d left on your tits and ass. He was busy at the office and the two of you couldn’t find time to see each other, but he didn’t want to miss any of the progression of the marks he’d left as the hickeys deepened into a dark plum color on your skin.

It turned you on to send so many photos, to see the constant reminder of the marks he’d left on your body, so you indulged Bucky every time he asked for more photos. It helped that he responded with a mixture of sweet degradation and filthy praise that had your heart beating harder in your chest and wetness gathering between your thighs.

Every night for a week, you got yourself off to the dirty things Bucky texted you, the promises of what he was going to do to your body the next time he saw you. But more than anything else, you kept going back to the possessive text message he’d sent the day after he’d been to your apartment, rubbing your clit to Bucky’s words.

Don’t you dare show John fucking Walker your tits with my marks on them, baby. Those marks on your body are all fucking mine, and they’re only for you and me.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #toxic bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series

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sheep-from-rad · 3 days ago

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Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid.

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown.

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders.

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible.

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

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firenagy · 2 days ago

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I said I could make a whole essay about why this is my favorite line in Slay the Princess and @lobsterlobotomiseslobos challenged me to go ahead and do it so here's that. Posted on discord and was told to share it here as well. This was written for a group of people who had varying levels of experience with this game, so I cover a lot of the basics.

Let's start with the very fundamentals, this is not a line that is said, instead, it is one of the first things you think of after ascending to godhood and making the decision that change is a fundamentally necessary force in the universe. Everything in this sequence is packed with necessary context, and emotions that hit only after you experience all of it, however I'll do my best to summarise it, since even players who finished the game can miss some very important info in this part.

You and Her were once one unchallenged god. The themes of self discovery and self exploration through comparison of the self with the other are crucial to the game, exemplified specially during your very first meeting with the princess. If you explore your options, talking to yourself in the form of the Voice of the Hero and to the Narrator, it's quickly apparent that this world doesn't really exist. Or rather, that the only parts of the world that exist, for all intents and purposes, are you, the path in the woods, the cabin, and the Princess. This includes things like your and her name and background, which upon scrutiny are nonexistent. Crucially, the narrator is also not real. You can talk to him all you want and he can experience some slight manner of growth, but the person whose memories and personalities make up the narrator is long gone, leaving behind an echo in hopes of guiding you to do what he wants. to kill what was once part of you.

The Narrator, or rather, the person who died in order to create the echo you meet in the game, was a normal person, possibly a human hinted by the princess' appearance. This person seems to have lived at a time so far beyond our own it's hard to describe, but is best put as the last remains of civilization living, holding out, as the very last stars in our universe burn out. As he sees it, change only brings upon death and destruction, because his world already had time to grow and prosper, with now being the end of everything. We also get a rare glimpse at the world of the narrator, beyond the faux reality, if we choose to slay Her.

That brings us to the content of the game itself, two nascent gods interacting, fighting, loving, discovering who they are. Their only point of reference for what is "real" being one another. The Shifting Mound uses a line that stuck with me to describe the state of your being,"We are oceans reduced to shallow creeks", as a way to describe what it feels to be forced down into a tiny vessel, memories erased. All of the routes in the game can be described as a journey of self discovery, with the Princess being a being of perception, your thoughts on her influence her mentally and physically. In turn, she influences you back in a far more subtler way, adding more facets to your personality in the form of the Voices.

And that is the setting of our meeting. Two gods who were once one whole being having a conversation. They were forced, over and over again, to figure out who they are. Both having nothing but fragments to go by, small pieces of what they once made up, until finally, She is made whole. The Princess' ascension into the Shifting Mound is a sight to behold, and brings upon your own ascension were you to wish to become a god like her.

In this particular ending, the Long Quiet, the god of unchanging reality, stasis, and nothingness itself decides to leave with Her, the Shifting Mound, the god of life, death, time, and ultimately, change. As you open a rift in the world the Narrator created you two see for the first time object reality. You are both left speechless by how magnificent it all is, something that wasn't made to trick, deceive, or guide you into any role you must fulfil, made with no greater purpose than to just be.

That's the crux of why this line is so important to me, after having lived, fought, loved, died, countless times in a world that was fake, created to pit you one against the other, you finally escape. You are free, and She is with you, as you are once more free to roam the real universe after being trapped in a cage for so long.

#text post #slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #stp spoilers #pretty big post #I made this more so to verbalize my thoughts on the ending #this contains some things which are objectively true in the game #and some which are my interpretation of things

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deathbxnny · 8 hours ago

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hey I need you SO BAD to do like an arcane reaction where they’re drunk and what they do/say while it and btw I love your writing

What Arcane characters are like when drunk. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

So this may have become a little too angsty for some of them, so uh... don't mind me-

Also, thank you so much! I'm glad you love my writing. It means a lot to me!<33

Content: Alcohol obviously, some potential heavy angst, Pit fighter Vi, established romantic relationships, some toxic behavior, this has been written by someone who has never drank a sip of alcohol in their life so I'm sorry if this is unrealistic, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not fully proofread))

》VI

Her being drunk wasn't unusual, and in fact, it has become the norm for her at this point. It was the only way for her to numb the agony she was going through every day, and there was no stopping the cycle she was in. If she wasn't drunk, then she was fighting. But even the line that was drawn between those two states she was constantly in was becoming blurry and unintelligible. Things were getting out of hand, and so was her aggression towards everything that moved, anything that cared for her.

But at least you were still here with her, trying your best to keep her together and intact when she refused to be.

She can be cruel and unfocused whilst drunk, often either yelling or punching things to express her frustrations, and yet she never dared hurt you. You were the only light she had left, and she'd be damned if she snuffed you out, too. But this doesn't mean that she can control her words at times. She says things she regrets all the time, insults that cut deep or accusations that made no sense were common. Yet you stayed, you always stayed.

A part of her knows you deserve better, but until Jinx showed up, she refused to wane off the bottle that kept her even partially functioning daily. In a different life, she'd put the bottle down, however, and just finally hug you instead.

》CAITLYN

She doesn't drink much, and when she does, it's in strict moderation. She has a reputation to keep up and can't let her sharp senses falter at any time, especially once she becomes the commander of Piltover. But when it's just the two of you attempting to relax after an impossibly stressful day, the alcohol helps her relax and become more open with her troubles. Her grief had manifested into an uncontrollable force she shyed away from every speaking on, but in drunken moments like these, she'll allow herself to find melancholy in your arms, her flushed face pressed into your shoulder as she did so.

She may cry or laugh of the worries of the day, maybe break down from the guilt and frustrations, let the anger quell over but only still hesitantly even with her judgment clouded. This is a very rare state to see her in after the loss of her mother, and she trusts you to keep this vulnerable part of her safe and sound in your heart behind locked lips.

With that said, knowing how emotional she can get whilst drunk, she tries avoiding drinking too much during functions in case things get too much out of hand. She'd rather not make a fool of herself infront of everyone after all.

》JINX

She doesn't typically drink. But the few times she does with you at her side, she somehow becomes extremely calm and lazy. She'll practically lay in the chair she was sitting in, eyes squinting at a far away point on the wall, whilst she seemingly contemplates life. Most would think that the alcohol would enable her crazy tendencies even more, but alas, it simply turns her mostly docile.

I say mostly, as she usually mentally comes up with the craziest plans instead, all of which are questionably more unethical than the last. She'll eventually lose herself in those thoughts and become either unresponsive or mutter the silliest, incomprehensible things known to man. And there is certainly no in-between.

With that said, she will probably eventually snap out of it and begin rapidly speaking about all these thoughts to you without a single care in the world. Drunk Jinx is somehow less miserable and yet absolutely doesn't like the feeling of it afterward. Sure, it makes her mind stop thinking about her issues and past, but it still feels wrong, hence why it's rare to see her drunk.

Her terrible hangovers alone also cause her to stay away from alcohol in general. It's definitely not worth that pain to her.

》EKKO

Another person who doesn't drink often at all, albeit out of his responsibility as a leader. He has to be a good role model for everyone and only drinks when the occasion calls for it, like a festival or get together with friends and you. That's when he lets loose a little and allows himself to drink more than he probably should, resulting in a very clingy and loving Ekko.

His alcohol tolerance is embarrassingly low, and he always tells himself that he should know better than to down so many glasses at once... yet it's hard to keep count after about 2 and a half of them. Or so he'd say after he sobers up in the morning, much to your amusement. During the time he's fully hammered, though, he'll always have a hand in you and slur his words rather heavily, whilst he practically near proclaims his love for you for everyone to hear. This often results in you having to slap a hand over his mouth before he embarrasses himself further... which is somehow he hates.

He gets teased by the others all the time for it and glares when they mock his loving tone of voice that he only uses when he's in that impaired state with you. This alone makes him abstain from even a singular drop of alcohol... until the next festival roles around and he forgets to keep count again.

But hey, maybe he'll remember next time because you sure as hell won't remind him.

》SEVIKA

She drinks at bars all the time with you, although it's rare to see her ever get completely drunk. She has an extremely high tolerance to alcohol and it shows when there is barely a difference in her behavior. The only thing that may indicate something influencing her would be a slight slur in her voice and her being unwilling to get up or move around much at all. She'll just want to relax and play poker in peace, even if it starts getting hard to see the cards after a while.

Another way to tell that she may be getting drunk is by her sudden overprotectiveness. Sure, it was always there and never left, despite you being able to handle yourself alone. But when she's drunk, anyone that looks at you for too long in a way she doesn't like will either be punched in the face or yelled at to keep it moving.

She also definitely always denys being drunk or even tipsy when you ask her. Whether out of pride or stubbornness, you'll never know, but she will never admit to it. It doesn't matter if she denies it whilst being unable to walk straight either.

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burrowkit · 2 days ago

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because adding on personal stories is my thing, here's mine!

And it kind of turned into a rant.

Anyways, tldr; found a poster of asexuality on the wall in my high school. I then learned a lot about it, and consider myself half in the closet/up the sleeve.

People keep trying to ship me with other people, like I'm a character in their favourite TV show/book series/movie series. I don't really need or want people to do that, I just want to excitedly talk about the events of my day/life, both about what happened in the day with people or telling other people about what I did.

The Story

So, my high school decided, as something the GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance) was going to do, was post different sexualities and their definitions on the walls of the halls in the school.

It was super cool, because I got to learn about all these different sexualities! My grades Kindergarten (there's 2 years of Kindergarten for me) to Grade 7 were in a Catholic school.

Now, I'd like to point out that my Catholic school actually had a class called Family Life or something like that, which apparently led to me asking about all the details on how babies are created in Grade 1.

That school system was super on the "we're teaching our kids all about pregnancy". I remember in grade 1 they had us start doing the math (without reaching us about multiplication yet), about how it starts with 1 cell. Then 2. Then 4. And we had to do that for a bit. And then they were like "yeah, and it's still smaller than the tip of this pin".

BUT, they didn't talk about LGBTQIA+. Which, yeah, sucks, but it also meant I didn't know anything about it.

{Minor side note, but my first time hearing the word 'gay' was it being used as a slur in Grade 9 (public school, different province) because I had a bestie and we were close. And my bullies were determined to believe that anyone I hung out close to, I was dating. And therefore, not a lot of friends at the time. So my mom then had to explain what it is, and how it's not a bad thing}

Anyways, I'm walking down the hall, and I liked to read the different sexuality/gender signs because it was cool.

Then, in the hall, I pause, re-reading the poster.

Pretty sure all it said was this:

ASEXUAL

Not sexually attracted to other people

Or something like that, I can't remember. And I just paused. And I thought it over. I'm pretty sure there was more, and it also defined aromanticism (?) as well, which was eh.

And it's just like: "Wait, that's a thing?" All the other sexualities I had seen, were all super like "okay, yeah, sounds about right".

They had polysexual, pansexual, bisexual, maybe homosexual. Transgender. I think they had agender or non binary. Probably cis-gender (to explain what it means). I can't remember them all, but they were cool to learn about!

And there I stood for a moment, replaying every moment of my life. Every time I lost a friend because people starting "shipping" me with them, and they didn't like me like that (and I'm going "of course you don't, we're friends"). Things started to slowly click.

I did start to tell some of my friends at the time "hey, I think I might be asexual". I didn't run around telling everyone that.

I learned a lot from tumblr and facebook. I remember finding a site called asexual . org or . com or something. I remember seeing mention of people coming out as ace by saying they had a card up their sleeve.

Then I learned about so many more sexualities and about romanticies (okay, I'm not up on all the terms).

For the longest of time, my mom insisted that I not use ace or aro as my labels, because she wanted me to be open about changing in the future. But that's the thing.

The more I ventured into the community, the more I saw (because by that point, I was moving onto reddit) how open and accepting the ace community can be. I mean, tell them that A stands for Allies and they'll be storming the castle...

But I loved how they loved and supported each other. How they were all "you know, if this is a temporary thing, at least know that people accepted you for who you were. Maybe you were seeking shelter temporarily. It's okay. Just don't run around and accuse other aces / aros / agenders of being in a phase".

So, I had to use grey ace and grey aro when around family (which kinda hurt, but anyways).

These days? I'm not super open (in real life) about it. I mean, if anyone asks, or I'll drop hints about it, all good. Most people in my life know that I'm aro ace.

I used to use the labels as a way to keep people I suspected of having crushes on me, to keep them from asking me out. No idea if they actually did, or just people messed me up enough not to recognize f/m friendships, but anyways.

I still sometimes confuse a squish (as far as I can tell, basically a crush, but you want them as a friend not as a romantic/sexual partner) for an actual crush, which is incredibly confusing. But no, it's just a squish.

I've mostly managed to cut people out of my life who constantly ship me in real life.

Ever seen those posts from fandoms about people shipping 2 characters together for a romantic relationship? Yeah, that was me for like, Grades 10 through my community college and even my first couple/few years working in a professional environment (probably should have gone to HR/a manager, oops).

No joke, pretty much a conversation I had with a friend. I should mention this happened when I was going through school for being a developer/programmer/dev. A suspected diversity thing the college was doing, they had all the women in the program in each class. That meant 1 woman per class. Each group had the same schedule.

"Hey, so you've been talking a lot about *enter key*. So, are you dating?"

"Um, no?"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not interested in him that way. I'm aro and ace, I told you that before. *has to explain the whole thing again because friend is confused*. We're friends."

"But you talk about him all the time."

"I also talk about *shift key* too."

"Oh yeah, so, are you crushing on him too?"

"NO!"

Like, my friend, chill, I was one gal in a class of like 20 dudes. Of course I'm going to make friends. Of course when talking about my day and what I did, I'm going to talk about the people I was with and what we all did.

This conversation pretty much repeated every time I saw her. I hung out with maybe 5-7 guys pretty regularly, about 2-3 different groups (of 2-3 guys) that I floated between to hang out with between classes.

I once vented angrily to another friend about said friend above, and their response (a guy) was "oh, yeah, you and *enter key* talk a lot. You should date"

Like... you missed the point. I do NOT like *enter key* that way. I like hanging out with him. I like hanging out with our mutual friends. I feel relatively safe around them.

I got an "oh, well what about *space key*".

Anyways, tldr; found a poster of asexuality on the wall in my high school. I then learned a lot about it, and consider myself half in the closet/up the sleeve.

I need to prove a point to my mom. Reblog if you can realize you’re asexual/aromantic in your teens.

#asexual #personal story #quit shipping the asexuals into relationships #quit shipping the aromantics into relationships #quit shipping people into relationships

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bunnys-kisses · 8 hours ago

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bulk

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, rugby au, rugby player!price, age gap (20s/40s), size difference/kink, rough sex, doggy style, headlock (slight choking), dirty talk & degrading language, breeding kink, is this ticking off boxes for anyone?

this bunny feeds on comments & reblogs! feed the rabbit!

john price was a big man. almost ten years playing professional rugby for the english team, he had bulked up since his early years on the team. thick muscle and a nice softness over top. he was strong, able to carry all the groceries inside of your shared flat and also get his hulking frame across the field with ball in hand. he was also hairy, patches of hair across his chest down to his belly, didn't mention all the pubic hair between his legs. it obscured a lot of his tattoos that he had gotten over the years, like your name over his heart and his jersey number at his thigh (you knew you'd get too hot if you thought about his thighs too much). you once told him, with your tongue loose with alcohol that it was the ideal male body. that these ‘dehydrated poor excuses of men’ needed to drink water and eat some carbs.

price was a man's man. you knew the first time you fucked him, that you'd never ever fuck with those limp dicked boys at your university. you got addicted to the feeling of a real man, one who know exactly how to make your eyes roll back and your tongue hang out, panting heavily like a good bitch you were.

post-game price was your favourite shade of john price. you could feel his electricity while in the passenger seat of the car after the match. when he pulled out of the parking lot, he placed his large hand on your thigh. he played with the edge of your skirt and kept his eyes on the road. you could tell that the wheels in his head were turning.

“honey?”

“been thinkin', love.” he said as his fingers edged up your skirt a little more. like he was a teen boy rather than a forty year old man. he was teasing you, knowing that there would be no way you could both fuck in the back of his car. even it was an expensive vehicle, it would be a tight fit for such a large man and his smaller wife.

you looked at him and said, “never a good thing for a man to think.” you giggled then yelped when he gripped your thigh suddenly.

he chuckled a little as he continued to drive, “thinkin' about makin' a baby.” he licked his top lip, “i ain't gettin' any younger, love. and you're almost done school, so i think it's high time we start makin' a family.” his words were honey in your brain. it made you squirm. your much bigger, much older husband was asking for you to make a baby with him.

“someone's got baby fever.” you giggled as you placed your hand over his. the air of the car grew warmer, which made price open the window a little. you squeaked a little bit when he gripped you harder. you felt your heart rate pick up at the feeling of his large hands on you.

he chuckled a little, as he looked at you briefly while at a stop light. he leaned in to kiss you, “of course. part of me's been thinkin' about you walking across the stage at your graduation with my little brat in your belly.” then looked back to start driving again.

you rubbed your thighs together and felt wet at your core. you couldn't deny your husband, plus you had been subject to baby fever as well. maybe it was your body screaming for your lover. to have a part of him in you. and it wasn't like you two were being the most safe, so accidents could've happened. once back at your flat, you weren't in your clothes for long.

price had practically ripped your skirt off of you and those large paws he called hands were groping at your plush ass with his lips on your neck. you could feel his hard cock inside of his white briefs. the pre cum leaked through the fabric as he humped against you. he said in a heated tone, “i need it. i need her.” while made you moan then try to get your bra and panties off. you felt the heat rising in your skin, it was painfully hot for you. it excited you in ways that left you feeling hot all over.

“how badly, honey?”

he pulled you right up against him, his clothed cock digging into your abdomen, “more than anythin'. i need ‘er. i need ’er stuff full. want it to smell like me for months. and if it doesn't, i'll just fill 'er up again.” he slapped your ass and watched you moan with your back arched. he groped the cheek one last time before he took his naked wife to the bedroom.

his clothes were tossed to the side too, the t-shirt from the rugby league and basketball shorts. once everything was off, you admired your lover for a long moment. seeing all the heft and hair on him. his body that was so strong that he could easily crush you in his bicep or between his thighs. it made your core throb as you got into bed.

“nah, nah.” price said as he got onto the bed and grabbed your hips, “i need a deeper angle, somethin' to really show her i love you.” then patted your pussy before he gripped onto your hips once more and turned you onto your stomach. he then angled your hips up then dragged a finger across your achy slit. he chuckled, “there she is.” then leaned in to give your slick cunt a little blow, watching your hole flutter.

“mmm please, honey.” you arched your back as you felt your husband so close to you. your hulking husband who only hours earlier was running across the field, fighting his way through the other team. his strong legs carried him and you were sitting in the stands with your thighs pressed together with need.

price replied, “i know, i know. i know you need me” he rubbed his achy cock up against your slit, “always so good for me. knew for the moment i met ya that i wanted ya for the rest of my days.” there was an age gap between you two, but in all fairness, it turned you on even more. knowing that this handsome older man wanted to make sure that his cock was buried in you.

when he pressed into you, your back arched. you gasped heavily into the covers as he lifted your hips further to get a better angle to sink into you. he laid over top of you, his fuzzy body up against your back. he pressed his weight onto you and kept that heavy cock of his snug inside of you. you groaned loudly, muffled by the pillows under your head.

“honey.” you whined as you felt the ache of his cock so deep in you.

he got one of his hefty arms around your throat, keeping you further pinned against the bed. it wasn't hard enough to choke the lights out of ou. but enough to have pressure that made your head swim. it all felt so good and just just started. your voice was strained when price started to rut against you. his pace wasn't fast like a young stallion, but they were hard. every thrust of his hips were lazily slow but hit the back of your pussy perfectly. his cock had a thickness to it, you had carried rolls of ground beef that weighed less than his cock. not to mention the forest of pubic hair anf his breeder balls. he was a perfect man, body and all. he took you so well.

“she likes me.” he said, “your pretty cunt. i bet you were thinkin' about me on the field. all dirty and roughed up, yeah. bet you wished i fucked ya right in the locker room. let the boys hear how i make my girl feel. bruise that poor pussy of yours.” he said, words hot in your heat. it made sweat settle over you.

you whimpered a little against the covers, “please, john. ah!”

he continued to fuck you, his pace was aggressive and it made you see stars. his arm was still around your throat and you could feel your pulse in your jaw. he left messy kisses on your face, leaving your cheek wet. you whimpered and clenched around his cock which only made him fuck you harder. you were such a good little wife for him. being so good to your man while he wrecked your sweet little hole.

"honey! please! you whimpered as you arched your back, but didn't get far due to the impressive size of your lover. you felt pinned under him, his strength. you gasped out another noise as the blunt head of his cock kept bullying your sweet insides. letting it make a huge mess of you, his cock was soaked in your wetness. it dripped down his hairy balls. he loved making his girl feel good.

he continued to kiss your face, not quite getting your lips. his facial hair brushed against your heated skin and made you over sensitive. his mouth kept running as he kept moving. he felt hot all over, like a heat in his gut as he battered your sweet insides, “my perfect woman. know how to take me so well. meant to take me. givin' me the privilege to make you a mama. ya like that? showin' up to uni with a little extra next semester. my dutiful little wife. keepin' up her studies while she nursing my babe.” he chuckled as he continued to keep that pussy of yours nice and filled.

you gasped and moaned into the covers. you could be as loud as you wanted, you were in the safety of your bedroom as price rutted against you. your body was sweaty and your head was swimming. it was so painfully erotic, you felt hot all over. your heart thumped in your chest with a heavy beat as price kept moving against you.

“you're lucky you have the ring already. if your classmates saw you with a nice round middle, they might have gotten the wrong idea about you. that you're a dirty slag who can't keep her legs closed.” he chuckled as he licked down the sweat on the side of your neck, “dirty bird. but it's alright, we're married. you're my wife. mrs. jonathan price. about time you got a little one in your belly.” he pressed further into you and it made your head spin. his cock felt like it was pressing into your stomach.

“i love you.” you panted.

he finally kissed your lips, or at least the corner as he tightened his hold around your throat, “i love ya too, sweet thing. lettin' my cock bully your sweet insides. made for me, all of me. don't worry, be keepin' that womb warm for a long time. hope ya like 'em big, price boys can be a handful.” he laughed as he kissed the back of your neck.

he was fully crowded in your space as he worked your sweet pussy. you barely had time to think before you felt the flash of orgasm through your body. it was like being engulfed in a quick heat while your body tensed up and your mind went blank. your pussy drooling on his cock, beckoning him to finish inside of you.

a good husband always finishes in his wife.

with a few more heavy thrusts against your limp body price finished inside of you. he pushed his cock all the way inside of you and made sure that your hips were at an angle that made it easier for you to get pregnant. he clutched onto you as he slowed down to a stop. your eyes rolled back a little as he pulled out. the loss of pressure made you whine. you weren't able to form any proper thoughts, your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as your husband rolled you onto your back and kissed you deeply on the lips.

no need to think, mrs. price. let your rugby playing husband do all the decision making. <3

#bunny writes #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price cod #captain john price #captain john price smut #john price smut #captain jo #captain johnathan price #rugby au #cod rugby au #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #reader insert #john price x you #price x you #price x reader #captain price x reader

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 13 hours ago

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Hard Launching ∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summary: lando and y/n wanted to hard launch their relationship after dating secretly for a while. lando finds the perfect way to do so.

☘ ln x reader ✧˖*°࿐

☘ fluff + humour ✧˖*°࿐

masterlist ☾☼

lando and y/n had been discussing for a while about hard launching their relationship. they had managed to keep it out of the media for an entire season, but the media liked to paint lando as a villain, in more ways than one. not only were they attacking his skills on track, they began collecting pictures of lando with women, no matter how many years ago, and publishing them with articles about him being a womanizer.

the funniest ones were the pictures of lando and her sister out on some bonding time. reading those articles always made y/n laughed, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t have them bookmarked in her browser for a pick me up when she was having a bad day.

at first, they had thought of doing a simple post with a cheesy caption. enough to let the fans knows that he was off the market again. but, it also felt kind of boring, and that was not lando or y/n’s style.

they discussed it for weeks, looking at different social media websites for inspiration, until it struck lando. scrolling through instagram, he’d found the perfect way to hard launch his relationship with his girlfriend.

when y/n asked him, he said, “you’ll just have to wait like the rest of the world, my love. but, i know you’re going to love it.”

y/n waited, just like he had told her to. she waited for two months, until one day, in the middle of her work, she received the instagram notification of lando posting and tagging her. this was the moment, y/n thought.

opening instagram, she found a reel, instead of a post or a story like she assumed. quickly, wearing her airpods, y/n clicked on the reel, increasing the volume in the background.

the reel opened with someone recording lando as he walked, head down and concentrated. the person recording said, “excuse me, what are you listening to right now?”

lando took out one of his airpods, and said, “my girlfriend yapping,” and then walked away.

the reel immediately cut to different instances of y/n talking and lando patiently listening. they were all sped up videos, and y/n watched her animated hands as she ranted, and lando listening, changing his position every so often. the music in the background was a lively, jaunty sound, and it fit so well with the reel.

there were a series of videos, from their home, from the paddock, from conference rooms where they were waiting for zak, or even from the gym where lando worked out, and y/n basically followed him, still talking his ear off. there were multiple videos of them on facetime as well, or screenshots of their hour - hour and half long conversations.

y/n laughed. it truly was the perfect way for lando to hard launch their relationship. it described them perfectly, if she did say so herself.

scrolling through the comments, she saw a lot of fans crying that he was a taken man now. she saw some saying things like, “this is the realest representation of a relationship.” there were some hate comments too, but they were stupid, so she ignored them.

she commented on the post as well, typing, “wait till i send you a 20 minute voice note on my lunch break” to which lando immediately responded with, “can’t wait, i got my airpods and my phone fully charged”

y/n laughed again, opening her text messaging app, and sending a quick “i love you this was perfect” to her boyfriend.

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

hi! i hope you guys enjoyed this! it came to me while i was driving to college! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #formula one #ln4 #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln x reader #ln

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suugarbabe · 23 hours ago

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Origin Stories

summary: baby first year matty arrives at hogwarts and the first person he interacts with seems to not know him at all. matty is unsure how to feel when someone treats him like just another person instead of the dark lords son

warnings: fluff, little bit o angst, sad baby matty

an: something my hubby @musingsofahufflepuff and i have been yapping about constantly, there's more where this came from, and yes...it will continue to hurt you

Knees pulled to his chest, he sat at the window watching all the happy and excited parents dropping their children off for their first time at Hogwarts. It was Mattheo’s first time too, but instead of parents dropping him off he had Feindre, his house elf.

Feindre had gotten him there early enough for Mattheo to be one of the first students on the train and stayed long enough for Mattheo to see Feindre give a gentle wave before snapping his fingers and disappearing from the platform.

That’s what he’d been doing for the last half hour; watching family after family give loving hugs and cheek kisses and bidding their children farewell. Even Mr. Nott had come with his wife to see Theo off, giving a firm squeeze to the skinny boy's shoulder and a curt nod.

The whistle blew overhead and Mattheo leaned his head back, closing his eyes and willing himself to think of at least one positive thing that may come for him this year. He’d be away from his mother; that was a plus. As far as Mattheo was aware even she couldn’t get onto the grounds without the proper permissions; that gave Mattheo at least four months free from torture.

As the train started to pull from the station he heard the train car door slide open, an entirely too excited voice suddenly speaking to him, “D’you mind? Every other car has four or so kids in it.” Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, not even opening his eyes to look.

He knew he didn’t recognize the voice. His cousin Draco’s was a little higher pitched, whiney. Theo’s was slower, like he had to think about each word before he said it. This voice was more neutral, but seemed to be speaking quickly, like they had so many thoughts and feelings they couldn’t get them out quick enough.

“S’kinda weird we had to walk through a wall to get on the platform, right? Magic is so cool.” Mattheo peered an eye open, chancing a glance at the person across from him. It seemed as if you were vibrating, sitting cross legged on the seat across from him, hands braced on either side as your knees held a steady bounce.

Your smile was nearly splitting your face; Mattheo couldn’t decide if your question was indicative of a muggle upbringing or just the first born for your family. “So what house do you want to get into? I was doing some light reading in one of our textbooks, Hogwarts: A History, and I think any of them will be good.”

Definitely muggle, Mattheo thought to himself as you kept talking, “I know that Hufflepuffs are very loyal, Ravenclaws are super smart I guess, Slytherins apparently are really clever and I read that Gryffindors are supposed to be just the bravest.” The scoff leaves Mattheos throat quicker than he could control.

“Well do you think differently? I know I can talk a lot but I’m also a good listener.” Mattheo lifted his head up at this, now choosing to stare at you with a quirked brow. You continued to press regardless, “What house do you think you’ll be in?” Mattheo stared out the window once more, watching the highland mountains pass by, “I already know my house.” This statement piqued your interest, “What do you think it is?”

Mattheo used all his mental energy not to roll his eyes, “I’ll be a Slytherin, my family has only ever been Slytherins.” You seemed to sit up straighter then, your tone getting more excited, if that was even possible, “So you’re from a family of wizards then? That’s so cool, what’s it like?”

He stared at you incredulously, “You being serious?” You simply tilted your head, smile never leaving your face, “Both of my parents are normal, erm, non-wizards? I don’t know what you guys call them but that’s what they are.”

Mattheo wore an unimpressed look, “Shocker…never would have guessed by your raging enthusiasm.” You laughed softly, “I know, right. Mum cried for like an hour when I got my letter.” Mattheo sat up straighter then, eyes widening. He could feel his heart rate pick up slightly, a tinge of sweat beading on the back of his neck, “Why, because she was disappointed, was she mad? Where did you hide after she stopped crying?”

You looked at him with confusion, shaking your head and a small bit of concern in your tone, “What? No, because she was just so happy for me…” Mattheo shrank into himself, pulling his knees back up to his chest, “Right, yeah, a’course.”

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, “So, ehm, do you know people who are coming to Hogwarts then? I don’t know anyone…well, except you now. What, erm, what was your name again?” Mattheo visibly stiffened. You could just be being polite, asking for his name like he was just any other student. Or his reputation precedes him even with muggle-born first years and you’re just too scared to tell him that you already know about him, his father, what he’s done. “Mattheo…erm, Riddle.” You nodded, “Cool name! I’m y/n y/l/n.”

Mattheo can’t help the quizzical look that takes over him at how breezily you move on and introduce yourself. How can you not be afraid of him, of his name. Not that he wants you to be, but if you’ve been reading as much as you say, surely you’ve heard of what his father has done.

But all of it seems nonexistent as you start talking again, “Do you think we’ll have to wear those little cone hats I’ve seen in the textbook? They’re not very fashionable are they? And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to wear one either.” Mattheo took the bait, “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to wear one?”

You shrugged, smiling a little shyer than before, “Well because of your hair. If I had curls as pretty as yours I wouldn’t want to have to cover them up all the time.” The heat on Mattheo’s cheeks was nearly instantaneous, then he started to feel a bit of rage, “Are you making fun of me?”

You shook your head fiercely, “Oh no, no way! I figured you got complimented on your hair all the time.” Compliment? You were complimenting him. Why would you do that? What were you playing at? Mattheo was fighting an internal battle, not understanding why you were being so nice to him and trying desperately to understand the new feeling fluttering in his chest at your compliment.

Thankfully the door to the train car opens and a jolly looking woman displays a trolly full of sweets and snacks in the doorway; the perfect distraction.

“Anything from the trolly, dears?” You’re excited once more, leaving your seat to get a closer look at the sweets. You turn towards Mattheo, “What’s your favorite candy? I’ve never heard of any of these before…chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, fizzing whizzbees-”

“The last one’s good I- erm, I think you’d like those,” Mattheo watched as you asked the trolly witch for one pack of cauldron cakes and two fizzing whizzbees. “That’ll be two galleons and a sickle, dear,” the trolly witch smiled kindly at you.

You pulled a handful of wizard coins from your pocket looking slightly confused. Mattheo cleared his throat, “Two gold ones and a silver one.” You nodded, taking the coins he described and exchanging them for your sweets. Sitting back down across from him you began opening your cauldron cakes.

You placed one on top of one of the fizzing whizzbees pack and then held it in front of you towards Mattheo. “What’re you doing?” he asked, finding your behavior rather odd, even for a muggle. You only smiled in return, “This is your half silly.”

Mattheo hesitantly took the sweets, “Why would you share with me?” You sat back, taking a bite of the cauldron cake and humming in satisfaction, “Why wouldn’t I share with you?” you spoke around a cheek full of cake, “These are really good by the way.”

Mattheo felt a weird pang in his chest, something he didn’t recognize. It was almost like an adrenaline rush but he wasn’t in danger this time; his skin felt hot all of a sudden, his blood rushing to his ears. He pulled subtly on his curls on the side of his head, not sure exactly what he was trying to cover up. You didn’t take notice regardless, too engrossed in the foreign treat of your new world.

The next few hours are filled with you making conversation, mostly one sided but you don’t even seem to notice. You’re the most at ease person Mattheo has ever met, finding interest in the smallest of things.

You talk about your family, and you do so with so much admiration and what Mattheo can only assume is love that he finds himself starting to get jealous. He does his best to shove that feeling down, like he does with most feelings. You’re the first person in his life that doesn’t seem to know him, his family, what that entails and he’d be damned if he let something like jealousy mess that up.

You try to ask him about his life, but he’s keeping it brief, somewhat deflective. He tells you that his father is not around, not dead but…working. He doesn’t know a good way to explain that his father has bits of his soul everywhere and your lack of knowledge on magical existence seems like that bit of information would cause your already highly wired brain to short circuit.

When you ask about his mum he stiffens involuntarily, “She’s, erm, passionate about me following in my father’s footsteps. Bit of an anger problem sometimes if I disagree about it.” You nod, a small frown on your face but seemingly understanding to not push the subject of his mothers anger further, “What’s your dad do?”

Mattheo’s eyes go wide, panic starting to spread through his body. He can feel himself starting to sweat as he looks out the window, trying to come up with an answer that’s not the truth when he sees his saving grace, “Look, Hogwarts.”

If you’d had turned your head any faster Mattheo was sure it would have rolled off your shoulders and onto the car floor. Whatever he had anticipated Hogwarts to look like, his imagination could never have done it justice; and Mattheo hid in his imagination often at home.

Your nose was nearly pressed to the window, “Wicked.” Mattheo felt the corners of his mouth pull into a smile, half wishing the two of you never had to leave the train and could just stay here, in this bubble where you don’t know the horrible truths that come with being associated with him.

As the train slowed to a stop, a whistle blew and the two of you noticed a flurry of students starting to clog the aisle between cars. “Guess that’s our cue,” you stood up, looking towards Mattheo and waiting for him to do the same. “You coming?” you opened the car door, looking back at him. “Erm, yeah. Yeah okay,” Mattheo pulled the hood of his cloak up and you gave him a curious look.

“Heard it’s supposed to be a bit chilly on the ride up to the castle,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, now staring down at the floor. You shrugged it off, only turning to join the plethora of students once you knew Mattheo was following behind.

You couldn’t help but marvel at the giant man that led the pack of first years to what looked like ancient wooden boats. You looked everywhere you could, trying to drink in the whole experience; whereas Mattheo kept his head down, hood up and eyes on the bottom of the boat. If he did this long enough, maybe no one but you would know who he was until he was being sorted.

Once docked by the castle the pack of you were led through the castle by an older, stern looking witch. She had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. As she led you through the castle you kept tugging on Mattheo’s sleeve. Every so often he would peek from the side of his hood and give you a half smile.

Once in front of what you learned to be the Great Hall, McGonagall stopped all of you, giving a quick speech. “Once inside you will all be sorted into your houses. Once your house has been announced please make your way to your house table. Banners above will lead you to the correct one. During each breakfast and lunch you will be able to mingle with other houses. However, dinners are strictly restricted to your own house tables.” You turned to Mattheo, whispering, “This is so exciting!” Mattheo gives an undignified hum with a small nod as the doors to the great all open, he can feel his heart rate quicken as all the older students turn to watch the group of first years file in. Will people notice him? Can he hear them whispering his name?

His automatic negative thoughts are interrupted by you gripping his arm lightly. Immediately he flinches away and you begin apologizing, “Oh, I’m sorry Matty, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mattheo shook his head, hoping his cheeks weren't flushing at the nickname you decided to don on him, “N-no, sorry. S’just I- erm, have this thing about people grabbing me…sorry.”

You shake your head as if to dismiss his apology as unnecessary, “S’my fault, I just get so excited. Look up there, it’s the sorting hat, I read about it in the same textbook as the houses; that’s what’s gonna tell us where we go.”

Mattheo could feel his stomach knotting. He knew he would be sorted into Slytherin; the blood in his veins guaranteed it. But, Merlin, did he hope you were sorted there too. It would be nice to have an actual friend there with him, not just his irritating cousin and the sons of his father’s loyal followers.

He was pretty sure they were only nice to him out of fear. Did you want to get sorted with him too? Did you consider him a friend? You were already far too nice to him; far too nice for your own good he thought. There’s no way you actually got sorted into Slytherin; it‘d be a bloody miracle.

Too lost in his worries spinning over and over in his head he seemed to have missed everyone before him getting sorted, being pulled from his thoughts for the second time that evening by Professor McGonagalls booming voice speaking his name, “Mattheo Riddle.”

A hushed whisper seemed to fall over all of the students and even some of the professors at the head table. Mattheo gave you a worried glance, but you only smiled encouragingly back at him. Either you didn’t notice the whispers, or you didn’t care; Mattheo wasn’t sure which option had him feeling that same weird pang in his chest that he felt on the train.

He needn’t push his way through the crowd of first years as they seemed to part willingly for him. He slowly climbed his way up the steps and pulled himself up onto the stool, legs dangling in front of him. The professor placed the sorting hat atop his head.

It felt two sizes too big, falling down and covering his eyes, now encasing him in darkness. It was actually much better this way, Mattheo would rather pass than watch the judgment in everyone’s eyes, especially if they came from yours. “Hmm, Riddle, eh?” the hat spoke loudly, much to Mattheo’s dismay, “Well there’s simply no question then is there. Why of course it's…SLYTHERIN!”

The slytherin table broke out into cheers, but they seemed to be the only students to do so apart from your clapping in the first year crowd. The hat was pulled from Mattheo’s head and he searched for your face. He found you beaming, giving him a double thumbs up as he made his way down the steps and toward his house table.

He clocked his cousin Draco immediately, platinum hair sticking out like a traffic cone. His cousin tried to greet him, along with the others at the table. But Mattheo ignored them all, turning instead to face the stool you would soon be sitting at and be told your fate.

When your name was finally called Mattheo sat up straighter, nearly leaning forward as if that would help him hear more clearly. As you made your way onto the stool you looked over at the Slytherin table. Making eye contact with Mattheo you gave a quick wave. Warmth spread throughout his body and he found himself giving a small wave back.

The whining pitch of Draco’s voice appeared on Mattheo’s right, “Who is that, cousin?” Mattheo watched as you took a deep breath in as the hat was placed on your head, full of pride he made the statement, “That’s my friend.” Draco was obviously confused, “I didn’t know you had any friends besides us.”

Mattheo turned his sights away from you briefly to stare Draco in the eyes, “You’re not my friend. You’re my cousin, I’m forced to be around you. And if you keep talking I’ll hex out your tongue so I never have to hear your annoying voice again.” Draco held his hands up in defense, scooting over slightly on the bench.

Turning back to you Mattheo watched as your legs bounced excitedly, just as they did on the train and Mattheo found himself smiling. This smile slowly dropped as the hat began to narrate the internal battle you seemed to be having with it.

“You want to be Slytherin, is that so? Mmm…curious, curious indeed. I do sense a bit of cunning, but your loyalty is much stronger. Better be…HUFFLEPUFF!” The tables throughout the hall cheered for you as they did every other student being sorted. Your smile never faded but Mattheo felt like his whole world was collapsing.

There was a pain in his side that felt like someone was hexing him with a stinging jinx and his breaths were becoming more shallow. Usually he only felt like this when being punished by his mother, but in that case she was likely actually cursing him.

It seemed like the massive walls of the great hall were closing in on him as he saw you being greeted by the students at your house table. Everything from the last few hours was going to be thrown away in an instant. They would all tell you who he was, what he was, why you should hate him. And surely you’ll believe them, won’t you? Then he’ll be alone once more.

As if to twist the knife that was already being pushed between his ribs, Draco’s irritating voice was coming from next to him again, “Well cousin, guess they’re not your friend any longer.”

#eeeeeeeeeep #so excited for this little series #if you're feeling sadness don’t worry #its not over #there's more angst and sadness to come #you can thank my darling husband for the yap sessions that brewed this painful creation #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys #origin stories series

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crumplstiltskin · 2 days ago

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unckuna au hcs migrated from x

main post: i cant draw rn but like this for a random unckuna au hc (from my verse so dont come @ me if it doesnt fit with yours)

unedited btw so don't come for me!!! some things are subject to change bc i said so

1. sukuna daps up young choso as a greeting bc he thinks its funny with the size difference + how choso goes along with anything

2. sukuna has the passcode and key to jin and kaori's house so they find him randomly in the house sometimes. he likes to nap on the couch bc its nice and deep

3. sukuna met kaori first but they were all involved with bad company when they were students. kaori and jin immediately started to clean up their act after they started to date

4. yuuji used to cry looking at sukuna but at one point after seeing the twins side by side he just started laughing and never stopped???? rorschach test on sukuna's face ✅

5. sukuna and jin kick their feet behind them when they do tummy time with yuuji

6. yuuji named sukuna's cat cheese burger. they call her chizu

7. choso is kaori's first child and jin's step son. he rarely calls jin "dad" (usually something similar to "mr. jin" "uncle" "sir" etc) but when he does he's shy about it and jin also tends to get teary eyed ☹️

8. sukuna lives in tokyo. kaori has long stretches where she lives in tokyo for work. jin travels back and forth between sendai and tokyo. yuuji lived with wasuke until high school+his passing, then he moved in with his parents in tokyo.

9. choso is wherever yuuji is. but when he moved to sendai the first time they cut his hair short and he sulked for a week. he had to keep it trimmed short until he graduated middle school. he went to a local vocational school instead of high school

10. when choso and yuuji go to tokyo during holidays everyone stays at sukuna’s place bc it’s bigger. otherwise kaori stays at company housing (if jin is visiting kaori he also stays with sukuna)

11. kaori is older than the twins by two years 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ ‍‍‍kenjaku (kaori’s brother) is older than the twins by three years (kk irish twins!!) jin is the older twin.

12. kaori had choso at 20, only started dating jin a couple years after that bc he was too busy pining and she was dating someone else, married jin at 26 and had yuuji the same year. choso and yuuji are 6 years apart

13. sukuna likes to offer to stand in for parent discussions about yuuji’s life. kaori never takes him seriously even if he is only half joking (he says that yuuji is also HIS bc jin and sukuna are identical twins. genetically it’s true but this does not impress her at all….)

14. megumi and yuuji met during one of the holidays he was in tokyo for. they occasionally met the following summers and sometimes ask their parents to call each other until finally they became classmates in hs (when yuuji moved out to tokyo)

15. the twins and toji knew about each other by reputation (same circles but they’ve never met and they dont wanna talk about it either 😭😭😭esp not around his innocent wife)

16. tsumiki is megumi’s neighbour+childhood friend and they basically grew up together. she sometimes stays with megumi’s family bc megumi’s mom is friends with hers and she works a lot of nights.

17. sukuna pretends to be annoyed by choso but one time after he said he doesnt love young choso he went to cry in his bed and it hurt sukuna’s feelings lol

17.1. (he remedies this later by talking to him and saying he really likes him though and he’s his best friend—all while frowning and shaking his head at kaori who was watching)

18. sukuna and uraume have been besties since elementary school. uraume used to have a crush on jin (but they never liked sukuna that way for reasons related to his personality ☠️)

19. sukuna fixes cars and motorcycles in his free time. he only has space for a single bike in his garage, but he often visits one of kenjaku’s properties to work on other ones that kenjaku has.

20. kenjaku is in prison‼️‼️‼️

21. yuuji and toji’s rs is exactly like that one radio episode where they talked about yuuji being a (lovable) nuisance to his life…megumi’s mom and tsumiki both treat him like family

See: [podcast] Will Toji & Itadori get along well?

22. when jin and kaori ask yuuji about nobara they always refer to her as his gf (not true, they aren’t dating, never will). nobara always complains about it when she comes over and begs on hands and knees for them to stop (they dont bc they think its funny)

23. as an infant yuuji liked to sleep on sukuna’s chest bc of the cushion :robloxmanface: jin got jealous and started working out just bc of that

24. nobara and kaori are so close sometimes they go on little shopping dates and send the pictures to yuuji and jin🤷‍♂️ people on her insta keep asking her if “her mom” is single and yuuji fights for his life in the replies

25. sukuna also gets a lot of attention on yuuji and nobara’s socials but they leave him to the dogs. if it gets crazy they just start blocking everyone after sending them the link to sukuna’s account

26. megumi’s insta is just candids of his friends and dogs mixed into photography. no captions except on bday posts

27. if yuuji asks his parents for something and they say no, he will sometimes ask sukuna if he is desperate (who will always say yes if its amusing enough bc hes an enabler)

28. yuuji makes sukuna do a duet with him every time they bring out the karaoke machine at big family parties (sukuna just stands there breathing into the mic)

29. jin is a stay-at-home husband 👍 kaori’s the one making bank and insisting jin wear his cute lil apron when she comes back home

30. as an infant yuuji only ate whatever jin/wasuke/sukuna made. they didnt feed him any processed food unless it was baby puffs or something like that

31. heights for fun (sorry uraume they gave you a lil boy body….or am i…🤨)

32. the only person sukuna is scared of is jin and maybe wasuke one time when he got mad (he's usually pretty mild-mannered, just frowns a lot)

33. sukuna has never had a steady gf in his life🤷‍♂️ when they start getting too comfortable with him and telling him what to do he cuts them off

34. he always introduces girls he's interested in (beyond hooking up) to uraume. if uraume thinks the vibes are off even a little bit he drops them. jin and wasuke have only seen a few in passing

35. tw????? sukuna uses "gay" the millennial way. as in "wack"

36. yuuji has tried to wash/rub off/erase sukuna's tattoos on several occasions

37. jin and sukuna greet each other by wrestling and doing silent takedowns. when yuuji gets big enough he also does the same thing with sukuna (sukuna never lets him win until he actually starts taking martial arts classes and he has to take him seriously😭 sore loser)

38. besides his own food sukuna only eats homemade food his family (wasuke, jin, yuuji + uraume) make. he’ll eat kaori’s food if jin makes him but he pretends to have a hard time swallowing it

39. sukuna is always in bed by 11pm!!! he sleeps in the dark with blackout curtains and a pillow on his head. doesn’t move an inch. hotel sheets with high thread count. bedroom never above 20 degrees celsius

40. sukuna used to steal food off yuuji’s plate to mess with him but after he noticed that yuuji would push his plate closer to him on purpose (to feed his poor uncle) he stopped 😔

41. child yuuji has called sukuna to finish a tub of ice cream (to get rid of evidence) that he shouldn’t have been eating but bc sukuna was all the way in tokyo and yuuji in sendai he couldn’t save him from getting scolded by wasuke 💔

42. sukuna has billed a girl for staining his shirt with makeup

43. sukuna and uraume sometimes pretend to be father and child to get family discount 👍

44. twins and uraume are only one year apart. they are just built different…sukuna built like an industrial fridge, uraume like an immortal elf on the shelf.

45. sukuna and yuuji decorated yuuji’s first helmet together (for skateboarding). the theme was dinosaur but it ended up looking like a rooster

46. the glovebox in his car still has stickers yuuji stuck on when he was small

47. once jin caught sukuna going🥰😚😝 with baby yuuji and when sukuna realized he was being watched he pretended to be asleep……..

48. sukuna has an album on his phone just for yuuji. half of it is burst pics of baby yuuji in action (dont ask why he didnt just take a video)

49. jin matches his outfits to yuuji’s

50. when they lived separately sukuna would sometimes get blurry pictures from jin’s phone of things yuuji would photograph (baby foot, jin’s scalp, wasuke in the garden, etc) and sukuna would text back very seriously (eg “tell your dad i can pay for his trip to turkey”)

51. whenever he babysits outside of the house and comes to pick up yuuji sukuna asks where “his accessory” is in reference to the baby and kaori hates it😭😭😭

52. if he HAS to, sukuna only uses metal tin containers for food. you can distinguish who made yuuji’s lunch that way (metal tin + looks gourmet = sukuna, food with faces +cute dividers = jin)

53. uraume and sukuna always invite yuuji to test new menus so he’s kind of acquainted with sukume’s industry friends. they think he has a gift in it too.

54. megumi and choso are so awkward together they usually sit in silence if left alone in a room….yuuji and sukuna think it’s so funny for some reason

55. jin is the last person to realize yuuji and megumi are dating when they eventuslly do. sukuna is the one to tell him but kaori (clocked it, asked nobara) and sukuna (mental math) realize first.

56. sukuna’s cat is a ginger maine coon😊

57. sukuna built a catio behind his shophouse for his cat

58. sukuna wears saxx underwear

59. sukuna and gojo go on food and bar crawls together (they play stupid games to see who should pay. gojo always pays)

60. choso is a nurse🫶

61. yuuji gets ""free"" scans at the hospital whenever he thinks he broke something (9 times out of 10 he's fine)

62. when yuuji calls for “dad” sukuna will always look, sometimes he’ll catch himself almost responding (jin always catches him too)

63. choso doesnt actually have the face tattoo in this au. i just draw it bc i thats what i’m used to 🙃 sukuna has all his tattoos though

64. sukuna thinks blended chicken protein shake is an abomination. he believes in chewing your meat (his fav protein shake is vanilla flavor)

65. jin always greets yuuji at the door when he comes home (before anyone asks he likes to act busy when kaori does so she can backhug him hahahahhaha)

66. difference between bffs

🐯🐺= they also kiss…

🐯🔨= act like siblings

⛩️❄️= evil girl telepathy, will snicker about you together without saying anything

67. sukuna is the type to get a new phone just bc his gallery is full also “doesnt it look cool though” (jin gives him the dad look)

68. yuuji was the deciding factor (excuse) for sukuna not to have his own child bc when he realized during a discussion b/w jin and sukuna that his uncle wouldn’t have time for him he got sad and cried lol

69. when sukuna takes choso and yuuji out together he makes them hold hands and walk infront of him so they dont get kidnapped 😭

70. sukuna has gotten emo over yuuji outgrowing his baby clothes. jin straight up bawled

71. if they don’t meet for a while (12+ hours) and sukuna lifts his hand yuuji will get under his arm for a hug. choso will get a shoulder squeeze or a sidehug and jin will get his ribs crushed. he nods his chin at kaori (very rude)

72. bc they grew up together and choso has been fussing over yuuji ever since he was born, yuuji is the only person choso is comfortable hugging and making extended physical contact with. he doesn’t mind his mother touching him but anyone else?? very flustered

73. sukuna treats nobara like family and he’ll call her his neice if a random person asks. has let her apply makeup over his tattoos for fun, will drive her places if kaori isn’t around. they also talk about luxury brands together….

74. when yuuji was sick as a baby jin would cuddle him the entire time so he can feel warm. if sukuna is around he’d also take shifts with jin. they wouldnt let wasuke bc he might get sick (sukuna: he might pass away from a cough)

75. sukuna got jin a baby wrap for the above reason….otherwise yuuji would cry his head off if he was put down for even a second

76. (when sick) yuuji cried less the older he got but he would still hold his caretaker’s hand and follow them around the house if they were making food, etc…

77. yuuji doesn’t cry a lot or make a fuss in general though 🤷‍♂️he’s the kind of kid to wave at strangers and say hello

78. the rare times yuuji gets combative is bc sukuna is provoking him 😭 that stands true throughout his life. bc if he has questions they all answer him and he takes it as true (sukuna will lie and then yuuji looks foolish which will lead to arguments)

79. callback to the tweet below but yuuji has asked sukuna on several occasions if he has a job to do when his uncle gets on his nerves

i realize sukuna acts jobless in the unckuna au but its only bc he gets to make his own hours most of the time if he’s not booked for an event/job 😭

80. after yuuji and nobara start posting sukuna online his insta and business profiles go viral. the requests get concerning sometimes but every time there’s a big private/foreign one yuuji asks if he can go (answer is always no)

81. sukuna, jin, and yuuji (after childhood) come down with a cold maybe two times a year. choso and kaori get sick more often. and choso plays it up bc hes dramatic

82. megumi has been scouted by modeling agents a few times. of all the times it happened while out with nobara she chased them away out of spite (not that megumi was interested in the first place)

#unckuna au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuuji #itadori jin #kugisaki nobara #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro toji #itadori kaori #itadori wasuke #kenjaku #satoru gojo #hc thread #crumplstiltskin archives

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machveil · 1 day ago

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CoD Headcanon: Fashion

let me info dump on how I think the CoD men would dress, pretty puh-lease? Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Keegan Russ, and König

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

actually wanted to make this post because of him, “Thank you, Kyle.”, we all say in unison

I oh so desperately think he dresses so casually it looks clean as fuck. he’s definitely the best dressed out of the 141, in my opinion. going for groceries? meeting up at a pub? Kyle looks great! also, bottom left photo? holding true to the board, I firmly believe Kyle has totes - different colors, some with logos, a couple well used and loved. totes and caps, Kyle has a nice collection

my fun little headcanon is that Kyle will match his outfits to whatever hat or tote he plans on using for the day. and he has a wardrobe to match - t-shirts, button ups, jumpers, turtlenecks, Kyle has variety. a lot of them are gifts from his family (who have his fashion sense down to a science). his aunts and uncles definitely pay the most attention to what Kyle’s wearing whenever they see him, they never miss when buying him new jeans or shoes

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

as fearsome and intimidating as Ghost is, draped in military gear and holsters, Simon prefers to be comfortable. a majority of his civvies are for his comfort, soft and warm jumpers that bag a little. he keeps it simple, his signature black clothes are really the only thing that carries over from service. that said, I think he’d look good in brown too. still a noticeably darker color compared to most, but it gives a nice contrast to his usual monotone look

it might seem counterintuitive to wear long sleeves when he’s had all this tattoo work done on his arms - fair enough - but I don’t think Simon necessarily cares to show them off. he has his fair share of t-shirts, but he really only wears them when it’s exceptionally warm out. that, or Simon has them on as an undershirt at the gym, hidden beneath his black hoodies. does the 141 poke fun at him for dressing nearly all black every time they see him? yes they do, does Simon care? no, he’s a sucker for a dark aesthetic

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Johnny dresses like he’s ready to go to the gym, but it’s why we love him. I swear, it could be freezing outside and Johnny would be wearing short, he’s definitely one of those people, “Hm? Nah, m’not cold.”, he’s actively trying to not let his teeth chatter. Johnny loves a good hoodie, especially if they have drawstrings - this man has an oral fixation, let him chew on those strings, damnit! oftentimes the drawstrings on his hoodies are fucked up and thready because he’ll absentmindedly nosh on them

I’m not afraid to say he’s the closest on this whole headcanon post to dressing like Adam Sandler - there’s definitely been times he wore the rattiest clothes ever outside and people mistook him for being homeless. the nicest thing he’ll consider wearing out is a t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, and jeans. I think Johnny’s a little nose blind to his own scent, sometimes he’ll think a hoodie is clean but he forgot he sweated his ass off in it two days ago at the gym. puts it on because… well, it just smells like him, surely it doesn’t reek

John Price:

I had such a hard time finding photos that matched my thoughts, but when I found them? oh, these matched. I’d like to call Price’s look “blue collar husband comes home after work” - do we get that vibe? simple man, he likes his blue jeans and a plain shirt. has a wide variety of nice, leather belts though, the only bit of his wardrobe he really splurges on. the simplest out of the 141, but he cleans up nicely with just a shirt and some jeans that hug his thighs just right

he’s a fan of t-shirts, the fact they show off his biceps is purely coincidence. he low-key dresses like a dad, but he rocks the look. he’s definitely the type to have vintage leather jackets, beat up, brown coats that are durable. they’ve seen better days, were new and shiny once, but John likes them a little weathered and worn. he’s not beating the bucket hat allegations

Gary “Roach” Sanderson:

I’d love to say ‘I don’t make the rules’, but I do. I’m putting my foot down and saying Gary dresses like this. he always wears a white t-shirt, is it the same one? does he have dozens? who knows! he’ll causally swap between pants and shorts, whichever is appropriate for the weather. button ups, he owns so many. never buttons them, just wears them open over his t-shirts. it’s casual, but the simplicity of it unironically makes his outfit look super clean

Gary will dress this way until the day he dies. it’s just how he dresses, no variation unless there’s an important event - holidays, an army shindig, I dunno, a wedding (if he could, he’d show up in his usual civvies). you would have to beg Gary to try a different style, he’s silently stubborn about it. he doesn’t make a fuss if you buy him a hoodie or sweater, just know he’ll throw a quiet strike by tucking it into the back of his closet

Keegan Russ:

biblically accurate Keegan Russ is a biker, what can I say. two words: leather jackets. he likes the aesthetic, owns a handful - hand-me-downs, thrifted, vintage, new. a majority of his wardrobe is black, I personally think his favorite color is blue, but he enjoys wearing black more. he likes wearing t-shirts, purposefully showing off his well-trained arms. he really only owns jeans, maybe a pair of nice slacks

you know what? gonna be honest, not much to add on, I just think Keegan is hot and would wear this haha. it’s nothing flashy, but if you’re into bikers it’s definitely eye catching. on another note, I think he’d paint his nails matte black. do I have any reasoning? no, I just think he would, or maybe just a clear coat. that, and he definitely wears silver rings. not all the time, but he does wear them on occasion

König:

if König isn’t in fatigues he still looks blatantly military. now, I didn’t include it in the board, but he has way too many pairs of khaki cargo pants. like an absurd amount - imagine a reasonable number of cargo pants and then add ten more pairs. back to the board, man cannot escape camouflage and green in general. whether it’s pants, shirts, or sweaters, König has it in some shade of green

otherwise, he actually enjoys itchy, scratchy sweaters. you know the kind that makes your skin red after wearing it a little too long? König eats that up, for whatever reason it feels nice to him. course, he does have standard, comfortable sweaters and hoodies. it’s a bit of a hassle to find clothes in his size though, sure they make them big, but König would appreciate if they were more fit to his build than overly baggy. lucky for him, his mama was a seamstress and taught him how to sew - he adjusts his clothing as he sees fit (he’ll still grumble about it though)

manifesting just one CoD man into being so I can play dress up with them🎀✨pretty please, I just wanna make him look so good - Soap and Roach might put up a fight though…

thanks for reading my behemoth of a post<3 hugs and kiss🌸✨

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hoseoksluna · 3 days ago

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THE BALL OF LIGHT, ii. | jjk

pairing: friend!jeongguk x fem!oc

genre: angst

word count: 4.2k

summary: inside jeongguk's apartment is where you meet the possibility of life.

pin: ball of light / taglist: join / discord: join / masterlist: run

cp: ao3 / wp

warnings: mentions of smoking and vaping, described nudity, oc feels a lot of emotions and she's overwhelmed, guilt.

note: i really enjoyed writing this chapter and it opened my eyes actually to where it's going. i hope you like the chapter as well. writing about jungkook is my biggest comfort. i feel at home. i love you, guys. happy reading. don't forget to tell me what you think. i'd appreciate it if you tell me ur expectations. <3

side note: i also want to update my taglist because i feel like most of the people i tag haven't allowed themselves to be tagged on this app. if you want to be tagged in my works, let me know. in comments below or my askbox.

It seems as though Jeongguk is still turning your words over his heart once you arrive at his apartment and the sullen grayness of his personal space greets you. A certain pensive look, embellished with a wrinkle between his brows, paints him in the shades of stark reclusiveness, the unapproachability of that façade the blue highlights that make the current inertia of his usual hyperactivity uncannily animated. It’s an oxymoron, the stillness of his being, despite the fact you very vividly sense the turmoil happening inside his chest.

Turmoil must be second-nature to him. Almost like a friend.

You don’t know what to say. The downturned corners of his mouth are so engraved into your vision that when you look away, you can still see them. Sad and pouty, caused in most probability by the truth you uttered. War happens, Jeongguk, if Yoongi and I see each other outside of the walls of our home. Those were the most heart-felt, authentic words that were flung out of the chambers of your heart because—yes, if Yoongi were to know that you smoke one cigarette a day with a boy with a nicotine-addiction, a motorcycle and a tendency to go back to people who have spread agony down his lungs like the white fumes of his cigarettes, he would get up from the kitchen table and grab the nearest knife, start a war for your dream that, according to him, got interrupted by temporary, meaningless things.

But Jeongguk isn’t meaningless. You thought for the longest time that he was temporary, but his lingering presence through high school and now through uni convinced you of the opposite. You believe now, now as he bends at the waist to place a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers with a yummy fried egg on top in front of your icy-cold, socked feet, that he has more shape—the eyes of an angel born wrong, born human, the mouth of a saint that fears to say the wrong thing—than your dream does.

Your dream doesn’t have a face.

Your dream doesn’t have a meaning, either.

Yoongi knows this, pretends he knows the contours of that dream when he tells you to go study. Pretends he knows the color of its flesh, all the greens, purples and blues, when the only words he throws your way are of commanding nature. Come eat. Go shower. Go study. Don’t. You can’t recollect the last time you had a genuine conversation with him that did not include those very words.

It’s exhausting. Your bones are burdened by it—by being treated as a student and not as a human being. But you ignore this because you respect him, hold him in high regard because of his own burden, laid heavy across the length of his shoulders that have become too thin, too skeletal, that have once been broad, beautiful and ogled by those, who had the luck to encounter him.

He doesn’t go to the gym anymore, to fill the mass of his muscles with exercise. He works long hours doing food delivery to fill your tummy instead.

And it’s hard—balancing your respect for him and your ostensibly inner desire to go in search of the things you read about in your books. You can’t help but expect to dig them out, selfishly, in Jeongguk. The kind, now somber, boy who has been by your side for so long. With words and simultaneously without.

Would Yoongi understand? Doesn’t he, also, have a need for company?

You push those thoughts away and focus on the clandestiny. On Jeongguk’s frown, on his adorable pout, on his emotions. Because perhaps in it you shall find your destiny.

Jeongguk walks forward and you swell with the guilty need to fix what you’ve broken, to glue back the pieces that put together his traditional cheer. The tree in you shivers in cold. Your own bones are still frosty like that bus stop you both escaped from. But glancing at the span of his shoulders, drooped and rolled forward, the guilt expands, making you think that maybe you shouldn’t have said something, despite the fact the truth made a dent in the birdcage you have been dwelling in since the death of your parents.

He empties out his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone, a pack of cigarettes, lighter and a pink, fat vape that you’ve never seen him smoking before. He places those essentials on the kitchen counter, stretching his hands backwards and ridding himself of his beige hoodie. The T-shirt he wears underneath rides up, exposing the smooth and muscled skin of his back, and your throat dries up at the sight. The tree stills, pacified by the movement of his shoulder blades. It puts a spell on you, this innocent yet consumingly heated view of a male’s body, one that continues burning down your body even when he grabs a hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it down.

Somehow, the act made it hotter.

Your fingers wrap around your throat, a habit of yours that helps you compose yourself, ground yourself in the severity of the moment. Jeongguk reaches his hand towards the kitchen counter again and as you swallow with great difficulty, he fills his lungs with that scented fume before discarding it.

It isn’t until your breath comes out in pathetic staccatos that he turns around. Large eyes heavily lidded, clouded by that white smoke as he exhales. He purses his lips, dimples on full show, in order to make the smoke thinner. And that, the eye contact while blowing out the fumes, his full attention on you, the element that you’re here—in a boy’s apartment, all alone, for the first time, that warms up your bones, the frost melting away. You feel your body form little pearls of perspiration, overwhelmed and so suddenly overheated by his boyish beauty.

He’ll never know—just like Yoongi. He’ll never know what he does to you.

“I’m gonna make you some tea so you can get warm,” he says, softly, and shuffles his feet towards the brightly lit kitchen. You hear the water running, the clapping noise of the kettle being shut and then the boiling bubbles, but you’re frozen—red-hot and frozen—in the place you’re standing, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to be a normal human being. “You’re free to take a shower if you want.”

A headache pierces through your undeveloped frontal lobe. Nothing about this is normal to you—being over a guy’s place, using his shower and his towel, drinking his tea. Being at home all the time never prepares you for this and while you feel so out of place, it also evokes the feeling of thrill.

This is thrilling.

And it should stay feeling that way, but your guilt eclipses it so quickly. Your guilt and your self-pity. Due to Yoongi, due to the fact that this should feel normal and that you should act normally. How many girls must’ve been in your place and how well they were able to talk to him and accept his kindness and hospitality without being weird about it.

You run a hand down your face. Feel like crying. Feel like screaming. Feeling like slapping yourself so you snap out of it and act normal. Yoongi flickers in your chest, however, and you’re reminded that you should let him know where you are. Usually, at this hour, you’re settled in your cage. Right there in the corner, the only warm spot because you sit there all the time. But you’re not there. You fit your body through the slivers, your feet rubbing against the different, more warmer floor than the one inside your birdcage, while your wrist remains chained to the center.

Your bus, the number 59, never came. Jeongguk’s, number 60, was the last one that came due to the thickness of the snow and he said that you should get on with him so you don’t freeze on the bus stop. I’ll drive you home on my bike, he promised. I got a helmet for you. And you agreed, despite the fact your thumb was ready to dial Yoongi’s number, because it came natural to you to follow a male’s order.

You scratch your fingernails through your scalp, waking yourself up from the stupor, and you take a deep breath. You’re here and you’re safe. Jeongguk is the safest person you can go behind Yoongi’s back with. These are the words you internally repeat to yourself as you lift one leg and the other, watching where they take you.

You wind up at the very edge of the counter where all of Jeongguk’s essentials lay scattered. You go to study all the charms hung over his keys when your fingers, somehow instinctively, take a hold of his pink vape. Light and pink, fitting just right in the palm of your hand. Your clandestine habits are invariably seen by Jeongguk, however.

“Don’t puff on that,” he says, pouring the boiling water inside the kettle over your cup of tea. A Christmas-themed one, evidently for adults only. The taupe Gingerbread man has a raging, bare boner that sticks out to the side whilst his hands are lifted, cheerfully, in the air. Your mouth parts, blush coloring your cheeks in dusty pink, and your brain, bizarrely, connects the Gingerbread man’s emotion to Jeongguk—both emotions, in fact. So bizarrely that anger begins to grow in you because a picture of Jeongguk’s own happy boner pops up before your eyes. Big, hard, leaking. Your stifling heat descends to your lower regions and you have to rub your eyelids in order to stop seeing it, your cheeks scalding, embarrassingly hot. “It’s not good to mix it.”

Without asking, he places one spoon of sugar inside that obscene cup, stirring it diligently. And the clinking noise rams a clapping monkey inside your brain.

You’ll die. From this headache, from the heat, from how irresistible this boy is.

You’ve never felt this way before towards him. Never seen him in this lustful light before. And you don’t know what to do—it’s towering you, so much bigger than you and you have very little strength to stand up to it.

It’s not good to see your so-called friend like this.

Jeongguk brings the cup over to you, placing it before his stuff. The Gingerbread man faces you, smiling ever so gleefully, and the blush of your cheeks deepens within this proximity. Jeongguk takes his vape from your hand and puffs on it—and your brain remembers what he just talked about.

“But you mix it,” you say, your words dripping with confusion, and Jeongguk places the device back into your palm, the tips of his fingers brushing against your flesh. You regard it as intimate, that brief physical contact, and it speeds up your heartbeat.

That touch-starved you are.

“I shouldn’t, but I do,” he responds, his pretty eyelashes static, unblinking, those macadamia chocolate pools of his penetrating your pupils. “I try to stick to just one from time to time, but my nerves are asking for more.”

You look down at the pink device, imagine it’s his hand that you’re closing your fingers over. Think his explanation has zero backbone, and so your confusion drips on.

“Nerves?” you inquire, a wrinkle appearing between your brows akin to his, even though his has been smoothed out. It seems his act of service to you is slowly easing his sombreness.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to elaborate, though. He flicks his eyes towards the cup and nods, just once, encouraging you to drink. You let out a quiet huff of a scoff. Consider it strange that he’s so unwilling to expand on this matter when he has shared with you in the past the reason behind his smoking habit. Trauma from his relationship with Ka-eun and the difficulty of his field. What else is behind those nerves of his that you can’t know about?

You follow the trace of his gaze towards the cup, feeling smaller than you are. Incompetent, inexperienced for the vivacity, immensity of his life that looks nothing like yours. Your pointer finger pokes out, clicking against the emerald green handle.

“Am I supposed to really drink from this?” you murmur, meaning it as a joke that would fix what you cooked in this situation, but it comes out much sadder than you planned, the hollowness from all of your lacks coating your vocal cords.

Jeongguk scowls and turns the cup around, his brows springing upwards as he glances at the naked and aroused Gingerbread man. You begin to anticipate his laughter that would make you feel worse about yourself, but it never breezes through.

Actually, Jeongguk apologizes. Makes a big deal out of it.

“My God,” he sighs, adding your name, running his fingers through his hair before he puts the cup away, but you stop him by enveloping your fingers across the warm, naked skin of his forearm. His eyes widen en route to yours and he holds the misting cup in his hand, immune to its hot temperature. The good ones don’t get burned, your mother would say with hatefulness whenever your fingers would get burned by steaming cups and hot running water in the sink, and she proves you right in this moment. You bet she smiles in her grave, seeing from the afterlife that you are indeed bad while the others are good. “I didn’t notice. I have one just like this, but he’s dressed. I thought I’d pulled out that one. I’m sorry.”

But you’re not scandalized by it. As a matter of fact, you like the little Christmas man—there’s something oddly comforting about his own comfort in his sexuality, smiling as gleefully as he is. What you said was a stupid joke, one that shouldn’t have left your mouth.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It was just a joke,” you say, hurriedly, sweeping your eyes over his in the same pace whilst he remains calmly staring at you, a steady stream of thoughts filtering through those features of his that you wish you knew the contents of.

You always said you’d die for knowledge, and right now you’d die to discover what he’s thinking about, looking at you the way that he is.

He flattens his lips. “I’ll make you another one.”

He turns around and you yelp your disagreement, cupping your hands around his. And the greater intimacy of this physical contact consumes you whole.

The heat grows, your spine wet with perspiration. Jeongguk swivels his head back, the shorter pieces of his hair swooshing past his forehead, landing on those pretty, pretty eyelashes. And it’s his turn to part his mouth, for blush to creep up his pale cheeks, and your heart—it melts.

You’ve never held hands with a boy before. And right now, you’ve come very close to doing it. In fact, the tender grip bears the resemblance of hand holding and you can’t take it.

A pained, indistinct pout quivers on your lips. A characteristic expression of yours, which conveys that something has hurt you. Your mother would give you a hard time because of it and that’s how you learned that you do it. That’s how you learned how to fleetly hide it, too.

This is the closest you’ll ever get.

Tears rush to your waterline. You blink it away, stretching your lips into a little, neutral smile. The scent of cinnamon and cloves from the tea hits your nostrils and from the edges of your palms, you feel how hot the cup really is. It sobers you up quite rapidly.

“It’s hot, set it down,” you breathe and don’t let go of his hands until Jeongguk complies, the pensiveness back to shadowing his face, but he’s not unapproachable, not at all. The entirety of his dispirited and contrite aura is welcoming, pastel blue instead of that grayish undertone, and he looks at you as if you held the entire world in your palms and he was content with just being near it, silently hoping you show him grace and give it to him.

But that’s not you. You’re too small to cup this world. Too stupid, too unfledged.

It’s him who’s flown around it, deeply acknowledged with it. Who’s smart, who’s a full-fledged bird, unlimited and unhindered.

It’s you who should be looking at him like that and drinking from his vulgar cup.

And you shall.

“I’ll drink it, it’s cute.”

He doesn’t trust it, though, and that’s the scar Ka-eun carved into the flesh of his mind. You brush the pads of your fingers across it, however, when you take the scalding cup to your lips, blow on it and take a small, hesitant sip of it. And the wintry taste of cinnamon and cloves, it is the sap to your tree.

You hum in delight, taking another sip, even though the temperature burns the tip of your tongue. You watch as Jeongguk’s brows twitch and as a certain glimmering glint of endearment laced with unbelief fills his eyes with the canvas of stars. He straightens his spine while you swallow, his lungs inhaling and exhaling slowly but surely.

It is a sight to behold, the entirety of his boyish beauty. And you hate that you regard him this way, that your forced visit caused this because you’ll walk out of this door with a longing entwined around your heart.

A longing for him to be yours.

You set the cup down, cradling it in your palms, your sweat clinging to your body. Jeongguk averts his gaze and rubs his chest, roaming his eyes everywhere but on you, landing on the pink vape you placed on the counter before almost-holding his hand.

But he doesn’t take a puff of it. Not this time.

And you want to heal that scar of his even more. Only because he pushed you very close to the things you read in your books and always wanted to experience.

“I think the tea tastes so good because you made it in this cup,” you chirp, tenderly, giving him a genuine smile, one that Jeongguk doesn’t reciprocate. That one corner of his mouth doesn’t lift, the long cleft of his dimple doesn’t appear. Your heart trembles for a brief moment. In a foreign kind of emotion that feels like fear but isn’t because the turmoil in him rages on and you’re useless. Completely and utterly useless in your efforts.

His stare is deadly, marked by the depth of his thoughts.

“Why did you say war happens if you and your brother see each other outside?” he asks, his tone low and grumbling.

A frightening question. Because no one has ever asked you that. Because you’ve never had the chance to answer such an intimate, personal question. Because no one has ever cared about your home situation.

The trembling of your heart reaches your entire body and you hide your hands behind your back. Lament that you can’t cradle the cup. Lament that you can’t drink it and postpone your response. Lament that you don’t have a normal life. One worth talking about happily, that is.

You don’t know what to say. How to begin, how to string the words together in a way that he would understand. And it’s not that you fear that he will judge you; it’s that you fear that the way he looks at you, regards you will forever change.

You were never the cool girl and you never were the weird girl, either. Somewhere in the middle you stand, solitary and detached, regardless.

You open your mouth, willing the words to spring out of you on their own, without any careful thoughts to cover them.

“Yoongi wants me to live a life that doesn’t look like this,” you start, mirroring his tone, unable to look him in the eye. You sense the demons of your guilt and your ungratefulness cornering you, coming closer and closer—and you can’t walk away, you can only speak.

Jeongguk, however, is quick and curt with his following question.

“Like what?”

The pearls of your perspiration thicken on the planes of your throat, which constricts. You blink, thinking that you don’t wish to offend him with any formulation of your sentences. So you go around it, hoping he understands. The demons inch closer—and you can’t breathe.

Jeongguk doesn’t blink, focused intently as he is on the emotions written on your form. It creates a delicate, yet protective ring around you that keeps the demons outside. And he lessens your strange fear owing to that.

“He wants me to focus on school and focus on my dream while he takes care of everything else. It was a deal he made between us. I study, he works. Nothing else,” you continue, and Jeongguk bites his lip, nodding in understanding as he glides his eyes down your face to your sweat-coated neck. For some reason, that little act of his acknowledgement dispels those demons—and you no longer feel guilty, you no longer feel ungrateful because Jeongguk validated those emotions, didn’t scrunch his nose at them. And that heals, little by little, your wounded, flightless bird wings.

“What does your dream look like?” he asks once again, and you wonder at the formulation of his question. It’s not what’s your dream; he’s asking for a description of the biggest mystery of your life.

And you chuckle, humorlessly. Jeongguk flicks his gaze back to your eyes, seemingly not knowing what to expect.

“That’s the thing,” you say. “I don’t know what it looks like, and Yoongi doesn’t know either.”

The roundness of his eyelids spasms, as if the truth you just uttered irks him. The validation grows and buds of blossoms sprout open, in the middle of this sunless winter, upon the twigs of the tree within you.

“He doesn’t know what your dream is and yet he decided how you should live,” Jeongguk scoffs, shaking his head, and you marvel at the light bursting in your sternum. It is the sun to your growth, to your tree’s growth.

A moment of bliss that is too brief, for you begin to sense an uncompromising responsibility to stand up for your brother. He means well—he’s doing it out of the love and kindness of his heart as the root of this declared problem is literature.

And literature is your life. It’s all you know.

You begin to say these words, but Jeongguk interrupts you.

“I understand, but you need to live a life that you want to live,” he rasps, standing taller than he was a minute ago, greater and powerful than he ever was. That confident and assured he is in his opinion and you gawk at him as if he were a cult leader, about to change the course of your life. Maybe, just maybe, the cinnamon tea was the kool aid—and you want to drink again, but you’re ashamed of the trembling of your hands. “And if you feel like you’re indebted to him, you shouldn’t. You’re an adult. It’s your life, it’s not his just because he’s older.”

Your throat dries and you risk it all, enveloping your fingers around the cup. Jeongguk’s all seeing eye notices your movement and his powerfulness drops. He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Bare, bare you are all for him to see. For anyone for the first time in your life—and at this point, you don’t even know how it makes you feel.

Where light and so many emotions were inside you, emptiness falls like fine dust. You’re reminded of that one sentence in White Nights and, quietly, you reflect on it while your fingers tremble on.

My God, a moment of bliss. Why isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime?

Jeongguk makes space, like the ring of protection he created around you, by taking a few steps back and leaning against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest and simply looks at you, reads your body language, and lingers at your hands. At the fact you don’t drink. At the fact you don’t speak. At the fact that nothing will ever be the same after this conversation.

When he asks his last question, he softens his voice. His demeanor, too. Allows his arms to plummet down to his sides. Sags against the counter.

“He doesn’t know we’re friends, does he?”

Something that resembles a cry leaves your mouth and you’re so shocked by the freedom of your emotions that your hand leaps to cup your mouth, as if to hold back any more outpouring. That is your reaction.

Jeongguk’s is more earth-shattering.

By his instinct, he lengthens his spine and his hand�� his beautiful, strong and veiny hand jerks towards your direction, as if to catch your hand, prevent it from hiding your outpouring—or as if to catch your outpouring alone.

And it is so heartbreaking to you that you mutter the first thing that comes to your mind and run away.

And you don’t realize where you are until you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. A mascara tear stains your cheek in blackness, and the smallness of the bathroom encloses around you.

You want to wash it away. Feel like the decision is yours to make, a right one at that. Feel like it’s the first step in the new way Jeongguk bestowed over your life by his wise words. And so you undress.

And you don’t lock the door.

And you don’t hear your phone ringing ten minutes later.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

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