#but they were totally a fucking thing. and the thing that they were makes me INSANEEE

[xgremlinxx]

I was literally thinking about this, like nobody from my past is worth being sad about...I was always the one that did or fronted everything, and it still wasn't enough. Hey, i'm not mad, i'm glad they showed their true colors to me.

A lot of them can't tell me that they had better than me, they settled for losers, drug addicts, and selfish bozos. Hey i'm not the greatest but I saw what they went for after me, don't ever tell me I didn't love or try with my whole heart, I saw how you settled for less because of your delusions. But tell me, why should I care when you didn't? lol Such a funny thing. I simply can't be arsed anymore.

yes, nobody is worth being sad about over losing them for me personally except for my parents, sponsoring my old ass letting me squat. I'll love them to the ends of the universe and back.

and nah i dga single fuck about being independent right now...My parents are great, sorry I didn't have fuck ass parents like ya'll. My states economy is dog shit, people making minimum wage to pay for fast food meals. Shit is burning down, inflation is too high. Rents too high, groceries too high, lol I dated a woman that had it so rough they need to sell their pussy...and you know what, I would totally sell dick if it was socially acceptable and celebrated like it is to sell pussy in the year of our lord 2025. LOL If it was in demand, but I wasn't born with a pussy, and lets be honest, thank g0d for that! Ya'll women in the west are beyond cooked, but I get it...Don't agree with it, but I understand.

I'm just being facetious. I could never sell my soul like that. There is literally nothing left in people like that, and it's so sad to see up close, so much sadder than just hearing about it.

Im finna work and stack until things improve. There is no rush. There is still time (famous last words). I'd like to fill the gaps of my character with substance, part of my problem is being too hollow at times, I am not me without passion. I see now safeguarding my vision & protecting peace comes b4 all.

People that carry years long attachments for people that were not good for them, broke up with them ( 5 years ago +) or did them wrong is the most cringe shit ever, quite frankly I'm not trying to be like ya'll.

[gooobraghhh]

I’ve successfully completely broken a mutual of mine and it has been so fun

I’ve talked about @the-kennel-keeper on here a few times but I think I really need to display the whole picture.

He started out like most of my followers, a puppy boy anon in my askbox that had a massive crush on me, but I had happened to follow his account along with like 10 others that were in the trans nsft tag when I first made this blog. He sent me an anonymous ask about realizing I followed him and how it got him so exited but he spam liked me like right before he sent it which made it exceedingly obvious who he was. That little pathetic mistake that was rip for being made fun of was the first thing that got me interested and his general tendency to accidentally humiliate himself or be easily tricked has remained extremely adorable. He finally dm’d me some message about how much he loves my blog since he wanted my direct attention and he did one of those ask games where one of the questions was like “who’s your tumbr crush?” and of course I asked him that one anonymously.

Surprise surprise he says me and at that point I’d sort of gathered too much dirt on him to let it go to waste and I really didn’t even try. We flirted, he talked about how he was only submissive in an extremely defiant, bratty way and how he basically can’t be tamed which just made him all the more alluring of a target for me. He did act like that for a while, but I built up to this perfect demeaning message where I revealed both of my little secrets on him and he just had no choice but to give in. The message ended with me telling him that I own him and I managed to get a “Yes ma’am” in response. He got so worked up that night that he finally got himself off after not being able to for months. I think that’s when I truly gained control over him.

Since then I’ve been slowly training him more and more. Learning exactly what gets him flustered and makes him tick. He started being more obedient, begging on command, singing my praises. A month or two later and the progress is undeniable. Hes cum for me a total of ~10 times (probably more than that, he couldn’t remember the exact number at first but I let him round down) 5 of which have been in the last 24 hours. He volunteered to send me audios of him jerking off and praising how good he’s been trained, he responds “yes ma’am” to basically every command I give him.

I know him so well that I can make him kind of shut down and give in from just a sentence or two of dirty talk. I mean I really pushed him today and yesterday and he couldn’t help but get himself off several times while recording it for me.

This man genuinely thought he was untamable, before talking to me he hadn’t even cum in months, but I’ve taken real good care of my new mutt. Thoroughly corrupted him into my perfect toy. Sometimes I even give him dirt on me just to give him a fighting chance but he’s so pathetic it doesn’t even matter. He’s had sex dreams about me and has chatted with me while around his friends, desperately trying to keep his composure.

So I’m starting a counter in my pinned of how many times he’s cum while thinking of me. It’s only fair I get to show off my hard work I think. We can all enjoy seeing how fucking pitifully submissive my mutt is.

And you can be jealous of him while that number ticks up because I know there’s a lot of you that’d kill to be in his position.

Exited to see how fast I can get keep the number increasing.

[passmethatcokezero]

hot and bothered... (18+ // woozi!friends with benefits au) pt. 2

- jihoon x fem!reader - 4.4k words - warnings: smut. minors dni! bff!woozi is hot and bothered at work so bff!you came to the rescue, here comes the hoo-haa!, penetration, mention of pills (ALWAYS use protection!), overstimulation, loud af on bed!jihoon (we love a moaning and whimpering man) goshwhy is needy Jihoon so hot, friends-to-lovers (almost), some fluff here and there. enjoy! - tagging: @cherrylovescheol @syluslittlecrows

[ part one ]

The clothes that once added a sense of thrill to your heated session were now flying across the room. No more game-changers or whatnot, there is a mutual craving to be satisfied and you both wanted it now.

Albeit having your patience tested by the journey home, the kiss you two shared has never been this innocent and slow (not like you two have had so many.) This time felt like something in the air had just shifted, and you two were savoring the newfound connection. His weight on top of yours, lightly, careful not to crush you. Slightly suffocating as your mouth is being occupied but still bearable, it even makes you feel safe and comfortable. Your hands softly treading through his hair until you found a spot to tug onto as he deepens the kiss, dipping his now bare hips to the bare yours.

The hint of contact of his hardened cock to your dripping pussy had you arching your back, almost pulling his hair as you unintentionally broke the kiss. He smirked, trying to hide the hiss he just made and how the contact almost had him exploding as well. You were too wet for his sanity, and he knows it’s because of him, and now only for him.

“So… how would you like to be fucked tonight, princess?”

You choked, almost wanting to slap him for making you laugh, or maybe you weren’t used to him actually calling you princess in ways other than snarky, when he only called you that to mock you for your bratty tendencies.

“I’d like to make it quits. You made me feel like royalty earlier.” He kisses your neck down to your chest.

“Actually, I don’t mind the tempo right now.” You had your eyes close, trying to feel the trail of kisses his supple lips leave onto your shivering skin. “Just don’t tease too much or—”

“Or what?” he smirks once again, this time being a full-time menace, rubbing his dripping tip against your wet folds.

“Fuck you,” you glared at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed from annoyance mixed with lust. “Fuck you, Jihoon.”

“My pleasure, princess.”

Jihoon cannot stop thinking, does edging turn you on? Or you just wanted to take your time? He knows he isn't your first. You had told him about the guy you met in college, a total bastard who left some cash the next morning and a rather sweet note of thanks as if it could console your shattered ego. Or that selfish one who only fucked you for quick satisfaction. And this woman who made you feel so good you almost had a thing for scissors until you realized it was just a spur of the libido confusing your sexuality.

But Jihoon, he never told you he actually never had sex. The workaholic never had a relationship, but somehow you had always thought he must have been getting laid because how on earth could he subtly refer to making love on some of his lyrics if has not had one? The only thing you knew about his sex life was how he actually had his own moments most of the time, just like how he confessed in the studio earlier. Oh and that one time you gifted him a fleshlight as a payback for gifting you a vibrator on your eighteenth birthday because you imposed on him and your group of friends that you will only be accepting useful things for your birthday from then on (that was the first time he called you princess, by the way).

His hand made its way to your abdomen down to your mound, even though his dick was itching to just finish the night off. But like what he said, it’s his pleasure to give you a royalty treatment tonight.

His finger did not need much time to tease your opening, and slips right into your hole with ease. “Jihoon-ah…” you whimpered his name, as his mouth met yours after telling you how tight you were.

His slender finger creating friction with your hole was enough to send you into a moaning mess while his mouth conquers your chest, giving both nipples attention as equals as he can.

“So wet, for me.” Indeed, he was right. You must like edging and keeping your release until you cannot anymore. What a naughty princess, he thinks. Another finger joins in, knowing one cannot stretch you out to his size. 

Jihoon’s is thick, there’s no denying you had your fair share of curiosity about it since you have seen a hint of it when he wears his favorite sweatpants. But of course, you wanted to remain wholesome so you just shrug away some unthinkable thoughts that once crossed your mind, at least that was before the first kiss you two shared. Ever since then, there had been a few times you allowed yourself to think about him when you were horny because, how would it feel, having that kind of feisty relationship with someone you hold close?

“Aren’t you a little too tight?” Beads of sweat were already forming on his forehead and you were unsure if he was just exerting a lot of effort fingering you, or maybe holding himself from jumping into you. He retracts his hand and kisses you again, before slipping his fingers coated in your juice straight into his mouth. He moaned into a lip bite. How come you tasted so sweet, just like how he must have imagined?

He was really down bad and aching for you he did not have any idea he just said that out loud.

“You’ve thought of me?”

“What? Did I…?”

You chuckled at how his eyes went wide, “Yes, you just said that out loud.”

“God I’m fucked…” He mumbled under his breath.

“You can have more,” you told him, widening your legs which signalled him to get in between and he did not waste time thinking if you really just said that, just like how he did not catch himself saying his thoughts out loud.

His mouth was warm, making you feel things and even questioning yourself if you’re doing something so sinful right now, having someone not your boyfriend eating you out while you were arching your back and moaning his name out loud for your neighbors to hear. You can’t help it, his tongue was so good flicking your clit and playing with your hole while sending vibrations through his moans, all the while staring at you with hooded eyes like was trying to engrave that image of you writhing under his spell in his mind to become a memory he would like to go back to anytime he wanted to. Oh, you’re just so glad he is just married to his work and nobody else. 

There were tears in your eyes already, trying to hold back the impending release. He was just so naturally talented at eating you out that you did not realize you were humping his mouth wanting for more. Jihoon, who has been really attentive throughout the night, tried to increase intensity when he heard your moans pitching higher, turned airy as if you were losing your voice to the nirvana you surrendered yourself into.

“Jihoon, I’m close… fuck…” his fingers once again made contact with your hole, fucking your spot as his tongue focused its pressure on your clit. The stimulation was too much taht you began seeing white at the back of your eyes, and not long enough you were clenching around his fingers.

“Go on, come for me,” amid the clouding of your hearing, you heard Jihoon’s voice sounded hoarse, which made you feel even hotter causing you to squirm and finally release your cum.

He was quick to slurp you clean of your release, humming at every sip as if it was his favorite drink. Not even coke zero can make him moan the way your taste quenches his thirst for you.

He then wipes his mouth with his arm, “I can have that all day,” he hisses and proceeds to make your mouth his again, tasting yourself in the process. It was wild, you thought, you’ve never really tasted your own even though you had been curious before. And now you just had to, straight from your friend’s delectable tongue.

The kiss once again turns somewhat slow, as you calm yourself from your high while he preserves his energy for perhaps another round if you’re not too tired enough. Anyway, his cock is still hard. It's like a never-ending cycle now because you wanted him to come, a testament to the kind of relationship you have—a very generous one. 

“I like how you kiss me…” you blurted all of a sudden. “They feel like… confessions I have never gotten.”

His eyes meet yours, a gaze like a thousand stars have been sucked inside it. It was one you’ve rarely seen him with, one which only comes out when he talks about how proud he is of the current song he is working with, or that one time you two had hours of debate over the best animes you have ever watched.

“Never gotten? Or never taken?” he wanted to ask, rhetorically that is, but his lips never moved, nor his voice made even a minute of a sound. He’d rather kiss you again, and tell you more of the words that had stayed hidden behind the walls of his mouth. He’d rather have his tongue tied for now, if it means with yours and let his actions speak. Even if you won’t still get it.

He liked the way you kissed him too, if only he could tell. He liked how your mouth synchronizes with his, and moves in perfect harmony. He liked how you get sloppy sometimes when you are trying to catch your breath, or how you adjust when it is him who gets messy because his mind just can’t control his speed. Or how you moan inside his mouth, warm breath enveloping his wet cavern that sends electricity throughout his body. He liked the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours, but even more so when they’re just simply dancing to the rhythm of his heartbeats.

Lost in thoughts, he did not realize you had him toppled over until he felt your hand over his chest, and your damp folds grazing against his girth.  “Ah fuck…” both of you chorused, making him chuckle.

“If you want it so bad…”

“Yeah, acting as if you weren’t the one who almost broke my door coming here.” you rebutted, rolling your eyes.

“It got stuck!”

“It’s extra protection!”

“Oh shit, now that you said it” he suddenly perks up, “I almost forgot,” he says squandering about to get to his pants, flailing to the air a foil packet he had been keeping in his wallet. 

“Are you sure that thing is not expired?”

He scoffs as he makes his way back to bed, “actually, maybe.” he checks the packet and to his horror, it has been way past due. “Yeah yeah, way to slap me in the face. Thanks, universe.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to laugh, oh my gosh.” you were almost brought to tears by the comedic timing of it all. He really had not gotten laid. Poor boy, everyone knows he very much deserved it considering he had been busy his entire life.

“I have pills, don’t worry.” his face lights up, but it is still evident how annoyed he was at the situation.

“I’m sorry, I… I won't forget next time…” and then his own words struck him. “Shit, I mean—”

You chuckled at the flushing of his face. He looked so embarrassed, you did not have the heart to tease him anymore assuming there would be more sexy encounters after today. Besides, you’ve been craving for some action now.

“You know I can always keep you company—that is until I get myself a boyfriend,” you pulled him close, as you settled underneath him, head nested in between his two arms that support his weight.

His eyes once again turned soft, as one hand began tracing your cheek, trailing to the back of your ear. “I think… I know someone,” nose scrunching while smiling ear to ear, his eyes turned crescent at his own words, cringing at what sounded like a hard-sell.

“Oooh, I’d like to meet him,” your smirk drowns in the kiss that once again began, while his body shifts so that his tip aligns with your entrance. Your knees instinctively wrap around his waist. 

“I’m going in, “ he says in courtesy when he had his head right in your opening, making both of you gasp for air. You didn’t even ask for it but nonetheless had you melting for his consideration, especially when he adds, “You wanted it slow, right?”

And with your nod, he goes in painfully slowly that gradually leaves you in pleasure. He was hard and thick, your hole contracting to his size as it delicately found its way inside. It was your first time for so long you forgot dicks can get this big. You clung onto him, while his mouth rested just by your ears, whispering sweet nothings to comfort you.

He kisses you passionately as your warmth envelopes him whole, taking time for you to adjust. He was a perfect fit inside, as if his cock was molded out of your hole, and it's driving you crazy the breathy moans just wont stop coming out of your lungs. You slowly opened your eyes and it was met by his, looking intently at your face with the same thought plastered on his face: you want him just as much as he wants you—both your eyes tell, no words needed. 

He began moving his hips in long thrusts to initiate his rhythm. Mouths hovering over another, catching each others’ breaths as your hips met his. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he increases his speed as well as the depth of his thrust. “You feel so, so good.”

Jihoon was just as loud as you are, if not louder. You kinda liked it, a man moaning to his pleasure, not afraid to admit how needy he can be nor stingy for reactions. And you had to admit, it just turned you on even more. 

“Jihoon… fuck… you’re so hot.” 

Jihoon, feeling the rush of wetness from inside you and also hearing his name through your whimpers, was going insane stopping himself not to pound onto you, drilling into your hole until you were begging for mercy. You were just so wet that it makes it so much easier to thrust inside deeper and faster, but he can save it for another time. For now, you were his princess, he keeps reminding himself. He’s got orders to fulfill, unless you amend it yourself, he will gladly obey.

“You’re so fucking wet… and tight… fuck.” he trailed the last word as he increased his intensity unknowingly, which you didn’t mind. 

“Harder… please…” 

He follows suit, pulling far and pushing deep into you in perfectly timed intervals. He definitely got rhythm, perks of being a composer, you thought, you have to tell him that later as a compliment.

“Like that, oh sh- ahh…” you cannot even form words anymore, the way he makes you feel so good was almost inconveniencing the wiring of your brain. Your body now sprawled on the bed, no other movements, just your back arching and…

And your fingers interlaced with his.

The scene felt like two passionately infatuated people making love. You two were connected south of your heated bodies, but that did not seem enough for him; he had to lock his free hand with yours just by his chest.  Heck you did not even notice how he planted kisses on the back of your hand when you were busy trying to savor how inch by inch your hole gets filled.

He is great in bed, you gotta admit, and he can be romantic as well. Why was he single again?

“I… I think I’m…” close. He knows. He felt you clenching around him.

“Yeah,” he speeds up, as he can feel him coming too. “Together?”

You nod mindlessly, gasping at the speed he is now going. The pitch ofn his moans went higher, almost sounding like a cry. The thrusting went on not long before both of you finally climaxed in unison. His forehead rests on yours, hand on your cheeks and weight slumped onto you as he rides out your high. He’d like to believe that got him tired, but not exhausted. He can definitely go for rounds given he gets rest for a while, if he gets permission that is.

He groans as he pulls himself out, a decision which gained a whine from you. The guy just chuckles as he pumps himself dry. The view looked mesmerizing, him with an afterglow, sweaty in full glory, and face contorting to pleasure accompanied by guttural moans he did not try to suppress even a bit. You imagined, does he look like that, flushed in red, shining from the little light inside the room, when he touches himself?  You thought there's nothing sexier than a JIhoon who is fully immersed in his projects. Well, you just have gotten corrected.

You leaned into him, feeling his breath touch your lips. Your eyes still hooded from your release, and you’re still a bit sensitive but damn, you’re craving for more.

“You look hot like that,” you just had to say it. There’s nothing to lose in being honest in words and in action, right?

“Uh-huh, how’s that for a boyfriend?”

“I’d love it,” You bit your lips, standing on your knees to straddle him in between. Your eyes are still hooded, and your hole sensitive. But damn, your friend over here just looked a little too irresistible and you just craved for more.

You sat on his thigh as your mouth found its way to his neck, hitting that sweet spot of his right off the bat. He was hissing at the contact, leaning backwards with support of his one arm. “No way… You’re going to make me hard again in no time.”

That’s exactly what you were aiming for. The night has just started anyway. Might as well spend the whole time enthusiastically riding out fantasies. Jihoon himself had too many of them. He got advantage, he need not think hard and just live the dream. Daydeams, rather.

The guy cannot believe he is not gonna touch his fleshlight tonight. You were here right on top of him, making out as you went down on him, reaching the twitching target that was just gaining filled up yet again.

Your tongue traced his shaft from its base, maintaining eye contact with him. He tried so hard to keep it, but failed because your naughty tongue makes it difficult for him to. The process was all too familiar, you had your own practices at this very mattress accompanied by your dildo when you’re alone. The fascinating thing now is that you witness it grow right in front of your eyes as you give your full attention to it.

“How are you so good at this—hmmphhfuck!” His brows are furrowed and mouth hanging wide, obviously having the time of his life watching your mouth take him in whole. He has gone full erect in no time after bucking his hips for a few seconds and then deciding he misses your pussy around him.

“Come here baby,” he pulls you for a kiss, with your knees automatically straddling him in between. It was like he had been away for a long time the way your arms wrapped around his shoulder, kissing him deeper. Your throbbing wet folds full of arousal was resting against his pulsating girth, making you moan in between kisses.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” his kisses went sloppy as he goes into your neck, and also your chest, giving your erect nipples more attention it deserves.

“God… I need you too, Jihoon-ah…. I need more please….”

You did not need to beg, but hearing it with your needy voice and lustful eyes had him acting from adrenaline, pulling your body closer, groping you as if you would even run away from his arms. His cock was poking your entrance by then, and you let yourself sink on it almost immediately without warning.

“Fuck!” screamed halfway through, when Jihoon himself thrusted up so he can fill you in, albeit he himself is still a bit sensitive.

The sting was quick to be washed out by sensual gratification as the overstimulation picked up your pace when you began riding him. 

“Holy shit,” tears well up in your eyes, as you writhe in pleasurable pain. Jihoon too was moaning out loud, gaining his momentum in thrusting upwards as fast as he could. Your bodies were clinging into each other, sweats mixing and skin slapping, but nothing matters. Not the sound of pattering rain drops outside the window, nor the volume of your moans that may have already reached the maximum your walls can hide, not even the creaking of the bed that has reached the floorboards. Only the pleasure you share is important right now, and nothing should come in between.

“Hold it, please…” Jihoon spoke in behind his gritted teeth when he felt you clenching around him. “Please… just….a little bit more…” He goes on thrusting, losing his rhythm once in a while due to his greed in taking his precious time with your clenched pussy.

You can feel him holding his release as well through his flexed thigh muscles and his eyes shut tight. “Fuck I dont wanna cum yet… i dont wanna cum… please….”

You were already shaking your head, arms hugging him tight to support yourself. His moans suddenly dips as he chokes on his own, and then gradually changes into whimpers like he is the neediest person in town.

“Ji… I can’t….hold it—” exhaling a breathy moan, you squirmed in his arms, head falling down his shoulder while panting heavily from your release. Jihoon came simultaneously, filling you up as he stayed inside for a while, catching his breath to its normality. Both pulsating and sensitive, no one dared to move a single muscle.

It took a while when one of you was consciously looking for the other’s lips. It was a simple kiss, a short one, but holds a lot of words he’s been meaning to tell you. He cooes, your name sweetly slipping off his drying throat.

“Hmm?” you hummed, as you rested your forehead against his, letting his hand cup your cheeks. 

“What do you think?”

You chuckled at his words. He is insufferable. He really can’t wait until you’re all cleaned up and cozy? 

“Actually, save it. I gotta clean up my princess before anything else.”

If there was an award for being the most outstanding service of an aftercare, Jihoon would have another plaque to be displayed somewhere not in his studio. It was a premium experience, even getting warm towels for the both of you before submerging you in a hot, bubble bath, complete with aromatherapy applying your lavender-scented lotion all over you right after. Stepping out of the bathroom in robes, he goes straight to your kitchen, you following him behind. He insisted actually, he wanted you to stay comfortable in your room, but you figured you did not need that right now. You just enjoyed his company way too much tonight, and you can’t seem to find another spot at home comfortable unless he was right beside you.

He prepares you a cup of warm tea just as how you preferred while he picks some drink available in your fridge.

“Banana milk? Are you sure? I’ve got juice over there.”

“Yeah, this is fine.”

“Sorry, no soda.” you shrugged with an apologetic smile.

You were sitting at the high chairs by your mini bar, with him by the edge as he pokes the carton with the straw. You stared at him for a moment, head full but no thoughts being formed.

“Ah, you were asking earlier,” you broke the stare before he senses it. “I’d be honest with you and say, that was probably the best sex I have ever had so far.”

“Pfft,” he laughs, without looking at you, trying to hid the blush forming on his cheeks. Too bad you can see his ears reddening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” at this point you were trying to calm the butterflies that started fluttering inside your stomach, distracting yourself as you dunk the teabag in the fully saturated cup of water. What is this sudden, stupid feeling in your gut? “Gotta give credit to your musicality. You’ve got a perfect rhythm. Oh and how your moans harmonized with mine. It literally sounded like music. You were also good with your mouth, and how you touch me. Attentive as well, the entire night. And the aftercare was a total royal treatment! And uhm…” you paused when you realized you were just babbling, staring at the ripples created by swirling the teaspoon in your tea. “Oh my gosh… sorry I got carried away.”

“No it was fine, I think I also wanted to hear that. Like a feedback you know,”

“for reference next time, huh?”

He chokes on his drink, dipping his head down in embarrassment. “No I mean…”

“I am looking forward to it,” you muttered cutting his words, as your eyelashes fluttered, feeling a bit tired yet relaxed.

He looks at you in full adoration, and a hint of boosted ego. God, why are you the most beautiful person in the world and why is he lucky to have you this close to him? Even looking forward to next time?

“I do too. I actually think we’re compatible in bed…” he says rather shyly in reference with what you told him earlier. 

“Right…” you trailed. He meets your eye almost a millisecond long (short), and goes to sip his beverage until it’s empty. He breathes deeply, as he disposes of the trash all the while avoiding any contact with your eyes as he came back, not able to hide how he suddenly feels so nervous around you right now. You can’t help but shake your head. Gosh, Jihoon, can’t you be any more dense than this?

“We do seem compatible, no?” you continued, waiting for him to look at you again. He does, revealing the blush that never left his face, and your next words deepens its hue even more.

“...how’s that for a girlfriend?”

hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it! ^^

[ok8oriska]

what's it going to take

remus lupin x reader | remus wants you back

If you’re being honest, this party is a total drag.

Your friends dragged you out tonight because you needed “fresh air”. Like you’re getting any in here. It’s a room full of people, and you’re pretty sure Frank and some of the boys are smoking pot down the hall.

You have half a mind to join them, desperate for a distraction. But being inebriated would cause you to lose all sense of yourself, and the last thing you want right now is to make a scene. You start rethinking all that nonsense when you catch sight of Remus on the couch with Emmeline.

Your lovely boy. Well, he’s not yours anymore, he made sure of that. He’s sitting there leaning in so he can talk into her ear. He’s flirtatious by nature so your stomach doesn’t drop until she laughs and moves her hand to his thigh. He catches you staring.

That’s when you decide you need air, heading outside to catch your breath. You thought what you guys had had was once in a lifetime, and maybe it was. Maybe that’s why it was so fleeting. Your heart sinks. You’re about to leave altogether when someone comes outside to join you.

Probably Sirius for a smoke, you think, until you turn around and there he is. Remus.

“You alright?” He asks as if this whole situation is nonchalant.

“Just gearing up to head out,” you reply. He nods.

“It’s nice to-“

“Can I ask you something personal?” you interject. You decide to rip the band-aid off.

He nods, “Of course.”

“How did you move on from me so quickly?” You can’t look at him when you say it, feeling stupid the second the words leave your mouth.

“What are you talking about?” He seems confused, but you can’t tell if it's just an act to avoid hurting your feelings or if he’s being genuine.

“I only want to know because maybe whatever you did will work for me, too,” you continue, meeting his incredulous gaze.

“Who said anything about me being over you?” he asks, and your throat dries out.

You sputter, “You just seem to be moved on, is all.”

“Is this about Emmeline? She’s just a friend; she gets a little handsy when she’s had a drink or two, but it’s all friendly,” he insists.

“Remus, you don’t have to defend yourself. You broke up with me, remember? It’s fine, I just,” you sigh. “I can’t keep loving you if we’re over.”

Remus crossed his arms, “ Well maybe I don’t want to be over.”

“What?”

“I want to be with you.”

You’re frustrated now. Dizzy from the whiplash, “Then why did you break up with me?”

“I wasn’t thinking it just,” he pauses, dropping his gaze, “I just got overwhelmed by the prospect of my heart being in your hands. I’ve never given someone that much control before.”

“Well, my heart was in your hands, too, did you ever think of that?” you retort, sharp as a knife.

“I know now, dove, I was unfair to you, and I’m sorry, but don’t think that I ever stopped loving you for a second,” he looks up, eyes boring into yours.

“Well, fuck,” you say, throwing your hands up. “That just makes it all better then.”

He chuckles lightly against his better judgment. If this were a movie, he’d yell at the screen, telling you you deserve better. “Never go back,” he’d shout. But instead, he’s standing in front of you about ready to get on his knees and beg.

“Remus,” you start, “Don’t fuck around with me.”

“I’m not. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”

You sigh. “I don’t know if I can go back to how things were.”

He takes a step closer to you, impossibly so, his hands finding purchase on your biceps. “I’m willing to be yours in any way that you’ll have me.”

You drop your head to his chest, groaning. “Don’t get all lovey-dovey on me now.”

He laughs, and you feel it in your skull. “You bring out the worst in me.”

[olderthannetfic]

You ever get a comment that makes you just sit back, cast your eyes upwards, and gaze at the ceiling as if awaiting answers? I got a comment on a fic I'm writing that has a (canonically) punk character and was informed that "real punks don't do arts and crafts", referring to the idea of 1. making your own patches 2. sewing them on 3. sewing clothes in general and 4. making signs in protest of/support of something. And I. I just.

My dad was in a punk band in the 90's, in the post-Soviet era of Central Asian punks when nobody had any money and were screaming into a microphone to work through the trauma the USSR put them through. Sometimes there wasn't even a microphone. Sometimes there was just a stage at a bar and decent acoustics and vodka. I promise you that they made things. I promise you they didn't just buy everything off of Poshmark that was marked Tripp NYC or put an order in on Temu for 5 yards of grommet trim. There was no internet access but more importantly there was no money. You know what there WAS? Anger. So. Much. Anger. Anger gets clothing torn and signs made and my dad onstage in a country where being queer is illegal to this day going, "We're the Maddest Faggots and this is our new song, 'Fuck Me Like Your Daughter'!"

They did "arts and crafts". They did so, so many arts and crafts. Shows don't advertise themselves. Someone has to draw and then photocopy a cartoon of the mayor sucking himself off and tape it up to every bus stop in Tashkent after the election. Drenching yourself in red paint and marching in protest of police brutality rarely works without paint.

I guess, in the grand tradition of punk, the counterargument is that no REAL punk would do arts and crafts, therefore, my dad was not remotely punk and neither were his associates. But if punk is so fragile that liking all the right music and being anti-authority and protesting inequality all counts for nothing if you so much as put one toe over the line into girliness... is anyone or anything punk? And is that a version of punk worth preserving?

It reminds me of people going, "Real punks don't have anything political on their vests/jackets!" and "No true punk would have that slogan on them, that's just stupid pinterest shit!" and "wow plaid lol. lmao, even. what a poser! go back to tiktok fr fr", etc. I get that these are all basically 'if I don't like it, it's not part of punk'. But diy is baked into punk. It had to be. That's what happens when your subculture involves a lot of poor people.

I am only 25 and I feel like an ancient being from the bygone days of yesteryear having kids interrupt me to say nuh-uh, that's totally not how things work.

--

People are incredibly embarrassing about punk in a very suburban US middle class way.

[cece693]

You're Just Jealous of Me

pairing: the salvatore brothers x male reader tags: reader knows he's manipulative and a slut, you just don't care tbh, Elena has an aneurysm from not being the main character, the brothers know they're getting played, you're just that hot/beautiful/perfect for them to give you up, Elena bashing, no incest

"I can't believe you." Elena exclaimed, her eyes growing misty as you were getting ready to head out with Damon on a date. It hadn't even been a week since they broke up (something about her needing stability or some other bullshit) and you didn't care. All that mattered was getting through yet another 'poor me' moment without killing her and making it seem like an accident.

Seriously, what did your sister expect? That Damon was going to stay single for the rest of his days until she made a fucking choice between him and Stefan? Perhaps some of her betrayal stemmed from the fact that Stefan had also rejected her ass and had made it clear he didn't feel anything for her anymore. So now poor Elena had no one while you played with both brothers.

And it wasn't even 'playing' per se if they knew about the whole situation. You could fuck any of them, and they'll be fine with it—a thing you made clear to them when this whole thing started. You liked both brothers, but having to choose just one was unfair—they both had traits that attracted you, and if you couldn't have both, then you'll settle for nothing. Like eager children they agreed. The arrangement was abnormal to others, but for you it worked—you dated both brothers, they still hated each other (entertaining fights arising from their competitiveness on who you liked more, who was 'rocking' your world, etc.) Simple really.

"Save the tears for the pillow, sister. I’m really not in the mood—nor will I ever be—to entertain your pity parties." Pulling on one of Damon’s leather jackets, you smirked. You were a sight to behold—not only would Damon be eager to rip the clothes off you, but half the population would, too.

It was fun stirring the pot, watching Damon bare his teeth at anyone who thought they stood a chance. Jealousy was his kryptonite, and while a part of you hated targeting one of his insecurities, you always reassured him in bed of your devotion, loyalty, and love.

Yes, because at the end of the day, you loved both Salvatore brothers. This wasn't just some passing fantasy, nor was it some revenge scheme against your sister (though you did love tormenting her with the fact that you were dating the two). You were willing to throw away your human life to become a vampire—to spend eternity by their side.

"Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to cause this!" Now there was the Elena you knew all too well—the one who constantly placed themselves as the victim, putting blame unto you because who could ever hate a girl who lost her parents?

You let out a humorless laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. “You really want to go there?” you snap, not bothering to hide the derision in your voice. “Fine. For starters, you’ve always made Jeremy and me feel like shit, and the few times you did act like a decent human being were just so you didn’t look like a total bitch.”

“That’s not true!” she protests, anger tightening her features.

“It is, Elena,” you spit back. “When our parents died, you didn’t do a damn thing to help us cope. You were so wrapped up in your own grief, your own fucking melodrama, that you never once checked on Jeremy or me—unless, of course, it was to nag us about how we were coping. When Jeremy started doing drugs, you freaked the fuck out. Not because you cared, but because you were afraid of how it might make you look. God forbid anyone sees that the 'perfect' Elena Gilbert can’t keep her family together or help her brother kick his drug habit.”

She flinches, but you weren't done. Oh, no. You were just beginning to go down the list of why you hated her ass. "Then, when I began to hook up with Damon, you acted like I was the cause of our parents death—no, that's on you because Elena couldn't help herself and got drunk, needing a ride home at midnight. Sleeping with Damon was like I'd personally betray you."

Her cheeks flush crimson. “Well, you did! You—”

“I did what, Elena?” You take a step forward, towering over her. “I moved on? Found something that might actually make me happy? Meanwhile, you’ve been stringing both Damon and Stefan along for God knows how long. You made your choice—you dumped Damon, tried getting back with Stefan, when he told you to fuck off, you tried going back to Damon and he said the same thing. So now you’re standing here, arms crossed, lip trembling, trying to put the blame on me because you lost your backup plan.”

Her lips press into a thin line, eyes brimming with tears. But you’ve seen this act before—she’ll blink prettily, glance away like a wounded animal, and wait for you to console her. Only this time, you won't.

“You are an asshole,” she hisses, eyes narrowed into slits. “He was mine first.”

That makes you laugh, a harsh sound echoing off the hallway walls. “Right...possessive much? People aren’t property, Elena. He’s not a damn handbag you lend out when it suits you. If Damon wants to be with me, that’s his call. And if I want to keep him, that’s mine.”

She trembles, either from anger or heartbreak—you can’t tell, and frankly, you don’t care. “Why would you do this?” she asks again, her voice cracking. “What have I ever done—”

You rolled your eyes so hard you got a slight headache. "Did you even listen to me? I have every reason to hate you, so does Jeremy and the rest of Mystic Falls. Those who continue to stand by you are either stupid or hope they'll get some attention from your desperate ass. I'm done. I’m done letting you guilt-trip me. I’m done tiptoeing around your precious feelings. I’m fucking over it, Elena.”

Just then, Damon appears in the doorway, that trademark smirk on his face. “Ready?” he asks, taking in the tension between you two. His gaze flicks to the tears glistening in her eyes before returning to you. “I’m guessing we’re skipping the family therapy session?”

“Therapy? More like the mandatory guilt trip, which I’ve politely declined.”

Elena’s voice wavers, “Damon, how can you just—”

He cuts her off with a raised hand, posture casual but his eyes dangerously dark. “Stop, Elena. What we had is over. You made that choice before, remember? I’m done letting you waltz in and out of my life whenever it’s convenient for you.” You can practically feel the hatred radiating off her in waves. She’s not used to being shut down, especially not by Damon, the semi-reformed bad boy who once hung on her every word. It must sting. Oh, well. Her loss.

“As much as I loved talking to you, sister, I do believe we're running late. Don't wait up and please, if you're going to continue crying, leave my room. Keep wallowing if you want. Hell, cry yourself a fucking river. Just don’t stain my carpet.” Without another glance at Elena, you brush past Damon, and he steps aside for you to lead. He follows, closing the door behind you both, leaving your sister alone in her silence.

You descend the porch steps and greet the night air with a sigh of relief, reveling in the silence that isn’t tainted by Elena’s incessant whining. Damon slips an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward his car parked beneath a streetlamp. His touch is warm, confident—like he’s proud of the chaos you’ve left behind.

“She’ll get over it,” he says, glancing at you with one of those trademark smirks that used to make Elena weak at the knees. Now, it just fuels your own sense of dark satisfaction.

“She’d better,” you mutter. “I’m not putting up with her drama anymore. If she wants to play the victim, she can do it alone. I’ve got better things to do.”

Damon’s grin widens. “That’s the spirit. So, where are we headed, anyway? We never actually nailed down the specifics.”

You shrug, placing an arm around his waist and snuggling closer to his side. “Anywhere but here. Got a craving for something stiff—drink or otherwise.” The innuendo doesn’t slip past him. His eyes flash with interest, and you can’t deny that thrill you get from watching Damon Salvatore light up over you instead of your sister.

“Sounds like the Grill for starters,” he suggests with a casual tilt of his head. “They might have a halfway decent bourbon I can drown myself in. As for the ‘otherwise,’ well…” He lets the sentence hang, the possibility of later events sparking arousal for the both of you.

You’re about to respond when you spot Stefan leaning against Damon's Camaro. Typical. Even without super-hearing, you know he’s probably caught every word you exchanged with Elena. Damned vampires. "What are you doing here?" Damon was the first who spoke, hand tightening over your body. As if he was a child preventing his favorite toy to be taken away from him.

"Nothing, really. I was just walking around the neighborhood and saw your car parked. But now that I see you're here with my boyfriend, I guess I have time to join you two at the grill."

"Our boyfriend."

You simply laugh at Stefan’s innocent tone, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. Just a few minutes ago, you were telling off Elena and storming out of the house. Now you’re pinned between two vampires—both of whom are technically yours, and you are theirs. Welcome to the wonderful, fucked-up world of Mystic Falls.

“‘Our’ boyfriend,” you echo, looking from Stefan to Damon. “Are you two seriously going to argue semantics right now? Pick a damn fight over who saw me first?” A scoff escapes you as you shrug off Damon’s possessive grip just enough to stand on your own. You’re not some chew toy they get to tug-of-war over.

Stefan cocks a brow, his expression cool but laced with a hint of smugness. “I’m not here to fight,” he says, his gaze flicking to Damon. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t excluded. Last time I checked, this was a joint arrangement.”

Damon’s jaw clenches. Clearly, he remembers crashing your date with Stefan last week—and how you’d had to smooth over the tension in ways that involved very little clothing and a lot of apologizing on his part. “We’re not excluding you, Saint Stefan. But we do have plans that don’t involve your pensive brooding.”

Stefan straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, so your plan is to get drunk at the Grill and then…whatever else…” He waves a hand dismissively, “doesn’t appeal to me?” He tilts his head in mock curiosity. “You sure about that?”

You snort. “Children, please. If you both really wanted to rip each other’s heads off, you’d have done it ages ago. Let’s just go. All this talk is making my head hurt.”

Damon lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if Stefan starts preaching about morality or—God forbid—Elena, I’m leaving him to pay the tab.”

Stefan’s smirk grows. “I’d pick a better conversation starter than Elena, trust me.”

You give an unimpressed half-smile. “Don’t even mention her name. As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t exist unless she’s blocking my path to a stiff drink.”

That shuts both of them up. They exchange a quick glance—some silent vampire communication or whatever—then Damon jerks his head toward the passenger door. “Shotgun’s yours,” he says to you, ever the gentleman when it comes to seating. To Stefan, he adds begrudgingly, “Guess you can squeeze into the back...or the trunk.”

Stefan’s lip twitches like he’s fighting off a retort, but he says nothing. Instead, he silently moves to the rear door. You can’t help but grin. It’s absurd that they both share you yet still bicker like five-year-olds over the smallest shit. But hey, maybe that’s part of the charm.

Once inside Damon’s Camaro, you sink into the leather seat, adjusting your legs as you feel Stefan’s presence behind you. The tension is thick—crackling with desire, frustration, and that constant competition. You kind of love it. Damon revs the engine, and the car peels away from the curb.

“Any chance we can make this a quick pit stop at the Grill?” you say, your gaze shifting between them. “I need something to eat, maybe a drink or two, but I’m not really in the mood to fraternize with the entire damn town.”

Damon flicks you a sidelong glance. “Someone’s impatient. Looking to skip straight to dessert, sweetheart?”

A grin tugs at your lips. “I’d just rather not get cornered by whichever idiot wants the latest gossip on Elena’s meltdown.”

Stefan leans forward, resting his forearms on the front seats. “We can be in and out in under thirty minutes. Grab some wings, maybe a bourbon—or three—and leave.” He lowers his voice suggestively. “After that, I wouldn’t mind some privacy.”

Damon makes a sound of reluctant agreement. “Deal. But don’t whine when you realize your tolerance is way lower than mine, Brother.”

Stefan just smirks. “Don’t worry about me, Damon. Worry about yourself.”

The quick banter settles into a charged silence as the lights of Mystic Falls blur by. The neon sign of the Grill soon comes into view, and Damon maneuvers into a parking spot with practiced ease.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mutter, pushing the car door open. “I’m not about to waste my entire night entertaining half-drunk townspeople.”

Stepping onto the sidewalk, you can already see a few familiar faces through the window—Caroline, Matt, maybe Tyler. You can’t be bothered to care. The only drama you want tonight is the kind that ends in moans, not tears. And if Elena hasn’t slithered over here yet, you might just get your way.

Damon slides an arm around your waist possessively again, and Stefan eyes the gesture with an annoyance that’s as old as time. You sigh inwardly. No matter how many times you remind them you belong to both, they still can’t help but try to stake their separate claims. Vampire pride, maybe.

As you head inside, the ambient chatter and smell of bar food envelop you. A few heads turn—this is Mystic Falls, after all, and you’re making a very public entrance with both Salvatores. Let them stare. Let them talk.

“Your usual table?” Damon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you say. “Let’s just grab a seat and order. I’m fucking starving.”

The three of you slip into a booth. Damon slides in beside you, Stefan on the opposite side. A cute server looks mildly flustered as she hands out menus. You can see her eyes flick between Damon and Stefan, likely recalling the messy history each has with Elena. If she notices you’re with them in a more intimate sense, she doesn’t comment. Probably for the best.

“So,” Damon says, flipping open the menu, “bourbon and wings? Or do we want to start with something stronger?”

Stefan doesn’t bother with the menu. “I’ll have what you’re having,” he says with a forced casualness, drumming his fingers on the table. He’s clearly aware eyes are on you three. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him—like he’s waiting for the next potential disaster.

You roll your eyes at the both of them. “Bourbon’s fine. Then if someone pisses me off, we can move on to whiskey shots until I forget this entire night.”

Damon flashes that trademark smirk. “You, pissed off? Shocking.”

Stefan snorts, finally cracking a faint smile. “I’m sure we’ll manage to avoid any drama.”

A short, barking laugh leaves you. “In this town? With the three of us in the same damn booth? Doubtful.”

But you push aside the building dread. Because at least you’re here on your terms, Elena’s sob story is miles away, and you have both Salvatores at your side—bickering, sure, but ultimately yours. And that realization, twisted as it might be, makes a satisfied grin curl your lips. With a raised brow, you signal the server for your order. Let the vultures talk, let Elena sulk. You’ve got bigger, better things to do tonight—and two vampires to do them with.

“Bring on the bourbon,” you say, leaning back. “I’ve got all fucking night.”

[breelandwalker]

I'm starting to question how much the "old" pagan costumes and festivities were indeed about fertility, sex, etc.

Ronald Hutton claims that there is no evidence in history that the maypole was saw as a phallic symbol, for example. And there are other possible meanings. But you usually just read in books as a matter of fact that it was a phalic representation and the dance around was about fertility etc

I recently read the witche's bible because I was curious about traditional wicca rituals and there is suuch a high focus on how every single costume or holiday was about fertility and sex that honestly it makes me wonder, how much it was indeed about those things and how much is just the interpretation of modern people like Gardner making it about those things

You're hitting the nail on the head without even realizing it, Anon.

SO much of what we think we know about "old pagan customs" comes from books written by Victorian-era occultists. And if there is one thing to be said about Victorian-era occultists, it was that they were horny as FUCK. (And the Edwardians weren't any better.)

These people went around rubber-stamping FERTILITY in big red letters on anything to do with goddesses or springtime or even the most passing reference to pregnancy, childbirth, midwifery, or babies. Literally any excuse for ritual nudity or a sacred orgy. And no, that is not satire. Or a euphemism.

The other thing that can be said about Victorian-era occultists is that quite a lot of them were history buffs and very prolific writers. (If you look at the roster of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and their regular guests, it reads like a Who's Who of the writers of fantastical fiction and poetry at the time.) So the result of that is a whole lot of literature about folklore and "ancient pagan customs" written by people who were filtering what little historical information they had at the time through the lens of their own opinions and those of their colleagues.

(It's worth noting that that "lens" often consisted quite heavily of free-associated ideas not supported by history or things they completely pulled out of their own asses. Leland's "Aradia" is a good example of the "Ancient Sacred Text Given To Me By A Real Witch Who Totally Exists And I Definitely Didn't Write This Myself And Make Up This Claim For Clout" genre.)

Quite unsurprisingly, a lot of these beliefs got absorbed into the roots of the modern witchcraft movement a few decades later, since those were the popular resources available at the time and the same generally-prevailing opinions and biases were still present. So this started WELL before Gardner and his coven were on the scene. They just picked up the thread.

And as we all know, once there's a generation or so of removal from the founding beliefs of a movement, people tend to take the older texts as gospel, regardless of how flawed they might be.

See Also: We Still Have To Talk About The Witch-Cult Hypothesis Because Margaret Murray Wrote The Encyclopedia Britannica Entry On Witchcraft And It Wasn't Updated Until The 1960s.

See Also: We Still Have To Explain The Difference Between Historical Fiction And The Historical Record Because Of The White Goddess And The Mists Of Avalon.

See Also: We Still Have To Talk About The Burning Times Myth Because Raymond Buckland Made That Stupid Fucking Documentary.

See Also: Why The Hell Is Anyone Still Recommending Silver Ravenwolf.

Anyway, the short answer is that yes, your impression is correct, and I'm glad you're reading Hutton and forming that practical context for the witchcraft/pagan literature and media that you encounter.

Keep honing that bullshit detector and best of luck!

[beesandwasps]

Since Gaza isn’t being bombed any more, they’re actually in better shape now than they were under Biden. They’re still being shot at with impunity by Israelis, but that was happening for the last 70 years so don’t pretend you care about it if you didn’t notice until now.

I would never ask a Democrat for help anyway, because they exist to prevent help from being provided. And I’m totally sure you speak for all black women and all lgbt, and the ones I follow who say the exact opposite of what you do don’t actually exist.

End the Iraq war early? Nope, we leave on Bush’s timeline (and even then Obama tried to keep us there beyond it).

Prosecute the Too Big To Fail Banks for the 2008 meltdown? Haha, nope, they’re Obama’s donors.

Cut the military budget when times are tough? That’s firm — let’s have austerity for social spending instead!

Healthcare? Oh, we’re going to get a legal mandate to buy private insurance in the form of the ACA. I’m sure that will help, it’s not like they’re the ones who created the problem in the first place. (Are you fucking kidding me?!)

Fossil fuels? Obama won’t prosecute BP for the Deepwater Horizon spill and Biden will increase production! And also put tariffs on solar panels and wind turbines from China, when there are basically no other suppliers! (But tariffs aren’t bad when Democrats do them!)

Police violence? Biden will give them federal funds they never had before so they can hire more officers and buy better equipment!

Immigration? In Trump’s first term, he deported fewer people than either Biden’s four years or any four years of Obama, and nearly all the facilities ICE is using (and were using in Trump’s first term) were built by Obama or Biden.

Gaza? 15 months of livestreamed genocide, hospitals and schools bombed into rubble, and Biden constantly lied to the public to make sure the money and weapons kept flowing to Israel, and had the US veto any UN resolutions which might have ended it. (Every single Democrat is going to hell for that if there’s a hell. Including Harris, who said out loud that she couldn’t think of a single thing she would have done differently from Biden.)

Domestic spying? GWB proposed “Total Information Awareness” which the Democrats and the press mocked because it was so obviously fascist overreach, and he backed off. Obama implemented literally every part of the proposal except the name.

Disease? More people died of Covid-19 under Biden’s first two years, when there were vaccines against it, than did under Trump, because he ignored the science and cut relief almost immediately after taking office. He also let corporations dictate the bird flu response so the probable next epidemic could be created.

Foreign interference? Obama approved CIA participation in Operation Car Wash to overthrow the left-leaning Brazilian government and install the Trump-like Bolsonaro, among other meddling in South America.

War? Obama invaded Libya based on lies, sent troops around Africa, and continued GWB’s drone bombing — as did Biden — despite both the CIA and an independent academic study saying that this is actively counterproductive! Oh, and he also petitioned Congress for money to refurbish existing nukes and build new “tactical” ones which Trump now controls.

The Democrats literally could not have produced a more convenient setup for Trump. Why people like you defend them is a mystery.

Why are they so fucking dumb. Does this mean we’ll at least get in new deal in 2040?

[86espresso]

CONGRATULATIONS! Could I please have:

crashing their date with another person purposely

^ and it all was definitely out of spite. not because they were jealous. never. totally not.

with Quinn Hughes please!

thank you so much!! and ty for requesting <3

There is not one person on god’s green earth who makes your eye twitch more than Quinn Hughes.

The only tie you have to him is being his coach’s daughter, which means you’re not supposed to see each other a lot, but you have to because you live in the same building.

On the same floor. Across from each other.

It’s been snarky remarks and banging on each other’s doors with noise complaints ever since.

You would think he’d respect you because of who your father was to him, but no. He just couldn’t stand you the same way you couldn’t stand him.

Your day was going smoothly; you got off work, came home and took a nice bath, and got ready for your date. He seemed like a lovely guy and things were going well.

You checked the time to see that you were late and hurriedly shoved your necessities in your purse and speed walked out of your apartment, quickly stopping in front of the mirror to fix your hair. You fumbled with the keys while locking your door, breathing out in relief when you heard the lock click.

The elevator doors opened up to reveal Quinn. His hair was damp and falling onto his forehead, his black shirt stuck to him in the right places, and his gym shorts were short. As fuck.

He gave you a sideways once-over, taking in your appearance without shame as he walked out of the elevator. “Nice kicks.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, looking down at your stilettos. “Thanks?”

He laughs as he walks away and the doors close, and it should feel ridiculing, but a weird part of you was convinced that he tried to give you a compliment.

Key word: tried.

[•••]

The date was going fine. It wasn’t great, since he was a little cold with you because you were five minutes late, but it got better as he had a few glasses of wine.

“What a coincidence.” Your eyes bulged out of your head when you heard Quinn’s all-too-cheery tone. Both yours and your date’s eyes traveled to Quinn, who materialized in del t of your booth.

“Quinn, what the actual fuck are you—”

“I was hoping to catch you somewhere around here, you left too early y’know.” He fakes a pout.

“What is he talking about?” Your date directs the question at you.

“Yes, Quinn, enlighten us, please.” You glared daggers into his unfazed eyes.

“Nah, that’s not important. What is, though,” he pauses to pull something out of his pocket, “is this.”

Your jaw drops as he pulls out one of your rings from his pocket. You must’ve dropped it during your rush to leave.

And just when you thought it wouldn’t get worse, “you left it at my apartment, thought you’d want it back.” He laid it in front of you as your date’s face slowly contorted to anger and he slammed his napkin down on his plate.

“Listen—” you start. Your date holds his hand up.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Quinn watches triumphantly as he stomps out of the restaurant like a child. You put your head in your hands. “It gets to a point, Quinn.”

He shrugs and flops down to where your date just sat, picks up a breadstick and takes a bite. “Damn, these are good,” he swallows, “and I saved you by the way. He had bad juju or negative aura or whatever the kids say these days.” Another bite. You feel it. The undeniable twitch of your eye.

You see his point, though. The man made you feel lesser than for being a few minutes late and was quick to storm out without giving you the chance to explain yourself.

“That still doesn’t mean you can just crash my date, Quinn— how did you even find me?”

“I followed you after I found your ring.”

“You’re so—” you sigh, unable to find the words.

There’s a beat of silence.

You groan loudly, all of a sudden, startling Quinn and making him pause mid dip. “What?”

“I’ll have to pay for all of this.” You gesture at the food in front of you.

Quinn waves his hand once. “Nah. I got it.” You’re confused for the second time that night, your mouth open but no words coming out. “What kind of guy takes someone to Olive Garden for a date, anyway?”

“The kind that’s classy enough to not compliment me with ‘nice kicks’.” You smirk, leaning back and crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes. “Be grateful, being nice to you for free is painful.”

You laugh for the first time that night, slipping your ring on your finger.

“You do look pretty nice, though.”

[slut4hee]

You Got It Bad For Me

{Paring: Fwb Yunho x Blk Fem! Reader

Genre: smut, fluff? toxic relationships, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: When you and Yunho first started fucking around with each other, you both came to an agreement for helping each other out strictly sexually, with no strings attached. But lately your heart’s been craving more, you think you’ve fallen in love with Jeong Yunho….

{Warnings: explicit scenes, rough sex, unprotected sex, make up sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, backshots bc duh Yunho is an ass type of guy, dirty talk, pet names, jealousy, Yunho is lowkey toxic, they get into a heated argument a little physical on both ends, lmk if missed anything.

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The soft hum of the shower running, was the only noise that could be heard in your quiet bedroom. Yunho was currently taking a quick shower, he had just gotten off work, exhausted from the overtime shifts he’s been putting in lately. This was the only time you and him were able to see each other, at night when he comes straight from work to your apartment, shower and you guys fuck.

This was an everyday routine for the both of you, you guys working early in the day, and then tangled in the sheets by night. But lately you’ve found yourself craving for more, you want to see him during the day, bring him lunch to work, go on dates with him, to call him your man.

Of course you and him agreed to just fucking, you and him being on the same page that you both weren’t ready for a relationship. But things has changed, well at least for you it has, you developed feelings for him or maybe you’ve always liked him. The buzzing sound coming from Yunho’s phone, on the nightstand startled you a bit, being that you were starting to get deep into your thoughts.

You knew peeping through his phone was totally privacy invasion, and a complete breach to your friends with benefits only relationship, but you couldn’t help your curiosity to whether he was sleeping around with someone else or not. You looked at the bathroom door, it was slightly ajar, but the water was still running meaning that Yunho was still shower.

Once you saw the coast was clear, you grabbed his phone off the table, opening up his screen and seeing a bunch of messages notifications popping up on his phone screen. Yunho didn’t care to have a password on his phone, being that he is a single man and he trusts you not to invade his personal space, and because of the agreement you guys have.

Little does he know you’re breaking that trust right now, you could feel your throat going dry and your heart beating out your chest, as you read through messages between him and other bitches, but what really had you fucked up was the message between him and this girl name Kiara. It was the week before, Yunho had told you he wasn’t going to be able to make it tonight, because he wasn’t feeling well.

Of course you were a little sad that you weren’t going to be able to see him, but you also understood that he wasn’t feeling well so you decided to not be selfish and let him get some rest. Only to find out he blew you off, to go fuck on some hoe name Kiara?! You were furious.

You threw his phone to the side of the bed where he sleeps, as you set up straight with your arms folded across. You didn’t even notice the water had stopped running, until the bathroom door opened, and Yunho’s tall figured appeared with a white towel covering his bottom half, and his chest bare as water droplets slowly ran down his toned torso.

You almost forgot why you were mad at him, the unholy sight of his being half naked, as he dry off his hair with another white shower cloth. But your anger quickly returned when you remembered reading all the messages between him and other women. Yunho walked over to you, his tall figure towering over you, as he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead.

You didn’t even react to the kiss, instead you just glared at him, not saying a word. Yunho frowned at you before asking what was wrong with you.

“What’s wrong baby? You not feeling well?” He questioned, as he sat next to you on the bed. You quickly got up, and sat on the other the bed, scoffing at him as you mumbled some not so nice words. He quickly got up as well, but this time standing over you, as he leaned down to be height level with you.

“Mind telling me why you’re acting weird tonight?” He said confused, he wasn’t used to you acting this way with him, it was all so foreign. You rolled your eyes at him and smacked your teeth before you started to chew his head off.

“I don’t know Jeong Yunho, why am I acting weird tonight? Huh?! Maybe it’s because you’re a lying piece of shit” You huffed, your chest heaving and down, as you let your anger out on him. Yunho looked at you with the same confused but you could see he was starting to grow irritated.

“What? Lying? When did I ever lie to Y/n, stop being fucking ridiculous right now” He said in a irritable tone, as he stood up and ran his fingers through his damp hair, his muscles tensing at the action.

“Oh really, so you didn’t blow me off Friday night, to go fuck on some bitch name Kiara Yunho?!” You stood up, facing him as you clenched your fist together, charging him up and puffing your chest against him. His jaw clenched, and he ran his hands through his hair again but this time more intensely as he process your words.

“YOU WENT TROUGH MY FUCKING PHONE Y/N?” He shouted at you, looking down at you with an angered and irritated expression. You glared at him even more for yelling at you, tightening your fist even more, as you fight the urge to slap him in the face.

“YOU DAMN RIGHT I DID, AND FUCK YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?! NOT A FUCKING THING” You screamed back at him, pushing at his chest as you release all your pent up anger and emotions. Yunho grabs your hands from pushing at his chest and jerks it away from him.

“Who gave you the right to go through my goddamn phone Y/n, that’s called privacy invasion” He said through gritted teeth, trying to calm himself down, as took a seat on the bed running his hands down his face annoyingly.

“Oh please don’t give me that shit Yunho, if I never would have went through your phone motherfucker, I wouldn’t have found out you a lying ass bitch” You shouted at him, standing in front of him as you pushed at his chest again. Yunho stood up, sizing you up, as he got all in your face, you could feel the rage radiating from his big slender body.

“You watch how you fucking talk to me, you going to talk to me with respect do you understand me goddamnit?!” He screamed in your face, his chest heaving up and down, as he was fuming with anger. Your lips wobbled, as tears started to prick at your waterlines, you pushed past him before as you walked away and retreated to the other side of the bed.

You brought your knees up to your chest, hugging them as you started to sob, letting the tears finally fall. Yunho let out a frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face once again before walking over to you. He stood in front of you, before getting down on his knees and rubbing soothing circles on your exposed thighs, being that you were only dressed in your short nightgown that covered little to nothing.

You swatted his hand away, before turning away from him telling him to leave you the fuck alone, but of course he didn’t leave you alone.

“Y/n come on baby, can we please just talk this out like adults, instead of fighting like children” He said softly but sternly, you didn’t say anything back instead you kept sobbing, letting out all your tears you’ve been holding back. Yunho hated seeing cry, of course he had every right to talk to other females, being that you two weren’t together but it still made him feel shitty to see you crying over him like this.

“Sweetheart please look at me, please talk to me I’m begging you, I’m so sorry I lied to you baby girl” He said gently, grabbing ahold of your legs and pulling them apart, as he slotted himself between your legs and pulled you into his embrace. You caved and surrendered to his touch, as you laid your head on his shoulder, still crying and shaking.

He rubbed your back in a comforting manner, whispering apologies to you, and telling you to stop crying. You pulled your head from his shoulder, and looked at him, your eyes puffy and red from crying. He cooed at you before kissing your lips softly, and rubbing soothing circles on your thighs again.

“I’m so fucking sorry baby girl, let me make it up to you princess, let me make this right” He whispered into your ear, as he laid soft kisses on your neck.

୨ৎ

“Oh fuck! Oh yes Yuyu right there!” You moaned loudly as Yunho was eating your pussy like a starved man, your legs were spread nice and wide for him, as he devoured your sweet wet pussy like no other.

“Am I making you feel good princess, you like when daddy eats your pretty little pussy huh?” He smirked against your puffy wet folds, going from flickering to sucking on your swollen clit. Your legs were shaking with pure ecstasy, as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes daddy fuck! You’re going to make me cum all over your face oh my god” You whimpered, your body heating up from the intense feeling of pleasure, Yunho was truly the pussy eating king, he was such a munch, he could literally stay buried between your legs all night and day if he could. He pulled away from your pussy, before spitting directly on it, and sliding one of his long digits inside your tight little hole, and going back to sucking and abusing your clit

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your legs trembled violently, as you reached your high, squirting your arousal all over his face and body. You felt your legs go numb, your ears ringing as you tried to calm down from the intense orgasm you just had. Yunho was leaving a little trail of kisses down your plump thighs, and he whispered words of appreciation and affection towards you.

You barely had time to recover before Yunho was manhandling you around, putting you on all fours with your face down, and your ass up. You bit your bottom lip, as you wiggled your ass, enticing him to hurry and fuck you hard. Yunho enjoys fucking roughly, and at first when you two first started hooking up, you didn’t care too much for rough and hard sex. But ever since Yunho put it on you, you can’t have it any other way, always being a good little slut for him, letting him beat your poor little pussy up.

“Fuck baby, pussy so hot and ready for me, I know she fucking misses me, isn’t that right little one? You miss daddy’s big cock inside you” You whimpered as delivered a slap to your pussy, talking to it as if it was a person. He rubbed his fat mushroom tip between your drooling folds, teasing you before he absolutely murders your pussy.

“Yuyu! Fuck me please, fuck me so hard daddy” You whined, pleading with him to stop teasing and get on with it, before you could protest again, you felt his thick cock breaching your tight little cunt, you felt like you were being ripped apart but I such a good way.

“Oh shit baby, oh fuck pussy so tight goddamn” He groaned, not wasting any time, already starting to pound into you. You gripped the sheets tightly, biting down on the pillow, as you take Yunho’s brutal strokes. His cock was huge, and hits the right places, causing your pussy to clamp down on his throbbing dick like a vice.

“Yes baby! Please don’t stop fucking me Yuyu, Oh god you fuck me so good” You screamed out loud, throwing your ass back at him, as you meet his thrusts half way. He grunts deeply, smacking on your asscheeks, as he fucks you into the mattress, completely destroying your insides. You could feel yourself getting close to your high for the 2nd time tonight, the band in your stomach threatening to snap any minute now.

“Fuck daddy, oh Yunho I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum” You said desperate for your release, the sounds of skin slapping, the bed creaking violently, and your uneven breaths echoed throughout the apartment, you’re pretty sure your neighbors weren’t too happy right now.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and cum on daddy’s dick, if you do I’ll give you a little reward by filling you up with my cum sweetheart” He whined, he could feel himself tipping to edge as well, his strokes becoming sloppy and erratic. Finally he hit that spot that makes you act a fucking fool, you cried out as your body went limp, collapsing on the bed as you came hard around Yunho’s dick.

His body collapsed with yours, as he fucked you through your high, as he chased his. The intensity of your pussy squeezing and milking his cock for what it’s worth, had him cumming hard inside you, thick spurts of white milky cum shooting deep inside you. You both were panting, chest heaving up and down, as you both come down from the intense highs.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, pulling you on top of him, not caring how his cum is leaking out of your pussy, onto his bottom half. You both laid in silence, staring into each other’s eyes, as you exchanged a wordless conversation. Yunho kissed your lips softly, before softly saying

“𝐈 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈’𝐦 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐘/𝐧”

The End….

A/n Gasp! “Omg Slut4hee actually posted” ik ik I’ve been Mia 🫣 I can explain I been in my sad girl era!😓🤮 but I’m slowly getting better okay! But omg I just had to cook something up for you guys after seeing that get ready with me TikTok Yunho posted god! I’m so obsessed with him all jokes aside 😀 but I hope you enjoy this little drabble as much as I did🫶🏽 reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! Not proofreading shii homie😌

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@i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @kolawnk

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Why Orion doesn't babysit...(

Regulus Black AU

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: There are reasons Orion doesn't babysit.

Rating :T

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“That was a nice dinner, Reg. I’m glad that you agreed to speak to me again.”

Sirius said with a grin as he closed the door behind him. After not speaking to each other in years, Regulus had finally approached Sirius about making up. Sirius knew that it was no easy feat for Regulus either. For Regulus Black to apologize about anything was about as rare as seeing a unicorn.

Something told Sirius that you were partially behind the apology too. After you gave birth to Regulus’ son, you had been trying to gently nudge Regulus in the direction of speaking to his brother again. You had been the one to approach Siruis after Walburga died. Apparently both Regulus and Orion were debating on if they should have went along with Walburga or not. It took maybe two months and Regulus turned up at Sirius’ door.

“You’re welcome. Please don’t push your luck.”

Regulus commented as Orion got up from the couch. He was happy to be talking to Sirius again too (even if he wouldn’t say it). There were still somethings that Regulus wasn’t totally comfortable with. You sat down next to Remus on the couch.

“You lot are back earlier than I thought.”

Regulus nodded, glancing around for Oliver. It wasn’t often that Regulus asked Orion to watch his grandson and he was about to remember why.

“Yes, our reservation was moved up. Where is Oliver?”

Orion glanced over his shoulder. Oliver had been one good little boy. He reminded Orion so much of Regulus as a child. It was like seeing the little star of the family all over again.

“I think he went to the lavatory. He’s a good kid. I only had to spank him the one time.”

A dead silence quickly overtook the room. Both Regulus and yourself turned to Orion with a frown while Sirius muttered “oh fuck” under his breath. You turned to your father-in-law speaking before Regulus lost his shit.

“Orion, you shouldn’t have done that.”

Orion shrugged.

“My shoulder is fine.”

Regulus rubbed a hand over his face before counting to ten.

“Father, we never spank Oliver! What were you thinking.”

Orion sat back down.

“No wonder he looked so surprised.”

Regulus started to get loud right away. You gently put a hand on his chest hoping to calm him down.

“Orion, what happened?”

“I told him to clean his toys up. He said make me so I did.”

Regulus growled. This was the last thing that he wanted to deal with. After growing up in a house where he was hit on the regular basis the last thing that he wanted was for Oliver to grow up that way. Normally all it took was for Regulus to give Oliver a glare and the little boy was doing exactly what was asked of him.

“Father, again we do not spank our son. Haven’t you learned from the way that Sirius and I were raised that spanking a kid doesn’t do any good? We don’t want Oliver to be afraid of us.”

““Alright, Regulus you made your point.”

Orion rolled his eyes and moved to take a sip of his tea. He got up and walked over to the coat closet. Halfway through putting on his coat, Orion turned to look at you. You hadn’t said much since a few moments before. Orion wasn’t a fool either. He knew that you were not about to push Regulus when he was angry. No one wanted to deal with that.

“Y/n, dear, may I ask you a question?”

You nodded as Regulus walked over to Sirius muttering something in French. Sirius elbowed his brother to pay attention to what their father was saying. While things with Orion had gotten better, Sirius still didn’t exactly trust his father 100%.

“Does Regulus pick up his socks?”

“Yes.”

You replied. Orion held his hand up before opening the door.

“You’re welcome.”

When Orion was gone, Regulus turnede to look at you before shaking hs hand. Running a hand through his hair, Regulus went off in search of something stronger to drink.

“Never again! That crazy old man is not watching our son again! I am about to put dad in a home.”

Sirius and Remus were looking at each other with wide eyes. Chuckling, Sirius turned to look at you.

“Regulus used to hate picking up his socks. Dad let it go for a little bit. When Mum finally bitched about it enough, Dad unfortunalty let Regulus have it.”

Regulus came back into the room with Oliver behin him.

“Sit down.”

Regulus said calmly. Oliver sat down on the couch looking up with Regulus with a smile.

“What did I do?”

Regulus knelt down in front of his son with a sigh.

“Why did you say make me to grandpa when he told you to clean up your toys?”

Oliver shrugged.

“I thought it would make him laugh and he didn’t.”

Regulus nodded as you moved to sit on your son’s other side. You gently stroked Oliver’s hair out of his eyes.

“Oliver, I believe you know that when you are told to do something, you are supposed to do it.”

Regulus nodded in agreement.

“Sorry, son, but grandpa doesn’t find anything funny. Your mum is right, though. When you are told to do something, you need to do it. Now go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

Oliver nodded, sticking his bottom lip out before going upstairs. You gave Regulus a look that said, “do not be a pushover.”

Regulus shook his head before standing up and going back to his drink. Sirius elbowed Remus in the side before turning back to his brother.

“Hey, Regulus. Pick up your socks.”

____

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[saeist]

"did it hurt?"

"falling from heaven? a little"

"more like crawling out of the depths of hell but okay.." you say under your breath. nagumo gasps and puts a hand over his chest at your implication

"hey, that's mean!" he points a finger at you

you roll your eyes, "i mean your tattoos.. stupid"

nagumo raises an eyebrow, glancing down on his arms before it all clicks. a sly smirk makes their way on his face. he leans in ever so slightly just to mess with you

"oh? so you were looking at me?"

"nagumo, just answer the damn question! did it hurt or not?" you grumbled, facepalming as the man continues without fail to annoy the shit out of you. it was just a basic question yet he couldn't even answer it properly

nagumo laughs plenty, poking fun of your angry face. (that he may or may not like so much) when he finally stops laughing, he wipes the tears of joy from his eyes, shaking his head

"eh, depends but mostly no" he finally answers, showing off his tattoos by rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. "some on my arms i did by myself while the rest were done by a tattoo artist at a parlor"

wait a second, did he just say he did some of his tattoos by himself?

you stopped listening the moment he said that he does some of his tattoos. your eyes dart over his arms, observing the lines of ink permanently etched on his skin. a million questions running through your mind as you stare at them. how long did they take? did it hurt? how did he managed to tattoo himself on both arms precisely and accurately? who is his tattoo artist? how much does he pay for one tattoo? do each tattoos hold a specific meaning?

"hello? earth to y/n?" nagumo waves a hand over your face. you must've been staring at him for a while. "i knew i was a looker but you don't have to ogle me" he teases, chuckling to himself

you finally return to your senses when his words processed in your head. you shake your head vigorously

"i was not!" you deny, crossing your arms

nagumo laughs again, "you were totally checking me out!"

"i will check you out myself at the nearest funeral home. do not test me"

nagumo whistles low, "whoa.. freaky. though you're in luck, i like them like that" he winks

you can feel yourself burn up with how smooth he was with words. effortlessly shutting you up by just playing along. damn you nagumo and your smooth talking!

"you know what? this is pointless. i should've asked rion instead where she gets her tattoos done" you murmured, having enough of this conversation with nagumo. all you wanted was to ask where he gets them done so you could probably get one as well but since he wasn't answering properly then forget it

you turn around to walk away from nagumo, but before you could actually get away from him, he grabs onto your arm, preventing you from walking away

"hold it!" nagumo says, tugging you lightly to make you face him. he holds in another laugh when he sees you glaring at him. "no need to look for rion when everything you need is literally right in front of you" he muses

you raise an eyebrow, "what the fuck does that even mean?"

"i mean i can tattoo you" nagumo says like it was the most obvious thing in the world

you blink once. twice. trying to process what he just said

"what?"

nagumo exhales sharply, rolling his eyes. why couldn't you get the hint?

"i just told you that i did some of my tattoos. so if you want one, i wouldn't mind doing it for you" nagumo explains, taking a good look at your arm. an empty canvas in his eyes. his fingers trace over your skin as if he was already planning what he wants to tattoo onto you

his touch alone is sending sparks all over your body but for some reason, you don't pull your arm away

"let me guess, you're going to tattoo a dick on my arm" you huffed, watching him trace random shapes on your skin

nagumo reluctantly lets go of your arm and puts his hands behind his head as he looks at you, grinning

"maybe. it would be funny as fuck" he shrugs, giggling to himself at the thought of actually tattooing a dick on your arm

"this is why i'm going to rion" you sigh, rolling your eyes yet again. there's just something about talking to nagumo that is so infuriating but at the same time, so endearing

"come on" nagumo drawls, "you and me? matching tattoos? just think about it"

the mere thought of getting matching tattoos with nagumo, who's gonna do it on you just somehow made your stomach flip

what the fuck?

"never in a million years" you scoff, starting to walk away from him. "i'm gonna go look for rion. bye"

nagumo, as sharp as ever, notices the faint blush on your cheeks at the mention of getting matching tattoos with him. he lets you walk away from him with a small smile on his face. he knows damn well that you aren't going to reject this offer

"offer still stands!" he calls out after you, "you know where to find me"

you respond by flipping him off without the need to look back. nagumo bursts out laughing before he carries on with his day

later that night, you find yourself contemplating on taking nagumo's offer. all it takes was a curious cat to get itself killed. you stand in front of a mirror, trying to map out where you would like to get inked

the memory of nagumo proposing of getting matching tattoos echoes in your mind like a broken record. you mentally curse yourself for holding onto the thought of getting something permanent together. it almost feels like its a commitment

you actually can't believe that you're even considering this. from nagumo at that

on the other side of the jcc building, nagumo was sprawled over his bed, busy solving sudoku puzzles when he hears his phone vibrate on his bedside table. he pauses, picking his phone up lazily before he smirks when it was a notification from you

[7:09 PM] y/n :) : hypothetically speaking, if i were to accept your offer of you tattooing me, what would it be?

nagumo grins widely. he knew it. you wouldn't able to resist such offer from him. he immediately types his response not even a minute later

[7:10 PM] nagumo (DO NOT REPLY): hypothetically it would anything you'd like cus that means you'll have a piece of me on you forever ;) [7:10 PM] nagumo (DO NOT REPLY): so, you down?

[spencewalterreid]

If "I Love You" Was A Promise

Summary: Your mind has been unkind to you as of late, and Spencer picks up on it. He comes over to try to get you to open up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN reader

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: very self-deprecating, physical abuse if you squint (reader shoves Spencer), mean!reader but they don't mean it, mental breakdown (like... total meltdown), yelling, no use of y/n, Spencer being a sweetie, I think that's it.

Word count: 3k

Author's Note: I truly do love me some angsty angst. I've been going through a gloomy patch recently and wanted to just write a super self-indulgent comfort fic. enjoy enjoy enjoy

You met Spencer a few months ago at a bookstore and you were quick friends. He’s brilliant, great to talk with, and you like a lot of the same media. However, he also happens to be an FBI profiler, which means he thinks he knows everything about everyone all of the time. You’re getting pretty fucking sick of it. He noticed oh-so-astutely that you were going through some shit, and asked under the cover of a movie night to accompany you to your house. Blindingly naive, you agreed. That’s how you ended up in front of him in a heated argument about your current state of mind.

"I don't know what you want from me, Reid! This isn't any of your goddamn business. Just because I've been distracted doesn't mean you need to give me a fucking house call!" you shout, your hands pulling at your hair to ground yourself. "This has nothing to do with you."

Spencer held up his hands in a placating gesture, his voice calm and measured as he responded. "Okay, let's take a deep breath. I'm not trying to overstep any boundaries here."

He studied your body language intently - the way your hands gripped your hair, the tension in your shoulders. The distraction, the frustration, it was all rooted in something deeper, something that had nothing to do with their current argument.

"Tell me this," Spencer said, his tone gentle yet firm, "is there a pattern to these distractions? Have they been getting worse over time?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. "Sometimes, it helps to talk things out with someone else. And right now, I'm here to listen."

Spencer was acutely aware of the small, cluttered apartment around him – the scattered books and papers on the coffee table, the faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air. He used the familiarity of the space to center himself, to keep his focus on understanding the root of your distress.

"I'm not here to judge or criticize," he assured you, his voice low and soothing. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

In that moment, Spencer's mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together what the hell your problem was. Was this distraction tied to a past trauma, a family issue, or something else entirely? As an FBI profiler, he knew that the key to understanding a person's behavior lay in their history, their experiences, their upbringing.

"Talk to me," Spencer encouraged gently, his tone warm yet authoritative. "I'm here to listen. Please?" He held out his hand, a silent offer, and waited for you to open up to him. Yeah, right.

"God, stop being so fucking you for a minute!" you stomp up to him, about 2 feet away, and shove at his chest. "Act like a goddamn human, for once in your life! Would it kill you? Huh?"

Spencer stumbled back from the sudden shove, caught off guard by the contact. His heart raced as he felt the warmth of your hands against his chest, the bloom of dull pain. He was shocked. No one had ever laid hands on him like that before, no one he cared about at least, and especially not you.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the surge of emotions that flooded through him. If the breath was meant to keep tears at bay too, then maybe you didn’t need to know that.

"I... I know I'm not always easy to understand," Spencer said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know your mind works differently than most people's. But I'm trying... I'm trying to be here for you, in whatever way I can."

"Stop it!" you shout. "Stop trying to be unaffected. Stop trying to act like my fucking therapist, because you aren't! You... Don't... Know.. Me." you pause between each word, your finger in his face. "Stop trying to fucking profile me. Act like you have any sort of goddamn emotion, for once in your life!"

Spencer flinched as if struck, your finger hovering inches from his face. The harsh words hung heavy in the air between you, a bitter sting he couldn't shrug off like he might an insult from a suspect.

For just a moment, he faltered. He knows he's insecure, it's one of his biggest flaws, but he thinks maybe right now he should be. Maybe he's stepped too far. Maybe this isn't his place.

He shrugs that off just as soon as it comes. This is more important than being polite.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your frustration, your anger, your desperation. It was raw, visceral, a maelstrom of emotion he struggled to comprehend. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently lowering your finger from his face.

"You're right," he said, his voice low. "I'm not your therapist. I'm not perfect.”

He paused, words careful with his gaze locked onto yours. "But know this... I care about you. More than I can express. And I'm trying.”

Spencer's other hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the heated skin. "I may not always show it in ways you expect... but I do have feelings. This isn’t fair, you have to know that.” His eyes brim with unshed tears, as if pleading with you to apologize. He sincerely doubted he'd get that, at least right now.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me what you need. Tell me how to do this, because I’m at a loss.”

"Stop it! Stop, stop, stop!" you scream, pounding at his chest once more before turning to dig your fingernails into your scalp. "God, you're such a fucking asshole! You don't have a goddamn clue what you're talking about. You've only known me for a couple of months! You couldn't possibly-" your voice catches in your throat, but you choke down a sob. You couldn't possibly love me. You firmly remind yourself he did not say that. Why would he?

Spencer stumbled back, his stomach and a twist and head spinning as he absorbed the brutal impact of your fists against his chest. He tries to keep in mind that you aren’t trying to hurt him, you’re just overwhelmed. He’s having a hard time believing it.

He reached out, trying to grab your wrists to still your frantic movements. But you wrenched away, pacing the small room like a caged animal. Spencer stood frozen, watching the scene in front of him, cinematic in its drama.

"Just because I haven't known you long doesn't mean I don't care about you," he interjects, voice tensely controlled. "You don't get to tell me what I feel or don't feel."

He took a step closer, then another, until he stood behind you. Gently, carefully, he placed his hands on your shoulders, warmth seeping into your tight muscles.

"I can't pretend to know everything you've been through. I can't claim to understand what you're going through, especially 'cuz you won't tell me anything," he sighs. "But I see you, or I'm at least trying to. I see the strength in you, the resilience, the courage.” His fingers tighten minimally in support, pausing a moment. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

That did it.

One sentence, and the dam is breaking. Months of grief, loneliness, and a lifetime of being a last priority come crashing into you all at once. Your knees buckle at the weight of it as sobs wrench your body. "Get out," you demand, but your hands wrap firmly around his arms. "Get out. Please." You shake your head. "Please, Spencer, go home." You press back into him, curling into his warmth. "You're such a fucking dick."

Spencer held on tighter, holding you up with a grip around your waist.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay, I'll go. If that's what you need."

But he didn't let go. He couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew you were steady. Not until he knew, without a doubt, that you meant it.

"Tell me this first," he pleaded softly, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. "Tell me you know you're not alone. That you have someone in your corner, no matter what."

His arms tightened, a silent vow. "I know we're not close, I know I'm not always the easiest person to deal with. But I'm trying. I'm trying to be what you need me to be."

He stood there, holding you through your sobs. It impressed you, the resolve of him. It impressed you that he didn’t get pissed, as much as you wanted him to. You aren’t used to gentleness. You’d rather fight than stand in front of someone who’ll just let you cry.

The wails leaving your throat embarrass the living shit out of you, and you know tomorrow you'll hate yourself for it, but right now you’re grateful. "I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Spencer." You empty your lungs completely with your sobs, then refill them just to empty them again. "I hate you. I hate you," you repeat, holding his arms with a bruising grip as he gently lowers you onto the floor despite his unrelenting germaphobia. He winces. "I hate you."

The mindfulness applied was the kind he usually reserved for crime scenes. He sat behind you, cradling your trembling body against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You don't need to apologize. You don't need to hate anything right now except maybe the hand dealt to you."

He rocked you gently, matching the rhythm of your ragged breaths. "I know you're hurting. I know it’s confusing. But please, don't hate yourself for feeling. Don't hate yourself for needing someone to be here for you."

Spencer's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. He thumbed away the tears that fell in steady streams, his own eyes a pool of their own. "Hate me if you need to. I can take it. I can take anything, as long as you're not hating yourself. None of this is your fault."

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "You're allowed to feel. You're allowed to break. You're allowed to scream and cry and rage until you have nothing left. And I'll be right here, picking up the pieces, gluing you back together.” He pulled back just enough to watch you for a moment, your cheeks burning ever hotter. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Your breath catches on a hiccup. "Don't say that," you beg. "Please," you sob. "Don't you say that to me. You don't know me, Reid." your voice is totally wrecked, you sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "You don't know what you're saying, you-" your breath catches, then another, then another, and then before you know it you’re hyperventilating.

What you didn’t say was, when you say it out loud, it becomes a promise. What you didn’t say was, I trust you. To say that is to make a promise you will not keep. To say that is to promise to break my trust. What you didn’t say was, To say that is to lie.

Spencer felt a surge of panic as your breathing grew rapid and shallow, your body shaking violently in his arms. He tightened his grip, a fierce, protective hold, as if he could physically keep you anchored. A folly effort, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

"Hey, hey, slow down," he urged, his voice calm and steady despite the fear gripping his heart. "You're okay, you're safe. I've got you."

He slid his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head down towards your knees. "That's it, just like that. Breathe with me. In and out. Slow and steady."

"Don't- don't- don't- d-" You tremble like a fucking leaf. Pathetic. You try to calm down enough to say this because you know it needs to be said: "Don't make- make- don't make pr- promi- promises you ca- can't- can't keep."

Spencer’s heart drops. What did he do wrong?

He didn’t quite know what to say, but he made an effort anyway. "You need to breathe, sweetheart. You need to breathe through this, one breath at a time.”

You lean down to softly press your lips against his hand, still shivering. Shaking. "I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic."

"Hey, hey, none of that," Spencer soothed, turning your face towards his. He brushed away a lingering tear with his thumb, his gaze locked onto your red-rimmed eyes. "Being human isn't pathetic. Feeling, caring, needing... that's what makes you beautifully, perfectly human."

The smile on his face is sad, but genuine. He lays his hand on the side of your head, dragging a thumb across your temple. “I'm here because I want to be. Because I choose to be. Your strength and your vulnerability, they're a part of what draws me to you. Never apologize for being who you are."

"Can you stay?" you whisper feebly. "I mean, you don't-" you hiccup. "Don't feel pressured, of course. You know what?" You force a smile, which appears hopelessly pathetic considering the salt stains marring your cheeks. "I'm actually okay. I'm so okay. You can go home, Spencer. Go get some rest. Sorry." You move to get up, but his hold tightens. He mets your gaze, his voice low and firm. "No. I'm not going anywhere. I told you... I'm staying right here, with you."

He adjusted your position, lying down and gathering you fully into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "Rest now," he murmured, stroking your hair. "I'll be here when you wake up." Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

You chuckle without any meaning. "Spencer, no. Not on the hardwood floor," you say apologetically, sitting up. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. C'mon, get up."

Spencer reinforced his embrace, not letting you pull away as he sat up slowly. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the last of their tears. "I'm not leaving you alone. End of discussion."

He stood, pulling you up with him, then guided you down the hallway, to your bedroom, then to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Spencer's arm remained wrapped around your shoulders, a constant, comforting presence.

"I'll sleep here, with you. I won't leave your side." His voice softened, a gentle caress. "Please don't ask me to go, not now. I need to be here for you.”

"Spence-"

"No," he interjects. "No. Lay down. I'm gonna get you some water, I'll be right back."

He pats the bed behind you. Sluggish, you settle back into the plush mattress, encircling yourself in the comforter, dragging it right up to the bottom of your chin. You huff.

Spencer returned a moment later, a glass of water in hand. He set it on the bedside table and looked down at you, sympathy written all over him as he observed your closed eyes and the way you had curled in on yourself, still sniffling in the aftershocks.

Gently, he sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing it to dip slightly. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your cheek. You felt warm, almost feverish.

"Hey, sweetheart..." Spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper. He leaned in closer, his breath ruffling the hair he had just smoothed. "I know you're not asleep."

His hand slid down to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?" Spencer's words were gentle, a nudging request. Not a demand. Never a demand. He wanted to know you were okay, but he wouldn't force it out of you. If you were going somewhere dark, he wanted to follow you with a flashlight in hand, but only if you'd let him.

"Go to bed, Spencer."

Spencer's brow furrowed, stubbornness hard-set on his face. He didn't move from his perch on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting firmly on your shoulder.

"No. You can’t go to bed feeling like this. It could cause nightmares, increased cortisol levels, and I know you’ll have a headache in the morning if you don’t drink water." He took a deep breath, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your shoulder. "Please, talk to me. Let me help carry this burden with you. I'm stronger than I look, I promise."

You smile, your eyes still closed. "You look plenty strong," you reply. "Please, go to sleep. I'm tired."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, not convinced. “Look at me. Please." When you didn't immediately comply, he gently squeezed your shoulder. “I know you're hurting, and I know you’re tired, but you can’t end the night like this.”

He paused, his posture wilting in his frustration.

You open your eyes and roll onto your back. "Drop it, Reid. It's late, I just cried my fucking eyes out, I want to go to bed. Now, either lay your pretty ass down, or go sleep on the couch."

Spencer studied your face, trying to settle the odds with himself. Accepting defeat, he finally relented with a soft sigh. "Fine.”

He slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed beside you, being mindful not to jostle you. Settling onto his back, he turned to face you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your waist. "Goodnight," he murmured, eyes already heavy with fatigue. "Sleep well."

"Can I-" You turn toward him, but shut your mouth before you ask. "Nevermind. Goodnight."

Spencer felt you shift, turning to face him. “No, what were you going to say?”

You hum, trying to decide how to phrase it. “It was nothing.”

“Here,” he offers, lifting the arm nearest you, inviting you to curl into him. He’s always so observant. Despite your thus-short friendship, he knew exactly what you wanted. You complied.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he repeated, his hand on your waist giving a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I'll be right here when you wake."

[jazzy96scorpio]

The Black Rose and the Star

Chapter 2 The Promise of More

Description: From a night of passion with Pedro to sweet mornings and longing phone calls, your connection deepens even when you're apart.

Pairing: You / Pedro Pascal

⚠️ Warnings: adult content, oral sex (m/f), sex, unprotected sex, just lot of sex, fluff, SMUT

Word count: 1000

Please read first chapter to follow the story 😊

You are together with him in your apartment, finally. But after your first kiss, you were so nervous. But God, you really wanted him.

And he was just as nervous, you could tell. But the wanting was definitely mutual—the air between you practically crackled, thick with unspoken desire. He pulled you close, arms wrapping around you tight, and kissed you gently at first, like he was testing the waters, then with more heat, a hunger that totally matched yours. His lips lingered on yours, a promise of things to come.

"You sure about this?" he murmured against your lips, his breath warm on your skin.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. "Definitely. I want you more than anything."

His eyes went dark, pupils getting big, and you knew he was just as into it. He started unbuttoning your shirt, his fingers brushing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"You're going to make me lose control," he whispered, his voice rough, a hint of warning in his tone. You shrugged off his jacket, ditched your own, and unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes locked on his. Slowly, deliberately, you unzipped his pants, your hands a little shaky, but definitely not from being scared. His eyes met yours, all hot and bothered, a burning intensity you could feel all the way down to your core.

"You know what you're doing, right?" he whispered, his voice all husky, laced with anticipation..

You smirked, a flicker of defiance in your eyes.

"I do," you said, feeling your own temperature rise, a delicious heat spreading through your body. You knelt down, your hands sliding down his legs as you pulled his boxers down, revealing his hard, throbbing cock.

He was so ready, pulsing with a life of its own. It was thick and long, a sight that made your breath hitch. You licked the tip, just teasing him, drawing out the anticipation, before taking him fully into your mouth. His hands gripped your hair, not too tight, as you sucked him, moaning against his skin. You took him deep, your saliva slicking his length, going harder, teasing the head with your tongue, circling it, savoring the taste of him.

He tasted so good, a mix of musk and heat, a primal flavor that made you want to devour him. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're so fucking good. Keep going, baby, you're driving me wild....Don't stop."

You gagged a little, taking him even deeper, and he let out a ragged breath, a sound of pure surrender. "Oh, fuck… that's it… that's exactly what I fucking needed. You're going to make me lose it."

You pulled back, a little breathless yourself, your lips still tingling from his taste. You quickly got rid of your bra and panties, feeling his eyes on you, all hot and heavy, he was seeing you for the first time.

He looked at you with so much raw want, such overwhelming lust, it was kind of crazy, a primal hunger you mirrored in your own gaze.

"You're a goddess," he breathed, his voice reverent.

You took his hand and pulled him closer, then he scooped you up in his arms like you weighed nothing and carried you to the sofa. He laid you down gently, then knelt between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're driving me fucking insane," he whispered, his voice thick with desire, heavy with lust.

He kissed you deeply, a kiss that stole your breath and made your head spin, then his lips trailed down your neck, to your breasts, teasing and licking, his tongue dancing across your skin, setting your nerve endings on fire.

"Oh, fuck....Yes..." you groaned as his tongue found your clit, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through you. You moaned, arching into his touch, your body responding instinctively.

"I want you inside me," you gasped, your voice hoarse with need.

"Come on," you whispered, a playful glint in your eyes. "Say that thing."

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and kissed you softly.

"Let's dive in, shall we?" he murmured against your lips.

He entered you slowly, carefully, like he was savoring every second, his eyes on yours, watching your face for every flicker of pleasure, every sign of surrender.

It was a slow burn, every inch of him filling you, stretching you, making you ache for more, a sweet torment that made you want to scream his name.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice thick with lust.

"You feel so fucking good. So tight. So wet."

"Harder, Pedro," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "Please…fuck me harder." Your nails dug into his shoulders. "You're so good..you feel so big…"

He did what you said, his movements getting more urgent, more intense, his thrusts deeper, more insistent, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

He pulled back a little, teasing you, before plunging back in, driving you both closer to the edge.

"Ride me," he commanded, his voice rough, his eyes burning with desire.

You straddled him, his huge cock sliding inside you, filling you completely.

You started moving, faster at first, then slowing down, teasing him with swirling motions, grinding against him, feeling him pulse inside you.

"Keep going, baby," he said, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you, pushing you higher. "You're doing great...Oh shit…oh shit…oh fuck…"

He gripped your hips tighter, his moans echoing through the room, a symphony of lust and pleasure. "You're going to make me fucking cum. I'm so close…"

His breath hitched, his body tensing.

He was so close, and you were definitely close too, the waves of pleasure washing over you in ever-increasing intensity.

"I want you to cum inside me," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I'm on the pill." You started bouncing harder on him.

"Fuck yes..fucking amazing. Yeah, that's it… fuck yeah…" he said, his eyes widening, his breath catching in his throat. Then, he let out a guttural groan, a sound of pure release, as you both came at the same time, your bodies convulsing together, the world exploding in a rush of pure sensation.

You looked down and saw your juices mixing with his on his cock, a visual testament to the raw intimacy you just shared.

"Best fuck ever," you breathed, kissing him hard, your lips still tingling from his touch.

"You're fucking incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing yours, a soft smile on his face.

"Haven't felt like this in… years. You've given me the best orgasm I've had in months… years, actually" you say.

You showered together, the water running over you, washing away the sweat but not the memory of what had just happened. He pulled you close again, his hands finding your curves, his fingers tracing the lines of your body, and you guys did it again, hot and fast, fueled by the lingering embers of passion.

He entered you from behind, his hands cupping your breasts, his fingers teasing your clit, bringing you close to the edge again. "Oh, fuck," he groaned against your neck. "You're going to make me cum again."

And you did it.

Later, wrapped in towels, you gave him a beer, and you had some wine, the quiet intimacy between you a stark contrast to the wildness of your sex.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he said, his eyes roaming over you, a look of pure adoration in his gaze. "Haven't felt like this in so long. You're… different. Special."

"Me neither," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words.

"Do you… want to stay the night?"

He grinned, a genuine, happy grin that made your heart skip a beat.

"Definitely," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

After you guys finally crashed, you gently touched his curls. He smiled at you, all sleepy and cute, and your heart did that little flip-flop thing. "Seriously," you whispered, "I can't believe this is actually happening. I feel so damn lucky."

"Hey," he mumbled, his voice all warm and sleepy. "It's you. You make it happen. I'm the lucky one."

"So," you asked, the question just popping out, "why do you like me?"

He looked at you, like he was trying to figure out where to start. "Okay, so," he said, a little smile playing on his lips, "I love how passionate you are. Like, the way you see things, and how you show it in your photos and poems… it's amazing. You're funny, even when you're being a little awkward, which, honestly, is kind of adorable. You’re crazy talented, but you don't act like it. You can be all vulnerable and then, boom, super strong. And I love how you dance when you think no one's watching. Your laugh is… it's the best. And your eyes… they tell the whole story."

"Whoa," you said, blushing a little. "That's… a lot."

"It's all true," he said, all serious. "Every bit of it."

"Can you pinch me?" you asked, giggling. "I think I'm dreaming."

He leaned in close, grinning. "Nope, not a dream," he whispered. He gave your cheek a gentle pinch, then kissed you softly, a sweet, lingering kiss.

"I really like you," you said, your heart all warm and fuzzy. "Like, really like you. It's not just because you're, you know, you. It's… you're the kindest guy I've ever met. And I love your smile."

He chuckled, that warm, genuine sound you loved. "Thanks," he said.

"Seriously, though," you said. "I think God sent you as an apology for all the other jerks."

He laughed, a real, honest-to-goodness laugh. "Is that how it works?" he said, still chuckling.

"Pretty sure," you said.

He looked at you, all serious now, his eyes meeting yours. "Well," he said, his voice low and soft, "I think he sent me an angel." And then he kissed you, a deep, passionate kiss that said everything. His lips moved against yours, all hungry and tender at the same time, and you were pretty sure your knees would have buckled if you weren't already lying down.

You guys held each other close, all tangled up, just enjoying being together. And then, finally, you just drifted off, all warm and cozy and happy.

💓

You woke up early, a happy feeling still buzzing inside you. You slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him, and got ready for the day. Then, you headed to the kitchen, suddenly energized. Pancakes with fresh berries seemed like the perfect start to the morning. As you cooked, you put on some music, humming along and swaying to "Kiss," lost in your own little world.

The music wasn't too loud, just a nice background to your funny kitchen dance. Suddenly, he appeared in the doorway, still half-asleep, his eyes heavy-lidded.

"Ohh," he murmured, sniffing the air. "What's that smell? It smells amazing."

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and started humming the words of the song in your ear.

And I can't get enough of you, baby

Can you get enough of me?

The warmth of his body against yours, the sound of his voice… you melted. It was pure bliss.

You turned around, your hands going to his face. You kissed him softly. "Breakfast and coffee are ready," you said, your voice a little husky.

"You're incredible," he said, his eyes sparkling. "You’re like a dream come true.”

You sat at the kitchen table, devouring the pancakes. He loved the berries, and you loved them with whipped cream.

You playfully put a dollop of whipped cream in your mouth, then chuckled at his expression. He picked up a tiny strawberry and gently placed it between your lips, then leaned in and kissed you softly.

"You're something else," he murmured, his voice warm. "Absolutely breathtaking."

He suddenly grew a little quiet.

"I have a flight this afternoon to Los Angeles," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Going home." He looked at you, his eyes filled with a longing. "I wish I could stay."

You reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. You were sad too.

"I'll miss you," you said.

You exchanged phone numbers, and he promised to call as soon as he got home. Then, you went to get ready, deciding to channel your inner femme fatale. When you came out of the bedroom, he stopped and stared, his jaw dropping slightly.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "How am I supposed to leave now? Look at you."

He kissed you deeply, his hands cupping your face. "Promise me you'll visit," he said, his voice urgent.

"I promise," you replied, your heart aching at the thought of him leaving.

"You're so kind," he said, his eyes shining with affection. "So beautiful. Inside and out." He pulled you into a long, tight hug, holding you close like he never wanted to let go. "I think," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

"I think I already am," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then he was gone, leaving a hole in your heart. You already missed him.

🤍

Hours later, at work, a little cloud of sadness hung over you. The high of the weekend had faded, leaving you feeling strangely empty. You missed him already. Then, your phone buzzed. It was a short call from him. He’d gotten home safe. "Hey," he said, his voice warm and familiar, a welcome sound after the silence. "Just wanted to let you know I made it. I'll call you tonight, okay?"

"Okay," you replied, trying to keep the eagerness out of your voice. Inside, you were doing a little happy dance.

The wait was agonizing. You went home, took a quick shower, grabbed a bite to eat, and tried to distract yourself with a book and a glass of wine. Finally, your phone rang. It was a video call from him. Relief washed over you.

"Hey," he said, his face filling the screen. He looked tired but happy. "I've been thinking about you all day," he confessed. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," you said, trying to sound casual, though your heart was pounding.

"Listen," he said, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Would you… could you maybe come out next weekend? To LA?"

"Really?" you asked, a smile spreading across your face. "You want me to?"

"More than anything," he said. "I can't wait to see you again."

"I miss you too," you admitted, trying to keep it together. You didn’t want to get all emotional and start crying on the call, but he saw right through you.

"Hey," he said softly, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… missing you," you said, blinking back tears. "And, actually, next weekend is my birthday. So, yeah, that would be amazing."

"Perfect," he said, his smile widening. "We'll celebrate. I'll make it the best birthday ever. I promise. Just… get here safely. I'll be waiting."

"I will," you said, your voice full of warmth. "I can't wait."

After the call ended, you couldn't stop smiling. Even though you were exhausted, sleep was elusive. Your mind was racing with thoughts of him, of LA, of your birthday weekend. You finally drifted off, a happy anticipation filling your dreams.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like, reblog or comment ❣️

Chapter 1

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Party Twenty Seven)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Twenty Seven: Y/N and Cillian have an unsettled night. Both tired and tense, little things aren't so little in their small hotel room. Facing a day on poor sleep, anxieties and tempers are a little frayed. [Anxiety themes. Adult conversations]

@strangeions @watermeezer @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @borntodiemp3

--------

You groan as you're dragged from sleep, annoyed when your hard achieved slumber is destroyed after hours of tossing and turning by the noises of Cillian fumbling around and string of curses that would have been comical if it were not three am and you hadn't only been asleep for an hour. “Fuck sake, Cillian,” you huff.

“I'm after nearly breaking my fucking ankle on the runners you left by the bathroom door, and all ye have for me is ’fuck sake, Cillian’?” he hisses at you. The room is almost pitch black, what small illumination there is comes from a streetlight behind the curtains and it isn't significant. “Nearly fucking pissed myself just trying to get into the fucking toilet.” he tutted.

“If you weren't waking up in the middle of the to go, like a seventy year old with prostate issues, then you wouldn't be waking me up after a single fucking hour of sleep.” You match his tired annoyance. “Or maybe if you weren't sinking bottles this evening…” you dig at him as you turn over, your back to him as he gets back into the bed. He sits on the side for a moment, and you can feel his eyes burning into your back. You know there was no need for your comment, and you know a simple ‘sorry I left my shoes there' would have been enough, but you're exhausted, and now you're awake you feel sickly, and he'd woken you up!

“Sinking bottles?” He snaps at you, “Two fucking beers when you were after telling me you're pregnant? Fuck off, Y/N. How about you don't leave your fucking shit at your arse, and put your shoes somewhere other than the middle of the fucking floor.” He threw himself down against the mattress and as he moves, his backside collides with yours and you smirk at him giving you his back in his mood. You decide there and then that he's as childish as you are, if not worse.

You try to settle your annoyance and calm yourself to return to sleep, but now you're awake you need a pee, and your mouth is dry, and you kind of wish he'd turn around and spoon you, cuddling you so you can fall asleep with his arms, and his heartbeat, and his signing little breaths. But you're annoyed at him, and he can fuck off if he thinks you're going to apologise, and he can also fuck off if he thinks he's getting a blowjob in the morning (not that he was even aware thar you'd thought about it for a split second earlier that night), and he can further fuck off if he thinks he's ever touching you again because all you want to do is fucking sleep! You sigh and turn over onto your back, then turn your head towards him. You're able to make out his shape beneath the covers and the back of his silvery head. He feels far away, and your annoyance begins to seep from your body, replaced by the urge to hold him. You turn onto your side and shuffle close, pushing yourself up behind him, and wrap your arm around his waist. You move your hand until you find the hem of his shirt, then slide your hand underneath and rest your hand against the skin of his abdomen, moving your fingers in the trail of dark hair beneath his belly button. You push your face into his back, between his shoulders, and sigh as you inhale the smell of his skin and clothes, and close your eyes. “I'm sorry.” You whisper into his shoulders. “You should be able to pee without breaking bones.” You feel his tummy muscles tighten for a moment beneath your hand as he scoffs a small laugh.

“I've to wake up in a couple of hours for work - go to sleep.” He says, and he's calm and sleepy, and the contempt has gone. He hasn't apologised for snapping at you, but you're breathing him in and he's warm and you're willing to concede that you're the problem this time. But to yourself - not to him. He shifts slightly and he reached his arm back and rests his hand against your hip for a moment before drawing it back again. Was that his sorry? It'll do.

You sigh contentedly as you keep your body close behind his, and you will sleep to return. You can hear and feel when his breathing changes as he falls asleep, and you envy him. You keep your hand on his belly and try to breathe steadily like he is, wondering if it'll relax you and put you to sleep, but after ten minutes you just feel a little breathless and you're still wide awake. You reluctantly decide to leave him be and move slowly away from his body. You turn back to your side of the bed before sitting on the edge. You get up and walk slowly and carefully to the bathroom, and shut yourself inside before you turn on the light, worried that the flood of it into the room might wake him again. When you emerge, you ensure the light is off before you pull the door fully open, and frown when you realise he's awake. “Cill?” You whisper into the dark.

“Flushing that toilet makes a fucking racket in here,” he croaks. “Not your fault,” he adds, though it's distorted as his jaw drags down in a sharp yawn. He groans as his mouth snaps shut again. “What time is it?” He asks, despite his phone being very much within his reach and his watch on his wrist.

“Nearly four,” you say quietly, looking at your own watch.

“Fuck sake,” he grumbles. “Well, will we shag like rabbits?” He says, absolutely not serious at all, and he sits up, legs over the side of the bed, and reaches out to the locker beside his pillow to flick on the lamp. A soft white light bathes the room and you blink to adjust your eyes.

“Want tea?” You offer, mostly for something to say. He shakes his head as his left hand scratches against the back of it, and he yawns once again. He looks fed up, and tired, and he keeps pursing his lips and you know his brain is full of many things. “Hug?”

He pushes up his bottom lip as he looks at you, and his eyes have a soft smile to them even if his lips don't. “I always want a hug,” he says, still grumbly, and he opens out his arms as you walk towards him. You stand between his knees and hug his head against your bust. His arms are tight around your back, and he hums - grumbly but contented - as you run the nails of your left hand back and forth across the back of his head, through the more tightly cropped section of his hair. Evidently, it feels good. After a minute, he laughs and tips his head back. His chin rests between your boobs and he raises his eyebrows high. There's a cheeky glint and an almost smile. “So are we riding or wha’?”

You tut and swipe the back of his head where your hand rests. “No.”

He forces a comical pout, “Ah, you're no fun.” He smirks, and adjusts his head again so that he is resting his right cheek on your right breast. “I can already tell I'm gonna be in foul humour all day,” he sighs. “You'll come again today, yeah?”

“I think it's too distracting. Especially now, knowing… you've not slept properly, you're stressed, you've a job to do. It'd be better if I wasn't there. You need to focus, love.” You say gently, “What time are you on set this morning?”

“Nine,” he says, yawning again. He taps his hand against your back and it's the silent calling time on the hug he always does. He sits back and looks at you. “You'll have to get in touch with the doctors when we're home.” He says and sits forwards again, one hand held out to rest against your stomach. He places it just below your belly button, over your shirt, and twists his lips. “Make sure everything's alright, like.”

“Why wouldn't it be alright?” You frown, a little bemused.

“Jays, there's a whole load of things that can go wrong, and sure some don't even…” he stops abruptly, and then he looks up at you, looking very guilty. “Ah, no, Y/N. Everything will be grand.” He insists quickly.

“Why would you say something like that?” Your frown deepens. “Is that why you're being so fucking calm about all this? Got your fingers crossed that something goes wrong?”

He looks genuinely shocked at your words, “Hey, no, of course not.” He says, and take this hand away from your abdomen. “Absolutely not, Y/N.”

“Well you're pretty fucking chill considering your speeches recently, Cillian. And why would you say something like that, just now? Why would you even be thinking about it? This is supposed to be a happy fucking thing.” You can't keep your tone from being sharp, but you do well not to shout. You shake your head as he looks back at you, a little dumbfounded admittedly. “I can't believe you.” You sigh.

“Jesus, if I'd have lost the head of meself, I'd have been a prick. Telling you I'm not unhappy but I'm scared apparently also means I'm a fucking prick. I can't win!” He pushes himself off the bed and stands before you. “It was a throwaway comment, I didn't mean to frighten you. And I am not hoping for something to go wrong here, that's be terrible, Y/N.” He sighs and you watch his cheek push out as he runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “I didn't mean to scare you, but things can happen, you do understand that? Maybe it isn't a bad thing to be prepared that you mightn't like something you could hear.”

“Like?” You push. “You mean like disabilities? I wouldn't terminate a child for….I don't know, Down's Syndrome, or limb differences, Cillian. Not a chance.” You tell him, your face firm and your tone even firmer. “Is this your way of telling me you would?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Jesus, all I said is things can happen. And I shouldn't have. I didn't think or say anything else, I didn't secretly fucking mean anything else.” He sounds pissed off, actually, and you want to punch him on the nose. He walks away from you and digs around by the dresser at the far end of the room. When he turns around, he has his jacket over his arm and his cigarettes and lighter in his hand. “I'm going for a smoke.”

“Cillian!” You call out as he approaches the door. He stuffs his bare feet into the trainers he had left there and throws his jacket on over his pyjamas. “You childish little shit.” You shake your head, laughing sarcastically, as he drags open the door and disappears out into the hotel corridor. “Prick!” You bellow, knowing full well he could hear you out there.

[terrinle]

alright, since this is my post that youre all vaguing about, let me clarify some things:

THIS WAS NOT A POST ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT TRANS MEN SHOULD BE EXCLUDED FROM WOMENS SPACES OR NOT!!!!!!!!

IT WAS A POST ABOUT THE RHETORIC THAT IS USED BY TRANS MEN WHEN THEY TALK ABOUT BEING EXCLUDED FROM WOMENS SPACES!!!!!!!!!!!!

i specifically talked about how i dont think gender segregation is good, HOWEVER. as we do live in a gender segregated world, so being excluded from a womens space as a man can be justified by the fact that you ARE A MAN. so to constantly compare your exclusion for actually being a whole ass man to the exclusion of trans women who are NOT MEN because the language/sentiment that is used (i.e. "you arent allowed in this women's space because you are a man") sounds the same is inappropriate, and it frames trans women as men in some way, just like you, because youre claiming to be excluded for the same reason-- being a man. so it IMPLIES that you think trans women at least COULD BE excluded on the same grounds. its very "well, they let you in and you actually have a penis, so why cant i come in????? im totally harmless!!!!!"

not to mention that people will use this framing that being excluded for being a man is the same as what happens to trans women in order to call trans women TERFs/"TRF"s/radfems for.... simply acknowledging that trans men are men and are not women, so logically speaking, it makes sense to exclude us from womens spaces, especially when compared to them-- because we are not women! and thats not, again, me saying we SHOULD be excluded, just that its fucked up to compare trans women to TERFs for, like, wanting to be in a womens space without men, which you dont need to be a TERF to want lmao. excluding men from womens spaces is not in and of itself actually necessarily bad (i never see any of you goofballs advocating for cis mens inclusion in these spaces when they face issues like domestic violence so i feel like youre probably aware of that, lol) its the exclusion of OTHER WOMEN being justified through transphobic misgendering that is bad about the rhetoric surrounding the "exclusion of men" lmfao.

furthermore: gynecologists offices and getting mammograms are not "womens spaces" lmao. if they were, there would be no male gynecologists or male oncologists who specialize in breast cancer. medical discrimination is an entirely separate thing, because it involves being denied NECESSARY MEDICAL CARE and not ACCESS TO WOMENS SPACES lol. like you arent being kept from accessing gynelogical care because the women there want a womens only safe space and will be scared if they see someone with a beard? its because these procedures are needlessly systemically gendered, which is a different thing lol. beyond that, cis men can and do get breast cancer and have to go to oncologists for it to get treatment, so i dont fucking know where youre getting the idea that access to healthcare for breast cancer is gender restricted? i dunno, maybe its different in other countries besides the usa, but this in particular seems like a crazy claim and ill need some evidence to back it up

but what i mean by "womens spaces" is like. affinity groups for women, womens bathrooms, womens changing rooms, events/festivals/parties/etc for "women and femmes," queer womens spaces, workshops for women, single gender womens colleges, womens sports teams, and yes, domestic violence shelters (WHICH AGAIN: I DO NOT THINK SHOULD BE GENDER SEGREGATED. BUT I AM NOT IN CHARGE OF THAT. SO!!!! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT LOL. THEY ARE) regardless of whether or not you think its RIGHT for you to be excluded from womens spaces on the basis of your gender being male, constantly arguing that you being excluded for BEING A MAN is the same as a trans woman being excluded for being a man when she is not a man is really fucking gross. its not the same! im sorry!

TL;DR: IM NOT SAYING THAT TRANS MEN SHOULD BE OR SHOULDNT BE EXCLUDED FROM WOMENS SPACES. THAT IS NOT UP TO ME! I AM JUST SAYING THAT YOU SHOULD FIND ANOTHER WAY TO TALK ABOUT IT THAT DOESNT CONSTANTLY COMPARE TRANS WOMEN TO MEN. SOMETIMES IT FEELS LIKE YOU GUYS HAVE A PATHOLOGICAL NEED TO COMPARE TRANS WOMEN TO MEN OR IMPLY THAT TRANS WOMEN ARE THE SAME AS MEN IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER AT EVERY POSSIBLE OPPORTUNITY AND ITS REALLY FUCKING WEIRD!!! I PERSONALLY BELIEVE THAT THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO CONVEY YOUR DISPLEASURE WITH YOUR EXCLUSION AND THE NECESSITY OF YOUR INCLUSION THAT DO NOT INVOLVE THIS COMPARISON LOL

(screenshot)

I actually have 'beef' with women's spaces/charities/organisations/shelters which bar trans men, because there's literally no reason to do so and its almost always as a nefarious thing.