#but yeah. aside from the interests we share

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[anundyingfidelity]

DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH? — Billy Butcher

Summary: Butcher gives orders for you to stay back from the fight. You hardly comply and prove differently; he starts thinking in a very improper manner about you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female!supe reader.

Word count: 2k.

Warnings: smut!! hate sex, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to fuck buddies, reader can control blood and explode shit (like Victoria Neuman lol), the usual mentions of violence.

Notes: this is a request made by @thatcharmingmushroom for my 400 followers drabbles celebration. I'm sorry I took soooo damn long on this, but I hope you like it and thank you so much for the idea because I had so much fun with it! I picked the Herogasm episode for this tho hehe

☕ if you like my writing support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

On the hunt for Payback, you made your way to infiltrate Herogasm along with Butcher, Hughie and the new asshole, Soldier Boy, not caring that the British dick ordered you a thousand times to stay back.

For different reasons, you were kind of forced to stay with the team, and while you didn’t really get along with any of them, Butcher was by far the one you hated the most. And, in the end, when Soldier Boy burned the whole place to the ground with a blast and Homelander arrived, you couldn’t stand there doing nothing. While the three men tried to hold down Homelander, you used your blood to create strong whips around his limbs, trying to tie him to the ground as Soldier Boy prepared to blast, yet again.

But just in seconds, Homelander recharged himself and pushed them all aside, cutting your whips, and flashing you quickly with his heat vision before storming out. Your blood blades barely made it to the hole he left in the roof as the supe just disappeared, flying away like a scared bitch.

“Well,” you started after an instant of staying silent. “I guess we fucking failed.”

Butcher shot you a dark glare as he walked straight until he stopped in front of you. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

You held his eyes as he towered you with his broad figure. He looked even more intimidating now he started playing the supe, injecting himself with Compund V. “I don’t care.”

There was this smug smirk on his face as you talked back. You knew he hated you; you knew you hated him. But as fucking weird your powers were, controling blood and exploding people with their own, Butcher found you interesting and stupidly astonishing. But of course, he wasn’t going to admit it. They were just intrusive thoughts about you and how hot you were, defying his direct orders of strictly not coming to the supe-orgy. Yeah, Homelander was a fucking cunt, and he would take care of Soldier Boy soon too. Right now, he just needed something to take the stress out after another stupid failure. His hand would work later once back at the motel, he decided.

Butcher leaned down, until his lips almost brushed the shell of your ear. “We’ll see about that.”

“Why do I have to keep listening to you?” you asked as Butcher followed back to the motel.

You stopped right out of your door, because of course you weren’t going to share a room with him and the old asshole. Hughie, who went inside their room, was the only decent human being between all of them, but still, you had to take care of yourself from those fuckers. Besides, the British idiot wouldn’t stop the verbal vomiting the whole fucking trip and you were growing sick of it.

“Because, for starters, you’re a fucking newbie here,” Butcher replied, smirking hatefully. “And second, your powers are fucking out of control. You need training and keep your mouth shut.”

You rolled your eyes, showing him your wrists. “I already healed myself from the cuts I made. Perhaps I should use your blood next time?”

“No, there’s no next time for you.”

“You don’t decide that, Butcher,” you crossed your arms over your chest, tired of being treated like a stupid kid. “I’m helping on this, I want him dead. And if any of you idiots don’t kill him, then I will.”

He curved an eyebrow, not showing any signs of being taken aback at your words, but inside, he was just in awe as before. You really hated Homelander as much as he did, however, you didn’t have a fucking plan. You would attack first, ask questions later. In any way, since when could he care about that? He had no idea.

“Hey,” Soldier Boy talked behind Butcher and stepped in closer between both of you. “You fucking stay back from this, you ain’t doing shit with your blood whips.”

Furious, you motioned your hand to draw fresh blood from a wound on his cheek and created a sharp blade, cutting his skin lightly. Soldier Boy clenched his jaw before smirking at you.

“Talk to me like that ever again and I’ll blow your dick, and not the way you like it,” you warned through your teeth.

Soldier Boy wiped the blood off the fresh wound, and smiled anew before patting Butcher on the shoulder. “She’s all yours, pal.”

With that, the old supe disappeared in the next room. You just wanted this to be over, so you turned around to get inside your room, but Butcher wouldn’t leave you alone just yet, putting his foot between the door and the frame, holding it with his super strength.

“What the fuck you want now?!” you yelled at him as he made his way inside, slamming the door closed.

“Imma have to call the fucking CIA if you don’t calm down your ass,” he threatened between his teeth.

“You wouldn’t-”

“I can, and I fucking will,” he insisted, taking slow strides, making you step back from him until your back met the wall.

His eyes were getting dangerously dark and you could smell the sweat and dry blood coming from him. You noticed his pulse was increasing, and you grinned. Your mind jumped to an unsafe place where you probably knew what Butcher was feeling right now. The heat and coming down the high of what could have been the end of both yours and his enemy was too much to burden. Little did he know that you were the kind of person that used to take out the stress with something, or someone. Just like him.

“From one to ten, how much do you hate me?” you asked all of the sudden, looking straight into his eyes.

Butcher’s fierceful gaze turned into confusion. “What?”

“How fucking much do you hate me?” you repeated yourself steadier.

Butcher rolled his eyes before answering in a whisper. “I’d choose a one thousand scale for that.”

“Good, I hate you too,” you replied with a smirk before pulling him for a kiss that turned heated too fast, but you didn’t care.

You needed release. Something quick, hard and hot to take it out of your system. He was perfect for the task, and by the way his tongue tasted your mouth, you found out that he wouldn’t step back. At least you hoped so. The tension between both of you was so damn sharp and it was just a matter of time for that bomb to explode, and you preferred it this way instead of fighting each other to death.

Gripping the neck of his shirt to get even closer as you kissed, Butcher’s hands roamed all over your hips, running on your sides until he met the flesh of your ass on your jeans, pressing you towards his chest. You gasped against his mouth when he started to unzip your pants, you worked immediately on the buttons of his shirt. Desperately, you discharged his shirt, the fabric being followed to his pants, and he undressed you with the same eagerness until you were only panties and bra.

Butcher lifted you up from the ground, hands on your thighs as he guided you to the mattress. He crawled on top of you, spreading your legs with his big, rough hands and leaning down to lick down at your chest and rip your bra off. His action made you gasp out loud at the same time he sucked on a nipple like a starved man.

“You're a fucking beast,” you whimpered, feeling his hands peeling off your panties and leaving you completely exposed at his mercy.

You tugged at his jeans and he pulled them down along with his boxers as quickly as he could, taking out his dick with that smug smile on his stupid face. He noticed your eyes taking the sight of his half nakedness, biting your lip slightly once you focused on his hard cock pressing on your crotch. It only made you wet.

“Well, I plan to fuck you like one,” he said, grabbing the back of your legs and rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

“Show me, don’t talk- fuck!”

You let out a rather loud moan when he rubbed your clit with his fingers, playing with your entrance until he inserted a single, thick digit in your pussy. Butcher stretched you out with a finger, then slid a second one, scissoring them to reach your deepest spots as your walls clenched around his digits. You kept whimpering and moaning as he increased the thrusts of his hand.

“Bloody fuck, these are the only sounds I like coming from your mouth, luv,” he hissed, sensing that you almost came on his fingers.

Right before you reached your high, he pulled out and you groaned in annoyance, feeling empty once again.

“Shit,” you breathed out.

He positioned between your legs anew, getting comfortable as he started to push his tip against your slit. The grip of his hands on your thighs became a little harsh once he entered you slowly, the thickness of his cock splitting you open.

“What a tight cunt I always knew you’d be,” he grunted, filling you up completely and leaning down to mark your neck with his teeth.

His mouth and thrusts earned him your sweet moans as he fucked you senseless. The burning soon turned into pleasure. Your nails scratched his back while moaning incoherent words. His hands on your thighs would leave marks on your skin, but it felt so damn good. You needed a little bit of pain to remind you that you were alive, rotting for that sweet bliss only sex could give you.

Moans escaped from your throat and mingled with his deep groans and the sound of your skin against his own, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall with every of his hard thrusts. You pulled him down for a wet kiss when you felt closer and closer to come undone.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasped.

Butcher increased the rhythm of his thrusts, his cock throbbing as your walls started to clench around him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Do you still hate me?” you asked, trying to catch your breath. You reached down to rub your clit. You were so close, almost there.

“If I keep fucking you like this then I might change my mind- holy fuck!”

In that moment, you came hard with a string of curses and clenching your walls around his cock. The pound of his hips increased and he fucked you through your orgasm to reach his own. You continued rubbing your clit, fingers finding the place where you two connected, meeting his cock coated with your juices when he pulled out just slightly to slam back inside again.

Butcher emptied his cum inside you, mumbling dirty words against your ear. His rhythm slowing down eventually, fucking his seed in your pussy. Once he came down from his high, he pulled out and rolled by your side on the bed. Your body started to ache but in the best way possible. It was the best fuck you had in a long time. After a couple of minutes in complete silence you decided to talk, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I hope you keep hating on me…”

He turned slightly to see your blank face. “Why?”

“I love hate-fucking.”

He scoffed with a smile curving on his lips. “You bet I enjoyed this too.”

Within a second, you climbed on top of him. Thighs straddling his lap as you rubbed your cunt on his soft cock.

“Second round? You can eat me out and suck your cum out of me,” you gave him a wink, rolling your hips and leaning down for a quick kiss.

“Dirty girl,” Butcher whispered on your lips. “Perhaps put your mouth into good use.”

“I like how that sounds,” you smiled back at him.

Billy Butcher taglist

@delaynew

@thesilmarillionblog

@feyresqueen

@drasticemotions

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THINGS THEY DO WHEN THEY'RE CRUSHING ON YOU !

synopsis: the strawhats think they're so subtle with their 'nonchalant` acts of love towards you... 😒 they're not

character: sanji, zoro & luffy

warning: pure tooth rotting fluffy fluff & nicknames

mei's note: guess who's back from her hibernation 👋😔.. but on the bright side- l do have loads planned hihhih <3

SANJI thinks he's so very casual when displaying his crushing feelings. but in reality it is the complete opposite, considering:

♡ the stolen glances of you during meals with all the strawhats, where he doesn't even eat anything, instead being totally engrossed in your cute laughs derived from usopp's unfunny jokes. the way your fingers gently hold your fork always piques his interest. he studies your facial expressions when you taste the food he prepared for everyone, to figure out whether you enjoy it. if you did enjoy the meal, expect to see it thrice as much as usual..

♡ the lingering touches you receive from sanji anytime he has the chance, which, on a side note, never cease to make your cheeks burn;

he needs to get past you to grab some plates => his hands, almost instinctively, gently grab your waist before he lowers his head, asking you "if you don't mind, darling-". one of his hands remains on the sides of your waist even when you've moved aside to let him pass. "thank you," he whispers in your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand. you awkwardly giggle, not finding an appropriate answer.

luffy was letting his 6-year-old child mentality take over; jumping around on deck and bothering the other strawhats trying to get accustomed to the sun shining so early in the morning. he didn't see you walking out of your shared room with nami before accidentally bumping into you, causing you to trip => sanji is there before you could even process the situation. one of his arms tightly holding your legs. In contrast, his other arm was wrapped around your waist, pushing you onto him. "luffy, you little-!" sanji realizes he still has you in bridal style when he cuts himself off, "are you alright, sweetheart? you're not hurt, are you?" he could've sworn your soft smile melted his heart right then and there, even the other strawhats noticed how absolutely smitten this man is for you.

♡ the abundant patience sanji offers you is one of a kind. you won't find him smiling, oh so softly, at any strawhat's mistakes except yours. it's only you that he's so careful with, so gentle and soft-spoken. treating you as if you were a fragile vase, that one wrong move would break you.

"sweetheart- that's not how you cut a carrot," sanji chuckles, witnessing how you, somehow, accidentally mushed the carrot with the knife instead of cutting it. usopp lets out a cackle as he sees the mush which has derived from your cutting skills.

"only you could mess up cutting a carrot!" sanji glares at usopp, making him cover his mouth, trying to sniffle the laugh. he slowly walks out of the kitchen, slightly scared sanji might throw him overboard.

"let's try something else, yeah?" the blond-haired cook smiles at you.

he stands behind you, holding both your hands with his, before grabbing the knife with your right hand and holding a new carrot with your left one. like a puppet master, he controls the motions of your hands, and after a bit, you find the carrots all sliced up. "see? knew could do it," sanji caresses your hands with his.

"sanji..?" you mutter, leaning against his chest.

he looks down at you and hums, waiting for you to say whatever was on you mind. "can we eat now?"

you receive a chuckle from sanji as he nods. "of course darling, we can eat now. thanks a lot for helping me," he sends you a smile before grabbing the plates.

ZORO knows he's being way too obvious with you, but he frankly just doesn't care enough. everyone and their mother knows he has a crush on you tolerates you more than other people because of:

♡ how protective he is of you. this man won't let a fly harm you, let alone actual enemies during fights. he'd rather come back with some more scars than let them lay a finger on you. hence why you find yourself in the current situation.

zoro's sat down whilst hearing both you and nami lash out on him. a sigh leaves his mouth.

"why are you so stubborn?!" you cry out, eyes red and watery from the sheer fear of almost having lost him.

nami shakes her head, dumbfounded. "you could've fucking died, zoro. has that thought ever crossed your small fucking mind, huh?!"

"I was fine zoro.. I would've made it.. you- you didnt have to-" you utter before cutting yourself off, lip wobbling with tears-stained cheeks. "just.. don't ever do that again, 'kay?" you stand inbetween his widespread legs, your hands meet both sides of his face, pulling it to meet your eyes. "please.."

as if on que, his eyes soften and his furrowed eyebrows loosen immediately. he lets out yet another sigh, but this time, one of defeat. "alright." zoro's heart aches at the sight of those tears on your pretty face. it aches even more knowing he was the cause of them.

the strawhats are astonished, flabbergasted and, on top of that, even a bit annoyed at how easily zoro folded. at that very moment sanji, nami and usopp shared collective eyecontact, they knew how down bad he was. and now they have yet another thing to bully him about..

♡ his over-the-top jealousy has you and everyone within a 100m radius of you in a chokehold. no one dares to as much as look your way anymore. zoro made sure of that. if someone even breathes too hard near you, this man will be on his way to knock him out.

♡ the fact that he has his hands on you 24/7, always seems so obvious and nonchalant to him. he doesn't even think twice about it anymore. his arm around your shoulders, his hand spread on your back, him shamelessly holding your waist with one of his hands while the other is occupied holding some bags.

his arm is wrapped around your waist as you two stand in line. you had gotten the task to do the groceries with zoro, but once you say a smelled a sweet, floraly fragrance, both you and zoro knew this 'short' and 'easy' task would take much longer than planned.

"i'll be super quick, zoro, I promise!" you giggle as you look up at him reassuring. "mhm, ya said that last time, too, remember? ended up taking a whole day, and somehow I had to carry all those bags for ya," zoro raises his brows at you playfully, knowing very well he'd hold all the bags in the world for you if you'd want him to.

"yeah~ i know.. thank you," you smile at him, receiving an eye roll from him. "yeah, yeah, now hurry up and get movin'." you move along to catch up with the que, missing the way he smiles as you so absolutely adored.

LUFFY himself doesn't realize he treats you differently from the other strawhats. most of the things he does because of his little crush on you usually don't even register in him. but to the strawhats, it's so obvious he likes you due to:

♡ him attentively listening to you whenever you speak, never fails to shock the other strawhats. they could go hours on end, scolding luffy for whatever possible thing he had done, and there would be a good chance he wouldn't even bat an eye. but when you do it- that's when he gets serious.

"luffy! stop fucking around and get serious!" nami yells out, trying to get his attention. "LUFFY!"

luffy keeps peeling the banana in his hand, not paying all too much attention to what nami is on about. it's not that he doesn't care! it's just that this yelling gets repetitive, so he doesn't really pay attention to all the small quarrels every now and then. he's listening to what she's saying, he really is! he just doesn't want to enter the argument.

but then his eyes shoot up from his half-peeled banana. you were talking to him. " 'luf, what we're trying to get at is that you were acting very reckless, and you got us really worried about you, y'know.." you cross your arms over each other before making eye contact with the raven-haired captain.

"sorry," luffy mutters wholeheartedly, looking you in the eyes. his previous grin disappeared after he heard you speak to him. "i'll try not to anymore, 'kay?" he opens the banana completely and points it your way, wanting you to take a bite.

you smile and head over to the spot he's seated in and take a piece of the fruit before leaning against the back of the seat. "sorry I scared you, sunshine..." luffy mutters, soft enough for only you to hear. "really didn't mean to.."

you let out a small sigh of relief. " 'ts alright 'luf! just promise you'll be more careful from now on.. please," you lean against the side of his body as you rise your head, looking at the beautiful night view from the boat.

"i promise I'll try, sunshine, I really will." and with that, his usual toothy smile is back.

nami rolls her eyes, scoffing, as she munches on some of the pastry sanji had prepared earlier. sanji nudges zoro to witness the scene unfolding before their eyes. usopp sniffles his laugh with his hand, hiding behind zoro.

they could all agree on the fact that you were his soft spot.

♡ his usual grin being replaced with a soft smile whenever you speak is another thing that luffy never realizes. yet the others do.

you'd speak about the most mundane chores or moments you've experienced. albeit it being some of the most tedious things known to man, he'd listen so thoughtfully. as if anticipating a shocking ending, yet there in reality, he wasn't anticipating anything like that. he genuinely just lived your voice.

the way you pronounce the words. the small differences in pronunciation between you and others always bring a small to his face, he finds it absolutely adorable. the specific words you use to describe something never cease to make him smile ear to ear.

plus points if you're talking about something you're passionate about. he'd be so overwhelmed with how endearing you look speaking about your hobbies and loves. the small smile on your pretty face, growing wider and your tone getting giddier.

in conclusion, this man loves to listen to you yap about anything, to be honest.

my other one piece fics

mei's note pt.2 : also if you've seen this post before it was finished (bc someone accidentally published it before it was done) no you didn't...

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Guys, idk what this was. But uh... enjoy!

“Stop being a pussy and just call him already!” Mina sighed, pushing the phone to you. “I went through the trouble of asking Kaminari for his number—do you know how embarrassing that was?” Jirou cried out, throwing her hands in the air.

“I don’t wanna. What am I even going to say?” you pouted, walking to your lunch spot on the rooftop. Sitting down with a plop, you pulled out your bento and started eating.

The two girls shared a glance before snickering. “I saw him talking with Ochako the other day.”  Mina finally said, causing you to pause your current actions. “Pardon?” you ask, looking up at her with raised eyebrows. You made sure to always keep a keen eye on him, so how did she manage to speak to him without you noticing?

“Saw them walking round the field.” Mina continued, as she and Jirou sat as well, eating slowly. You nodded, indicating for her to continue. “Yeah, she had her umbrella shading the two of them, and she was walking around the field with him – like they did lots of laps – and then she pulled out her phone and gave it to him… I’m guessing they swapped numbers of something. Anyways, then she proceeded to giggle about having a fourth man. She says she just wants to play him.”

“Call him.” You mumble, looking away as you placed your chopsticks down and closed your bento box, placing it aside and dapping your mouth slightly with the tissue. Jirou chuckled and pulled out her phone.

“Make your number private, we don’t want him finding out just yet.” Mina instructs, as Jirou happily complies. She puts the phone on speaker, passing it to you.

With sweaty hands and baited breath, you collect the device, holding it flat in line with your mouth. Surprisingly, he picks up on the second ring, his gruff voice filtering through the speakers.

Your breath hitches and with wide eyes you realise, you didn’t plan out what you were gonna say to him.

“Who the fuck-? Oi!” his voice came through again, definitely pissed that he wasn’t receiving an answer.

“B-Bakugo?” you suddenly blurt out, not wanting him to end the call. Looking towards Mina and Jirou, you notice that they’re holding in their laughter, hands plastered over each other mouths.

“Who’s this?” he asks impatiently and you swear you can hear the faint voice of a curious Kirishima in the background.

"Uh…just a friend," you stammer, inwardly cringing at how unconvincing you sound. In the background, you hear Kirishima’s muffled laughter, and you swear Bakugo lets out a frustrated huff.

“What kinda friend calls with a blocked number?” Bakugo grumbles with suspicion. If you don't get to the point, I'm hangin' up."

You glance desperately at Mina and Jirou, who are both barely containing their laughter. Mina mouths, say something cool! which only makes your heart race faster.

“Uhm, well, I—” You stumble over your words, trying to think of literally anything, but all that comes out is, “...I just wanted to say hi?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to slap yourself. Seriously?

On the other end, there’s a silence so long it might as well be a black hole.

Then, just as you’re about to apologize and hang up, Bakugo’s low, skeptical voice cuts through. “...Are ya messin’ with me?”

You squeak out, “No! I mean, yes! I mean—well, maybe a little?” You’re mentally kicking yourself as you fumble through the words. At this rate, Bakugo’s going to have you blacklisted.

Another beat of silence passes, before Kirishima’s voice rings out in the background, louder this time. “Aw, come on, man! They’re just tryin’ to be friendly! Maybe it’s a secret admirer?”

And then there’s the dial tone. He hung up. You groan, kicking your foot onto the concrete below and passing the phone to Jirou. “See? Told you he wasn’t interested.”

Both girls had surprised expressions on their faces, which soon turned into massive grins as they scooched away from you. “What the-?”

“That’s ‘cause ya blocked ya number.”

Pause.

Bakugo Katsuki was right behind you.

[yuvany]

SIGMA?

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 and brainrot humor?

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader. . . CONTENT/ WARNING(S) : brain rot + comedy + skinship + petnames . . WORD COUNT : 765 . CHECK BOX !!

yu-note : had no idea how to use these terms correctly, but here it is! Got this idea when I heard someone yell 'SIGMA' on the train...

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

He walks into your room, shifting your prior attention from the book to him. He stands there for a while as the two of you share a brief moment of eye contact. "Babe, do I have rizz?" It takes a while for you to comprehend the words he just said. "Rizz?" You echo, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, rizz. Do I have rizz?" Heeseung stands by the door and you are even more confused. "What is rizz, Hee? You sound crazy." You chuckle awkwardly, closing the book in your lap. "I bagged you, so I must’ve some rizz." He talks to himself, and you give up.

(rest of the memebers under the cut!)

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

He wouldn't, but if you used brainrot, he'd think a parasite made its way into your skull. You two were at an amusement park, and as you watched the dolphins jump and do tricks in the water and above, you can't help but to be astonished by the performance. "What did you think?" Jay asks, holding your hand while he guides you towards the exit. "That was so skibidi." You exclaimed, making Jay stop in his tracks. "Pardon me." He looks at you wide eyed as if you kidnapped someone. "Wasn't it great?" "Yes, sweetheart, it was, but what is 'skibidi'?" His eyebrows are knitted together and you laugh aloud at his expression.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

You leaned against his shoulder as he scrolled through his social media feed, being met with clips aside of both your interests. You two watch a video of a guy singing and he opens the comment section. "Real sigma." A comment that Jake read, said. He burst out laughing with you following his lead. "Sigma as in the greek alphabet?" He manages to say through sharp breaths. "Look at this!" You spot another comment, and you two laugh at it together again. After calming down, you look at him and he repeats a comment causing you to turn into a fit of laughter that caused your stomach to ache.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

"Erm, what the sigma." You blurt out, seeing the UNO cards that you received. "Sweet Girl, what are you saying?" He doesn't turn his gaze away from his cards, but the confusion is evident in his tone. "I don't know, but can we please reshuffle the cards." You sulk, and Sunghoon chuckles. "No way, I like my cards. Sorry, Honey." You can see how he enjoys this and groan, "what the freak." You stubbornly place your card and Sunghoon makes a comment. "I think you're starting to spend too much time with Jake, sweetie." "He's my brainrot buddie." You sigh. "I can be your brainrot buddy, babe."

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

"This new generation is doomed." Sunoo complains after seeing kids run around the streets while screaming words no one has heard before. "Unfortunate, isn't it?" He asks, his arms linking with yours. "I think it's quite fun as long as it's just jokes." You explained, hearing no response from Sunoo. "I love you, but we need to agree that this is hillarious, babe." You see the terror in his eyes as you chuckle. "No, but like, it is hillarious. I can imagine running around and screaming Sigma." It's silent, and you see Sunoo giving you the stink eye. "I'm starting to understand what an ick is now." "I was just kidding, sunsun, please!" You plead.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"Pretty girl, do you know what people mean by this?" He shows you his screen and you take a quick look before turning to him confused. "Baby, what's this?" Jungwon sinks into your lap and shrugs. "Not sure what skibidi toilet is." You pat his head, and pull up your phone to find out what it is. As you type, you hear Jungwon humming along the song on his feed. When you see the result of 'skibidi toilet' pop up and cover your mouth in shock at how ridiculous it looked before showing Jungwon who suddenly stopped singing. "Ok, what the flip."

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Riki enters the kitchen and takes a seat beside you on the table. "What's up, baby?" You ask, noticing his change in demeanour. "I want to throw away my phone." He shakes his head as he holds it in place like it's gonna fall off after what he experienced. "Huh?" You are confused by this and your boyfriend pulls out his phone again and hands you it. "Take it away from be, please. I can't with these people saying 'very demure' all the time. "Oh? really?" You ask and he nods. "This behaviour is very demure." You say, and he groans. "Not demure, and not skibidi."

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl

[syoddeye]

consequence

price x f!reader | 1069 words nice tags: loser x loser, john price having a sliver of game, but it works a/n: continuation of this shortie. played myself here. 💀

“orange?”

“green.”

“what?”

“sorry, are we not naming colors?”

he's simultaneously wounded and amused that she doesn’t even look up to lash him with her tongue. suppose his attempts are ten a penny—she gets chatted up every day; he’s seen it firsthand.

ever since he tracked her to the shop a little over three weeks ago, he’s become a regular. he goes out of his way to visit and watch her handle interested parties like a professional. from the vantage of his usual table, he pretends to read or scroll on his phone, listening in on how she rebuffs them. his own politeness is rewarded with a gradual drop in her guard.

see, from his observations, he’s deduced what other prospects lack: persistence. something he has in spades.

he moves down the counter with her. it’s always slower in the afternoon, affording the time to talk. her good-for-nothing coworker is on another break.

“your cast.” he gestures. “brand new?”

she fumbles the tamper and bites out a quick, “yep.” 

“no signatures.” her last one—bright blue—was nearly black with names and drawings just yesterday.

“got it this morning before i clocked in.”

“your boss still made you come in after that?”

“yeah, well, some of us have to work—shit.” she drops the tamper and portafilter, both thunking onto the rubber mat at her feet. grounds litter the counter and floor, and her eyelids twitch.

accident prone. unlucky. perhaps both.

john considers jumping the bar. a glance at the staff door says her coworker isn’t rushing to help, but he can’t push the line he’s drawn. in pencil. with a light hand.

after all, it wasn’t too long ago that she was jilted in love. she might as well wear a handle with care label.

she swears, fetches a hand broom and pan, then ducks.

“can i—?” he starts.

“absolutely not.” she snips, alternating tools in her good hand, piling the spilled grounds.

john lets a brief silence stretch, listening to the broom swish and other customers typing on laptops. he leans far enough to cast a shadow over her, and his mind wanders off.

“i didn’t mean to snap. or insinuate you’re, uh, underemployed.”

his focus splinters, his daydreams burst. god help a lech like him. sees a pretty girl on her knees and he’s fifteen years younger. christ. he distracts himself with the mess on the counter.

“takes more than a smart remark to hurt me.”

“yeah? well, watch out for scooters. that’s all it took to hurt me.” she smirks with eyes downcast, sweeping the pile into the pan.

if you’d just popped to the door, love. fessed up. i’d’ve taken care of you.

“mm, you’re resilient though. you got back up.”

she stands, shrugging. “like i said. had to. girl’s gotta eat. bills don’t pay themselves.”

“truer words.” john offers his share of collected grounds and a smile.

she murmurs thanks as she disposes of the coffee and moves to restart his drink until he raises a hand.

“give it a rest.”

“you paid for it.” she squints, disbelieving he’s passing on his coffee. her lips press together, and the small scar from the crash punctuates her uncertainty.

“i want somethin’ else.” his true intentions must bleed through his eyes because the corners of her mouth then pull down. he swiftly adds, “let me sign it.”

she nearly drops everything a second time. “you want to sign it. my cast?” 

“do you have somethin’ else i could sign?” 

her nostrils flare when she’s surprised. embarrassed? it’s cute. he wants to see it again.

“fine. here.” she dumps the pan, sets it aside, and hands him the marker she keeps clipped to her apron.  

he’s careful when he leans closer, concentrating, ignoring the ding of the bell above the cafe’s door. the warmth of her skin seeps through where he holds her arm steady. his chin dips, relishing the strong scent of espresso and how nice and still she’s standing. it’s impulsive, deciding to smudge the line he’d drawn.

she only notices as he writes the last digit next to ‘john’.

“are you—is that your phone number?” 

the bell rings again, and a cluster of voices follow.

“it is.” john confirms with a satisfied grin, glancing at his uniform scrawl. he caps her pen and slides it into the top pocket of her apron. time’s run out with the arrival of the mid-afternoon rush. clockwork. “good chat.” he winks, savors the finer details of her sweet, bewildered expression, and weaves around the small crowd of office workers in for a pick-me-up.

he’s pure confidence on the trip home, imagining what she’ll say when she calls or texts. how he’ll surprise her with his car on the first date. what? why’re you staring like that? how does it look familiar? he cracks himself up, thinking of how he’ll pry a confession out of her, then lean into it. what a coincidence. must be fate, visiting your shop.

his phone remains on the table as he goes about the rest of the day, half-heartedly doing what needs to be done while home. she works until seventeen-hundred, so he doesn’t expect immediacy. it doesn’t stop him from finding excuses to hover nearby or snatching up the device when it pings ten minutes after closing.

>> if this is a plot to get free drinks, i only get one a shift and it’s for me

> It’s a ploy to buy you a drink, if you’d like.

three dots appear and disappear rapidly.

>> i’m not drinking right now >> considering how i got the cast

> then what are your plans for tomorrow?

persistence.

>> supermarket

> Wonderful. Send your address. I’ll pick you up.

>> oh you’re one of those guys >> self invitation type >> you don’t need to come???

> Are you going to carry them yourself?

another round of dots. 

>> good point >> fine, be my muscle

> Gladly. 

she sends her address, which he promptly inputs into a search engine. decent area, expensive rent. clicks his tongue as he clicks through the photos from an old listing. hopefully, the pathetic-looking deadbolt’s been updated.

he suggests a time.

>> works for me

> Good. See you tomorrow. 

>> yeah yeah, night john x

his eyes hitch to the ‘x’, and his chest tightens. he exits the rental site and glances around his flat. yeah, she’ll fit in quite nicely.

[ateezscupid]

Ateez Imagines: Getting pegged for the first time ♡

— Hyung Line: k.hj, p.sh, j.yh, k.ys

warnings ✩ pegging (obviously) sub!ateez, switch!fem reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, edging, fingering (m receiving), handjob

tags ✩ @shinestarhwaa @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride @wooyoungisbaby @nyang3racha @hwakakeri @nnnarchives @ihavetoomanyfandomstobesane @v-lvs-yungi @hwashotcheeto @ja3hwa @kisaraginami @10nantscompanion @shhyesimmonroeagainpt2 @hwallazia @wisejudgedragonhairdo @10nantscompanion @hwashotcheeto @yeosang-dot-mp3 @akimkim @fruitcakebin @akimkim @k-pop-valda @onedumbho3 @yuyubeans @another-random-fanfic-blog @sinforsuccubus @/moonwalkerinaugust741 @yun-fangz @bnming @winklehwa @/meowmeeps @/kosmicbomb @lover-ofallthingspretty @writhingwrecked @jiwoongsblondehair @/ladymilkywayfortune

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST

HONGJOONG

"Babe, I need to tell you something," Hongjoong said, his voice crackling with tension as he broke the silence of your cozy apartment. You looked up from your book, your eyes wide with curiosity. You’d known him for a while now, and when he talked like this, it was usually about something important.

"What's up?" you asked, setting your book aside and turning to face him.

Hongjoong took a deep breath. "You know how we've been trying new things in the bedroom?"

You nodded, your expression shifting to one of understanding. You’d been together for a year, and your relationship was marked by a spirit of adventure and openness. "Yeah, I've been lovin’ it," you said with a warm smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

"Well, I've been doing some reading," he began, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "And I've been thinking about trying out some new kinks."

Your eyes lit up with interest. "Oh? What kind of kinks?"

"Well, there's one in particular," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I've always been kind of curious about…pegging."

You leaned in, your curiosity piqued. "Pegging?"

"Yeah, y’know," he replied, a hint of shyness in his voice. "Like, when a girl uses a strap-on on a guy."

Your eyes grew even wider, and you couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Wow, that's..." you paused, searching for the right word. "Surprising."

"But you're cool with it?" he asked, hopeful.

You nodded, your smile never wavering. "If it's something you wanna try, then I'm all for it."

Relief washed over him. "Really?"

"Yeah," you said, your voice firm. "Long as we’re both happy and we both consent, I don’t see why not.”

Hongjoong felt his heart race. He'd been nervous about bringing this up, but your response was more accepting than he could have ever hoped for. "Thank you," he said, leaning over to kiss you. "Thank you so much."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement. "Luckily, I already own a strap-on," you revealed, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "I was just waiting for you to say something."

He pulled back, surprised. "You do?"

"Mmhmm," you nodded, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. "I picked it up a while ago, just to keep things interesting. The store I bought it from was having a sale, anyway.”

You decided to start slow, setting a date for your new adventure. The days leading up to it were filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. You talked about it in hushed tones, sharing your thoughts and expectations. You assured him that you’d be gentle, that you’d take it step by step, and that you could stop at any point if he felt uncomfortable.

On the day of your rendezvous, the tension in the air was palpable. You both agreed to set the scene, making your living room into a makeshift boudoir with candles and soft music. You wore a lacy lingerie set that made Hongjoong's pulse quicken, and you had the strap-on laid out on the bed, gleaming in the soft candlelight.

When the moment finally came, you approached him with the strap-on, your eyes locked on his. "Ready?" you asked, your voice a mix of excitement and concern.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah…yes, yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I'm ready."

You leaned over and reached for the bottle of lube on the side table. You squirted a generous amount onto your fingers, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You looked back at him, your eyes dark with anticipation. Slowly, you brought your hand to his backside, your touch sending shivers down his spine.

"Relax," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. You began to circle his hole with one finger, applying gentle pressure. He tensed up at first, but your reassuring strokes and soft kisses along his neck helped him to ease into it. As you pushed your finger inside, he gasped, his body tightening around you. You waited for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the new sensation, before you started to move it in and out, the lube making it smooth and easy.

With each stroke, he felt himself relaxing more and more. He'd never felt anything like this before, but the pleasure was undeniable. He leaned into your touch, his cock growing harder by the second. He watched you in the mirror, your eyes focused and determined as you worked him open. It was a strange, vulnerable feeling, but it was also incredibly erotic, watching the woman he loved take control in such an intimate way.

As you added a second finger, he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was intense, but he was ready for more. He could feel your excitement building too, your breath quickening as you watched his reactions in the mirror. You leaned down and kissed him, your tongue dancing with his as you continued to prepare him for what was to come.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your voice soothing.

He nodded, his eyes still closed. "Y-Yeah," he breathed. "It feels... amazing."

You felt a thrill of triumph at his words. You’d read about the prostate, the male G-spot, and knew that if you could hit it just right, it would be an experience he'd never forget. You curled your fingers slightly and felt him jolt as you brushed against it. His eyes snapped open, and you watched in the mirror as his pupils dilated with pleasure.

"Oh, f-fuck," he murmured, his hips bucking involuntarily. You stilled your hand, giving him a moment to process the sensation. You could see the question in his eyes, the unspoken "W-What… was that?" But you just smiled and whispered,

"You're doing great," before resuming your slow, deliberate movements.

With each stroke, you grew bolder, applying more pressure to that sensitive spot. He was panting now, his body trembling with every touch. You could feel his muscles tightening around your fingers, and you knew he was close to the edge.

"Y-Y/n," he moaned, his voice strained. "I think I'm... I-I'm gonna..."

"Let go," you urged, your voice low and encouraging. "I've got you, baby."

And with that, you pushed your fingers a little deeper, your thumb pressing firmly against his prostate. The sensation was overwhelming, a wave of pleasure that crashed over him like never before. His body arched off the bed, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a guttural cry. The orgasm was unlike any he'd ever experienced, a deep, intense release that seemed to start in his toes and work its way up through his entire body. He could feel the muscles in his ass clench around your fingers, his cock pulsing with every spurt of cum that painted the sheets.

When it was over, he collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You gently withdrew your hand, a look of pure satisfaction on your face. "See?" you murmured, leaning down to kiss him softly. "It's all about exploration and trust."

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes still glazed over with pleasure. He could feel the sticky warmth of his release on his stomach, and his ass was still tingling from your expert touch. "Yeah," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "It was... incredible."

Without wasting any time, you reached for the strap-on. You slipped it on with an air of confidence that made his heart race all over again. The sight of you, dressed in nothing but the lacy lingerie and the leather harness, was enough to make him hard once more. You grabbed his hips, your grip firm but gentle, and positioned yourself behind him. He could feel the coolness of the lubricated toy against his skin, and his nerves spiked in anticipation.

"Remember to breathe," you instructed, your voice calm and steady. "We're gonna take this slow."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. He watched as you pushed the tip of the strap-on against his now-sensitive entrance, applying just enough pressure to allow it to slide in. He gasped as you entered him, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. You waited for him to adjust before you started to move, your hips rocking in a slow, rhythmic motion.

The initial discomfort soon gave way to a building wave of pleasure. With every thrust, you hit that spot deep inside him that you’d found with your fingers, sending bolts of electricity through his body. He could feel his prostate swelling with each pass, the sensation growing more intense with every moment. He moaned, his hands clutching the bedsheets as he tried to hold on.

Your movements grew more deliberate, your breathing quickening as you found your own rhythm. You leaned over him, your breasts pressing against his back as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear. "Do you like it?" you asked, your voice a seductive purr.

"Y-Yes," he gasped, his voice strained. "Oh, G-God, yes-!”

Your eyes met in the mirror, and you gave him a wicked smile. "Good boy," you said, your voice dripping with desire. "Because I'm about to make you come again."

And with that, you picked up the pace, your hips slamming into him with more force. He didn't know how much more he could take, but he didn't want it to stop.

As you thrust into him, he reached down to stroke his cock, the sight of you taking him in the mirror pushing him closer to the edge. His orgasm built quickly, his body tightening as he neared the precipice. He watched as you pushed him over, your own climax written on your face as you moaned in pleasure. Your clit had been rubbing against the fabric of your underwear with each thrust.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, your cries of ecstasy echoing through the room. When you were both spent, you pulled out gently and removed the strap-on, collapsing beside him on the bed. You lay there for a moment, your hearts pounding in unison.

"That was..." he began, but the words failed him.

"Amazing,” you finished for him, your voice soft and filled with love. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You held each other tightly, your breathing slowly returning to normal. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a new chapter in your sexual journey that had brought you closer than ever before. And as you lay there, tangled in the aftermath of your passion, you both knew that you were ready to explore whatever kinks and desires your hearts desired.

SEONGHWA

"Hey, Seonghwa," you called out, gout voice bubbling with excitement as you padded through the apartment in your socks. The floorboards were cool under your feet, a stark contrast to the warmth that suffused your cheeks. You had rehearsed this moment in your head for weeks, turning the words over and over until you were smooth as river stones.

Seonghwa poked his head out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Yes, dear?" he responded, the scent of simmering garlic and onions filling the air.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird caught in a cage. You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Can I help with dinner?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know I like cooking for you."

You nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. The kitchen was a cozy cocoon of warm light, the sound of sizzling oil and clinking pans creating a comforting backdrop to your evening ritual. You took a step closer, feeling the heat from the stove against your legs. "But I have a surprise for dessert," you said, your voice barely above a murmur.

Seonghwa looked at you, curiosity piqued. "Oh?"

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You leaned in, your cheek against his back, and whispered, "I wanna… peg you."

The room went still, the only sound the persistent hiss of the stove. Seonghwa stiffened, the spatula hovering in the air. You could feel his heartbeat quicken against you.

The silence stretched on, thick and unyielding. You tightened your grip, your pulse racing.

Finally, he turned to face you, setting the spatula down with a clatter. His eyes searched yours, a question etched into the lines of his face. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Your nod was firm, your eyes unwavering. "I’m asking you. Are you sure? I already have a strap-on.”

For a moment, the air between you two crackled with tension. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Seonghwa's face. He reached up, cupping your cheek with his hand. "Sure," he murmured, "But let's finish cooking first."

“Do you really wanna finish?” you tilts your head with a raised eyebrow, and he scoffs a bit, knowing you were right about him not wanting to finish cooking. The aroma of your dinner filled the room, but the anticipation of what was to come was stronger.

“I’ll just set a timer,” he says, turning back to the stove to do exactly that. The kitchen timer beeps obediently, acknowledging the temporary pause in your culinary endeavors. He turns back to you, his eyes smoldering with desire and a hint of apprehension. You can see he’s trying to keep his cool, but you know he’s just as eager as you are.

You move to the bedroom, the floorboards creaking under your weight as you leave the warm kitchen behind. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, a stark contrast to the harsh fluorescents of the university halls where your secret relationship had begun. The air is charged with excitement and nerves as you both stand before each other, the weight of your unspoken desires hanging in the air like a ripe fruit ready to drop.

Seonghwa’s eyes widen slightly when he sees the strap-on lying on the bed, gleaming in the candlelight. It’s a new toy, something you’d bought just for tonight. You’d done your research, watched videos, read articles – you wanted this to be perfect for both of you.

You sit on the edge of the bed, your knees touching. He takes your hand, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “Are you nervous?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“A little,” you admit, your voice shaking. “Even though I’m the one who’s pegging you. So you should be nervous. But I trust you. And I know you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

He nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve done my own research on this too… That’s why I’m not so nervous. And yes, I’ll tell you,” he promises.

You leaned in for a kiss, your lips parting slowly, tentatively. It’s a kiss filled with promise and love, a silent pact to explore this new part of your relationship together. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as your tongues dance together.

Breaking away, you grab the lube from the nightstand, your hand shaking slightly. You try to play it cool, but the excitement in your eyes gives you away. Seonghwa watches you, his own hands fumbling with his buttons, his shirt coming off to reveal his bare chest. You can't help but admire the way the candlelight plays off his muscles.

He lays back on the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping him. You follow suit, kneeling beside him and gently guiding him to lie on his back. His eyes never leave yours as you straddle him, the warmth of your bodies melding together. The air in the room feels charged, as if the very molecules are vibrating with anticipation.

"I'll start with my fingers," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your heart. You lean in, your breath hot against his ear, and he nods, his eyes closing in anticipation. You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you apply the lube to your fingers. You both tremble slightly, the moment feeling both surreal and incredibly intimate.

Your hand moves to his waist, sliding down to the button of his pants. He lifts his hips slightly to help you, and you feel his hardness against your palm. You take another deep breath, your pulse quickening as you unzip his pants. You’ve done this countless times before, but tonight it feels different – charged with a new kind of excitement.

With trembling hands, you slide his pants down, exposing his bare skin. He's already hard, his cock standing proudly against his stomach. You stroke it lightly, watching his face for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. His eyes are closed, his breathing deep and even.

"Ready?" you ask, and he nods, his eyes still closed. You smile, a mix of love and excitement lighting up your features and lean in to kiss him again. Your lips meet in a gentle, lingering kiss that seems to go on forever, your bodies speaking a language only you understand.

Your fingers trace a path down to his ass, the tip of one digit circling his hole. He tenses slightly, and you pauses, waiting for his signal. When he relaxes, You presses in, slow and steady, feeling him open up to you. The sensation is strange and thrilling, and you’re acutely aware of every little sound he makes, every twitch of his body.

Seonghwa's eyes fly open, and he looks at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. "M-More," he whispers, his voice thick with need. You add another finger, your own heart racing in response to his. You’ve never felt so powerful, so connected to him.

The timer in the kitchen beeps, a jarring reminder of the dinner waiting for you. But neither of you care about the food anymore. You’re lost in a world of sensation, a place where only the two of you exist.

Your fingers dance around his prostate, finding the sweet spot with a precision that surprises even you. You can feel him tense and release, his breath hitching in his throat as you explore him. He gasps into Your mouth, the sound muffled by your kiss. His hand tightens around your wrist, urging you to go deeper, faster.

As you do, you wrap your other hand around his cock, your grip firm but gentle. You stroke in time with your fingering, feeling him throb against your palm. The rhythm builds, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you both. You can feel him getting closer, his hips bucking up to meet your hand.

But you’re not ready for this to end yet. You pull your hand away from his cock, smiling at the whine of protest that escapes his lips. "Patience," you murmur, your voice low and seductive. You reach for the strap-on, your heart pounding in your chest.

Seonghwa watches you, his eyes glazed with desire. You slide the harness over your hips, adjusting it until it fits snugly. The feel of the cool leather against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never felt so alive, so powerful.

The head of the dildo nudges against his entrance, and you feel his body tense. You pause, looking down at him, your breathing ragged. "Ready?" you asks, and he nods, his eyes never leaving yours.

Slowly, you pressed in, feeling the resistance give way as you fill him up. He gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you starts to move, setting a rhythm that's both torturously slow and incredibly intimate.

His hands are on your hips, guiding you, urging you deeper. You can feel the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles clench around your fingers. You’ve never been so attuned to another person's body, so in sync with your needs.

You move together, the only sounds in the room your harsh breathing and the wet slap of skin on skin. His moans are music to your ears, and you knows you’re hitting all the right notes. The candles flicker, casting shadows across the walls, painting your bodies in a dance of light and dark.

As you pressed down on his prostate, he arches his back, his grip on your hips tightening. You can feel him getting closer, his muscles tensing around your fingers. You know he's close, so close, and you speed up, eager to watch him fall apart.

And then it happens. His whole body tenses, his eyes squeezed shut, and he cries out, his release spilling over your hand. You continue to move, letting him ride out the waves of pleasure, feeling his ass clench around your fingers.

When the spasms finally stop, you lean down to kiss him, tasting the salt of his sweat on his skin. He's panting, his chest heaving. You pull out, gently, and he relaxes, his eyes opening to meet yours. The look of pure ecstasy on his face is worth every nerve-wracking moment of anticipation.

You lie there, entwined in each other's arms, the candles burning low. The timer in the kitchen has long since stopped beeping, but the food is forgotten. This moment, this new chapter in your relationship, is all that matters.

Seonghwa's hand drifts down to your strap-on, his touch gentle and exploratory. "Your turn,"

YUNHO

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the city as Yunho pulled his motorcycle into the apartment complex's underground parking. He killed the engine and let out a contented sigh, feeling the gentle vibrations of the bike fade away. The smell of exhaust and leather filled the cool evening air, a stark contrast to the scent of blooming flowers that had been thick in the air during his ride. The world was quiet now, save for the distant echo of a closing garage door and the occasional murmur of a passing car.

As he climbed the stairs to the third floor, his thoughts drifted to his girlfriend, Y/N. He knew you’d be waiting for him, probably with dinner already made. You had a simple routine that he cherished. He reached for the door handle, the anticipation of your reunion making his heart race just a little faster.

When he stepped inside, the apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from a couple of flickering candles scattered around the living room. You looked up from your book, your eyes sparkling with excitement. You set the book aside and slid off the couch, walking over to him in a way that made his knees feel a bit weaker than usual. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts, the fabric clinging to your curves in a way that made him swallow hard.

"You're back," you said, your voice a sweet purr that seemed to resonate through his entire body.

He nodded, smiling as he closed the door behind him. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little rougher than he'd intended. "Missed you."

Your smile grew mischievous as you stepped closer, your bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. "I missed you too," you murmured, reaching out to trace a line down his chest. "I've been thinking about something."

Yunho's eyes widened as you took his hand and led him to the bedroom. "What's that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You turned to face him, your expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I wanna peg you," you said, your cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. "I've been readin’ about it, and I think it could be amazing for us."

He blinked, taken aback by your sudden proposal. "Pegging?" he repeated, his mind racing. He'd heard of it before, but you’d never discussed it.

"Yeah," you said, your voice a little shakier now. "You know, I wear a strap-on and we can switch things up a bit."

Yunho felt a thrill of surprise, and a flicker of arousal at the thought of the power dynamic shift. He knew you were adventurous in bed, but this was a new level of intimacy you hadn't yet explored. He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice firm. "If it's something you really want to try, then let's do it."

Your face lit up, and you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. The scent of your perfume filled his nose, making him dizzy with desire. As you broke apart, you reached into your drawer and pulled out a velvet pouch. "I got this," you said, holding up a sleek black strap-on. "It's made of the softest material."

He took it from you, feeling the weight and the smoothness of it in his hand. His heart was racing now, a mix of nerves and excitement. Your eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation. "We can take it slow," you assured him, your voice gentle. "We'll use lube, and I'll be as careful as I can."

Yunho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He trusted you completely, and the thought of experiencing something new together was exhilarating. You undressed slowly, each piece of clothing falling to the floor like a silent promise of the intimacy to come. Your body was a vision, your skin glowing in the candlelight, and he felt his arousal growing as he watched you strap the device on.

You took his hand and led him to the bed, your bodies brushing against each other with every step. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his heart hammering in his chest. Your touch was gentle as you laid him down and began to stroke his cock, your other hand reaching for the lube. "I'll have to stretch you out first," you said, your voice low and seductive. "I'll use my fingers."

He nodded, his breath hitching as you squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your fingers. You leaned over him, your breasts brushing against his chest as you took his cock in your hand and began to work the lubricant around his opening. The coolness of the gel was soon replaced by the warmth of your touch, and he felt his body begin to relax, opening up to you. Your eyes never left his as you pushed one finger inside, your gaze filled with a mix of passion and concern.

The sensation was strange at first, a slight burn that quickly gave way to a fullness he'd never felt before. Your eyes searched his, gauging his reaction, and he nodded again, his voice barely a whisper. "Keep going."

With agonizing slowness, you added a second finger, your movements deliberate and precise. He could feel the muscles inside him stretching, accommodating you, and the sensation was both overwhelming and incredibly arousing. His cock grew harder in your hand, and he felt his body responding in ways he'd never expected. You worked him gently, your index finger circling his prostate as you stretched him wider, preparing him for what was to come.

The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, the occasional squeak of the mattress beneath you as you worked your fingers in and out of him. Your eyes never left Yunho's, watching for any sign of discomfort, your own arousal growing with every little gasp he made. You felt a thrill of power, of being the one in control, the one bringing him to new heights of pleasure. His trust in you was palpable, and it made your heart swell with love and desire.

Yunho's body tensed and then relaxed, his breaths growing shorter as you added a third finger. The initial burn had transformed into a deep, intense ache that was strangely pleasurable. He felt vulnerable, but safe in your care. Your eyes, usually so playful, were now focused and serious, and he knew you wouldn't push him further than he could handle. He nodded, his voice barely a murmur, "I'm ready."

You leaned in to kiss him, your tongue teasing his as you pulled your fingers out. You took the strap-on in your hand and positioned it at his entrance, the tip slick with lube. Yunho could feel his heart racing, the anticipation making him dizzy. You pressed it in gently, the soft material sliding in easily thanks to your careful preparation. He tensed for a moment, then sighed as you pushed it in deeper, filling him completely.

You took your time, exploring this new sensation together. You started with slow, shallow thrusts, your eyes never leaving his. You watched his face, studied his reactions, and adjusted your movements accordingly. Yunho's hand found yours, his fingers entwining with yours as you gripped the base of the strap-on. Together, you found a rhythm that made him moan, his hips rising to meet you.

The sensation grew, building like a crescendo inside him. The feeling of being filled by you, of you in control, was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was intimate and raw, and it was beautiful. His cock was rock-hard, begging for attention, and you didn't disappoint. You reached down, your hand wrapping around him, stroking him in time with your movements.

The world outside the bedroom faded away, replaced by the sound of your skin slapping together and your mingled gasps. Yunho's eyes rolled back in his head as you hit his prostate, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that was both terrifying and incredible. "Y/N," he breathed, his voice ragged.

Your movements grew more urgent, your hips moving faster, and he knew you were close too with hoe your clit was rubbing against the inside of the strap-on. He watched you, the muscles in your arms tensing, your breath coming in pants. You leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, your tongues dancing together as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

And then it was too much. Yunho's body arched off the bed, his orgasm tearing through him like a lightning bolt. He came hard, his cock pulsing in your hand as you continued to stroke him, your own body trembling with the force of your climax. You stayed like that for a moment, breathless and connected, before collapsing into a heap of tangled limbs and sated sighs.

The candles continued to flicker, casting shadows across the room, but you were lost in your own little world. You pulled the strap-on off, your body slick with sweat, and curled up next to him. "How was it?" you whispered, your voice filled with concern and excitement.

Yunho turned to you, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Amazing," he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. "I can't believe we've never done that before."

You grinned, your eyes sparkling. "There's so much more we can explore," you said, your voice filled with promise. "But for now, let's just bask in this."

And so you did, your bodies entwined, hearts racing, as you reveled in the afterglow of your shared experience. The air was thick with the scent of sex and candle wax, a testament to the uncharted territory you’d just explored together.

YEOSANG

"What's up with you and your weird fantasies?" you tossed your head back, letting out a peal of laughter.

Yeosang, caught off guard by your reaction, felt his cheeks flush. "It's not weird," he protested, his voice a tad defensive. "It's just something I've been thinking about."

You leaned forward, your eyes dancing with curiosity. "Okay, fine," you said, your smile teasing. "Tell me more."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "You know how we've been exploring different things in bed?" He paused, waiting for your nod. "Well, I read somewhere that pegging can be really intense for both parties. It's about trust and pushing boundaries, you know?"

Your expression grew thoughtful as you traced a finger along the rim of your wine glass. "I guess I can see that," you murmured, your gaze drifting off to the distant horizon. "But isn't it a bit... unconventional?"

"That's kind of the point," he replied, leaning in closer. "It's about trying new things together, growing closer."

The silence between you both stretched out, filled with unspoken questions and anticipation. Yeosang could feel the warmth of your skin and the sweet scent of your perfume, a delicate blend of vanilla and jasmine that always made his head spin. He waited for your response, his stomach in knots.

Finally, you took a sip of your wine, the red liquid leaving a trail of shimmer on your upper lip. "Alright," you said, your voice casual. “Cool. I’m pretty sure I bought a strap-on.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected you to be so nonchalant about the whole thing. He felt his heart racing even faster, his mind racing with thoughts of what this could mean for your relationship.

"Where?" he managed to croak out, his voice thick with anticipation.

"In my drawer," you said, with a smirk. "I’ve had it for a while. You know, for when the mood strikes."

The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. He had never thought you’d be so open to the idea, let alone already have the equipment. "Really?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

You nodded, your smirk growing into a full-blown smile. "Why not?" you said, reaching out to place a hand on his thigh. "I've always liked the idea of switching things up. It keeps things fresh, you know?"

Your touch sent a jolt of excitement through him. He had never felt more alive, more connected to you than he did at that moment. He took a sip of his own wine, trying to calm his nerves. "I just didn't know you were into that kind of thing," he admitted.

"Well, now you do," you said, your voice a purr. "And it's your lucky night, because I'm feeling particularly adventurous.”

The both of you finished your wine in silence, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yeosang could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his body already reacting to the thought of what was to come. The candles flickered, casting shadows across the room that danced in time with your racing thoughts.

As you made your way to the bedroom, your hand slid into his, your grip firm and reassuring. You led him to the bed, where you pulled open the drawer and revealed the strap-on. It was sleek and black, with a curved shaft that gleamed in the soft light. Yeosang felt his stomach flip at the sight of it.

With a gentle touch, you began to undo his pants, your eyes locked onto his. He could see the excitement in you, the same thrill that he felt coursing through his veins. His shirt followed, and soon he was standing before you in just his boxers, his body trembling slightly.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed. You reached out and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. His erection sprang free, bobbing in the cool air. You took it in your hand, stroking it gently as you studied him. "You're so beautiful," you murmured, your voice low and sultry.

Yeosang felt a rush of love for you in that moment. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so desired. You leaned in and kissed him, your tongue probing his mouth as your hand continued to work him. He could feel himself growing harder, his breath coming in short gasps.

When you broke the kiss, you slid your fingers down to his opening, gently pushing inside. He gasped, his eyes flying open. The sensation was new, a mix of pleasure and pressure that made him quiver. You moved your hand in a slow, steady rhythm, working him open as he grew more and more aroused.

Finally, you pulled away, your fingers glistening with lubricant. You stood up and put on the strap-on, adjusting it until it was snug. The sight of you, tall and confident, wearing the harness, was almost too much to bear. Yeosang couldn't help but stare, his body responding eagerly to the sight.

"Ready?" you asked, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, unable to find his voice. You climbed onto the bed, straddling him. He could feel the head of the dildo pressing against him, the anticipation making him dizzy. You leaned down and kissed him again, your tongue dancing with his as you began to push inside.

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt before. There was pain, yes, but it was melded with a deep, intense pleasure that took his breath away. He clung to you, his nails digging into your back as you pushed deeper, your hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that made him moan.

You took your time, letting him adjust to the feeling. You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. Yeosang could feel your love, your desire for him, in every stroke. It was as if you were claiming him in a way that no one ever had before.

As the initial shock subsided, Yeosang began to move with you, pushing back against you, meeting your thrusts with his own. The pain had morphed into something else, something primal and addictive. He never wanted it to end.

Your bodies moved together, a dance of love and lust that seemed to go on forever. Your hands roamed his body, your nails scraping against his skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever you went. Yeosang could feel his orgasm building, a pressure that grew with every thrust.

"H-Harder," he mumbled, his voice thick with pleasure. "P-Please, baby, harder."

You smile grew as you complied, your hips moving faster, more forcefully. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate in his very soul. Yeosang's eyes rolled back in his head as he lost himself in the sensation. He had never felt so alive, so wanted.

Whimpers and gasps escaped his lips as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He could feel every inch of you, the velvety softness of the dildo, the firmness of your thighs against his, the warmth of your breath on his neck. It was too much, and yet not enough.

"Oh god," he moaned, his hips bucking wildly. "It feels s-so good."

You leaned down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your breath hot in his ear. "You like it?" you whispered, your voice a seductive purr.

"Y-Yes," he whined, his voice high and needy. "I-I love it."

The words seemed to spur you on, your movements growing more erratic, more demanding. Yeosang could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, tightening like a spring ready to snap. He clutched at you, his nails digging into your flesh as he tried to hold on, to savor every moment of this newfound ecstasy.

And then it washed over him, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. He cried out, his body arching off the bed as he came, spilling his release between you. You didn't stop, your movements growing more frantic as you chased your own climax.

When you finally reached it, you collapsed on top of him, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You lay there, panting and sweaty, your hearts racing in time with one another's. Yeosang felt a sense of euphoria that was almost unbearable, his body still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As you lay there, tangled in the sheets, you propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a glow in your eyes. "I knew you'd like it," you said, your voice filled with satisfaction.

He couldn't help but laugh, the sound muffled by the pillow beneath his head. "How could I not?" he replied, his voice still shaky. "It was... amazing."

You shared a smile, one that was filled with a newfound understanding, a deeper connection that transcended words. It was in that moment that Yeosang knew your relationship had reached a new level, one that was built on trust, love, and a willingness to explore the depths of your desires together.

And as you both lay there, your bodies still joined, the candles flickering out one by one, you knew that this was just the beginning of your journey into the uncharted territories of pleasure. The end of the night had brought you both closer than ever before, and the promise of a thousand more adventures lay just beyond the horizon of your passion-filled embrace.

[elllisaaa]

something crazy came to me bc of this video i need to share

rockstar!heeseung hear me out… he’s the bassist and once he lays his eyes on you he knows he wants you for the night. you know that gaze he has on stage sometimes he can be such a flirt… if he was in a rock band dressed like this and playing the bass i wouldn’t survive

this fucking outfit has been all over my fyp these days and i'm dying a little more inside everytime i see him, especially when it's the fucking hip thrusts from paradoxx invasion choreo (yummy).

ROCKSTAR!HEESEUNG who is cocky as fuck because he knows he can have whatever girl he wants. but the moment he saw you in the crowd, he knew that tonight, it was you that he wanted. contrary to what everyone thinks, he's not taking girls back to his place that often. yes, he loves the attention of his groupies, and he likes to flirt with them, but only some of them are able to catch his interest. plus, it is even hotter to know that he could pick anyone but that he will do it only if he wants to.

but tonight, he knows who he wants to take home. throughout the whole concert, his eyes are on you, grinning whenever your gaze crosses and your cheeks heat up a little at the way heeseung is licking his lips while he's entirely focused on yours. and honestly, by the time the band goes out of stage, you're dripping wet and dying to see him again at the after party.

and of course, heeseung is there, waiting for you even if he doesn't want to admit it. he's still wearing the same outfit he had on stage, the sleeveless shirt showing his arms muscles and you had to mentally stop yourself from drooling over him. you only have the time to sip from your cup of alcohol one time before heeseung comes to you, shamelessly checking you out.

"hi, baby." if it was everybody else, you would've only rolled your eyes and turned away, but his playful smile and his charisma had you hooked. so you only smiled back and started a casual conversation with him.

usually, heeseung disliked this small talk thing. but with you, it was different. he could've listened to you all night, your voice enchanting him and the way your lips were moving hypnotizing him. his eyes hadn't stop roaming around your body, it was as if he was undressing you with his eyes, and you didn't mind because you were doing the same to him.

"why don't we go back to mine, baby ?" a cheeky smile spread on your lips as you looked at him, cocking your head to the side. "and why would i do that ?" - "maybe this will convince you." heeseung put his cup aside and immediately grabbed your hips, pulling your body flush against him while his lips crashed on yours.

he didn't care about all the people watching you, he just wanted to taste you. and the moment his tongue danced against yours made him realize that he will need way more than one night with you, because you were too addicting to stop there. "so, are you ready to go ?" - "yeah, get me out of here."

but both of you were too excited to wait until you were somewhere private. so heeseung laid you down in the backseat of his car, his hand slipping under the hem of your short skirt as he continued to devour your mouth. "fuck, you're already so wet for me baby. you liked the show that much ?" - "yes, you were so sexy on stage." a proud smile was eating his face as he pushed your panties to the side, rubbing his fingers against your clit and spreading your juices everywhere. "couldn't focus with the way you were watching me, baby, you were fucking me with your eyes. did you thought about how i could use these fingers on you rather than with my bass ?" you simply nodded, scared of the sounds you might let out if you talked as heeseung pushed one of his fingers inside.

"you're so fucking pretty like that, letting me touch you where everyone could see." his filthy words had you whining so easily, and by the time he added another finger, you were already going dumb. "heeseung, please…" - "what do you want baby ? use your words." his hot breath hit your neck, and seconds after, he was sucking on the tender skin, making you moan uncontrollably. "i want your cock, please, please…" - "there we go, good girl."

heeseung got rid of his shirt, and pulled down his pants just enough to free his cock, rolling a condom onto it before teasing your entrance with only the tip. the way your walls were clenching around nothing everytime he pulled out had him biting his lips to the sight. you were truly the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and when he finally pushed his cock all the way inside, he was certain that he could never get enough.

"you're squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck !" heeseung groaned in your ears, holding your thighs open for him to pound into you. "f-feels so good." - "yeah ?" he only received another loud moan as an answer, and when he found your sweet spot, you cried out his name one more time, spurring him on to quicken his pace. your nails were digging into the skin of his back, and heeseung loved it all, encouraging you to leave your marks on him too.

"'m gonna cum, i'm so close hee, please…" - "shit, wish i could give you my cum and fill you up, baby." these words were enough for the wave to crash over you, moaning loudly. the way you were clenching around him drove heeseung crazy and he started to ram into you, chasing his own orgasm as he gripped onto your hips as some leverage. he swore he saw heaven when he emptied himself into the condom, laying on top of you and catching his breath as he tried to regain some consciousness.

the windows of his car were fogged up, and everyone passing by could guess what the two of you were up to. "fuck, baby, you're incredible. i need to take you home and ruin you." - "please, yes." and so heeseung did just that. and he didn't want to see you leave, so he fucked you again in the morning. and for the first time in forever, he asked a girl for her number. but you were not just a girl, and you casted a spell on him.

[cu7ie]

BIMBOFICATION. ft. geto suguru

(>◡•́)— ★ authors note. IM BACK BITCHES. WITH THE HORNY SHIT AKAKKAKAKA . kinktober day one! masterpost here. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ content warnings. dumbification, reader is a bimbo - ditzy, hypersexual, huge airhead vibes be warned. they are obedient and listen to what geto tells them. reader wears feminine clothes, has a 'clit', and is referred to as a 'girl', no use of she/her (ahahaha i love gender things). cock sucking throat fucking all that nasty gluk gluk shit y'eard?

You’re not stupid.

Forgetful, yeah! Occasionally uneducated, of course. But dumb? You’d surmise that conclusion to be a bit of a stretch; despite how often you find yourself trying to convince people of the contrary.

It is typical of humans to forego their ‘common sense’ on occasion, though it never seems to be a problem when anyone else does it! When Gojo eats all his candy and doesn’t share with anyone at the party, it’s cool; but when you do that, you get all kinds of pushback: “What’s wrong with you?” Nothing! The chocolate was gonna melt if you didn’t do something about it! “What are we supposed to give to the trick or treaters now?” All the twizzlers you left behind, duh.

Shoko gave you a look and sipped her sake, Gojo’s pointed barks of laughter chasing you back to the comfort of the kitchen. There you see Geto; your boyfriend, whose presence settles amicably in the gaps of your expression when he looks up at you with that beckoning fondness. He crooks his fingers and you bound over quite thoughtlessly, much to his evident amusement. 

Despite how much you insisted on matching costumes, Geto struck out of his own accord, the fake knife accompanying his Ghostface costume down on the counter. The real knife he was using to cut up the peppers is set aside as he busies himself with the sink.

You’re wearing one of those sexy school uniforms. Mini bordering on microskirt, paired with a cute number that shows your midriff- the dip in your chest. Your gogo boots click noisily on the floor a little as you sidle up next to him.

Geto pats your head when you get close enough, hands damp after a fresh rinse, and you preen from the contact. “Hey babyyy!” You gush a little, setting down the rest of the candy on the counter. “Can you get me a bowl?” He tilts head at you a little, looks down at the bag a second.

“Babe, didn’t I tell you to get the big bag?” Geto asks and shuffles over to the cabinet as you wash your hands to pick up where he left off. “Yeah! I did, doesn’t it look big to you?” 

“Yeah… of course it does. But remember that conversation we had about eating things that aren’t yours?” He brings back the bowl, but also a sternness to his grin, which all of a sudden doesn’t meet his eye. “Well yeah Suguru!” You’re looking down now, cutting vegetables with sudden interest and precision, sweeping it up into little piles. “It's not like I'm stupid …” His figure lingers in your periphery as the words leave your lips, the air about him suddenly feeling … tense. 

Then his hand is on yours.

“Look at me honey.” He gives you a squeeze, and you go to look up on instinct. Hesitate. “What?” Your grip on the knife softens, and it soon clatters atop the cutting board. “What, I said.”

“I never said you were stupid.” Your eyes met his before you realized, and the indignant scowl you want to make shrivels up inside you like a dried cocoon. “You just have a hard time saying what you mean right?” He blinks owlishly at you. “I know you don’t wanna lie to me.” “But I’m not-” Geto interrupts with a shake of his head. “Maybe one time I could forgive you, but twice? To my face?” You feel the sun in your face, fire hot heat setting you ablaze with embarrassment, feigned ignorance. A nagging feeling to obey. “I… I..”

“You?” He chimes cloyingly. You stiffen your upper lip. Hone your resolve. 

“M’not lying! Now lemme go!” Your arm budges when he wants it to, so you’re not quite moving until a few agonizing seconds pass, when Suguru lets out a low whistle and sigh, shaking his head at you dismissively, before you’re allowed to resume cutting vegetables. He dumps the candy into the rest of the bowl and takes his leave, chattering with his friends in the living room before coming back, empty handed.

The silence is maddening. He comes back, shuffles around the kitchen, then stops somewhere just beyond your sight, and craning your neck to look back at him would beckon his scrutiny. So you refrain. Stir fry the vegetables, and refrain. Feel a bead of sweat crest on your forehead and slide down your cheek from the heat. Refrain.

The breath against your neck is sudden and swift as Suguru fixes himself behind you, knocking  his head gently against yours as a grasping hand slides over your stomach.  He goes for the gas on the stove before you can get a protest out, his other hand teasing the rim of your skirt, smoothing down a short pleat till his palm can grope your thigh.

“After a little deliberation … I’ve decided I forgive you. For the lying.” His fingers dimple the skin he touches, sliding ever so slowly under the fabric. “Because I know you’re not a silly girl. You can be quite attentive when you want to be, can’t you?” 

“Yeah… yeah I can.” Your breath quickens a little as you press your ass back into the thin fabric of his hood, the feeling of his cock growing to hardness making you quiver with anticipation. His right hand on your thigh stills, tracing around your side and to your hip - growing stiff and heavy. The left dips boldly under your costume, a finger or two stalling in the spot right above your clit.

“Gojo and Shoko offered to get more candy - I can finish cooking after we’re finished here.” His lips press teasingly against the shell of your ear, and your resistance dwindles a bit. “Right now, all I want from you is a favor.” “Favor? I can do that - I can..” Geto chuckles. “I know you can sweetheart. Shh, sh. It’s my turn to do the talking now, okay? Listen.” You nod sharply. 

“Turn around.” You do. In an instant, stretching out your spine cat-like to press your chest up against him, your nipples hardening like pebbles beneath your blouse. You close your eyes and lean in for the kiss that should be inevitable - but no warmth meets your lips. Instead, an apathetic gloved finger. “Mmph?” Your confusion is apparent. You blink your eyes open and are greeted by a wry smile.

“Sometimes I wonder why it’s so hard for you to just listen. Then it came to me - an epiphany. Little girls like you just have a certain kind of skill set. Forgive me, okay? I just wasn’t giving you the right direction. But it’s okay! It’ll never happen again.” With those words, his expression grows less compromising - resolute, grim, determined. Almost makes you want to leap out of your skin - the fright of him not being happy with you bearing down greatly on your mind.

His hands come up to your shoulders and apply downward pressure. “On your knees.” 

You follow without hesitation.

His mirth wrinkles the corners of his eyes as you squirm down there. The floor is cold and your knees are getting dirty, and he knows that stupid look you make when you’re thinking to complain; though he’s never seen this level of restraint from you before. You’re quiet as you dig your fingers into your skin, and he knows he’s proud.

“Good girl.” Something blossoms in your chest when he says that, profound yet airy, a lightheadedness emblazoned into your forehead while the blood settles in your cheeks. Then that damn hand comes down again; which you thought was gonna muss your hair a bit more, but settles rather firmly against the back of your head.

His loose costume he’s wearing isn’t big enough to hide how hard his cock is, but it’s like he’s making you wait for it - want and yearn for it. Because he doesn’t move for a moment, just gets used to the look of you down on your knees as your fidgeting starts to feel more and more uncontrollable.

“Hey! Are you just gonna leave me high n’ dr-” A white finger presses to his lips as his other hand keeps holding your head. “Quiet now, girl. Be quiet.”

You’re good! A little impatient, but you’re good, goddamn it! Trying to be, for him - the love of your life, who’s got you down on your knees, fixing to ruin your pretty makeup for the afternoon.

Quiet. 

Quiet. 

Too damn quiet. Too much fucking silence. He’s looking at you, you think - because your eyes are shut tight and the embarrassment is beginning to dawn on you, and everything’s hot, and scary, and Suguru - is he mad at you?-

The sudden feeling of his hot hard cock flopping against your cheek makes you leap like a fish to water. Your eyes bulge open a bit, and your mouth gapes open in that instant, tongue lolling out for purchase on his heated flesh, heady scent weaseling into your nostrils and making your thighs clamp down around your own hand - which you hadn’t noticed snuck between your thighs. Your twitching fingers reach up to grab it …

“Stop.” You whine loose and loud, eyes flickering up to his face to communicate your desperation, and confusion. “Just use your mouth.” His hand reaches towards the base of his cock and flops it onto your lip proper; and you suckle on the head like it’s the sole thing providing you oxygen. “See? There are things you’re damn good at … Oh fuck -”  All you can hear besides his voice is your heart thumping in your chest and the saliva building in your mouth, the sloppy ‘schlorp’ as you take him to the base - deep into your throat - and back out again, the salty taste of his cock and precum something you’ve missed terribly.

A little voice crawls along the back of your mind. At home, it says. This is where you belong. Or maybe that’s Suguru’s wheedling. Words are falling from his lips, but you’re drowning in an effortless dream. “Good girl. … easy … taking me so well.”

The grip on the back of your head has grown tighter, as he shifts and adjusts his hips to help your further along. Your wet slurping is undercut by the sound of his balls slapping against your chin, fuzzy, familiar and pleasant. 

Then it’s as stern as a pinch. You can feel his cock bulge out your throat, cheeks hollowed as you take him to the base. Tears sting your eyes a bit, but it’s a liberating pain. His grunts grow in their intensity, and you feel soaked to the bone, sitting on your hands so they can’t jump up and fondle his balls - you won’t disobey! You refuse, refuse, refuse -

“Close, haah, close your eyes, precious.” Your tummy flutters as you weld them shut. Suguru’s hips stutter, pause, then pull back. 

A schlicking sound, then your prize. You open your mouth as you realize he’s cumming all over your face - streams of it making it into your happily awaiting maw, while the occasional strand undershoots - getting some on your chest and cheeks. Suguru sighs happier than you’ve heard in a while, and a part of you feels effortlessly at ease. Reset and pleasant and whole; besides the aching nag between your thighs. “You can speak now.” You try, throat fucked raw and a little raggedy. “A-are you going to fuck me now? Please? I can’t - I can’t wait anymore!” Suguru smiles gently, but insincerely. “No, of course not. This was a lesson, not a reward.” He tucks himself casually back into his costume. “Besides, we have guests, honey.”

You pout, feel like you wanna cry a little. “Don’t give me those crocodile tears. You’re a big girl, remember?”

“...I guess.”  You sniffle. Suguru nods and helps you back to your shaky feet. “Not ‘I guess’. You are.” He grants you a chaste kiss on your lips, licking a bit of himself off of you, then pulling back. “Now, go clean yourself up.” He starts towards the sink, eager to resume dinner. “Those two should be back any second now.”

[dystopic-view]

Roommate wanted

Geto x fem/afab reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Suguru Geto, a quiet college student, rents out a room in his small apartment, and when you move in, things start off distant. But over a shared love for music and some late-night conversation, unexpected sparks fly. As the tension builds, you're left wondering where this connection might take you both.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: fluff, college au, roommate au, slow burn, tension, chemistry, first kiss

𝐖.𝐂: 4.7K

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: this story has a part 2. make sure you read it after. ♡

You were walking down the street with a sense of growing anticipation, the soft crunch of fallen leaves under your feet filling the silence.

The address on your phone matched the worn number above the door of a small apartment building.

You double checked it, even though you already knew it was right.

The place looked exactly like the kind of thing you'd expect from a college student renting out a room.

Small, slightly old, but with a certain charm.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the building's creaky front door and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Your heartbeat raced slightly when you reached the apartment door.

Apartment 2B, the one in the ad you responded to.

You wondered what Suguru Geto would be like.

His texts had been short, almost dismissive.

Just some details about the apartment, none of the pleasantries you usually exchange when meeting new people.

Not unfriendly, but not exactly welcoming either.

You knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened.

He stood there, tall and composed, with dark eyes that flickered over you for a split second before he stepped aside without a word, letting you inside.

There was something about him that felt... distant.

Like he was letting you into his space but not into his world.

“Come in,” he said, his voice low and monotone.

He didn’t bother with small talk, just gestured toward the room down the hall. "It's this way."

The silence persisted as you followed him, and you wondered if he was always that quiet.

Or if it was just you.

You followed him through the narrow hallway, your eyes scanning the walls, which were pretty empty except for a few scuffed patches and an old calendar hanging slightly crooked on a hook.

It wasn’t even the right month.

Or year.

The apartment felt minimal, like he only occupied it because he had to.

You couldn’t help but notice how little there was to fill in the empty space.

No photos, no decorations, nothing.

It was the kind of place you imagined someone living in, but not really living with.

The room he was renting out was small, with a single window that let in the tiniest amount of sunlight.

Not a lot of furniture either.

You spotted a bed, a desk, a small bookshelf with a few scattered textbooks, and a closet that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years.

It smelled faintly of old paper and the incense he must have burned at some point.

You wondered if he had been living there for a long time or if this was just a temporary stop for him, like it might’ve been for you.

Geto stood by the door, his arms loosely crossed over his chest.

He watched you as you took in the room, his expression unreadable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sizing you up.

Not in a judgmental way, but more like he was deciding whether you’d fit into his lifestyle.

“This is it,” he said, breaking the silence but still not offering any extra words. “If you’re still interested, we can talk rent.”

You turned to face him, and his eyes were as calm as they were when he opened the door. There was something cold in his demeanor, like he’d already decided to keep you at arm’s length.

It didn’t feel exactly rude, but it was far from friendly.

He was more like a wall than a person, but you found yourself wondering what was on the other side of said wall.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you replied, a little uncertain if that’s what he wanted to hear.

“Good,” he said, turning back toward the hall. "Kitchen’s shared. Bathroom, too. No pets." His voice was so quiet, you almost didn’t hear the last part.

You followed him out of the room and back into the main area of the apartment.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, the light from the window reflecting in his dark hair as he pushed it away from his face.

For a moment, you thought he was going to say something else.

Maybe something more personal.

But he just glanced at you again, this time with a speck of what might’ve been impatience.

“Any questions?” he asked, but the way he said it made it sound like he was hoping you didn’t have any.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the space again.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

There was a good kind of solitude to it, and that felt right.

Despite Geto's indifference, or maybe because of it, you found yourself more interested in living there than you'd expected.

“I’m interested,” you said firmly, as if trying to cut through the space between you.

He nodded, barely reacting. “Good. You can move in whenever. Rent’s due at the end of the month. No parties, no loud music. I won’t bother you, and I expect the same.”

He paused in the middle of his sentence, but it didn't feel uncomfortable.

You figured that was just how he was.

Blunt, to the point.

“I can move in tomorrow,” you offered, hoping it would fit his schedule.

You were eager to get settled, to make that room yours and see what it felt like to live in a space so quiet, with someone like him.

He glanced at you, and for a second, his expression softened.

Not by much, but enough that you caught it. “Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll be around. Just text me before you get here.”

You nodded, grateful that he didn’t make it complicated.

He pushed off the counter and headed toward the door.

The conversation was over, apparently, but to be fair, there was nothing left to say anyway. He opened the door, waiting for you to step out, and you did.

“See you tomorrow, then,” you said, looking back one last time.

He simply nodded again, his hand resting lightly on the door, ready to close it the moment you left.

The next day came faster than you expected.

Before you knew it, you were standing in that same hallway again, boxes in your arms and the smell of a fresh start in the air.

Geto didn’t offer to help as you moved in.

You didn’t expect him to either way.

You unpacked in silence, the only sound being the quiet rustling of your clothes and belongings finding their places.

The room was small but quickly became cozy once you started filling it with your things.

A couple of posters, your own books now adorning the bookshelf, and your comfy bedding draped over the worn mattress.

The window let in the soft afternoon light, bathing the room in a warm, golden hue.

You caught yourself glancing at the door every now and then, half expecting Geto to appear. Maybe to say something, anything.

But he didn’t.

The apartment was eerily quiet, as if the two of you existed in completely separate worlds, despite sharing the same walls.

You didn’t mind it, though.

In fact, there was something strangely calming about the way he left you alone, as if the space was yours and yours alone the moment you stepped inside.

Still, you wondered how long that would last.

You were sitting on your knees on the floor of your new room, surrounded by half unpacked boxes.

Your fingers worked through a stack of CDs, pulling them out one by one.

You glanced at the covers, and stacked them in a neat pile beside you.

Deftones, System of a Down, Incubus, the soundtrack to your teenage years and beyond, still just as good as you remembered.

It’s funny how music can make a place feel like home.

As you sorted through the albums, you heard footsteps approaching outside your door. Glancing up, you caught sight of Geto passing by in the hallway.

He didn't say anything, just walked by casually, quiet and almost ghost-like in his movements.

But then, he paused.

His gaze shifted to the CDs in your hands, and his eyes lingered on the familiar band names.

For a moment, you thought he would just keep walking after staring you down, but then he leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable as usual. “You listen to Deftones?” His voice was calm, but there was a hint of curiosity in it.

You looked up, a little surprised he was even speaking to you about anything other than apartment logistics.

“Yeah,” you reply, holding up Koi no Yokan. “This is my favorite album.”

He nodded, and for the first time, you spotted an expression of interest flickering across his face. “Good choice.”

His eyes scanned the other CDs. “System of a Down, too. You’re into heavier stuff.”

You shrugged, smiling a little. “Guess you could say that. I grew up on it.”

Geto stayed quiet for a moment, like he was considering something.

Then, almost casually, he adds, “I play bass.”

It was a simple statement, but the way he said it made it feel like it mattered the world, like he was letting you in on a small part of himself. “Used to play in a few bands before. Nothing serious.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued now. “What kind of music?”

“Mostly metal, alternative,” he replied, his voice still low but a little less distant. “We covered a lot of Deftones back then.”

His eyes met yours for a brief moment before they drifted back to the pile of CDs, almost like he was inspecting your music taste. “Their bass lines are good. Heavy, but they know when to shift into something calmer.”

You nodded, leaning back on your hands, feeling more at ease as the conversation went on. “Yeah, they’re one of those bands that really know how to blend that heaviness with something more melodic.”

He watched you carefully, as if weighing your words. “You get it.”

It was a quiet compliment, but you caught it.

He shifted his weight slightly, still leaning against the doorframe, but his posture was more relaxed now, less guarded.

“You play?” he asked, the curiosity now more apparent in his tone.

“Nah,” you shook your head. “I wish. I just listen. Music’s always been kind of an escape for me.”

He nodded slowly, like it was something he could relate to but didn’t want to admit outright. “Same.”

There was a long pause, but once again, it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Just two people sharing a moment.

He glanced back at the CDs. “I’ve got some records you might like... if you ever want to listen. Just let me know.”

It was a simple offer, but coming from him, it felt like a door opening, just a crack.

The distant, almost cold guy you met the day before was still there, but there was something more now.

Something curious, maybe even intriguing.

“Thanks,” you said, your smile soft but genuine. “I might take you up on that offer.”

He nodded again, pushing off the doorframe.

His usual quiet demeanor returned, but he didn’t feel distant anymore. “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” he said, his tone a bit softer than before, and then he turned, disappearing down the hall as silently as he came.

You sat there for a while after he left, thinking about the brief conversation.

It wasn’t much, but it was more than you expected from him.

But it felt like the start of something.

Later that evening, the apartment was still quiet, with only the sound of simmering food in the kitchen to break the silence.

You stood at the stove, stirring a pot of pasta, your thoughts drifting back to the conversation with Geto earlier.

There was something about the way he opened up, even if only slightly, that stuck with you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to leave an impression.

You looked over at the other pan on the stove, where you’d been sautéing vegetables, purposefully making more than you usually would.

You had decided to cook extra tonight, partly as a gesture of thanks, partly out of curiosity to see if he’d accept.

You didn’t know much about him yet, but you figured he didn't often share meals with others.

As you finished plating the food, you walked to his door and knocked softly.

A few seconds passed, and then Geto opened it, looking at you with mild surprise.

“Hey,” you said, holding up the extra plate. “I made too much, and thought you might want some. As a thank you, for, you know, the records offer.”

His dark eyes flickered between the plate and your face, and for a second, you thought he was going to decline.

But then his expression softened and he nodded.

“Thanks.” It was a simple word, but there was a subtle gratitude in his tone that felt more significant coming from him.

You both sat at the small kitchen table, the clinking of silverware against plates the only sound at first.

The room was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way you hadn’t expected.

A bottle of wine sat between you, something you’d opened on impulse, unsure if Geto would even drink, but hoping he might.

He took a sip of his wine, glancing at you from across the table. “I wasn’t expecting this,” he admitted quietly, his voice less distant than usual.

You smiled, pushing a piece of pasta around your plate. “Just thought it’d be nice. Plus, I wanted to hear more about your band days.”

A small, almost invisible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not much to tell. We were just a group of guys who liked heavy music and played wherever we could. Nothing special.”

“Still,” you said, leaning forward a little, “it’s something. I mean, playing Deftones covers? You must’ve been pretty good.”

He shrugged, but there was a flicker of pride in his eyes. “We weren’t bad. Mostly local gigs. You know the vibe. Late nights, bad quality equipment, sometimes a crowd of five, sometimes fifty. It was… chaotic, but it felt right back then.”

You poured another glass of wine and offered to fill his back up.

He nodded, pushing his glass toward you, and the conversation started to flow a little easier with each sip.

“I used to go to shows like that,” you told him, remembering the thrill of small, intimate venues packed with people who loved the same music. “There’s something about those kinds of performances. They’re raw, you know?”

Geto’s gaze shifted toward you, and for the first time, you noticed a spark of enthusiasm behind his calm exterior. “That’s what I liked about it. You’re not playing for money or fame. You’re playing for the energy, for the people who are there because they actually care about your music.”

You nodded, completely in agreement with what he was saying. “Exactly. That connection, even with just a few people in the crowd… it’s powerful.”

He was silent for a moment, sipping his wine and staring down at his plate, then looked up at you. “It’s rare to find someone who gets that.”

You could tell there was a deeper meaning behind his words.

Maybe it wasn’t just about the music.

Maybe it was about people in general, about how rare it was for him to connect with someone in that way.

The rest of the dinner passed in a comfortable flow, the two of you talking about music, favorite bands, and even a few old concert stories.

His quiet, guarded demeanor loosened just a little, and though he still wasn’t the most talkative person, he was fully immersed in the conversation, listening to you, and offering glimpses into his own experiences.

By the time the meal was over, the wine bottle sat empty, and the apartment felt warmer, cozier.

Geto leaned back in his chair, glancing at the clock. “I should cook for you next time,” he said, his tone soft but genuine.

You laughed lightly, the suggestion catching you off guard. “I won’t forget that.”

He let out a faint smile, the kind you could almost miss if you weren’t looking for it.

As you cleared the dishes, you felt like something between you had shifted.

Just a little.

But enough to make the apartment feel less like a temporary place to crash and more like the beginning of something.

As you gathered the plates and set them in the sink, the atmosphere in the apartment felt different.

The low lighting casted a soft, hazy glow over the room, and there was an unspoken shift in the air between you and Geto.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye as you finished rinsing the dishes.

He was still sitting at the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his empty wine glass, his expression calm but his gaze thoughtful, like he was lingering on something unsaid.

You wiped your hands on a towel and turned to face him, leaning against the counter, your mind buzzing a little from the wine.

He met your eyes for a moment, and you could feel it.

It was subtle, but you could sense a tension that wasn’t there before, like the wine had dissolved the barrier between you.

His usual cold distance felt thinner, like you had broken through just enough to see the person underneath.

“You sure you don’t want another drink?” you asked, a playful tone in your voice, even though you both knew the wine had already done its job.

Geto smirked faintly, something you hadn’t seen him do yet. “I think we’ve had enough,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You crossed your arms and leaned back against the counter, watching him, feeling the space between you shrink even though neither of you had moved.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged now, thick with something unspoken.

The conversation about music faded into the background, replaced by the quiet awareness between you.

“You’re different,” he said suddenly, catching you off guard.

His eyes were on you, steady and intense, like he was seeing you in a new light.

You blinked, the words sinking in. “Different how?”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze not leaving yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, and there was something almost vulnerable in the way he said it. “You just... don’t seem like most people.”

You could feel your heart race a little, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you.

You swallowed, trying to keep your tone light, even though the tension was palpable now. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened a little. “It is.”

For a moment, you both just looked at each other, and the quiet between you stretched into something electric.

The room felt smaller, more intimate, the wine having stripped away some of the walls that had been there before.

You could see it in the way he was watching you.

You moved closer to the table, taking a seat across from him again, and neither of you spoke.

The silence between you stretched on, but it was no longer awkward.

It was heavy, like you were both waiting for the next move, unsure of where that subtle tension might lead.

Geto leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering to yours, and there was a beat of hesitation before he finally said, “I don’t usually do this.”

You tilted your head slightly, intrigued. “Do what?”

He looked at you, and for the first time since you’ve met, there was a speck of hesitation in his calm exterior. “Talk to people like this. It’s... different.”

The words hang between you, and you couldn’t help but feel the underlying meaning.

He didn’t let people in, not easily, and yet there you were, sitting together after sharing dinner and a bottle of wine, and somehow, you had found a way through his walls.

You felt it too, this strange pull between you.

“I don’t usually either,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “But tonight feels... different.”

He nodded, his eyes still locked on yours, and the room seemed to shrink even more, the tension almost touchable now.

The wine had left you bolder than usual, and the quiet weight of his gaze sent a flutter of nerves through you.

You shifted slightly in your seat, your heart beating faster, feeling the unspoken tension between you both building, moment by moment.

You stood up, breaking the heavy silence, and walked over to the sink, ready to tackle the dishes.

The warm water ran over your hands, and you tried to focus on the task at hand, but the tension from the dinner lingered in the air, thick and palpable.

You could feel Geto’s gaze on you as you scrubbed the plates, the silence stretching between you, charged with an energy that was almost electric.

After a few moments, you glanced back at him, catching him watching you with that same intensity.

His expression was contemplative, and you wondered what was going through his mind.

There was a softness in his eyes now, something that felt both inviting and intimidating.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, breaking the silence.

You smiled a little, glancing down at the soapy water. “It’s no problem. I don’t mind.”

The sound of the dishes clinking together filled the silence, but it only increased your awareness of him being there, just watching you…

Geto pushed himself off the table and took a few steps closer, and you could feel the air change as he moved into your space. “Still,” he insisted, a hint of warmth creeping into his tone. “You don’t have to.”

His proximity sent a rush of adrenaline through you, and you found yourself pausing, the dish in your hand forgotten as you looked up at him.

There was something in his expression, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, and it pulled you in.

“Maybe I want to,” you replied, your voice soft.

You returned his gaze, feeling a connection building, something beyond the music, beyond the shared dinner.

He stepped closer, leaning against the counter beside you. “Why do you want to?” His question was sincere, and there was a hint of vulnerability in it that made your heart race.

You took a breath, trying to find the right words. “Because it feels good to connect with someone,” you admitted, the honesty surprising you. “And I guess I’m just… curious about you.”

The tension in the room thickened, the air heavy with unsaid words.

He watched you, his dark eyes searching yours, and you felt the world around you fade away.

It’s just the two of you, standing there in the dim light of the kitchen.

You moved closer, the distance between you shrinking as you continued to hold his gaze. “What about you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you curious about?”

Geto’s breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

It felt like the room was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Finally, he leaned in a fraction closer, his eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “You.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you.

The air crackled with tension as he closed the gap, his presence wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

And then, in a sudden rush, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss was soft at first, slow, as if he was testing the waters.

Your heart raced as you responded, leaning into him, deepening the kiss as the warmth of his body drew you closer.

It was electric, igniting something deep within you, and you felt a surge of emotions as you wrapped your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the moment.

He responded equally, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he was finally allowing himself to let go.

The world outside faded away, the kitchen lights dimming into the background as you both explored this new connection.

It felt like the walls between you had crumbled, leaving nothing but that perfect moment making time stop.

The kiss deepened as you pressed yourself closer to Geto, the warmth of his body melding with yours.

His hands slid up your back, pulling you into him with a gentle but firm hold.

The intensity of the moment made your heart race faster, the quiet hum of the kitchen and the soft splashing of the water fading into the distance.

You were fully aware of every sensation.

The way his lips moved against yours, the slight stubble of his jaw grazing your skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

Geto’s fingers trailed up your neck, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss.

His touch was careful but insistent, a mix of tenderness and need.

You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring the contours of his shoulders, your fingers tangling in his long black hair.

He broke the kiss briefly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes.

You could spot a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, and you could see the uncertainty mixing up with the intensity.

He leaned in again, and this time the kiss was even more passionate.

The pressure of his lips against yours was a sweet, intoxicating sensation, and you completely lost yourself in the moment,

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheek.

Your hands slid up his arms, feeling the strength in his muscles as you pulled him closer.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your faces flushed and eyes bright with shared intensity.

You could see the emotions swirling in his eyes.

A combination of relief and surprise.

Geto’s hands remained on your face, his thumbs gently stroking your skin as he looked at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I didn’t expect this,” he admitted, his voice soft.

You returned his smile, your own eyes reflecting the same mixture of feelings. “Neither did I,” you said, your voice warm with the lingering glow of the kiss. “But I’m not mad it happened.”

He nodded, the smile lingering on his lips as he leaned in for one more gentle kiss, this time a sweet, lingering peck that sealed the moment.

When he pulled back, his expression was more open, more relaxed.

The kitchen felt even cozier now, the tension replaced with a newfound closeness.

You both stood there for a while, savoring the intimacy of the moment, letting the connection settle between you.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and genuine.

It’s a sound that makes you feel more at ease, more connected. “I don’t usually let people in,” he admitted, his voice still quiet but with a hint of warmth. “But you... you’ve managed to do that.”

You looked at him, the intensity of the moment softening into something more comfortable. “It wasn’t intentional,” you said with a gentle laugh. “I just wanted to share a meal and get to know you better. Didn’t expect it to turn into this.”

“Well,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours, “I guess this is a good start.”

You chuckled, “Yeah,” you agreed. “A really good start.”

You finished up the dishes together, the previous tension now replaced with a comfortable closeness.

As you worked, you found yourselves slipping into easy conversation, discussing everything from favorite bands to future plans, your earlier kiss hanging in the air like a promise of more to come.

When the kitchen was finally clean, you both moved to the living room, where the soft light of a lamp casted a cozy glow over the space.

You sat together on the couch, the casual intimacy of the moment allowing you both to relax and enjoy each other’s company.

Geto poured another glass of wine for both of you, and you settled in, your legs touching as you sat close.

The conversation flowed naturally.

As the evening drew on, you both felt the warmth of the connection you had begun to build, and you realized that, despite the surprises and uncertainties, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[beardysuits]

Piece of Jake

Logan has hated his body his entire life. Obese, gay, and a shut in have been a terrible combination for him. He decides becoming his sexy roommate Jake may be just what he needs to build up his confidence.

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I’ve had a crush on Jake for… well forever I guess. I guess that’s one of the perks of being a part of the same class every year since kindergarten; you get to see the cute boys become cute men. Then there was the downside of that, that anybody who bullied you from kindergarten will decide to do it until you graduate. They’ll do it for anything too; being gay, being fat, your race, your wealth. I was lucky enough to get 3 out of the 4 for about 12 years now. However, I’m ready for that to change.

See I was blessed with a fantastic combination of having a slow metabolism, and an anxiety which I decided to soothe with eating. The result has left me to be a 19 year old with a BMI of 42. And yeah, BMI is bullshit if you’re stacked with muscle, but I had the rolls and pudge to prove there was some truth to it. Combine this with the fact that I was more queer than a midnight premier of Rocky Horror, and I came out to be not the most popular guy in school. I thought that would all change once I went to college, but freshman year was hell. I essentially spent the entire time in my dorm room, locked up in the dark and playing video games. But, I guess it wasn’t all that bad.

See, back to Jake. Jake kept his status quo of being one of the top dogs from the ages of 5 to 18. Baseball star, debate captain, and voted “most likely to succeed” by our peers. Top all of that off that he was on of the few people who actually wasn’t a total ass to me, and you can see why I was head over heels for him. He was straight of course, and even if there was a touch of bisexuality in him, he would never be interested in me. Now color me surprised when I found out that not only were we going to the same college, but we got randomly assigned to be roommates in the dorms! I was astounded, it was like there really was an astral force looking out for me. 

So for almost the entirety of our freshman year, we chit chatted here and there, but Jake was almost never home. Instead, he was working to get himself into one of the fraternities and move into the house. While I was sad to not have as much time to admire Jake as I would like, that did give me the opportunity to go through his stuff. Mostly his closet. Jake wore the usual clothes you’d expect, hoodies, jerseys, wrangler jeans and the like. However, being that he was on the baseball team at the college, I found his stash of jockstraps he wore for practice. And good god, thank goodness laundry day was only once a week. The other 6 days I had a full time supply of used jocks to sniff and fantasize with. 

I even tried to put one of them on in a hormone-fueled rage, but my thighs were probably the same mass as his entire body, and I couldn’t get the damn thing on. The longer I admired Jake and saw him for who he was, the more my love for him grew. With that, so did my jealousy. Jake was everything I wanted. He was fit, cool, and could get any guy he wanted if he even batted an eye at them. My time alone did prove to give me an opportunity to do some research however. 

See, I’ve tried for a long, long, long time to get fit on my own. Watching my diet, exercise, starving myself. But, nothing would work. That’s when I started to look for more, creative solutions. I came across a blog hidden deep on the web which talked about taking another person’s form. Most of these seemed bogus, but I had to try. I found one eventually from a user, “Magic_Mann_720” who shared a potion, once which he claimed could turn anybody into a bodysuit. I was about to just toss it aside, but after looking at my desk and seeing the empty bag of McDonald’s staring back at me, I said fuck it. 

In all honesty, brewing a magic potion was easier than I assumed it would be, and after just a few short weeks of waiting for unusual supplies to arrive in the mail, I had a vial of the stuff at my whim. Now, who could I possibly give this to? No, not Jake. But also, maybe? Would that make me the worst person imaginable if I slipped this to him? He was one of the few good people I had come across, I couldn’t betray him like that. However, I saw one glimpse of his jock hanging from his hamper, and doubts crossed my mind. It was staring back at me, taunting me with how tight it fucking was. I had to wear it, and I only knew of one body it would perfectly fit. 

He was like clockwork, especially early in the morning when he made his preworkout and went off to the gym at 6 in the morning. I set my alarm for 5:50, just early enough to slip the potion into his drink before he woke up and set off. It was of course impossible to wake up so early in the morning, but somehow I managed to silence my alarm without waking Jake. 

I fumbled around in the dark and found his shake he made the night before. I had slept with the vial under my pillow, though I could barely sleep from the anticipation of my task today. Being careful to not wake him, I unscrewed the lid, dumped the contents of the vial into the jar, and shook it up. I had just laid back in my bed when his alarm woke him up. I kept my eyes closed, hoping to trick him into thinking I was asleep. I heard him stumble around the room, getting his bearings, getting dressed. I couldn’t resist popping one eye open to see his lithe frame as he found a tank and basketball shorts. 

He was already wearing boxers, but if my plan went accordingly, he never would wear such loose fitting underwear again. I heard him grab his shake, and my heart began to race. The pop of the lid went off, and I strained my ears to listen to him drain the contents quickly and quietly. The lid closed and just as I heard the doorknob turn, there was the sound of heavy stomps. I opened my eyes a bit wider to see Jake stumbling around, trying to get his bearings. 

“Hey… Logan?” Jake said weakly. I pretended to wake up and rose from bed, seeing him lean against his desk. 

“Jake? You okay?” I asked him. He turned his head to me, panting. 

“I d-don’t feel good man,” he said between breaths. “Get.. get help. Help.. me..” He slumped to the ground, and while I anticipated a loud thud as his jock body slammed to the ground, it was a soft thump, like that of clothes tossed to the ground. For a moment, I hesitated to creep any closer, afraid of what I would find. I mustered up the courage to turn on the bedside lamp and found a near horrifying site by the door. 

There on the ground was Jake, but he was flat as a pancake. He arms and legs stretched out, head deflated, and the clothes he was wearing were atop of him in a pile. I tiptoed to the body, already feeling regret in what I had done. Fuck why did I do this to him? Was I really so driven by my own lust I essentially just killed a good guy? 

My own footsteps were much heavier than Jakes, making the floorboards creek. I kicked at the body, the skin feeling as alive as ever, but made no movement of its own. I got on my knees, and with the tips of my fingers, grabbed Jake’s hair and pulled his head up. I was met with Jake’s face, his eyes now hollow sockets and mouth agape. I dropped the skin and scuttled back in fear. Fuck fuck fuck, it’s so god damn creepy! I took a few deep breaths and crawled on my hands and knees to the body once more. 

I tried to be more confident this time, grabbing him by his shoulders, and pulling him up as I struggled to stand. Jake was of similar height to me, so once I was fulling standing, I leaned the face to my mine, the tips of his toes still slumped on the floor. You know, it’s less creepy now. Jake was always a cutie, and even as a husk of himself he was irresistible. It was too late now, and while I felt bad about what I had done, I did it with a purpose. The issue now was, how the hell did I fit inside? Speaking of, would I fit at all?

I pulled at his cheek and found it to be rather elastic. My curiosity piqued, and I pulled at the corners of his mouth, which stretched at least a foot wide when I put some effort in. That gave me an idea. I quickly took off my shirt and briefs, catching my reflection in the standing mirror as I did so. God damn it, I was so fucking fat. My stomach hung out in front of me, almost covering my pathetic cock. Ass was as wide as trailer, neck rolls which made it seem like my head sat straight on my shoulders. Tits bigger than most girls I went to school with. This was my last chance to do something about it. 

I sat on my bed, laying Jake down in front of me like a pair of pants. Stepping one foot into Jake’s mouth, I stretched it further and further until my thick calves were encompassed by his lips. Grabbing at his chest, I pulled him further up my leg, already running out of breath as I did so. This was a workout on its own. I remember watching videos of guys slipping into wetsuits when I was a teenager, it was a slight fetish of mine. I loved seeing the neoprene cling to their slim figures. Those guys would go inch by inch yanking the suit further up them, so I went ahead and mirrored the practice. 

I found doing so actually made the process easier. Soon enough, my foot aligned with Jake’s. I shimmied his calves to match mine, but it was so incredibly tight. It was like my leg was vacuum sealed inside of him, crushing the fat around my leg down to match his. I began to pant, scared I was cutting off all circulation. I was so scared to look down and see something horrific, but shot a glance and was amazed by what I saw. There, my right leg was pristine. It was a mirror image of Jake’s which I had stared at so often when he wore shorts. I wiggled my toes, and Jake’s did the same motion. 

Kicking my leg around, the pain began to subside, and I could see up to my knee, it was like I had worked out my entire life. I could feel the beaming smile creep across my face as I stretched Jake’s mouth open wide again to shove my other foot inside. Now that I had some practice, my left leg was far easier to work with and soon enough, I had two sets of legs which were built from years of baseball practices and running. My thighs proved to be another issue entirely, practically twice the twice of my calves. 

I stood up from the bed, almost falling over from my balance being so off. Grabbing at Jake’s stomach, I jumped up and down a few times, his skin stretching and sliding over me with his lurch. My I stuck my hand down the inside of Jake’s mouth, the feeling of my now erect cock sliding against the inside of Jake. Although I wasn’t generously endowed, it still hurt to have it crushed inside of him. I found Jake’s cock, and while deflated, certainly overshadowed mine in length and girth. With one hand on the outside, and the other inside, I guided mine into his like a sheath. 

It was the most orgasmic feeling I had ever experienced. Jake’s cock went from looking like a flattened worm, to coming to full erection. He was at least seven inches long, and despite mine being half the size, somehow felt like it was filled entirely. It was beet red from anticipation, and while I wanted to cum right here and now, I had to finish what I started. I turned to the mirror once more, and was shocked by what I saw. From the waist up, I was still fat fuck Logan, but from the lower half, I was built like a god damn star. My new cock swung side to side, stiff as a board, and my ass, while squeezed in like a sausage, now was as perky as if I squatted 300 lbs. I turned and slapped Jake’s ass, watching as the taut skin slapped me back. All hints of cellulite gone. 

Finally was the part I was most afraid of, my stomach. It hung over the edge of Jake’s body, the flap of my stomach going over Jake’s lips. I sucked it in, which did practically nothing. Taking one of my arms, I pushed it as far in as I could, and used my other hand to pull the lips of Jake’s mouth up. I groaned in pain, feeling like a rubber band was squishing me in and threatening to cut me in half. Somehow though, his head moved up and moved. It was by inches and incredibly painful. Once I reached my belly button, I found a system to make it easier. Moving him up further and further, I finally reached my chest before I had to fall onto the bed. 

I was breathing heavier than ever, and drenched in sweat from what was left of my original body. I felt Jake’s, and he was as dry as ever, as he would never be worn out from such a task. I counted down from ten and hoisted myself up, catching my sight in the mirror. My moobs hung over Jake’s torso, but it was like I was wearing a skin corset. I rubbed my had over my new stomach, feeling how flat it was. In fact, I would even see the beginnings of a six pack bulging out. It was surreal, I don’t think I’ve been this thing since… ever. I took a deep breath and worked to shove each of my tits down Jake’s mouth. 

Each of them was a chore on their own, but eventually, all that was left were my arms and head. I don’t know how that would work, but if I made it this far, it was certainly possible. It would be tough as I would lose an arm at a time trying to slide them in. Taking my right one first, I wriggled my fingers inside, pushing them down Jake’s like a skin tight glove. With each inch my fingers slid in, it was easier and easier as I gained Jake’s strength. Eventually, the fingers found their way into his. I pulled at his bicep, as stretchy as the rest of him, and snapped it into place, enclosing my arm. 

I rushed to do the same with my left and with my newfound strength, found this section to be the easiest. I was almost done. Jake’s lips were around my neck, and I had to use his fingers to make sure he didn’t choke me. I glanced at the mirror, and found Jake with my head. I turned my body around, admiring his form. I had taken several sneaky glances at him as he changed, but to have full autonomy, to see his tattoo on his thigh, the way his veins popped in his hands, the curvature of his muscles, it was like I was being treated to a feast. 

“Goodbye Logan,” I told myself. I don’t know if I would come back from this. Or, if I would even want to. I took a deep breath and shimmied his head up my own. The same tight sensation took over my entire headspace and it was like a migraine hit me. Using my hands, I smushed my face around, placing my nose into his, eyes, lips. I fluttered my eyelids and had to refocus my vision. Going to the mirror was a picture perfect reflection of Jake. 

“Holy shit,” I said. Oh fuck, that was still my voice. I guess that wouldn’t have changed. I don’t know how I could pull off Jake’s voice, but I would have to practice it. I looked at the corner of my mouth, seeing my original lips peak through Jake’s. I took a finger, stretching and pulling it into place.

There, I was Jake. Fuck I was Jake! I laughed and rubbed my arms across my body, watching as Jake did it in the mirror. 

I spent a good ten minutes trying different poses and watching as Jake bent to my will. Sniffing his pits, making funny faces, bending over and showing off my new hole to myself. That last one sent me over the edge and I knew I had to blow off the steam which had built up. I sat on the bed and hoisted my legs up, cradling the back of my knees in my hands. I could never have even thought about attempting that in my old body, but as Jake, I felt so lithe. My smile was beaming in between my legs as I puckered my hole. I had to see what this looked like. I wanted to see Jake be pathetic now. I twisted my face to match that of so many porn actors I had watched alone in this room. 

“Ohhhh… oh fuck me daddy,” I said, begging, watching Jake’s eyes as they wished desperately for a fat cock to fill him up. I split into my hand and began to pump my new cock, already slick and slimy from precum. I stuck a finger in my mouth and wet it before sliding it over my hole and slicking it up. I had plenty of experience playing with my old hole, but I always struggled to get my arm in a position to really get deep in. Jake didn’t have that problem though. I started to finger fuck myself, watching as Jake became his own bitch. 

“Oh fuck daddy, fuck me. Fuck me!” I yelled, the point of climax racing through my cock before I could even react. Laces of cum shot out and started to drench my body, reaching even to my face and getting into my hair. I pulled my finger out of my hole, let go of my cock, and felt it rest against my thigh. There in the reflection was Jake, covered in his own cum and looking like a bitch. 

I giggled, knowing I should feel far more guilty about what I had done, but too high on my own bliss to care. After bathing in my glory, I decided to clean Jake up and explore his body some more. I grabbed one of his towels and left the room, still naked. Walking down the dorm hall to the bathroom, it was still dead silent. Logan would have been petrified at the idea of being caught naked by somebody, but Jake? Well Jake now hoped somebody would see him and be jealous. 

Getting into the bathroom, I passed by Brad, another guy on our floor, who had a towel wrapped around his waist, still glistening from his shower. 

“Jake, the fuck?” He asked. I couldn’t pull off Jake’s voice yet, but I gave him a pat on the shoulder and winked at him as I pushed past. For a second I caught a glimpse of him checking out my body before he shook his head and rushed out to his room. I went to one of the mirrors in the bathroom and knelt over, posing and kissing at myself. Jake was going to become a lot more playful it seemed. 

I took my time in the shower, feeling every crevice of Jake’s body and feeling myself up. And of course, stretching out his hole some more to work him up to taking a real dick. Maybe by one of his new frat brothers I need to meet. Once I got back to our room, I knew there was only one thing left on my to do list of the morning. I went to Jake’s hamper and pulled out the jock which was mocking me just hours before. I sniffed at, Jake’s pheromones becoming mine. 

I slipped both legs down and had no trouble at all this time adjusting my bulge and feeling the elastic hug my jock thighs. I snapped one of the bands, feeling a sheer run my spine as I did so. Slipping one of his black shirts on, I went for Jake’s phone, which thankfully could be opened with just his face. I snapped a few pictures for myself to look at whenever I pleased. Now, how about we download Grindr to it and see what this new body can pull?

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Jealousy

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, fingering, jealousy, possessiveness, toxic behavior, multiple orgasms,

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Over the next few weeks, you and Damian developed a comfortable friendship. He rarely texted, preferring to call when he wanted to study together. The moments you shared felt... nice.

You’d catch yourself wanting to talk to him about things that had nothing to do with school. You’d find a meme or finish a good book, and a small voice in your mind would tell you to share with him. You’d wonder what he’d think, what hobbies he might have - what he was like outside of the carefully constructed persona he held at Gotham U. But each time you yearned for something more personal, you felt like you were crossing a line.

One evening, you were studying at his place. Damian sat across from you on his enormous leather couch, his laptop resting on his sweatpants-clad lap. The screen’s glow flickered over his bare chest, highlighting the sharp lines of his collarbone and the shine of his chain as he casually tossed a cracker into his mouth. You, on the other hand, had shed your skirt and blouse hours ago, left in just your yoga shorts and tank top, too tired to continue wearing your outside clothes. You had let down your hair, which had been pulled back painfully all day. The relief of it cascading over your shoulders felt like a victory.

“Did you know that Kace is doing research on Gotham's water distribution?” you asked.

Damian glanced up, nodding slightly as if he'd already known. “Yeah, I’ve heard a little about it. It’s a pretty big project.”

“Very,” you replied enthusiastically. “It’s funded by the municipality. A real opportunity.”

His brow arched, clearly impressed. “That’s great.”

“I applied to join the project,” you added, crossing your fingers. “I’m hoping Kace will take me on. It’s a researcher’s dream, and having a reference from him would be huge.”

Damian’s gaze softened, and he smiled that rare smile he'd had only when you spoke about a new discovery or theory.

What he did next surprised you. He set aside both of your laptops and laid his head in your lap. The sudden intimacy caught you off guard, your breath quickening.

“I’m tired of thinking,” he murmured, voice low, his head resting comfortably against your thighs. “Let’s watch something.”

Your heart raced. Slowly, carefully, your hand reached to brush the strands of his hair back. When your fingers grazed his scalp, he let out a quiet, satisfied hum, the kind of sound that made your stomach flutter and had you scratching at his hair more purposefully.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

“Something mindless,” he replied, eyes still closed.

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One day, after your physics lecture ended and the room emptied, you stayed behind, scribbling a few last-minute notes. Damian lingered, sitting beside you, his fingers traced the hem of your checkered skirt, his thigh resting close enough to yours to occasionally brush against it. The casual proximity, the touches always left you breathless while he seemed unaffected. You bit your lip, your pulse quickening as you put your notebook away and mustered up the courage to ask what had been on your mind for weeks.

“Damian,” you started softly, “would you want to... maybe go out sometime?”

His thigh immediately stilled.

“Go out?” His voice was calm, almost amused. “Like on a date?”

You nodded, looking to where his fingers had frozen, tangled in the fabric of your skirt.

“I thought you weren’t interested in dating,” he said, his tone calculated and smooth.

Your heart skipped a beat. “I wasn’t at first. But, well... isn’t that kind of what we’ve been doing?” You elaborated. “We spend all this time together, and we’ve been... intimate.”

Damian turned slightly, leaning closer until his piercing green eyes were at your level. This conversation started to feel more like an interrogation when he asked, “Why?” his tone curious. “Why do you want to date me?”

The question hit you like a splash of cold water. “What?”

He tilted his head, studying your reaction. “Why do you want to date me?”

You blinked. Of all the things he could have said, this wasn’t what you expected. “I... well, because-”

“You don’t know,” he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. It wasn’t a kind smile. It was the kind that made you feel small, like he’d just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing.

“I do know.” You blurted out. “I just didn’t expect that question.”

He sighed. “Our arrangement works, doesn’t it? You get what you want. I get what I want. There’s no need to complicate things.”

Your chest tightened. “I guess. But... you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “No.”

“Me either,” you said quickly. “So... what do you call that?”

Damian’s brow arched, and the sharpness in his gaze felt like a warning. “What are you trying to get me to say, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard, realizing how he was twisting your words. “I’m not trying to get you to say anything,” you muttered, but your voice wavered with frustration and hurt. His silence, the way he just sat there, watching you struggle, was answer enough.

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag, trying to hide the burning in your cheeks and the sting behind your eyes. “Never mind,” you mumbled, more to yourself than him.

Without another word, you turned and left.

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Oh, I do not need this right now, Damian thought, dodging a swift punch from his brother, narrowly avoiding what would’ve been a bruising hit.

"Do you... maybe want to go out sometime?"

Your words echoed in his mind. The way your voice wavered slightly, vulnerable, soft. A vision of you flickered in his imagination. Eyes wide, expectant, waiting for him to answer.

Damian barely registered the next strike coming his way. He flipped back, gritting his teeth as he refocused. Concentrate.

Dick often took it easy on him during training. It was something Damian usually resented, a constant reminder that his older brother still saw him as the kid who needed coddling. Dick always joked that since Damian was the baby of the family, hurting him would "break his heart." Absolute bullshit.

Damian had taken on Nightwing for the first time when he was fourteen, and even then, Dick had held back. But now - now he was in his twenties, a fully trained assassin capable of holding his own against anyone. There was no excuse for Dick not to come at him with everything he had.

Yet here they were again, Damian on the mat, his brother watching him with that infuriatingly knowing look.

"You're distracted," Dick commented, arms crossed, his stance casual.

"No, I'm not," Damian snapped. "Let's just get this over with."

Dick raised a brow, spinning his staff a few times as he stretched his shoulders. "Got somewhere to be?" he asked, throwing a few experimental swings. "You usually live for the chance to knock me around for a couple hours."

Damian’s jaw tightened, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Dick had a habit of slipping into therapist mode. Usually, Damian let him - mostly because Dick was annoyingly good at it, and it gave his older brother some sense of satisfaction. But today, Damian had no patience for it. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think.

But the image of you lingered.

The look on your face when he’d rejected you—polite, almost cold—played in the back of his mind. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you. Not like that. He had a life already too complicated, too dangerous for something like... a relationship. But still, your expression had haunted him. It made something deep inside him twist, the part of him that hated vulnerability, hated seeing it, hated feeling it.

Then a thought struck him - someone else. Someone else making you smile, laugh, touching you the way he had. A vision of you looking at a man the way you look at Damian. It was infuriating. The idea of someone else seeing you come undone, hearing you cry out in pleasure - of someone else having power over you - made his blood boil. His jaw tightened, a surge of anger rising, and his movements faltered again.

He cursed under his breath as he nearly took another hit from Dick. Focus.

But it was too late. His moves were sloppy now, more reactive than calculated, each punch and kick lacking the precision he normally prided himself on. Dick, of course, noticed immediately.

“Seriously, what’s going on with you?” Dick asked as they moved into the second hour of their sparring session. “You’re not anticipating my moves like you usually do. I’m pulling my punches, and you’re still off your game.”

Damian clenched his fists, feeling the frustration build in his chest. He could hear Dick's words, but the memory of your voice, soft and hopeful, drowned everything else out.

"I... I don’t have time for this right now," Damian muttered under his breath.

"What’s 'this'?" Dick pressed, but Damian didn’t answer.

His footwork became more rushed, his fists less controlled. And that’s when it happened. Dick moved faster than Damian anticipated, his staff coming up just as Damian lunged forward. A solid punch landed squarely against Damian’s mouth.

Pain flashed through him. He stumbled, tasting blood on his lip.

“You want to talk about it now?” Dick asked.

Damian wiped his mouth, glaring. "There's nothing to talk about," he ground out, stepping back into position.

But Dick didn't let up, standing his ground, his expression softening in that way Damian hated - like he was waiting for Damian to let down his guard, to open up. "You know, whatever’s going on in your head, it’s not worth getting your face smashed in over."

Damian scoffed, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. He wiped the corner of his mouth where a trace of blood threatened to form, his green eyes flashing with an edge. He straightened up, cracking his neck as he reset his stance. “If you hit any softer, Dick, I’d think you were the one who has something going on with his head."

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Nikolas Hill was a one year your senior, majoring in Econometrics and balancing his life as captain of Gotham U's swimming team and a straight-A student. He was also the oldest son of Gotham's current mayor Archibald Hill, a fact which he seldom mentioned himself though it was always brought up by someone else.

You, Nick, and seven other students were accepted to Professor Kace's water system project, and you worked well together. To your surprise, Nick was vastly knowledgeable about the research content. He told you he wanted to major in engineering, but econ was "where the cuties were," with a wink.

"Werent there enough cuties on the swim team?" You teased.

Nickolas raised a perfect blond brow and flashed his signature smile. "Dude, swimmers have like, no ass. That is a fact."

"I apologize," You laughed, mocking, clicking on the analytics report you two prepared.

A week later, he asked you for your number.

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Damian was waiting for you outside the lab when you stepped out with Nikolas Hill. His presence was impossible to miss—leaning casually against the wall in his polo and leather jacket combination and towering almost any student who passed him. His sharp gaze locked onto the two of you the moment you appeared, laughing at something Nick said.

You instantly noticed a cut across his bottom lip when you neared him, prompting you to ask. "Damian, what happened?" Your voice was barely above a wisper, filled with concern.

His brows lifted slightly in surprise at the sight of your companion. “Hill,” Damian greeted him, his tone cool and familiar, like they’d known each other for years, though not in a way that suggested they were friends.

“Wayne,” Nikolas responded in kind, matching Damian’s neutral tone, though there was an underlying challenge in his voice.

Damian’s eyes shifted between you and Nikolas, narrowing slightly. “You two working together?” he asked, his question directed at you but intercepted by Nikolas.

“Yeah,” Nikolas answered smoothly before you could open your mouth. “We got paired up for the municipal water ledger research. Lucky us.”

There was a sharp edge to Damian’s smile, and he let out a low, sarcastic, “What a coincidence.”

The implication behind his words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable: Nikolas had only gotten the position because of his father.

You felt your own smile falter as the tension between them rose, making the hallway seem smaller.

Nikolas chuckled lightly, undeterred. “Don’t get it twisted, Wayne. I know it must be nice, being Bruce's kid and all, but some of us actually had to work to get here.”

Damian raised a brow, eyes glinting dangerously. “Seventeenth in your program, if I remember correctly?”

Nikolas leaned in closer to you, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “Adorable, isn’t it? He does his homework.”

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You couldn’t help but notice the way Damian’s lips tightened when Nikolas inched closer to you. His expression darkened, the muscles in his jaw flexing under the weight of his glare.

Straightening back up, Nikolas shrugged with an air of nonchalance. “Unfortunately, my dad didn’t donate enough to bump me up a few spots.”

Damian’s grin returned, though it was more venomous than friendly. It was the kind of smile that didn’t touch his eyes, and you could feel the crackling tension between the two, like a live wire ready to snap. “Right,” Damian drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure being the mayor’s son really held you back. It’s not too late to apply for ‘Make-A-Wish,’.”

You swallowed, the urge to leave growing stronger with every passing second. You were sure they wouldn't mind. They seemed perfectly content engaging in their verbal sparring. But the way Damian was looking at you that made your skin prickle with discomfort - his gaze searing into you like a brand.

Nikolas shot back without missing a beat, his grin widening. “Not all of us get to play the ‘Prince of Gotham,’ though, do we?”

The title hung in the air. It was a label once meant for Damian's father, but now it had been thrust upon Damian since the world learned that Bruce Wayne had an heir. It wasn’t just a title. it was a pedestal, an expectation that idealized Damian as something more than human, something untouchable and better than everyone else. And right now, as his jaw clenched and his green eyes blazed with a darkness that sent a shiver down your spine, you wondered which Damian you were looking at - your friend and classmate, or Gotham’s heir apparent?

With the way his gaze bore into you, sharp and unyielding, you had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t Damian, your friend. No. You were staring into the eyes of the ‘Prince of Gotham,’. The one who could get away with whatever he wanted and no one would bat an eye.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Witch each thrust of his fingers, you grew less and less able to focus. "Damian," you wimpered.

"Hmm?" His low voice hummed behind your ear, making your skin vibrate.

You were sitting on his lap in his couch, thighs spread out, skirt still on. But the top buttons of your blouse were undone showing off the purple marks Damian has spent the last hour decorating on your neck and collarbone. Your hands were held together by one of his ties, an impossible knot you couldn't loosen regardless of how much you tried. You knew your hair was disheveled and worried about how you would go home looking a mess. Your roommate would certainly have questions.

"That! Ah -" You panted, shutting your eyes. "I thought we weren't in a relationship."

"We're not." He said confidently. He refused to elaborate further before kissing you behind your ear - a spot he'd discovered a while back to be extremely sensitive, which he often used against you.

Your shoulders tensed. Your bra straps slipped down your arms as your head rolled back to rest against his muscular frame, easily getting lost in the sensation for what had to be your twelfth consecutive orgasm. You lost count somewhere between nine and ten.

You warred with your mind to stay on topic. "Then... why can't I go out with Nick?"

The moment you walked into his apartment, Damian asked if you and Nick were a couple, then at your hesitation, he nodded and ordered you not to go out with him.

His fingers sped up against you, and the impending orgasm built up as you felt the rising heat in the pit of your stomach.

"Damian, answer the question," You gasped, straining against him.

"Because you can do better." He said in a simple tone, though you'd hinted what sounded like a growl accompanying his words. He bit down on your neck, hard, before sucking on the skin he'd just broken there. His fingers made rougher movements on your overstimulated slit, giving you sensation that was equally painful and delicious. You'd mumbled a sentence of incoherent "please" and "God," as your brow forrowed, sweat gathering on your exposed collarbone.

The only goal his response achieved, however, was angering you. Who did he think he was? Deciding what men were and weren't worth your time. You were your own person. You huffed, a mixture of frustration and something else. "I think I'm smart enough to decide that for myself!"

Your sentence was cut off with a squeal. He had found a new spot that made your back arch as he chuckled against your ear. "Im not saying you're not, baby. Im just giving you my impression of things."

You bit your lip, half to keep from moaning and half to keep from lashing out at him. Whether he thought so or not, words carried meaning, and the tone with which he called you 'baby' would definitely resonate in your mind. This wasn't good for your purely platonic friends-with-benefits arrangement. "You can't call me that. Baby. Im not... your baby."

Dropping your pen and notebook, your bound hands grasped at your thighs as you pushed your pussy into his fingers, chasing that delicious feeling. You panted until you came.

His fingers didn't stop, though. You began to weakly shake your head. "No, no, no, Damian, you said it was the last one -"

"Just one more baby," he emphasized the last word. "You can take it. I know you can. You're so cute when you're like this,"

Your bound hands scratched at your skirt, and you bit your lip. His words, his actions, his whole being was a question you couldn't answer; a problem you couldn't solve.

His fingers had your mind drifting, and you suspected that he knew that if he just kept saying and doing the right things, he could control you. This thought was what drove you into another shaking orgasm

"My pretty girl," he hummed the praise against you. "Mine."

"N-no," your voice managed weakly as the tremmors subsided and your eyes slid shut. "Not yours."

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"Damian, I don't think this... our arrangement works." You spoke softly, then added, "For me. Anymore."

He blinked down at you, facial expression unchanging as he watched you collect the last of your belongings. "Mhmm."

"I guess I'm not cut out for 'no-strings-attatched'". You added. What you didn't add was the fact that you had caught feelings for him, but he was smart, and it wouldn't take rocket science to figure that one out. "And I can't hear you call me yours without... without thinking something more..."

"Are you gonna go out with him?"

The "him" in question was Nikolas, and yes, you were. You justified the decision to yourself by considering that it wouldn't hurt either Damian who didn't see you as more than a fuck buddy, and it wouldn't hurt you, who was actually curious to see if a relationship with Nikolas could go somewhere.

You nodded, making sure to keep eye contact. Whatever judgment that intense green gaze sent your way was not deserved.

At last, Damian nodded. "I'll see you around then."

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it, as he was already walking away. "See you."

That night, Nickolas dropped you off after a wonderful first date back in your room and kissed you goodnight. You lay in bed and closed your eyes, picturing muscular, scar-covered arms easily handling you, calloused fingers caressing, holding, and teasing you, and a pair of moss colored eyes piercing into you as sleep took you over.

[caitified]

you meet caitlin in an airport lounge and don’t know she’s a famous athlete but she’s super into you

airport lounge

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none, short sorry! part 2?

the soft hum of conversation fills the airport’s premium lounge as you sip your coffee, relaxing into the plush chair while waiting for your delayed flight. you glance around, eyes landing on a striking figure sitting a few seats away—a tall, athletic-looking woman with intense eyes and an easy confidence. she’s focused on something on her phone, unaware of your gaze, but there’s something magnetic about her that you can’t ignore.

a few moments pass, and then she glances up, catching you looking. a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks, but instead of looking away, you offer a small smile. she doesn’t hesitate; getting up from her seat, she walks over, her presence somehow filling the space around her.

“mind if i join you?” she asks, her voice smooth and friendly.

“not at all,” you reply, a little too eagerly, which earns a quiet chuckle from her. she sits down, setting her phone aside, and you take a closer look at her—there’s a certain charisma to her, an effortless charm that has you intrigued.

“i’m caitlin,” she says, extending a hand.

you introduce yourself, shaking her hand, feeling a small spark at the contact. the two of you start talking, and soon, you’re laughing and sharing stories as if you’ve known each other for years. she’s funny, warm, and has a way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room, even with all the noise around you.

“so, are you traveling for work or just for fun?” she asks, leaning back, her gaze fixed on you.

“just for fun,” you admit, smiling. “taking a little break from everything.”

she nods, her expression thoughtful. “i get that. sometimes you just need to step away, clear your head.”

“what about you?” you ask. “are you going somewhere exciting?”

her eyes flicker, a hint of amusement in them. “kind of. it’s for work, technically, but it’s something i’m passionate about. basketball.”

“oh, you play?” you ask, genuinely interested.

“yeah,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips. “you could say that.”

you ask her a bit more, surprised at how passionate she sounds. she talks about her love for the game, the feeling of being on the court, and the dedication it takes—though she’s oddly modest about her skill. to you, she just seems like someone deeply committed to what she does.

after a while, an announcement comes over the speakers about a delay, and caitlin groans. “guess we’re stuck here for a bit longer.”

“could be worse,” you say with a grin, “at least the company’s good.”

she laughs, glancing at you with a warmth in her eyes that sends a thrill through you. “yeah, definitely could be worse.”

time slips away as you talk, your conversations ranging from travel and hobbies to random little quirks you both share. you catch her glancing at you every so often, and each look makes your heart beat just a little faster. there’s a pull between you, something you can’t quite explain, and you find yourself hoping the delay stretches on forever.

eventually, caitlin glances at her phone, then back at you, a playful glint in her eye. “if i asked for your number, would i get it? i mean, just in case we run into each other again…”

you smile, handing her your phone. “i think that can be arranged.”

she takes it, typing in her number before handing it back, her fingers brushing yours. “just don’t forget about me when we’re halfway across the country,” she teases.

“i don’t think that’s possible,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. her smile widens, and for a second, you wonder if she feels it too—this strange, instant connection.

the final boarding call for her flight breaks the moment, and she stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “i guess that’s me,” she says, though she lingers, as if reluctant to leave.

“safe travels,” you say softly, feeling a pang as she heads toward the gate.

“you too.” she glances back, giving you one last smile, and then she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. it’s only later, when you check your phone, that you see a text from an unknown number: hey, it’s caitlin. let’s not leave this at the airport.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik turns 50. TF 141 throw him a surprise party. (As the author continues to build their voices and headcanons in his head.)

cw: none.

“I can't believe Nik’s going to be fifty next week. The man's aging like a fine wine. It must be something in the water over there.”

It had been a fairly innocuous comment by Laswell over one of their frequent phone calls, but it had sent Price into an unfathomable tailspin.

Fifty.

Fifty was a big birthday where Price came from. The kind where the extended family, and wider community around them, were invited to a village hall for an old fashioned knees up, and you ended up carrying your uncle Rodney home so your aunt didn't smother him with a throw pillow after he pissed all over the doorstep.

Price had never really thought much about the families and wider lives of his contacts. They got the job done and then they parted ways. In every sense, a contact held the same position in Price's mind as the weapon in his hand; a tool to be used and then set aside once you were done.

But Nik… Nik was becoming more than a contact. A lot more. Price knew there was no uncle Rodney for Nik. There was no family whatsoever. No one special to mark half a century with, except maybe… fuck.

Price didn't share scotch with just anyone, let alone pass his cigar over for them to take a toke. As much as he respected Laswell, he was never inclined to spend hours with her chattin’ shit, until the sun broke through the blinds and they both had to slam some black coffee so they looked remotely presentable for their operators. His hand never lingered on anyone else's carrier vest, and no one else's voice made warmth and light curl in his chest.

No one else slotted against Price's... everything quite like Nikolai.

Price wasn't stupid. He knew what these signs meant, but that didn't mean he had any idea what the fuck to do about them. It was safer to just… be, too cowardly to progress any further. And yet, this felt like a milestone somehow.

“Captain, are you there? John?”

“Rog, yeah… uh. Continue.”

By the time Price had hung up, he had resolved to do something to mark Nik’s birthday. Laswell had coughed up the exact date and then slyly asked why Price was so interested. Her tone suggested she already had a hunch. “141 tradition,” he'd said, before hanging up. Rude, but she'd cope.

He finished some paperwork and turned in for the night, but sleep didn't come easy. His plans played out across the dark ceiling above his head and each time he settled on a course of action, he picked a hundred holes in it and cast it aside.

“Buy him a bottle of vodka and put a bow on your prick,” Simon said over eggs and bacon. The majority of the base was still asleep, with only a few other troopers skulking around the canteen.

Price choked on his gulp of tea and thumped his chest. “Classy, Simon.”

“You’ve been dancin’ round each other for years,” Simon murmured, rubbing at the stubble below the line of his mask. “Best time as any to pull the trigger.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black,” Price said as he stabbed at the bacon on his plate to emphasise each word.

“Fuck off,” Simon grumbled, “sir.”

Price snorted a laugh and they finished the rest of their breakfast in companionable silence. After a session in the gym, a myriad of brain-numbing meetings and supervising some training runs, Price was no closer to shaking out of his decision paralysis. If they were on mission he could have hashed out a plan without taking a breath, but he… didn't want to fuck this up. It felt too important.

Price was left with no choice but to consult professionals.

“Surprise party,” Soap said gleefully, chucking his playing cards onto the coffee table. “In th’ hanger, we invite him over tae ‘discuss an op’,” Soap lifted his fingers to emphasise the spoken quotation marks, “get Laswell tae send the invite.”

Gaz nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, then he won't suspect anything - oh, oh, I've got Farah's number, we can get her in on it. She’ll know if he’ll want anyone else, and… uh, you know, we’ll get clearance.”

“Right,” Price leaned back, arms folded over his chest. “So, what… we need food, and cake.”

“Aye, sir,” Soap said, squinting. “And booze. Gaz an’ I'll sort the logistics, and ye jus’ need tae sort the pressie.”

“We’re on it, sir. Leave it to us.”

The present. Price could do that. No worries.

Two days later, he stared down at the forty item long Amazon wishlist he had titled “Operation Black Hawk” and had no idea what to get. Something that walked the line of funny but sentimental, that said ‘you’re hot as fuck but I'm not desperate but I absolutely wank over you in the shower’.

“Fuckin Christ,” Price whispered at this office ceiling, slouched deep in his chair. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to quiet but for thoughts of Nik. Think, think.

So many conversations, ice tinkling against glass, low chuckles and borish jokes; a warm palm on Price’s shoulder and a smile so toothy it was contagious. Endless memories of time at Nik’s side. There had been that summer Nik had come fishing with him. Just a few days of peace before they both returned to the field. Nik had snoozed through most of it, exhausted by their previous mission, but in between he had surveyed the lake, watching the insects flit across the water.

“Poprygun'ya strekoza, leto krasnoye propela,” Nikolai had murmured.

“Cursing my ancestors?” Price had asked before gulping down a mouthful of beer.

Nik had chuckled. “Nyet, captain. It means a playful prankish Dragonfly, the whole summer have sung out. It is a poem by Ivan Karylov. One of my favourites.”

“Yeah? What's it about?”

“It is a fable...”

“Oh bloody hell, not another Russian morality lesson.”

“Pssh, this is good one. You will like it,” Nik had sat up in his camping chair. “It is about a beautiful dragonfly who spends her summer dancing and resting, while the hardworking ant prepares. When winter comes, she begs the ant for help, but he refuses, because he worked hard and she did not.”

“Harsh but fair. Work hard, play hard, them’s the rules..”

“You see, I knew you would like it. You are an ant. You earn your rest. This,” Nik had gestured at fishing tackle, the camping equipment, and the lake, “is the fruit of your labour, and I am privileged to share it with you, my friend.”

“And I you, mate.”

They had knocked their bottles together and moments later one of Price’s reels had begun spinning out. By that point they'd drunk so much that landing the damn carp had left them both up to their knees in lake water, pissing themselves laughing on the bank. It had been both the worst and best fishing expedition of Price’s life.

Price opened his eyes in the present and grinned at the ceiling, digging his phone out of his pocket. He knew exactly what he was going to get Nik.

The rest of the week sprinted by quicker than a RAF pilot on his way to a champagne dinner, and before he knew it Price was standing on a rickety plastic chair hanging a bloody banner from a rusty nail high on the hanger wall.

“It's wonky, cap,” Gaz said just as Price was climbing down.

“I think you'll find your eyes are wonky, sergeant.”

“Of course, sir. I'll get that sorted.”

Price pressed his hands to the small of his back and glanced around at the preparations. The sergeants had done well. Soap had even managed to draft Simon in on the booze run and there was a healthy selection of spirits on the buffet table by the birthday cake. It was a Colin Caterpillar from Marks and Spencers, one of Nik's favourite shops to visit when he was in the UK, with a joke candle stuck in the top that he wouldn't be able to blow out. Soap's idea.

The majority of Chimera had turned up to mark the occasion, as had a few faces Price recognised from previous ops with other organisations and task forces. Soap had said a few didn't quite pass the bar for security clearance, which wasn't surprising.

It was just as Gaz and Soap were bickering over the playlist that they heard the telltale drum of helicopter blades beat overhead. “Places, places!” Soap crowed from the hanger door, slamming the lights off. Booted feet scuttled across the dusty floor to find hiding places behind the vehicles and crates stacked around the edges, and Price joined Soap by the door.

Several minutes passed, and then… “And you have no idea where the weapons store is?”

“None at all, Nik. Price should have more intel,” Laswell replied. She had rendezvoused with Nik in Germany as part of the plan. Her wife was currently squatting behind a crate with Gaz.

“I hope so or this will be a difficult mission.”

Soap was practically vibrating at Price's shoulder as Nik rounded the corner. He slammed on the lights and everyone erupted from their hiding places on cue. Price didn't miss how Nik’s hand dropped for his sidearm, his eyes blown wide.

“Laswell, what is–?”

“Happy birthday, Nikolai,” she said, walking by to plant a kiss on her wife's cheek.

“I–” Nik glanced around the hanger as he accepted hugs from Gaz and Syd, handshakes from others, still bewildered. “How–?”

“It was th’ captain's idea,” Soap said, jutting his chin at Price. “He told us ye were hittin’ the big five-oh, old man. Ye not gettin’ off that easy.”

“Here, drink,” Simon grunted, pressing a glass into Nik's hand. “I'm startin’ the food, Johnny. I've been patient.”

“Aye, L.T. Bust open th’ sarnies. Farah, th’ ones on the left are halal - aye, bet.”

Nik was drawn into conversation briefly and Price hung back, glancing at the badly wrapped parcel he'd stashed on top of an empty oil container. He was so focused on his internal misgivings that Nik’s hand on his elbow made him startle. “Oi, give me a bloody heart attack…”

“You did this?”

“MacTavish and Garrick did this,” Price said.

Nik, who knew that the 141 did nothing without Price's express permission, grinned toothily. They stood in silence as he surveyed the many faces scattered around the hanger, some shoving sandwiches in their faces while others swigged from freshly open bottles. “I… have never had a birthday party before.”

“What? Not even as a kid?”

Nik shrugged one shoulder. “Nyet, it was not a… priority.” He looked back at Price, dark eyes heavy with something complex and unreadable. “Thank you.”

Price swallowed and tried to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. “You're uh… you're welcome, I… got you something. But, uh…” Before he could wuss out, Price grabbed the poorly wrapped parcel and shoved it into Nik's hands. “Happy birthday.”

Nik set his glass aside. “Your wrapping skills are…”

“Bloody fantastic.”

“...unique.”

“I'll take it.”

Nik huffed a laugh as he tore the brown paper away and flipped the book over in his hands. Price was relieved to see his face brighten. “Aesop’s fables. Captain, this is beautiful…”

To be fair, it was a damn pretty book. The hardcover was illustrated with the animals from the fables, the pages edged in gold, and the inside cover was patterned. You know… posh. And then Nik found the second part, tucked about a quarter of the way through. It was a photograph from their fishing expedition. A rough selfie, with half a fish head in shot where Nik was trying to display their catch, and Price’s face smeared with mud from where he had stumbled onto the bank.

Nik's eyes lingered on it, his fingertips brushing over their grinning faces, and he swallowed.

Price panicked. “I'm sorry, it's shit, I'll uhm–”

Nik pulled him into an embrace that crushed the air from his lungs. There was definitely a stutter in Nik’s chest, and Price wrapped his arms around him in return. If he happened to turn his nose into Nik's neck, and Nik happened to press his face a little closer, then that was fine. More than fine.

Price's toes curled in his boots, his fingers tightened in Nik’s shirt, the aching in his chest becoming that much harder to ignore. “You alright?”

“Da,” Nik said tightly. “I just need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” Price murmured, closing his eyes as he cradled Nik against him. He didn't mark the time, happy to revel in the warmth of the solid body in his arms, and the smell of Nik's skin, pressed so close Price could feel the thrum of his heartbeat.

When Nik finally pulled away, slightly reddened eyes lingered on Price’s lips before turning to the rest of the party, who were doing a shitty job of pretending they hadn't all been watching. “Later, I would… like to spend some time with you.”

Price didn't want to examine the heat under his skin too closely, lest it be entirely misplaced. “Course.”

“Nik, get over ‘ere tae blow th’ oot before Ghostie eats yer cake’s face!”

Nik tucked his book under his arm and walked over to the buffet table with Price to a horrifically off-key rendition of ‘happy birthday’. Once Nik had worked the candles out, flicking them at Soap with a loud Russian cuss, festivities descended, as they usually did on base, into raucous drinking games and whatever the sergeants decided passed for dancing. Simon lost the Ring of Fire and had to down the filthiest pint Price had ever seen in his life, Laswell thrashed them all at beer pong and Gaz tried to teach Farah how to do the worm. As far as fiftieth birthday parties went, it definitely beat out the village hall knees up.

Later, when the majority of the party had slunk off to dark corners, fallen asleep where they sat or retired in good order, Nik pulled his captain back into his arms and kept him there until the sun rose. Except, this time, they did a damn sight more than talk.

[hyunjinsjeans]

Breakfast in bed (Bangchan x Reader)

Summary: going with Chan on his trip to America you can’t let an opportunity to give it a try to have that baby you talked about pass you by.

Type: Fluff 🧸, NSFW 🔞

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex (don’t do it, guys!) , little proofreading.

Word count: 2263 words

Related: He Knows (Chan ver.)

Masterlist Here

AN: This fic is a part 2 to Bangchan’s version of the He Knows Series. It can also be read as a stand alone. There is so little plot, I’m a little sorry. I’m also a little shy around smut still but I’m trying guys 👉👈This is the first one! Let’s go!

You breathe in the morning air. America has been wonderful, after Chan decided to bring you along only a few days before the departure date, you had to get the days off from work and plan accordingly.

Chan finds himself dragging you behind him everywhere, he cannot help it. While he is in his leader mindset, he is also so unable to disconnect from you. You experience his bossy side first hand. He is strict and direct, and he does not play games with the boys whenever they begin having too much fun during dance practice.

Chicago has been kind to the boys, even though they have spent little time on their own personal interests, you still find yourself having a great time seeing them all do what they love. Their set was a massive hit, the boys had great fun and Felix went a little overboard on stage… You enjoyed the show from a spot backstage with some of their staff as well as Changbin!Reader and Felix!Reader who had made it with their little ones.

“Hey… what are you doing all the way over there?” He drops his arm over his eyes as he lays on his back in the bed.

You hear his voice and smile from the open balcony. You turn in your old snoopy pj shorts and shirt and look at him, forgetting about the birds that fly above the busy city. You’ve already made coffee on the coffee machine in the small hotel room, the small mug between your hands.

“Morning, sleepy head!” You step aside and close the balcony sliding door. “I was just having a second with my thoughts, how’d you sleep?”

Chan sighs but does not move a muscle, still tired. You walk up to the bed, leaving the coffee on the bedside table and sit next to him, placing your hand on his forearm you pull the limb away from his face and whisper.

“Mmm, that good?” You arch an eyebrow and watch him whine.

He rolls on his side and wraps his arm around you, dragging you down onto the bed beside him. “Yeah, it’s nice to share a hotel room with you…”

You complain as you drop on the bed, hands go reach out to him on instinct. “Chan!” You can hear him chuckle at your plea. “I’m telling Lee Know you don’t like sharing rooms with him.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around you, “tell him something he doesn’t know…”

You push his messy hair away from his face and examine his face. Eyes closed and expression full of glee. He takes a deep breath and you put your hand against his cheek, he smiles and puts his hand on top of yours, turning his face to kiss your palm.

“I’m so glad you could come. I miss you so much when you stay home.” He admits in a soft voice.

You hum and lean in to kiss his nose. “I know. I feel weird when you’re travelling.”

Chan opens his eyes and meets your gaze, his hand reaches out to touch your face too, his fingers drag along your temple and fix a strand of your hair behind your ear. You lean against him and let him turn to lay on his back again, now pulling you softly into his chest. You wrap your leg around his and let your arm rest on his stomach while your head finds the perfect spot on the crook of his neck.

“Remind me, what time are we supposed to check out?” You rub your nose against his skin, inhaling his scent with a soft smile on your face.

“This afternoon. I think they said at around 3…” his arms squeeze you against him, he closes his eyes when you start nipping at his neck, “babe, what are you doing?”

You smile and slip your hand slowly up his chest and neck until you reach his jaw, “I’m spoiling my husband, what are you doing?” You say playfully.

He chuckles, “well, obviously I’m being spoiled!”

You laugh against his skin, kissing his neck before throwing your head back to look at him.

“Should I stop?” you wait for his reply.

Chan’s grasp on you tightens, “I never said that!” He complains and you giggle in response.

“Oh, so I am allowed to give you hickeys?” You press your lips on his neck again.

“No, no, no!” He puts his hand on your hair and pulls you away softly, “I’m still the only one allowed to give hickeys.”

He stares at your neck for a moment and then his eyes meet yours, all sleep has disappeared from them all of a sudden.

“Mm, actually… let me fix you with one…” He dips his head into your neck and pushes his plush lips against your neck.

You close your eyes as his breath hits your skin and you feel him nibbling on the sensitive spot right under your ear. Your head falls on the pillow and you run your hands up and down his naked chest. He presses his body against you and you grip onto his shoulder, pulling him on top of you as you roll onto your back.

“Looks so pretty, babe.” He whispers when he pulls away and watches the small mark on your neck.

With a cloudy mind you sigh, while he is fully awake now you feel like you’re being put into a trance.

“Chan,” you whisper, combing his hair back with your fingers. “You do realise I have to walk behind you at the airport, right? Now sporting this thing on my neck.”

He smiles and chuckles, “couldn’t help it…” He brushes his nose against yours. “I remember seeing you dance and jump around last night. You looked so cute, so excited to watch us perform. I’m glad you had fun.”

You nod with your head still on the pillow. Looking up at Chan you understand a little better why he wanted you to come. It has been a couple of months since you two decided to grow the family, encouraged by those members who already had kids. The night before you had helped Changbin!Reader with her two year old, Hajoon. She was an excitable little girl and you had a lot of fun holding her and dancing, playing with her small hands as she giggled with her big noise cancelling headphones. Obviously, Chan was eager to watch you have that same kind of fun with a child of your own.

“Aw, are you getting the baby fever?” You tease him, “welcome to my life, be thankful LeeKnow!Reader couldn’t be here, I’m a fool for their baby boy!”

Chan giggles, giving your lips a soft peck.

“Don’t worry, you can be a fool for our baby too. Let’s work on that, yeah?” He proposes.

“Oh, you’re on a schedule now? Is it time for that?” You tease.

“Mmmhm,” He kisses you, smiling into the kiss. “It’s time.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and play with the hair on the back of his head, letting his tongue into your mouth once he licks your bottom lip. You bring your leg up to his hip and feel his hand pull it up against his side. Your hand goes to find his arm and you hold on to him, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. He kisses down your neck and bites every so often, making you gasp and let out little whispered sounds. He pulls your shirt and shorts off and has you laying on your back naked in a few minutes. His hands touch your legs from the ankle to the back of your knee, to your thighs and then his strong hands grip your hips. You reach up and touch his naked chest.

Chan grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles and the back of your hand, before leaning down and kissing your stomach, right above your belly button. You whine under his kiss but let him kiss an agonisingly slow path down your belly and between your legs.

He really gives no warning before his face is buried into you, his hands holding your legs apart over his shoulders.

You gasp under his mouth and put a hand on his hair, fingers tangle with his dark locks while your other hand holds on to fistfulls of the bedsheets. You throw your head back as his tongue works on your most sensitive spot, making sure you are absolutely ready for him. You pant with a strong string tightening inside you, breathing seems so difficult as he laps at your folds, his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit. He hums into your sensitive knob and you gasp loudly, legs shaking in his grasp. He keeps going, eating you out like a starved man, only stopping after you cum on his mouth. You call out his name, your back arching off the bed as you do. He kisses your thighs and then your belly and up to your chest, his hands now eager to grope your breasts, he speaks against your chest, lips brushing your skin as he does so. “So pretty, babe… you’ll be even prettier with our baby…”

You nod, lazy hand landing on his shoulder. “Mmhm,” you kiss his lips, “I can’t wait…”

He leans into your kiss and struggles to kick off his boxers fast enough, you laugh as he has to step off the bed to get them off. Smiling, you sit up in the middle of the bed and wrap your arms around your weakened legs and stare. He looks back at you with a sheepish smile on his face as he stands fully naked before you.

“What are you laughing at?” He climbs onto the bed again, his hands land on your knees and he pulls them apart slowly, still face to face with you as you sit up.

“I’m thinking I love you,” you caress his cheek. “And that I am so eager to have your baby one day, hopefully soon…”

It is not spoken, but as the time has gone on and you’re still a couple months into trying for a baby, the two of you have relaxed a lot about the topic. Especially you, since the stress of it was not doing you any good. Chan feels his heart fill with hope when you say those words. He wants the same thing you want and he knows the uncertainty of the situation is hard to cope with, everytime you get a period it’s both of you who deal with the disappointment. Everytime you’re together like this, you remind each other that it’s not a “task”, that you’re doing it because you want to, because it means something.

He sighs and his shoulders relax, he laughs to himself and grabs your face. “I love you too, Y/N. And I can’t wait either…”

You cup his face and bring your lips to his, he leans the rest of the way and he pushes you down slowly, hovering over you as you wrap your legs around his waist. He slips his hand between your bodies and guides himself inside you. You grip his shoulders and moan into his ear as he starts kissing down your neck. You feel him sink in, all the way in until there is no more space between you. He whispers in your ear but at that moment he starts moving. His hips snap against yours and you plant your feet on the bed, head thrown back.

“Channie…”

He hums and groans into your skin. Picking up the pace, it becomes almost unbearable the way he reaches the most sensitive spot inside you, your legs shaking with the imminent release approaching. You dig your fingers into his back and meet his every move, hips meeting his.

“...so close, Chan… ‘m so close…” You let him know in a whine.

He pulls your legs up, his hands find the back of your knees and he pushes them against your chest as he keeps going.

“It’s okay, babe… I’ve got you,” he basically folds you in half as he continues with a fast pace.

You grab onto the bed sheets and soon find the drag of his cock inside you too much, a loud moan falling from your lips as you cum. He gasps and fucks you through it, his hips stuttering a couple of times before he suddenly lands a hand on the headboard behind your head.

“That’s it babe, I’m going to… gonna cum too.” He announces.

Only a couple thrusts later, his warm cum is spilling inside you. You reach up and pull his hand down kissing his bicep before he lets go of your other leg and you can fully wrap yourself around him.

You let Chan kiss your lips, your cheek and your neck before he pulls away and peppers your collarbone with kisses as well.

“You’re so extra…” you joke, he chuckles and asks why, “because you didn’t have to put me in a mating press!”

He breathes in, “oh, you love it…”

You put your hands on your face, unable to deny his statement. You hear him laughing and cannot help yourself but smile.

“See?” He kisses your hands still on your face. “Hey, I’ve got a good feeling about this…”

You let him take your hands away from your face and smile at one another, hopeful but unaware this would be the moment that would change your lives.

———

Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for reading!

[taexoxosgf]

1:00 AM

classmate!mark x fem!reader

“Do you seriously not know the meaning behind Netflix and chill?”

warnings: hickeys, dry-humping

— inspired by @1kook ‘s netflix & chill series

Tapping at your thigh, your impatience grows after every second that passes.

You're not typically this horny or impatient, but to set the scene, you met Mark on the first day of classes. As everyone filed into the auditorium and the professor began rambling, he took the seat alongside yours. Throughout the first week of school, you started talking to him, sharing mutual interests and small talk. You think he's awfully cute. So you went ahead and texted him, wanting to "Netflix and chill" this weekend. Maybe you were being too direct, but the deed had already been done, so you might as well embrace it.

He doesn’t hesitate with a ‘for sure’ text back, not asking further questions or details about your request. You smile at that, excited to explore another side of the cute boy who you see in class.

The day arrives, and he walks over to your flat, smiling affectionately as the door swings open. You both laugh and fond over each other while he cooks dinner and joins you afterward at the dinner table. He's so funny and sweet you realize, finally conversing about things other than school; it just influences you to increase your expectations, and you wonder why hookups aren't typically like this.

Now you're both adjacent to each other, your body cuddling up to his side as the movie plays. It's amusing since Mark hasn't made a single move towards you all night. Aside from the arm around your shoulder, he hasn't attempted to sneak his arm any lower. And he hasn't yet attempted to even kiss you. Perhaps he changed his mind? The movie is almost over, and the line has yet to be crossed. But the voice in the back of your head tells you that just because he didn't plan to tonight doesn't mean he doesn't want to, right? A glimmer of optimism just helps to persuade you more, and once you dig a hole, you only dig deeper.

He laughs at a comedic moment in the film and you find it adorable. He’s so invested and that’s when you realize Mark seriously didn’t come here to have sex with you. It’s not his intention at all. His kindness and investment into everything you both did tonight is probably an effort into a full-on date.

But this only made you more horny and attracted to him. Fuck, you want to jump his bones so fucking bad. And you’re cursing yourself but like a bitch in heat you’re already escalating the situation.

“Mark, the movie’s almost over,” you look up at him.

He’s chuckling at your random commentary then looking down at you, “Yeah, it’s almost over.”

“It’s almost over, and I invited you to Netflix and chill,” maybe the phrase ‘Netflix and chill’ flew over his head but it couldn’t be because you literally texted him those three words.

He blinks at you, almost like he’s unable to process your rhetoric.

“Aren’t we doing that right now?” he quirks. Maybe he’s clueless or the facade is running right past you, but you fully believe Mark actually has no idea about the ulterior motive of the popular phrase.

It’s alarming. So alarming, that you have to sit up from Mark’s side to look at him. You’re really attempting to understand how he doesn’t know the popular booty-call slang, head tilted to the side and all.

“Is there something wrong?” he questions.

You smirk, “Do you seriously not know the meaning behind ‘Netflix and chill?’”

He pauses, staring like a deer in headlights, “It has another meaning? What else would it mean?”

“Markie,” you inch closer to him, so much that your noses brush at the nickname. “You’re so cute,” you say slowly as you straddle him with one leg on each side of his thighs. Thankfully, you wore a skirt, so the thin panties are the only things between the rough material of his jeans.

“Why’d you agree to my text, but won’t do just that?” his breath hitches as you slightly move around on him, but it doesn’t do much because you’re not directly on top of where he needs it most.

“W-what?” he stutters slightly.

“It means,” you bring your lips to graze his earlobe. “You wanna fuck,” u purr and he freezes at the revelation.

“You wanna fuck while some movie plays in the background,” at this, your hips move directly above his crotch and the weight of your body forces him to groan softly in pleasure.

“It’s j-just an excuse,” You whimper as you move gently against him. Mark's hooded eyes tenderly glance at you, his erection slowly increasing against his jeans as the scene progresses. Because of his hesitation, his hands have already found homage at your hips, and you almost grab them to move them yourself.

Already, you're dragging your lips against his neck, sucking and biting to leave gentle marks on his flesh. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unknowingly tugging on his locks, only for him to squirm beneath you, hands attempting to steer your hips. And it's not quite enough for you to cum, but the zipper rubbing against your clit sends goosebumps up your spine, and you moan against his neck.

"Will you do it?" You resume licking a stripe up his neck. When you notice the lust on his face, you can't help but beam a grin.

"Yes," he gasps at the sensation of your motions against him.

"I'll do it."