#christmas feels even thought it’s march

[theonottsbxtch]

WAR IS OVER | CL16

an: this has been in my drafts for so long and i’ve been so excited to share it with all of you! listen to happy xmas by john lennon to enhance experience or whatever. MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! (if you don’t celebrate, then happy holidays and happy new year!) also this is low-key slightly angsty and emotional but HEA!!

airforce!charles x reader

wc: 2.8k

Snowfall had begun in earnest that December, blanketing the village in a hush so profound it felt as though the world itself were holding its breath. The young woman stood at the kitchen sink, hands submerged in icy dishwater, staring absently out the frost-etched window. The sky was a pale grey, a curtain of wintry gloom stretched thin over rooftops where chimneys smoked and whispered of warmth.

She glanced down at her hands, red from the cold despite the scarf wrapped snug around her wrists, and sighed. Dorothy and Julian were in the parlour, their laughter spilling into the house like sunlight. Dorothy had spent the morning cutting paper chains while Julian orchestrated a kingdom of tin soldiers on the hearth. Their joy pierced her heart like shards of glass—a reminder of Charles. Julian’s unruly hair fell into his eyes just the way his father’s had, and Dorothy’s cheeky smile carried the same tilt of mischief.

The letter was still hidden in her dresser drawer, folded too neatly for something so devastating. It had arrived in the brittle chill of early November, its official tone draining all warmth from the room as she read the curt words: "Presumed missing, believed dead." Protocol, they’d called it. A mechanism for closing doors, for stitching the torn fabric of lives left behind. But the wound in her heart remained unsewn.

The children didn’t know. How could they? She had tucked the grief away, smothering it beneath cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “Mummy, can we have plum pudding this year?” Dorothy had asked, her face aglow with anticipation. She had forced a smile then, nodding and promising, though the thought of Christmas without Charles’s deep laugh, his steady presence, seemed unbearable.

As the evening descended, the village grew quiet save for the occasional crunch of boots on snow as neighbours hurried home. The lights on the tree—a scraggly thing Julian had insisted was perfect when they’d brought it in—glimmered faintly, their glow reflected in the baubles Charles had hung last year. She turned away, blinking back tears, and began laying the table for supper.

That night, as she tucked Dorothy and Julian into bed, their excitement was infectious. “Father Christmas is coming soon!” Julian declared, his small fists clutching the quilt.

“He won’t forget our house, will he?” Dorothy asked, her voice serious.

“Of course not,” she replied, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. She kissed their foreheads, inhaling their innocent warmth, and closed the door quietly behind her.

In the stillness of her bedroom, she unfolded the letter once more. The inked words blurred as she stared at them. It was easier, somehow, to believe that the man who had written her so many tender notes, who had kissed her hand on their wedding day, was merely gone for now. Lost but not beyond reach. Yet the shadows of doubt loomed larger with each passing day.

She had told no one. Not her neighbours, whose own husbands and sons littered foreign graves. Not her children, who still whispered prayers for their father each night. She carried it silently, a solitary burden she could neither lay down nor bear much longer.

Outside, the bells of St. Mary’s chimed the hour, each peal a cruel reminder of time’s unyielding march towards Christmas. A Christmas that loomed hollow and bereft. She pressed her forehead to the cold glass, her breath misting the windowpane. Beyond, the world glittered as if untouched by sorrow, as if unaware of her breaking heart.

Christmas morning arrived with the world awash in golden light, the snow outside sparkling like diamonds. Dorothy and Julian burst into her room, their faces alight with the boundless excitement of the day.

“Mum! It’s Christmas!” Julian shouted, already tugging her from her bed.

Dorothy held a small package, wrapped in newspaper and tied with string. “This one’s for you! We saved it, just for today.”

The sight of their shining faces filled her with guilt and gratitude in equal measure. She managed a smile, sitting with them by the hearth as they tore into their small pile of gifts. Wooden soldiers for Julian, a tin tea set for Dorothy—modest treasures in a time of rationing, but enough to spark joy in her children.

As they played, a commotion erupted outside. Shouts echoed down the cobbled street, punctuated by the sharp clang of a handbell.

“The war is over! It’s over!”

She froze, the words piercing through her like sunlight breaking a storm. From her seat on the rug, Dorothy gasped. “Mummy, does that mean Daddy’s coming home?”

She couldn’t speak, the question lodging like a thorn in her throat. All she could do was pull them close, and smile.

“Let’s go outside and celebrate!” She replied instead, walking over to the coat hangers.

She bundled the children into their coats and scarves, their squeals of excitement filling the small house. Dorothy’s cheeks were already pink with joy, her hands fumbling with her mittens.

“Mummy, hurry!” Julian urged, hopping from foot to foot. “We have to go see!”

She forced a smile and kissed the top of his head. “Go on, both of you. I’ll be just a moment.”

The children dashed out into the snow, their laughter spilling down the lane to join the jubilant cries of the neighbours. She closed the door softly behind them, the house falling quiet once more.

Leaning against the door, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her face, the tears spilling unchecked now that no one was there to see. The news should have been a balm, but it felt more like a cruel twist. The war was over, but Charles would not be coming back with the others. She was sure of it now, the hope that had lingered for so long finally extinguished.

The house felt cavernous again, the weight of her solitude pressing down on her chest. She moved into the kitchen, the floorboards creaking underfoot. The sight of the breakfast dishes—half-eaten toast and crumbs left behind in the morning’s rush—only deepened her ache.

She braced herself against the sink, staring out at the frost-covered garden. Her shoulders shook, the sobs spilling out of her like waves breaking against a crumbling shore. She had carried this grief alone for so long, but now it threatened to consume her entirely.

“Mummy?”

The soft voice startled her, and she turned to find Dorothy standing in the doorway, her small face pinched with concern.

“Why are you crying?” Dorothy asked, stepping forward with cautious, measured steps.

“I’m not, darling,” she lied, hastily dabbing at her cheeks.

“You are,” Dorothy said plainly, slipping her hand into her mother’s. “But you don’t have to. The war’s over, and Daddy would want us to be happy. You should come outside. Everyone’s singing.”

The simplicity of her daughter’s words cut straight through her. She knelt, wrapping Dorothy in a fierce hug, the warmth of her small body grounding her.

“All right, love,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Let’s go and celebrate.”

Dorothy smiled and tugged her hand, leading her to the door.

The street was alive with celebration. Neighbours who had spent years steeped in quiet, rationed hardship now spilled into the snow-covered road, their faces alight with relief and joy. Someone had hauled a wireless outside, the strains of carols mingling with the jubilant cheers. A man passed with a tray of mince pies, offering one to Julian, who accepted with sticky-fingered glee.

Dorothy twirled in circles, her arms outstretched as snowflakes caught in her hair. Her mother stood at the edge of the crowd, watching her children with a tender ache. For their sake, she tried to let herself feel the joy that surrounded her, to bask in the miracle of peace.

“Mummy, look!” Julian called, pointing to a group of men raising a toast with tin mugs. “Maybe Daddy’s with them!”

Her breath caught. She scanned the crowd reflexively, knowing in her heart she wouldn’t find him there. Yet she let Julian cling to the hope she couldn’t bear to shatter.

As the afternoon waned, she gathered her children, their cheeks red from the cold, their hands clutching treasures gifted by neighbours—sweets, a small wooden horse for Julian, a knitted scarf for Dorothy.

Inside, the warmth of the house embraced them, the fire crackling merrily in the grate. She shepherded them upstairs, brushing away their protestations.

“Christmas isn’t over, Mummy,” Dorothy said, yawning despite herself.

“No, it isn’t,” she said with a small smile, tucking her daughter in snugly. “There’s still tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after that.”

She kissed their foreheads, lingering just a moment longer to drink in their innocence. How had they carried on, so untouched by the weight that threatened to crush her? She envied them their resilience, their belief that the world could be made whole again.

Once they were asleep, she descended the stairs, the house eerily quiet once more. The fire in the hearth glowed faintly, its light casting long shadows across the room. She settled into her worn chair, pulling a shawl around her shoulders, her hands curled around a steaming mug.

The world outside had stilled. The street celebrations had quieted, the snow falling again in soft, measured drifts. Her thoughts wandered to Charles, as they always did when the house was silent. She tried to picture his face as it had been the last time she saw him, standing tall in his uniform, a brave smile hiding the fear she knew he felt.

A sharp knock broke through her reverie. She startled, her mug slipping from her hands and clattering to the floor. For a moment, she sat frozen, her heart racing. Who could be calling at this hour?

She rose slowly, her legs trembling as she crossed the room. The cold air seeped in as she opened the door, her breath catching in her throat.

There he stood, framed by the golden glow of the streetlamp behind him. His uniform was tattered, his face pale with exhaustion, but it was him—Charles.

“Hello, love,” he said softly, his voice hoarse but warm, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Her hand flew to her mouth, a sob escaping her lips as the weight of the months, the grief and fear, melted away all at once. “I thought you were dead,” she choked, her words barely a whisper.

He stepped forward, his arms wrapping around her tightly, solid and real. She clung to him, her tears soaking into his coat as he murmured soothing words, his voice trembling with emotion.

For the first time in what felt like forever, her heart felt whole.

For a long moment, she couldn’t let go of him. Her hands clung to his coat as if he might vanish if she dared loosen her grip. The snowflakes clinging to his hair melted into beads of water, and his warmth seeped into her, chasing away the cold that had lived in her heart for months.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered again, her voice trembling.

“I nearly was,” he admitted, his voice low, hoarse with emotion and exhaustion. He pulled back slightly to look at her, his hand lifting to brush away her tears. His touch was tender, his fingers lingering as though trying to memorise her face. “There’s so much to tell you, love. The mission went wrong… we were shot down. Most of us didn’t make it. I was captured—held prisoner for weeks.”

She gasped softly, her heart breaking anew at the thought of what he must have endured. “Oh, Charles…”

“It’s over now,” he said, his voice steadying as he cupped her face in his hands. “I escaped when the retreat began. It was a long road back, but I’m here. I’m back. And I’m not going anywhere again. Ever.”

The tears came fresh, her relief pouring out in sobs that wracked her entire frame. He pulled her close, his arms encircling her as he held her tightly, anchoring her in the moment.

When she looked up at him again, he smiled, the lines of weariness softening into something infinitely gentle. She reached up, her hand trembling as she touched his cheek, then leaned in, her lips brushing his. The kiss was slow, delicate, and filled with everything she couldn’t put into words—her anguish, her longing, her love.

When they finally broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, and he let out a soft, shaky breath.

“The kids?” he asked, his voice hushed, as though afraid to disturb the peace of the moment.

She smiled through her tears, taking his hand. “Come on,” she whispered, leading him up the stairs.

The house was quiet save for the creak of the floorboards beneath their feet. She paused at the children’s door, easing it open with care. The soft glow of the moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating Dorothy and Julian as they slept soundly, their faces peaceful.

Charles stepped into the room, his hand still in hers. He knelt by Julian’s bed first, his expression softening as he took in the sight of his son. His fingers brushed the boy’s dark hair, and his throat worked as though he were fighting back tears.

Then he moved to Dorothy, his gaze lingering on her delicate features. She stirred slightly in her sleep, murmuring something incoherent before settling again.

“They’ve grown,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“They have,” she said, her own voice trembling. “They look so much like you.”

He glanced back at her, his eyes shining, and then turned to gaze at them again. “I can’t believe I almost missed this. Missed them.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, the two of them standing together in silence for a long moment, watching their children sleep. It was a moment she thought she’d never have again—a moment that felt too precious to disturb, too fragile to let go.

When they finally left the room, closing the door quietly behind them, he pulled her into his arms once more. “I’m back,” he murmured against her hair. “Back for good. We’re whole again, love. Whole.”

The quiet of the house enveloped them as she led him to their room. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open, revealing the familiar space that had so often been her refuge—and her prison—in his absence. The room felt warmer with him in it, the shadows less oppressive, the air lighter.

Charles stood just inside the doorway, his weary eyes scanning the room, as if grounding himself in the life he had fought so hard to return to. She turned to him, her fingers trembling as they moved to the buttons of his tattered coat.

“Let me,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on her face as she worked the buttons loose, one by one. The coat slipped from his shoulders, heavy with the weight of everything he’d been through. She caught it before it hit the floor, draping it carefully over a chair. When she looked up again, she saw his shirt beneath, threadbare and stained, a testament to all he hadn’t told her yet.

Her breath hitched, and she reached out to touch him—his chest, solid and warm beneath the worn fabric. Her tears came again, spilling silently as she rested her forehead against him.

“War is over, Cha,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “It’s over.”

His hand came up to cup the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair as he held her close. “It’s over,” he echoed softly, his voice steady, as if speaking the words made them real.

They stood like that for a long moment, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire downstairs and the whisper of the snow against the window. She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, and in his eyes, she saw the same relief, the same raw gratitude that coursed through her.

Wordlessly, she led him to the bed, pulling back the quilt she had lain under alone for far too long. He eased down beside her, his body sinking into the mattress with a sigh of exhaustion. She followed, curling against him as he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close.

For the first time in months, the bed didn’t feel so empty, the darkness didn’t seem so vast, and the ache in her chest was no longer unbearable. They lay in silence, the words unspoken between them carried in the warmth of his touch, the steadiness of his breathing.

As sleep began to claim them, she whispered into the stillness, “You’re home, Charles.”

And in the soft darkness, he answered, his voice a balm to her weary soul: “I’m home.”

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

[holdmytesseract]

So Close To Love

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: On Tony's Christmas party isn't a certain God able to keep his eyes from you, and yet he can't bring himself to make a move - or can he?

Warnings: alcohol, music? idiots in love, not a happy end but I'd say there's hope, feels, slight thirst?

Word Count: 2,4k

a/n: Merry Christmas, y'all! I hope this lil' present I have for you manages to put a smile on your faces! 🤗🎄

This oneshot is kinda based on that song:

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

divider by @jiyascepter

"Must I really attend this ridiculous Christmas party of that arrogant imbecile, calling himself a-" "Brother," Thor cut Loki off rebukingly. "Enough. Behave yourself, I beg of you. I know you don't wish to attend, but it will be good for you. You have to show interest or Fury might question your probation - once more," the blond Asgardian chided. "It's for your best and you know it. Now come on, get dressed."

Loki rolled his eyes, but deep down knew that his brother was - unfortunately - right. With a soft, annoyed groan he lifted himself off of the comfortable beanbag in his reading corner and closed the book shut he held in his hands. Thor smiled like a Cheshire cat - proud of having convinced his stubborn sibling.

With the snap of Loki's fingers engulfed him an emerald green haze and replaced the sweatpants and t-shirt with black slacks, shiny black dress shoes and a very formfitting shirt - also black. "There. Are you happy now, brother?"

The god of thunder's smile did not cease; one meaty hand reaching out to clap his brother rather harshly on the shoulder. "Yes, I am. Let us join the party!" Thor already marched towards the main door. "I bet Lady Y/N will be present as well," he added with a small wink and stomped out of Loki's apartment. The raven haired god rolled his eyes once again, "Oaf." but couldn't shake the nervous feeling and anticipation flame up inside him. If you were truly going to be there... His heart skipped a beat at the mere thought. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. A goddess. An angel walking the earth. And your sweet, kind and selfless personality... How you conquered his heart without even knowing...

"Brother!" "Oh, for Norns sake, I am coming!"

"Okay, what do you think?" You stepped out of your bathroom; taking a deep breath. You slowly twirled in a circle then; showing off the dress you chose to wear for Tony's Christmas party to Nat and Wanda. Red - fitting the topic.

Both your best friend's jaws dropped. You giggled. "Good or horrible?" "Neither, babes. This is... stunningly sexy, yet cute." Wanda nodded; agreeing with the Russian spy. "Absolutely." You looked down yourself. "Yeah? Really? It's not too much?" "No. Not if you try to attract the attention of a certain man - or should I say god?" You reached over and threw a pillow your friend's way; hitting her square on the stomach. "Shut up, Nat! He isn't interested in me - and we all know that." You walked back inside the bathroom to check a last time on your hair, but actually desperately tried to hide the blush on your face - because Natasha was right.

While you tried to flee, exchanged the Widow a knowing look with the Scarlet Witch; both women suppressing their giggles. They knew. Of course, they knew.

The party was already in full swing, as you stepped through the opened doors of Tony's penthouse apartment. The band in the corner - dressed in fancy golden shimmering suits played some classical Christmas songs, but also normal music. You saw waiters paving their ways through the crowd of Avengers, rich people and several hot shots of the American government, SHIELD and the military. They held glasses of champagne and fancy little snacks on trays. Some people already occupied the dance floor, others were chatting or nursing drink after drink at the festively decorated bar. It smelled like expensive alcohol, rich cologne and remnants of cold smoke. It was awful.

You were an Avenger and had every right to attend this party - and yet you felt so out of place.

"Come on, babes. Let's get a drink and have some fun," Natasha's voice ripped you out of your thoughts; feeling her tug you after her. You didn't even protest and followed your best friends; greeting Steve, Tony, Pepper and Bucky on the way.

Thor and Loki were seated on a creme white leather sofa across the room; close to the huge French door, which led to the roof garden. Both men had a drink in their hands. While the blond god chatted enthusiastically with Dr. Jane Foster and a few other... scientists, Loki found himself utterly bored; having to witness his brother's lousy attempts at flirting. He rolled his eyes subtly, and brought the glass in his hand to his lips in order to take a sip of the alcoholic liquid - and almost choked.

His eyes had travelled across the spacious apartment, and had landed directly on you. The raven haired god hadn't spotted you before, but now that he did, he felt like he could barely breathe. You wore a stunningly beautiful red dress, which highlighted your curves to perfection and suited your whole appearance. Loki couldn't help but to stare; distracted by your looks and the sweet smile upon your lips, which managed to turn his knees into jelly.

"You should ask her to dance, you know." Thor's quietened voice suddenly urged to his ears. He noticed how close his brother had slid over to him on the sofa; his gaze directed on you as well. Loki scoffed and played it cool; downing the rest of his Martini. "Why in Odin's name should I do that, brother? I can tell there already is a line with men wanting to dance with her. See all those rich sycophants eye-fucking her?" He jutted his head at a group of men in tuxedos; standing only a few bar tables away. Thor's eyes followed. "I bet they'd do everything to get her attention and lure her into their 'honey-trap'. She doesn't need another one."

"Why don't you make sure to get her before they can, brother? Are you truly willing to lose the Lady of your interest to such vile men?" The raven haired god stood up from the sofa, "You forget that I am no hero, Thor." and walked away without another word; straight to the bar. The blond god only shook his head in disbelief.

The evening progressed; alcohol flew and caused the party to get wilder. By now, almost everybody had fun on the makeshift dance floor - no matter the song. Loki, though, was still sitting alone at the bar; glad that nobody had approached him. After all, he had just attended the party because it was the 'best for him' and good for his reputation. Which reputation? The god asked himself; almost starting to chuckle. He hated it to be here and yet he hadn't left.

The reason was simple...

He found himself unable to avert his eyes from you. He tried, but failed gloriously. Loki watched you dance with one man after the other - all of them besuited billionaire playboys; each of them trying to flatter and impress you more. As if it was a competition. He could already feel the bile rising in his throat by the mere look at them. This wasn't the proper way to gain the attention of a lady. Typical mortal men... It disgusted him.

Another feeling he also couldn't shake was jealousy... Yes, he was jealous of that unworthy mortal scum touching you in such an intimate way. Dancing was an art. The expression of feelings and status. Obviously not on Midgard...

What Loki didn't see, though, with being blinded by jealousy and frustration, was that you absolutely didn't enjoy yourself. You hated these... machos just as much as Loki, and yet you were too kind to recline their ask for a dance and your attention.

"Save her." A feminine, quite familiar voice urged to his ears through the music. The god frowned and slowly turned on his bar stool to face the 'intruder'. "What are you talking about, Miss Romanoff?" The Widow's gaze drifted over to you, then back to Loki. "Don't act innocent, Laufeyson. You know exactly what I'm talking about," Nat urged him on just like his brother. She gave the god a smile alongside a wink, ordered another drink and vanished in the crowd again.

A groan of distress left the god's lips; his pointer finger dancing over his bottom lip in thought.

Again he let his eyes wander over to you. His gaze lingered and he felt his chest tightened. No, he couldn't. Swallowing hard, he averted his eyes once again and redirected his attention to the bartender. "Another, please." The friendly man behind the counter nodded and replaced his empty glass with a full one.

Once Loki had downed this drink as well, he stood up with a sigh and turned to finally leave - crashing into another body. Out of instinct, his arms reached out to steady the person he just almost ran over. "Apologies, I-" When the god lifted his gaze and found himself staring into your mesmerising Y/E/C eyes, his breath hitched. "Y-Y/N..." Loki desperately tried to keep it together; clearing his throat. "I did not mean to run into you. Again, my apologies." He didn't notice that his palms were still gently gripping your upper arms - but you did; having a hard time to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"N-No! No need to apologise. I-I mean, I should've watched where I'm going as well, so..." You smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear - a nervous habit. "It's fine, really." That was a lie. In fact, nothing was fine. Your heart was running a marathon; the sudden encounter caused your feelings to run wild.

Loki gave you a small smile as well, "Very well." and cleared his throat, as he noticed that he was still holding you; quickly letting go of you.

Your skin tingled where he had touched you, and you couldn't deny that you were already longing for his touch again.

An awkward moment of silence between the two of you passed, but before any of you could say something, the lights in the apartment got suddenly dimmed and the music changed.

I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight I've never seen you shine so bright, mhm-hmm

Some might say it gave off romantic vibes. Major romantic vibes...

From the corner of your eyes you could see couples starting to sway together to the famous soft rock song.

I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance They're looking for a little romance, given half a chance

Loki swallowed hard and licked his lips; heart threatening to break free from his ribcage. "Dance with me," the god suddenly uttered; mouth working faster than his brain could think. "Please." Your gaze lifted to meet his again - and feared you were going to drown in those beautiful blues. "Yes." It was your heart speaking.

The handsome god gave you another soft smile, before he gently reached for your hand and took a few steps backwards; pulling you gently with him and away from the bar.

And I have never seen that dress you're wearing Or the highlights in your hair that catch your eyes I have been blind

Loki's hand found your waist then; his other hand engulfing your smaller one. You bit your lip and placed your free hand on his black shirt clad shoulder. Together, you started to sway to the music.

The lady in red Is dancing with me, cheek to cheek

It felt so different. Different from any other man you had danced with tonight. It felt right. How gentle, yet firm Loki's touch was. How he guided you over the dance floor. The way his hand held yours. It was overwhelming.

Almost shyly you lifted your head; eyes locking with those endless blues of his. And once more you felt yourself drowning. No words were exchanged. Neither of you had to. You could read it on the god's face; saw it in his eyes.

The dozens of other people faded into a blur around you. It was just you and Loki. Nobody else existed in that very moment.

You could feel yourself closing the distance between you further; your head resting against his firm shoulder. Loki's heart skipped several beats - unbeknownst to you. And he certainly did not reject the invitation. He let the hand on your waist slowly glide to rest on the small of your back; pushing you even closer against his body. You were so close now that you could smell his intoxicating cologne with every breath you took. Leather, charred wood and something citrusy. It caused your head to spin.

You could also feel his definitely unsteady breath against the burning hot skin of your cheek - and you could swear you could still smell the remnants of alcohol. Martini?

Without even noticing had your gaze dropped to his lips; wondering how they would feel against yours. Wondering how he'd taste.

Perhaps Loki was able to read your mind. Or he could feel it to. Whatever it was, it urged him on to lower his head; nose grazing your cheek as his lips hovered over yours. You feared that your heart was going to explode; anticipation and want coursing through your veins.

Loki was about to finally close the remaining distance between the two of you, when the lighting got turned up again; the brightness almost blinding - and the moment between you and the god bursting like a bubble. The both of you could do nothing but blink; now standing an arm length away form each other again.

"I-I'm sorry," Loki muttered and before you could say something, he had vanished in the crowd of people around you. With your mouth slightly agape you stared a hole in the floor where the god had been standing just a few seconds ago; stunned. Your brain was having a hard time to process what just happened. Hence, you didn't even know what exactly happened...

Loki cursed under his breath as he stumbled into his dark, empty apartment in the Avengers tower. He was such a fool. How could he be so stupid to just leave you standing there? He could've had all he ever wanted - and now he was sitting on the floor; back pressed against the frame of his bed, black curls a mess and black shirt halfway undone, with empty hands. And why? All because the oh so brave and arrogant princely womaniser had gotten cold feet. Seducing and charming a woman wasn't a problem. Seducing and charming the woman he loved seemed to be impossible.

Loki ran his hands over his face with a groan. He was an idiotic imbecile.

Tags: @fictive-sl0th @gruftiela @theaudacitytowrite @anukulee @alexakeyloveloki @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @chennqingg @muddyorbsblr @glitchquake @mandywholock1980 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @mochie85 @dryyoursaltyoceantears @chantsdemarins @loz-3 @eleniblue @goblingirlsarah @crimson25 @icytrickster17 @lokidbadguy @hunny-beann @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kimanne723 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokidokieokie @lovingchoices14 @valencia-rou @kikster606 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @huntedmusicgardenn @linaax @sheris532 @km-ffluv @jiyascepter @salvinaa @lcolumbia1988 @blackholeofcreativity @lou12346789 @soulpiercing @loonalockley @liliac-dreamer @brokenpoetliz (Continuing in the comments)

[seungkw1]

safe haven — ljh

♡ pairing: neighbor!jihoon x fem!reader ♡ theme: fluff, hurt/comfort ♡ wc: 3.9k ♡ warnings: post-breakup dynamics, cheating (from ex), swearing, mentions of food ♡ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! give all these talented writers some love <3 and big thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!!

As if your fiancé leaving you for another woman wasn’t enough to make this the shittiest week of your life, now you’ve managed to lock yourself out of your house during an incoming blizzard. At least your next-door neighbor is home, and he’s kind enough to offer you shelter from the storm. You barely know Jihoon, only having spoken to him a few times - but soon, you discover you have more in common than you initially thought.

Five days ago, you made the innocent mistake of picking up your fiancé’s phone when you thought it was yours. You noticed immediately when you saw the lock screen - it was a photo of you and him from last December, posed in front of a Christmas tree, taken minutes after he proposed. In it, you’re smiling ear to ear, enthusiastically showing off the beautiful engagement ring he bought you. The photo has been his wallpaper ever since. “You look so happy,” he told you a couple months ago. “I can’t bring myself to change it.”

You go to set the phone back down, but a notification catches your eye. You take a closer look, discovering a string of WhatsApp messages, all from somebody named Kelsey. 

Huh, that’s weird, you think to yourself. I didn’t know he even used WhatsApp. 

Normally, you’d think nothing of it - but something feels off. You hesitate for a moment. You know each other’s passcodes for the sake of convenience; you’ve never felt the need to go through his phone, and you feel bad about even thinking about doing it. But, your gut is telling you to investigate.

You input the password and open the message thread. You’re not quite sure what you’re even looking for, but two seconds of scrolling tells you all you need to know. Dumbfounded, you read the particular message three more times before it sinks in: 

Can’t wait for our vacation next week baby, I really need to get away from all of this right now. 

Your stomach lurches as if you’ve just been punched in the gut. He told you he was going on a business trip next week. He told you that months ago. 

Get away from ‘all of this’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Does he mean… me???

Blood rushes through your ears as you read through the never-ending series of sexts, nudes, notes more romantic than anything he’s ever said to you before, an entire paper trail of all the times and locations of the evident affair - until you feel like you’re going to be sick. 

No, it’s not real. It can’t be. There’s no way…

Paralyzed, you stand there in disbelief, but as several more minutes of scrolling pass, it becomes clear that this is actually happening. Tears start to well in your eyes, but you quickly bottle it up, converting the energy into anger instead. You take the phone and march into his office to confront him - ready to shut him down when he tries to deny it. 

But, he doesn’t even try to deny it. He doesn’t even care.

“Well, it’s about time you found out anyway,” he tells you nonchalantly.

“Our wedding is in three months!! How fucking long were you going to wait to tell me??”

“I was gonna tell you soon, I just needed it to be the right time.”

“The right time??!! When is there a right time to dump your fiancé???”

“Listen, y/n-”

“Don’t tell me to fucking listen!!” you raise your voice at him. “In fact, don’t say anything else. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“You can’t tell me to get out, this is my house too,” he replies, with the sheer audacity to have a tone of annoyance in his voice.

“It’s MY name on the fucking papers. Get. Out.”

And so, he left. Didn’t even give you his set of keys back. Didn’t even say goodbye.

Now, you sit here parked in your driveway, the howling of harsh winter winds whistling over the melancholy tune playing loudly from the car radio. The volume is cranked all the way up, but despite your best efforts to drown out the outside world, the sharp whooshing sounds persist. Looks like the incoming storm is going to be as bad as predicted - if not worse. The blustering begins to jostle the whole vehicle. You stare aimlessly out the front windshield, watching chunks of snow flying erratically through the air as the winds pick up further. With a sigh, you turn the ignition off, the engine and radio going silent. If you're going to sit around moping, might as well do it inside where it's warm. You reach for the garage door remote clipped on the visor above you, but your hand only hits the soft padding. Right, you think to yourself, still gotta get that one replaced too. 

You drag yourself out of your car, hastily throwing your coat on and stumbling through the wind toward your front door. Flipping through your keys, something feels off. You look down, assuming your frozen fingers are just too stiff to pick out the correct one. You stare at the collection for several seconds, but your house key is not there. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself in confusion. Then, a horrible realization sets in: you never put your new key on the keyring after getting your locks changed. 

You brace yourself against the wind, trudging through the pile of snow accumulating in your front yard. As you reach the window, you lean over the bushes, peering through the partially-shut blinds into your kitchen to see a set of gold keys, sitting upon the center of the countertop. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Your stupid ex-fiancé isn’t even around anymore and he’s still finding new ways to make your life miserable. If he had just returned your damn keys, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Tears start welling in your eyes - and this time, you surrender. The droplets begin to freeze on your face almost instantly, but you let yourself cry. After several minutes, you’re feeling slightly better - but you’re getting quite cold. You decide to head back to your car, at least turn the heat on while you try and figure out what to do, no need to stand here and get frostbite-

“Um, excuse me…”

You jump at the sound of the voice coming from behind you, whipping your head around to see a very bundled up man. You can’t see much of his face, but he looks to be in his late-twenties, with dark hair peeking out from under a thick beanie. It takes you a moment, but you realize it’s your next-door neighbor, Jihoon, whom you've met approximately once.

“I just wanted to check if you were okay,” he says loudly, doing his best to speak over the noisy wind. “You’ve been standing out here for a while.”

“Oh,” you reply, also speaking up. You wipe the tears off your cheeks with the back of your gloves. “Um, I’m kind of locked out of my house.”

“Is the lock frozen?”

“No- well actually, I don’t know, it might be, but I don’t have my key,” you explain, gesturing through the window. “It’s in there.”

“How did you manage to do that?” he inquires, not being condescending, but genuinely asking.

“The front door locks behind you when you leave.” 

“Ohhh. Well that’s no good.” He pauses for a moment, looking at you curiously, before continuing.

“Um, well I know you don't know me very well, but if you need a place to wait while you call somebody you are welcome to come in,” he tilts his head toward his house. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but it’s really dangerous to be out in this storm.”

Normally, you’d be standoffish to a man you barely know inviting you into his house - but, something about him tells you you can trust him. He looks and sounds sincere, and you really don’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, you’re fucking freezing. You nod at him.

“I would really appreciate that,” you shout over the wind. He nods back, gesturing for you to follow along. He walks with you to his front door, the both of you taking large steps to trek through the several inches of snow that has already accumulated. He turns the knob and ushers you inside, following quickly and shutting the door behind him. 

The sounds of the howling wind abruptly stop, the door creating a barricade between you and the heavy winter storm. Your ears ring slightly, but as you adjust to the quietness of indoors you pick up on a familiar tune playing from the other room. 

“Is that En Bateau I hear?” you ask as you unlace your boots. 

He’s in the middle of unwrapping his scarf from around his head, but he perks up at your question. “Yeah! You know Petite Suite?” 

“It’s one of my favorites,” you reply warmly as you take off your coat. You try to avoid letting the jacket’s heavy dusting of snow fall to the floor, without success. 

“Dammit, I got your floor all wet,” you inform him with a sigh. You realize you’re shivering - the house is warm, comfortably so, but standing out in the cold for however long you were out there certainly chilled you to your bones. He takes your coat from your hands, shaking off the rest of the snow before putting it on a hanger for you.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he tells you, grabbing a neatly folded towel from the closet and mopping up the mess. “There’s some blankets on the couch, you should warm yourself up.” 

The prospect of a nice cozy blanket sends you speedwalking into the living room. You spot the stack of blankets, also neatly folded, and grab the thickest one you see - it’s plush and velvety, dark red in color, and gigantic. You wrap the soft fleece around your whole body, plopping cross-legged onto the couch, practically turning yourself into a cocoon. Immediately you start to warm up, your poor frozen extremities finally relieved of the painful cold. As you defrost, your brain begins to work again, processing your surroundings. Though you’ve never been inside, your neighbor’s abode feels very homely - the decor is largely cream-colored, accented with warm earth tones, doused in low lighting sourced from a few lamps placed strategically around the room. Though a plain, warm white, the walls are flourished tastefully with various unique artworks - nothing you recognize, but all very pleasing to the eye. Not that your ex was a slob, but you’ve never known a man to be so neat and tasteful. Refreshing, you think to yourself.

You hear soft footsteps from behind you as Jihoon enters the room. You turn to see him bearing a glass of water, a piping hot mug, and a small metal tin. 

“I don’t know if you like tea,” he starts as he sets the beverages on the coffee table’s coasters. “But I thought you might want something warm to drink.”

“Tea sounds great, thank you so much,” you reply as you wiggle your arms out of the tangle of blanket surrounding you. Reaching for the tin, you pull out a bag of Earl Grey and place it in the mug to steep.

“It’s y/n, right?” he asks as he sits in a nearby armchair.

“That’s me,” you reply. “And you’re Jihoon, yes?”

He nods to confirm. “I know we met once a while ago,” he adds, “but I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”

"Of course I remember, I accidentally stole your packages,” you say with a laugh. “I felt bad about that for months.”

“No harm done, it was an honest mistake,” he replies with a calm smile. 

The tea is nowhere near ready, but you take a sip anyway. The hot liquid sends a wave of warmth through your whole body, making you instantly feel much better. Now that you’re not freezing and in tears, you can finally think straight, and you remember why you’re here in the first place.

“I should call the locksmith, god knows how long it’s gonna take them to get here in this storm,” you state as you look around for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh, I think my phone is still in my bag.”

You start to get up, but Jihoon is faster.

“Here, I’ll grab it for you.”

He disappears from the room in an instant, returning a few moments later with your bag in hand. Thanking him politely, you rummage around for your phone until you find it. You open Google and type locksmith into the search, calling the first one you see with good reviews. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, due to the storm we aren’t able to send anyone out until tomorrow.”

You try another one, but it’s the same story. A third one, no luck either. Nobody is able to come out until tomorrow morning. Dejected, you go ahead and schedule an appointment for 7am the next day. You do your best to remain calm, but you’re too exhausted to hold in your tears.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say to Jihoon, burying your face with your hands.

“Hey,” he replies softly. “It’s gonna be okay. You can stay here as long as you need.” 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you sigh.

“You’re not,” he assures you. “I promise. You’re welcome to take the guest room.”

“Are you sure?” you say with a sniffle, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Of course,” he nods. 

“Thank you so much,” you tell him sincerely. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem at all,” he says with a soft smile. “Also, are you hungry? I have some leftover stew I was going to heat up, if you’d like some.”

You didn’t even realize that you were hungry, but the mention of food makes your stomach rumble. 

“That sounds amazing,” you reply. 

Jihoon spends a few minutes in the kitchen, returning with two steaming bowls of a hearty-looking beef stew. 

“This is delicious,” you remark as you scoop another chunk of potato into your mouth. “I’m gonna need your recipe.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jihoon replies humbly. “I’m glad you like it.”

Several moments of silence pass between you two as you enjoy the meal, the music of Debussy’s piano filling the room in lieu of conversation. But instead of it being awkward, you feel peaceful, replenished from the food and the warmth of Jihoon’s home.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he eventually turns to ask you. “I like having something on while I eat, but if not it’s okay.”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply. “What are you watching right now?”

“Oh, um, I like… anime,” he says sheepishly, turning slightly pink with embarrassment. “But we definitely don’t have to watch that. What do you like?”

“Have you seen The Great British Bake Off?” you respond. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Never heard of it,” he admits, but he already has the tv remote in hand, opening the app.

“I haven’t seen the new season yet, if you want to start there.”

“Will I understand it if I haven’t seen the other seasons?” he inquires, causing you to giggle.

“It’s a reality show, each season is different,” you fill him in, proceeding to explain the premise. He listens earnestly, but his facial expression tells you he is skeptical. 

“It’s really good, I promise!” you assure him.

“I don’t really get it,” he admits with a confused look on his face. “But if you say it’s good, I’ll take your word for it.”

He puts on the first episode, letting you explain the different challenges to him. About halfway through the episode, he turns to you.

“So… what exactly do they win?”

“A cake stand,” you answer. The look of bewilderment on his face makes you laugh again.

“So they don’t even get any money from it??”

“Nope,” you reply, cozying up under the blanket again. “That’s why it’s so wholesome.”

“Ah, okay,” he says, still unsure about the whole thing. But by the end of the first episode, he’s hooked.

“How do they do that??” he remarks at each contestant’s fanciful cake in the final challenge, his eyes glued to the tv. As soon as the credits start to roll, he clicks the Next Episode button.

“See? I told you it was good,” you say with a sleepy smile. The combination of the satisfying dinner, the warmth of the blanket, and the relaxing nature of the show is quickly making your eyelids turn heavy. You lean your head against the back of the couch, determined not to doze off - but within a few minutes, you are fast asleep.

The soft light of early dawn glows through your closed eyelids as you begin to awaken. You’re so warm and comfortable that you don’t even bother opening your eyes - instead you just lay there, relaxing under the blankets. As your brain slowly wakes, last night’s events start to register in your mind - you grimace as you recall the bitter cold of being stuck outside your own house, having a breakdown, feeling utterly helpless until-

Your eyes pop open. Sleepily adjusting to the morning light filtering in through the windows, you see that you’re still in Jihoon’s house, on the couch. You turn your face to see a pillow underneath your head that wasn’t there previously, and an extra knit blanket draped over the red fleece one that was already wrapped around you. Jihoon is nowhere in sight, presumably still asleep. You wonder what time it is - when suddenly you remember the locksmith appointment you made for 7am. Panicked, you bolt upright, searching for your phone amidst the blankets, until you spot it laying upon the coffee table, plugged into a charger that isn’t yours. You snatch it up, your heart sinking when you see the time: 7:34am.

“SHIT,” you grumble to yourself. You hurriedly unravel yourself from the tangle of blankets - it’s still warm in his house, but a chill hits you in the absence of the cozy covers. Sitting fully upright, you feel your feet bump something as they touch the carpet. Looking down, you spot a pair of slippers - light beige in color, women’s, brand new with the tags still on. For a moment you feel a bit weird about putting them on (Why does he have these, anyway?), but you’re cold, and at this point you don’t care. You slip them on, the comfort of the fluffy interior immediately making you  glad you did. They feel high quality - luxurious even, and now you feel nice and toasty. Rising from the couch, you grab the top blanket and wrap it around you. The inviting scent of coffee suddenly hits you - you follow it into the kitchen, where Jihoon stands before a brewing coffee pot. Noticing you have entered the room, he turns to greet you.

“Good morning,” he says warmly. He wears a pair of plaid pajama pants, seemingly with a matching top underneath a dark fleece quarter-zip. You note that he also has slippers on, not too dissimilar from the ones currently on your feet. As the coffee finishes brewing, he grabs two mugs, gesturing to you with one. 

“Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some,” you answer. He takes the pot and pours the piping hot beverage into your mug.

“Cream and sugar?” 

“Yes, please.”

He fixes your drink and hands you the steaming mug. You take a small, careful sip, your insides instantly warmed by the smooth brew.

“Delicious, thank you,” you tell him, taking another generous sip.

“Of course,” he nods.

“Guess I missed the locksmith,” you say with a sigh. “I should’ve thought to set an alarm before I passed out.”

He turns, reaching for something on the counter. Turning back, he extends his hand to you, your keys laying in his palm.

“Already taken care of,” he says with a smile.

“How did you…” Your words trail off as you take the keys, your fingertips lightly grazing his warm skin. 

“I met the locksmith and explained the situation,” he explains. “He picked the lock in like, one minute.” He gives you an apologetic look as he continues. “I’m sorry I went into your house without asking you first, I felt bad, but I didn’t want to have to wake you and drag you out into the cold.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply, shaking your head quickly. “I really really appreciate it.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he tells you with a soft smile.

“Thank you for the pillow too,” you add. “And the slippers, glad you had these laying around,” you say with a grin. His smile fades slightly, glancing away for a moment. 

“They were supposed to be a gift,” he says as he looks at you again. “But I didn’t need them anymore. You can keep them.” He smiles, but despite trying to hide it, his tone is tinged with sadness.

“Oh,” you say softly. “You sure?”

He hesitates slightly, unsure whether to tell you.

“They were for my girlfriend, but she left me a couple weeks ago,” he admits. He looks down at his coffee, stirring it aimlessly with the spoon. A pang of sympathy hits you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say gently. “I unfortunately can relate. My fiancé left me five days ago, for another woman.”

He perks his head up slightly in surprise. “Oh wow, what an awful week this must be. I’m sorry, too.”

“Yeah, quite honestly, it fucking sucks,” you say, staring off into space a bit. 

“I was about to propose,” he adds, unsure exactly why he’s telling you this. But you both are feeling a newfound, unspoken kinship in your aligned misfortunes. “But one day she just told me she didn’t love me anymore.”

“Jesus, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry,” you empathize. “I found out my fiancé was cheating on me and confronted him. He didn’t even give a shit so I kicked him out, haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Wow,” Jihoon says with wide eyes. He lets out a sigh. “I had already bought a ring, too. She didn’t know, but I had the whole proposal planned out.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “I guess it’s for the better that she left before I even bothered.”

“Yeah, doesn’t make it any less painful though.”

“Definitely not. And I wasn’t even able to return the ring.” He laughs, letting out an incredulous huff. 

“Oh my god,” you react in bewilderment. 

“It’s alright,” he says calmly. “Maybe I’ll be able to use it someday.”

His eyes linger on you slightly too long as the words roll off his tongue. The moment is brief, fleeting - but it’s enough for you to notice. 

“Would you like any more coffee?” he asks before you can fully process anything, nudging the pot in your direction.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you reply, finishing the last bit in your mug. 

“Here, I’ll take it.” 

“I better get going, now that I can actually get into my house,” you announce with a smile. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You weren’t a bother at all,” he assures you. “But I’m sure you’re dying to go home.”

Jihoon walks to his entryway. He gathers your things for you, taking your coat from the closet and helping you into it.

“I truly can’t thank you enough,” you tell him sincerely. “You really saved my ass.”

He smiles at you. “You’re very welcome. It was nice to finally properly meet you, y/n.”

He hands you something as he opens the door for you. You take it - it’s a blue sticky note, with his name and phone number written neatly on it.

“You can always call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you smile warmly, folding the note and tucking it safely into your pocket. “I will.”

[onceonafullmoon]

Mirror

Rin x GN!Reader

Comfort Angst, experiences of anxiety attacks, Reader and Rin are both kind of obsessive lmao, some threats of violence but nothing happens, established relationship and also merry christmas though this fic has nothing to do with that!!

“Speak for yourself. I’m perfectly logical.” He eventually retorts. You actually laugh at that, though it definitely sounds weak and shaky even to your own ears. “…stupid.” You say with a fond smile. “At least I can be honest with myself.”

It’s a sunny day as you watch your boyfriend on the field, his figure distant as you sit in the stands, watching him practice. The birds are chirping, a few fluffy clouds decorate the sky and the temperature is mild if not a bit warm… it’s a beautiful day. 

And you’re pissed off.

Not at him, almost never at him despite his oftentimes abrasive and harsh demeanor. But then again, you’ve always been exceptionally lenient when it comes to Rin.

No, the reason you’re pissed off isn’t because of Rin, rather it’s because of your own issues, your own stewing jealousy when a particularly pretty girl happened to confess her feelings to your handsome boyfriend in the form of a note in his locker.

Obviously, he rejected her, in that blunt way of his, but even then you couldn’t help but notice how he took the time to make sure he rejected her in person, still respecting her feelings despite the fact that he didn’t return them.

And it really shouldn’t bother you… but you’ve always been, unhinged, to say the least.

It’s hard to explain exactly, but, when it comes to the people in your life, when it comes to hobbies you have, anything that you’re passionate about, you tend to get absorbed in those things in a rather unhealthy way.

Like that time you dropped all your plans to cheer up your best friend when she was only mildly upset, or that time you watched a series and then made it your entire personality for a month straight… you’ve always been a tad obsessive.

And when it comes to you, it feels more juvenile to feel this way. 

It’s hard to explain, but you’ve always been more emotionally honest than Rin, and for that reason you feel like you come off as more needy. 

Or maybe that means you’re more emotionally mature.

Or not.

You don’t know, you hate going in circles like this, pacing around in your own mind. Sometimes you wonder if you were more like Rin and ignored your feelings it would be less annoying. But you suppose that self awareness is one of your strengths.

Although, you have to admit, self awareness is also a curse when you have to deal with your own negative emotions rather than having a philosophical discussion, which brings you back to your conflicting feelings.

You don’t like being jealous, no one does, but you feel especially icky about the types of thoughts it brings. You don’t like the fact that your first thought towards this girl was so negative, you don’t like the fact that you feel like a worse person because of that and you don’t like the fact that a very primal part of you wants to march over onto that field and kiss your boyfriend senseless for no reason other than to see his swollen lips afterwards.

Normally, you’d have no problem talking about your feelings with Rin, as emotionally closed off and brash as he is, but something about this makes you feel like you want to stick your head into a hole in the ground, much like an ostrich. Or, to put it plainly, you’re a mess and you’re losing your mind trying not to implode with all your emotions.

Imploding can wait though, you’ll dissect this when you get home, right now you’ll throw on a smile and talk to your boyfriend who you are most certainly not creating scenarios of sneaking off with this pretty girl with her stupid pretty smile and her dumbass cute hairstyle–

Right.

No imploding.

You sigh and shake your head, looking back at the field, watching as Rin begins to wrap up his practice and take that as your cue to make your way over to him after you hop off of your seat in the risers. 

As you near him you can make out his features more distinctly, the sharp curve of his jaw, the length of his under lashes, the pretty teal of his eyes… he’s stupidly handsome as always, and it makes you feel even more ticked off, though you do your best to suppress those thoughts.

“Hey, you.” You say with a smile, picking up his water bottle from the bench and tossing it his way as if practiced, and he catches it with ease, popping the cap off to take a drink, his eyes meeting yours.

To this day, you can’t tell if you hate making eye contact with him or if you adore it.

“...Hey.” He answers after swallowing, his gaze darting across your form.

You’re not entirely sure what he’s searching for, but you hope he doesn’t notice anything different in your demeanor. 

“I’d say you did good out there but I’d be lying if I implied I knew what I was looking for.” You say, in your usual slightly self-deprecating demeanor.

He scoffs, his eyes rolling slightly. “You don’t need to know anything, it’s me.”

Cocky bastard.

“That’s annoyingly cool of you to say.” You say with a small laugh. “I need to learn some one liners like that from you.”

“I wouldn’t bother trying.” He retorts, pushing his hair back in a move that nearly makes you choke on your saliva from how annoyingly good he looks before speaking again. “...how was your day?”

“Fine.” You answer almost too quickly, before pausing to elaborate.

“Just a regular day I mean, nothing extraordinary happened, unless you count the amount of times that I watched someone trip over that crack on the sidewalk.”

Rin furrows his brow. “What crack?”

“You haven’t seen it? It’s like right outside the window in homeroom, like right by the tree.”

“...is that what you’ve been paying attention to? Not the goddamn teacher?”

“Only sometimes! Besides, I’ve seen like five people almost eat shit, it’s entertaining in it’s own right.”

“You’re hopeless, this is the reason–”

You sigh. “Look, my grades are fine, I’m fine, let’s just move on instead of turning this into another stupid “see this is why you should focus more” speeches.”

He tilts his head at you, squinting like you’ve grown two heads, and you feel both annoyed and weirdly vulnerable under his analytical gaze. 

“What?” You ask, almost defensively.

“You…” He says with a small frown. “What’s wrong with you?”

You laugh, though it sounds more like a scoff, and this time it’s more out of a sense of disbelief. “Wow, okay, rude. Do you want my therapist’s notes or something, jackass?”

Immediately after the words leave your mouth you feel yourself regretting them. They’re juvenile, stupid and childish and you can feel your face grow warm. 

Great, you can’t even pretend right, what good are you?

His eyes narrow. “Maybe I do, maybe that’ll help me understand why you’re acting like–”

“Like a bitch?” You interrupt.

Oh gods. What are you doing? What is this?

He blinks at you, as if taken aback by your suggestion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You close your mouth, feeling everything bubble up again inside you, the jealousy, the insecurities, the annoyance, the embarrassment, all of it is swirling inside you and suddenly it just feels like you’re choking on the weight of all of it, like it’s stuck in your throat.

It’s silent for a while, his hard gaze boring into you while you stand there, feeling like a complete idiot, chewing on your tongue while you try to find the will to speak. 

He sighs then, breaking the silence between the two of you before speaking again. “...talk to me.”

And you do. You do want to talk to him, whether it’s to brush him off, or to open up, anything would be fine, you just want to speak. But you can’t. 

There are too many thoughts, too many things piling up, but you just need to speak, just speak, speak–

He furrows his brow at the continued silence. “...if you have a problem, tell me, but if you’re just going to be childish and give me the silent treatment then this conversation is over.”

Childish? You’re not childish, you just can’t talk, it’s not your fault– 

Is it?

Is it your fault? 

Gods who are you kidding, of course it’s your fault, you can’t even fucking talk how pathetic is that? No wonder he’s looking at other girls you can barely even hold a goddamn conversation, not to mention, she’s so pretty and you’re not– maybe if you could just write some words down– but fucking hell you’re so childish, he’s right, you’re not ready for a relationship– all you have to do is say something– he must fucking hate you–

It’s only when you have to take a breath that you remember where you are, and Rin is staring at you with a look you haven’t seen before. 

Shocked maybe? 

But you don’t think you’ve done anything shocking, until you feel a warm tear roll down your face.

Ah shoot. You’re actually a moron, you’re crying. In front of him.

Come on, raise your hand, wipe away your tears, you’re fine. 

Move your fucking hand.

Move.

Just do something. Don’t just stand there.

You take a breath, wiping away your tears with your hand.

Good. Now speak.

“...” You part your lips shakily to speak. “I–”

A sob escapes your lips and you slap your hand over your mouth and turn away from him, letting the tears just stream down your face.

“Shit.” Rin says softly from behind you, and you distantly think that if you were watching from an outsider's perspective that this would be hilarious.

Okay, stop, calm down, breathe. You’re fine.

You let out another muffled sob as your breathing runs ragged.

Okay, no, you’re not fine.

“(Name).” Rin says, in a tone so soft you’re almost taken by surprise, and you can feel his presence behind you, closer than before.

He places his hand on your shoulder and gently turns you back to face him, and you notice through watery eyes that his water bottle is back on the bench. You’re not sure why you notice that, but you think it's because you can’t stand to make eye contact right now.

“Listen to me.” He murmurs, his voice soft yet firm. “Breathe slowly, in and out, okay?”

Right. You can do that. In and out.

It takes a few breaths, but eventually you manage to get to the point where your breathing is less rapid, and it’s then that you muster the courage to look him in the eyes again.

It’s a small relief to you that you don’t see any judgment in his eyes, just concern.

“...what’s wrong (Name)?”

It takes you a bit to respond, but you’re finally able to speak after you pull your hand from your mouth, looking at his water bottle again.

“...I’m… ashamed.” You say quietly, and the admission feels like you’re being stabbed in the gut.

“Ashamed?” Rin asks, furrowing his brow again. “Why are you ashamed?”

You don’t even want to begin to explain yourself, but you figure you might as well just get it over with. 

“... that girl, she confessed to you. I was jealous– I am jealous, and I feel stupid, because it’s embarrassing and I feel immature.”

He looks at you for a moment, really looks at you and then scoffs. 

“You’re…” He pauses and then looks at you, seemingly thinking better of his words before speaking again with a sigh. “...you’re too harsh on yourself.”

You simply shake your head. “No, it’s dumb, and I was mean to you and I was mean to that girl in my head and I shouldn’t have–”

“Then what about me?” He asks sharply.

“What?” You respond, looking back at him again, confusion taking over.

“I–” He starts before huffing out a breath, his cheeks turning pink as he looks away. “You think I’m any better? At least you have the decency to be ashamed.”

You blink, the quiet settling around you.

Well, thinking on it now, it’s not like you’re the only one who’s like that, you’re no stranger to how Rin methodically practices his skills everyday, the way his eyes narrow into a glare when he sees his brother on screen, how he scoffs at your best friend when she hugs you in greeting… he’s just as bad as you, isn’t he?

Obsessive.

Jealous.

“…we’re so silly, aren’t we?” You ask, breaking the silence between the two of you. “So intense all the time, so needlessly absorbed, too emotional… You’re everything I despise about myself, but I don’t hate you. Aren’t we so strange?”

Rin looks at you finally, a complicated look on his face, flickering through emotions.

“Speak for yourself. I’m perfectly logical.” He eventually retorts.

You actually laugh at that, though it definitely sounds weak and shaky even to your own ears.

“…stupid.” You say with a fond smile. “At least I can be honest with myself.”

You look at him for a moment.

“I like to think I’m good with words, at least when I’m not crying, but there’s so much I want to tell you that I can’t say in the way I want to… what on earth can I say to you?”

Rin looks at you, eyes boring into yours, but you can’t seem to find yourself to be intimidated this time. “Dumbass, you don’t need to say anything.”

You look at him, at his stupidly sweet soul that he tries to hide with harsh words, and let out a soft huff, uncharacteristically frustrated.

“…sometimes I want to hurt you, because you make me feel so much. I could rip you apart.”

Rin’s eyes widen, as if surprised by your words, and briefly you fear that you might have overstepped, before his eyes harden into a steely gaze.

“Idiot… you think you’re the only one who feels that way?”

You blink at his words, not expecting his response, much less how surprisingly honest it is. 

It’s… This is new.

You expect him to recoil from your words, from your emotions, from you. You expect him to leave. But his response, his understanding, it makes you so… emotional.

You take in a shaky breath, tearing up again.

His reaction to that is instantaneous, his eyes widening in shock, a flicker of regret in his gaze. A beat of silence lapses between you two before he speaks, his tone regretful.

“(Name)… I didn’t mean—”

“No.” You say immediately, though your voice is still shaky as you blink harshly.

“Don’t apologize. And don’t take it back.” You speak, your voice cracking. “I’m not scared. You get me, I get you… we’re a mess, but I’ll never find someone like you, and I don’t want to.”

You take a breath to steady yourself, before speaking again. 

“I’m gonna say something, and you don’t have to say it back.” You say, before speaking again, your voice soft but firm. “...I love you.”

You’re not sure what possessed you to say it, those words that have been lurking in you for so long, and you for a moment, seeing his startled face, you wonder if you might have scared him off, if you were moving too fast, or maybe–

“Dumbass.” He says with a soft scoff before cupping your face and pulling you into a kiss.

It’s always so tongue heavy with Rin, and you’ve had to coax him in the past to appreciate a sweet, chaste kiss every once in a while, but you find this time you don’t mind this time as he desperately presses his lips against yours.

It’s his own way of saying it back to you.

[bonelessghoul]

Request by @princesspuffle8 :

My request is for reader x Tom riddle where reader breaks up with Tom because they feel like their relationship is going nowhere. And for Christmas he secretly gets her something to win her back (or you can go the angst route where he’s looking at the present he got her but won’t give her since they’re no longer together)

2.8k words

Hope you like it! Added a bit of a darker twist at the end for funsies but it was my first time writing a Hufflepuff reader so I hope I did it some justice :) Happy holidays! 🎄

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You paced the common room of Hufflepuff’s dormitory, your drawn out footsteps imprinted into the massive brown carpet with its yellow vines. The sun had passed through the windows at the tops of the arches around the common room til there was nothing left but the firelight.

Quietly, you pondered a decision that weighed heavily on your mind and it made you feel so sick to your stomach that you couldn’t eat. It had been only two months since seventh year began and you were losing your focus! Tom Riddle, the man you were dating since sixth year now, had been unnervingly distant and cold to the point you couldn’t stand it anymore. Your relationship already crossed an unspoken line and had the odds against it; had it finally run its course? Had Toms friends made him change his mind?

As you paced, you swiped tears away here and there, nervous to let them show as your worried friends passed by. Finally though, you sucked up the courage to finally leave and do what must be done. If you had any sense of self respect for your future, you’d rip the band aid off.

Worriedly, your house mates followed your path with their eyes and whispered of what you could possibly be up to. You were a light even in a house already as bright as it was, fierce against any adversity and humble about it too. When you were sharing many classes with Tom Riddle at the start of your sixth year, he saw that light too in the midst of everything that changed in his life.

You were reluctant to take his offer on a date in Hogsmeade to look for ingredients for your potions assignments, but it ended with you two walking back to school hand in hand and the rest was history.

Now, that memory felt so far away as you marched over to the library where you were supposed to meet him this evening. Your stomach clenched every few seconds at the thought of what you were about to do. But when you hesitated in your decision, you thought of how many times you tried to ask him if he was okay and he brushed you off, you thought of the way he didn’t even defend you from the way his friends teased you, and now you two barely saw each other outside of classes.

At first, you told yourself it was stress. Tom was always under immense pressure, constantly trying to prove himself. You supported him quietly, patiently, as you always had. You reminded him to eat, to take breaks, to step outside for fresh air. But each time, he would wave you off with a polite but dismissive smile, his attention fixed on his plans for a future you couldn’t see.

Something was bothering him—but you couldn’t afford to wait around and find out anymore.

When you first saw him sitting at a table between bookshelves, hidden under the shadows cast by the massive fireplace at the front of the room you almost forgot what you were doing. He was so handsome, face always buried in a book, and you were blissfully ignorant of the way he had been acting. Just for a moment he didn’t look so cruelly

“Tom.” You said, voice neutral and neither welcoming nor pleased.

It took him just a second too long to look up at you and even when he did, he hardly looked intrigued. This struck a chord in your heart and suddenly, you weren’t afraid to say what you had to say. Looking around, you sat at the edge of the bench.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words came out with the rest of the air in your lungs and you weren’t sure how to feel, but your heart raced as you studied his every move. His brows pinched with confusion but he was as still as a statue.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, calmly.

Somehow, it was difficult to speak now.

“Us.” You choked out, trying to subdue the bubbling emotion that crawled up her throat. “I think it’s fair to say I’ve been patient—far more patient than you deserve. But no matter what I say or do, I don’t exist to you anymore. I’m an afterthought and it’s driving me insane.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears and your eyes fell to the bench space between you two, having to fight the waver in your voice.

Tom tilted his head, turning his body to face her. He looked inquisitively into a space you couldn’t see.

“That’s not true.” Tom said, his voice softer but condescending still.

“Is it not?” you scoffed, heart wrenching as you watched him deflect the pain you so clearly felt. “Even if I put my emotions aside, you simply stopped caring about me. But maybe it’s okay. We’re both in our seventh years fighting to make our futures. Maybe it was never meant to work out.”

Deep down, you wished he would tell you otherwise but he frowned slightly. “Our futures are important—more important than you could understand. Everything I’m doing now is bigger than you, or us. How could you let your emotions get in the way of seeing that?”

You raised your brows, beyond a point of where everything hurt that it made you physically ill. What else could you say that when he stared at you so determined?

“And you’re letting your ambition get in the way of seeing me or any other good thing in your life.” You said coldly.

For a moment neither of you spoke and you wondered if you should walk away now. Your words hung in the air, disturbing the peaceful atmosphere of the library. He couldn’t face you and you were half expecting him to just turn back to his book without a word, but finally, he heaved out a sigh and looked back up at you.

“You really want to end this?” Tom asked, leaving you unable to read his voice by any means.

Your heart ached beyond belief and you thought you’d faint; of course you didn’t want to end it. But his detachment solidified everything for you on that moment.

“No, but I’m not fighting for us if you clearly aren’t. So I guess this is goodbye.”

You abruptly rose from the seat and turned away before your tears could fall, trying to keep your head low as you stormed out of the library.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but he fell short of anything right to say. He hated to see you walk away from him but love was proving to be a weakness it seems and that, he wouldn’t dare challenge no matter what.

~

Hogwarts in winter always had an ethereal beauty. Snow blanketed the grounds in pristine white, and the air inside the castle was alive with the anticipation of the holidays. The choir seemed to always be singing Christmas tunes wherever they walked. Surrounding the massive Christmas tree in the Hufflepuff common room, a record player played muggle holiday songs and students sat around, whispering excitedly about their plans.

But you could barely hear them over the storm brewing in your heart.

Tom Riddle had always been a mystery to everyone. For well over a year, you’d seen a different side of him—softer, vulnerable in fleeting moments, the boy who would steal glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking or stay with you in the library long after curfew just because you asked him to. To live this past month without those things felt overwhelmingly lonely and the routine you thought you knew was gone.

But that had been slipping away for months.

The days that followed your breakup were strange. Your friends in Hufflepuff were shocked, almost in disbelief when they found out you’d broken things off with Tom Riddle. The two of you had seemed so unshakable, so perfectly matched. But no one knew the toll it had taken on you to hold on for so long.

By the time the last exams of the term rolled around, you felt a mix of relief and sadness. Relief that you had finally taken a stand for yourself, but sadness at the loss of what you’d shared with Tom. You would be lying if you said you weren’t waiting for him to change his mind or prove himself still.

To break up the days counting down, you and the other upper years all took off to Hogsmeade for one last visit before going home for the holiday. It was enough to momentarily pull you from the dark place you had been in once you were in the village layered in snow and twinkling lights strung across every window.

The smell of molasses and butter beer lifted your spirits once you entered the Three Broomsticks. At your heels were your closest friends from your house, wearing long coats and scarves of shades of yellow or brown. Music blared from inside the inn, but it was so crowded that you took your butter beer outside for a moment of peace.

You found a short stone wall that wrapped around the back end of the inn and took a deep breath as you sat down with your warm drink. The main path that stretched through Hogsmeade sat before you and with the echo of the inn behind your ears, you blissfully sat and watched as other students passed by.

Snow blew from the roofs of the shops with every gust and students ran through it thinking it was snowing. It was a pretty sight and you eyed up Honeydukes, knowing it would be your next stop.

But that’s when the subtle reminder that Tom wasn’t with you anymore came back swinging in full force. Truthfully, you’d drag him in there at times but knew deep down he wanted to go there anyway.

Sighing, you tried to keep the looming sadness at bay and decided to heave yourself up to head back inside before your mind could wander any more. But as your footsteps crunched the snow and you made way back to the door, you sensed someone approaching from behind.

“Y/N”

The voice cut across as sharp as the bitter cold air and you almost didn’t turn around, but your instinct got the best of you as a mix of joy and disdain swirled your mind.

When you turned around, Tom Riddle stood before you, clad in his black coat and scarf that nearly matched the color of his hair but in the right light you could see the lighter pieces within it. His eyes were hopeful, bright and green as he got your attention but he was never so forward and one passing by wouldn’t sense that he was hoping you’d turn around.

“What—what are you doing here?” You asked, trying to remain polite even as your stomach.

His hands were clasped behind his back and he cautiously stepped forward—you let him.

“Well, it’s Hogsmeade. Almost everyone is here.” Tom mused, eyes glancing around as if it were obvious.

Your shoulders slumped, head tilting at him as a serious look came upon your face.

“What are you doing in front of me?” you said firmly.

A small grin cracked at the corner of his lip and he looked down for a moment as you waited to hear him speak again. It was like music to your ears but also clawing at you from the inside, making you realize just how much you missed him despite making the right call.

“I’m here to apologize.”

Your brows shot up and the grip around your pint of butter beer tightened.

“A month late?” you retorted, your voice more bitter than you intended as it came from your sweet expression of innocence.

It was obvious how hurt you still were and Tom, though could not register this, knew it anyway. But he never apologized lightly, let alone at all, so you felt it deep down that his unchanging face was in fact serious.

His hands came untangled from his back and he fiddled with something in them, and your eyes narrowed down at them.

“I’ve been building something—the beginning of it, it at least.” Tom said as he toyed with the small velvet box. “And it’s taken me away from you. I haven’t been honest about it, that much I will admit. But I know that one day I will be able to explain it and that you will understand.”

You were fuddled by his words, glancing down at your butter beer and nervously taking a sip of it despite the way your stomach could barely handle it now as the doubt grasped you at your core.

“I have always loved you and never showed you a reason for you to question my understanding, Tom.” You subtly argued, not wanting to push the balances any further knowing he was standing close to the edges.

He kept tossing the box around his fingers as if he were nervous to display it, stepping closer now as if it would make him any less inclined to keep it hidden.

“I was going to give you this at Christmas, but I know now I should have given you this and much more than that sooner.”

Then, you watched as he opened the box and opened it to reveal a necklace, a silver chain with a small pendant no larger than her thumbnail at the base holding a black stone. It was peculiar, emanating a feeling of something much deeper than her blood could feel.

“Tom…” the words came out barely above a whisper.

It was a beautiful necklace for someone like you who hardly wore jewelry or knew of any value a piece could hold. You lifted your fingers to it, the tips of your fingers warm in its presence and when it was in your hand you thought it would go numb with its charm.

“I had it made for you,” he said quietly. “To remind you of your strength. Your loyalty. Everything I admired about you from the start.”

You stared at the necklace, your chest tightening. It was beautiful, and so thoughtful it nearly broke you, because how could you turn him away?

“You admired it, but took advantage of my kindness.” you began, but he cut you off.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “But I want you to know that I see you. And I will prove to you that I’m worthy of your loyalty. If you’ll let me.”

For the first time in weeks, hope flickered in your chest. You didn’t know if things could truly change between you, but as Tom looked at you with something almost like sincerity, you decided you were willing to try.

“One chance,” you said softly, clasping the necklace in your hand. “I don’t want to leave for the winter holiday like that—not knowing if you’re safe or not..”

It made him uncomfortable when you mentioned the living circumstances he had to endure, but it wasn’t a secret between you two. You cautiously stepped forward, holding out the necklace for him to put it on.

“It is one chance I will not fail you with.” Tom said, a soft grin upon his face as his hands came around your neck and you lifted your hair.

The mere graze of his fingertips brought chills to your spine and in the middle of Hogsmeade, tucked behind the Three Broomsticks, you turned around with the necklace peaking out over your sweater and wrapped your arms around him. Tom was hesitant to wrap his arms around you, unexpectedly being welcomed back so fast. But your heart was a bleeding one at that, and you were relieved to relinquish the pain you had held onto as of late.

“Don’t think a necklace has you out of the dog house just yet, Riddle.” you said, voice muffled against his shoulder.

Tom finally held back onto you, letting out a breath he had been holding in for the weeks since you left.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You couldn’t comprehend just exactly what had happened to Tom Riddle in the past year but now, as you wore a piece of his soul around your neck, Tom knew there would be no losing you again so long as he could help it.

Tom was only just getting started and for a moment, he held you in his arms for the one time it would feel like it didn’t matter just yet.

[lanafofana]

it was the night before christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring.... not even a little mouse.

After being read the mysterious little note vanished in a flash of fire. Lanatav frowned, the pads of her fingers that had been holding the note together were unsinged and she rubbed them together contemplatively. 

The hour was late and the room was dark and still. 

“Raphael?” She asked the silent room suspiciously. When no answer was forthcoming she relaxed a little, leaning back in her bed against the soft pillows and turning the puzzle of the note over in her mind. 

On the one hand the fiend was known for sending notes or summons at any hour of the day but they were usually much more direct. Like yanking her out of bed, pajamas and all, directly into whatever hole-in-the-dirt in Faerun he was currently lurking. 

But on the other hand he was also somewhat a slave to his own ridiculously theatrical whims. So. 

Lanatav pressed her lips together in thought before flinging aside her warm cozy duvet and sliding out of her bed and into her robe and slippers. 

The winter had been particularly brutal this year and even with all the luxury afforded a hero of Baldur's Gate nothing could seem to keep the chill out for long. With a flick of her wrist the wood in her fireplace blazed to life but the color pulled the corners of her mouth down.

It wasn't the fire of a sorcerer nor the merry flames of a wizard spell. Before her eyes the fire of the hells ate away her logs until, moments later, there was nothing but ashes. And still the fire burned merrily with nothing to keep it going. 

“What in the sweet hells?” Lanatav prodded the bright flames with her poker but all she achieved was melted iron. As close as she was to the fire, something even more curious about it was how–though it was clearly hot enough to burn and melt things– she felt no warmth from its flames. 

Considering the wisdom of her decisions had never really been a strong suit of hers so without further preamble Lanatav yanked up the sleeve of her robe and stuck her bare arm into the deepest part of the fire. 

She felt neither the tickle of flame nor the crackling of roasting flesh. When she pulled her arm back out it was just the same as it had always been. She huffed. Had she been the one to summon the hellfire? She stared at her hand doubtfully and snapped her fingers, startled when hellfire erupted from them instantly. She waved it away, repeating the cycle several times before she stopped long enough to softly beat her fist against her forehead in thought. 

She'd almost worked herself up enough into digging out her chalk and either summoning the devil directly or creating a portal on her kitchen floor and marching into his boudoire to demand answers for whatever it was he’d done when something heavy landed on her roof. 

“Oh what now,” she grumbled, cinching her robe closed tightly and donning a thick woolen cloak. Her fingers glowed with hellfire. 

Outside the snow was falling thick and heavy. In moments her cloak was covered in fat flakes that sparkled in the light spilling out from her still open door.

Through the snow she trudged, turning to look at her roof uneasily when she was at a distance to see better. Alas the night was too dark and the snow was too thick. Whatever had landed on her roof was well hidden from sight. 

“If you're an intruder I’d really rather you fucked off,” she called out, grimacing at the idea of using hellfire on someone. “If you're a creature uh,” she considered. “I might have some dried meat but you’ll have to get down before you destroy my shingles.” 

Something massive shifted in the air and moved. She felt it land behind her and, blood pumping in anticipation of a fight, Lanatav tried to whirl in place. Catching her heel on a patch of ice and feeling her feet go out from under her just seemed par for the course for how her evening was unraveling. She slammed her eyes shut and waited to be attacked or devoured or the wind to get knocked out of her as she hit the ground. None of which occurred and to her amazement she opened her eyes to find a pair of brimstone gold irises staring down at her, bemused. 

She smacked him. 

Raphael dropped her in the snow. 

“What was that for?” He demanded, looking thunderously unamused. 

Struggling to pull herself out of the snow Lanatav swore and thrust a hand towards him, wreathed in hellfire. “What did you do to me?” 

The cambion sniffed. “I gave you hellfire you ungrateful little creature!” 

“I didn't ask for hellfire,” she struggled to come up with an appropriate epithet. “Stupid!” 

He laughed, a sneering hollow sound that had sent lesser people into nervous breakdowns. 

Lanatav threw a handful of snow at him. 

It hit him square in the face. 

They both froze and then, when he spat water out of his mouth, she snorted. The snort turned into a giggle and then, while he furiously wiped white powdery snow from his face and his fine doublet, she began to howl with laughter. 

With one massive clawed hand the devil fished Lanatav out of the snow and hauled her over his shoulder. 

“How dare you!” She beat her fists against his back as a show of contrariness more than actual ire. It had to be said, the warmth radiating from his body felt marvelous after her spill in the snow. And if he noticed how she gave up hitting him and instead put her hands against his wings he said nothing, merely pushing through her ajar front door and shutting it with a snap of his fingers. 

He didn't quite dump her on the floor like he had out in the snow but only if one were to take a very generous view of the action. 

Peeling off her snow laden cloak, Lanatav remembered why she was annoyed. “I can't have hellfire, Raphael, you made me immune to its heat! It eats all my firewood and I’m left frozen solid!” She stomped over to her fireplace to find her poker and brandish the melted end at him. “Just look what it's done to my fire poker!” 

With two fingers he brushed away the offending object being waved in his face. “Anyone else would kill for the kind of power you so brazenly disregard,” he said reproachfully. 

“I don't want power, you overgrown bat!” 

Raphael scoffed. “Well then what do you want, you insipid little mouse?” 

“A warm house!” Lanatav had barely finished snarling the words when, with a snap, she was transported in a flash of light. When she blinked she stared at her surroundings a beat before rounding on the devil with another sharp word on the tip of her tongue. 

It died at the view of Raphael, Archduke Supreme of the Hells, Exalted Demon of the Unending Night, Conquerer of All Worlds, He Who Wears and Wields the Crown of Karsus, Lord of Misfortune standing rather awkwardly next to a…

“Is that a Christmas tree?” 

For a very long moment nobody said anything. Raphael was still staring down his aristocratic nose at her like she was a particularly unpleasant bug he’d scraped off his shoes. She was still drinking in the sight of an honest to god Christmas tree in the hells. A lush evergreen, decorated with baubles and enchanting lights that flickered and blinked merrily. A Christmas tree in the Hells. Truly the mind boggled. 

Then the Archduke Supreme of the Hells, Exalted Demon of the Unending Night, Conqueror of All Worlds, He Who Wears and Wields the Crown of Karsus, Lord of Misfortune shifted on his feet. His tail swished. He frowned at her. 

“Did you do all this for me?” Raphael blinked at her tone. His arms had been crossed but he dropped them, relaxing out of his defensive pose but with his sneer still in full force across his face. 

“Well I didn't do it for me,” he growls. 

Something suspiciously like affection stings her nose and her eyes. “You got me a Christmas tree and gave me a Christmas present.” 

Raphael watches her warily as she approaches, paying particular attention to the slap distance of her hands to his face. 

“You got me a Christmas present and a Christmas tree.” 

His wary expression is exchanged for narrowed eyes. He cocks his head to the side. “If that’s all you're going to keep saying I might as well send you back. If I wanted someone to parrot the same dull phrases at me I could have just retrieved Haarlep from whatever den of iniquity they've no doubt been squandering their time in.” 

Lanatav touches his arm lightly and gives him a crooked smile. 

“Thank you, Raphael.” 

He exhales through his nose. He looks away. His tail swishes. 

“I will amend your command of the hellfire,” he eventually mutters. 

She laughs lightly and squeezes his forearm in thanks. 

Lanatav moves away from the cambion, abandoning her slippers and uncinching her robe as she takes in the sight of the beautiful tree. The heat of hells is tempered in his palace but she still finds herself growing overly warm in her thickest nightclothes. 

When she’s close enough to touch it she reaches out a finger to tap at a delicate ornament, shiny as a tempting apple. A flicker of light draws her attention. 

“These lights are quite impressive, however did you manage to–oh!” She jerked in alarm. “Raphael!” She screeched. “You release these pixies AT ONCE!” 

[guinevereslancelot]

just wrapped the first christmas present of the year ❤️

[neverendingford]

.

[flightyalrighty]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi (Discord!) | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[lov3notts]

End Zone

cheerleading!reader x quidditchplayer!theo

summary: theo gets jealous during his game when he sees Cedric flirting with you. also based on this request

warning: toxic theo, jealousy, unprotected, praising& degrading, creampie, locker room??

a/n: my first request, struggled a lot with this but its done!! I will most likely be MIA due to finals but hopefully I'll have something up for Christmas? enjoy :)

18+only: minors don’t interact

The game is in full swing, the stands packed with cheering fans. You're on the sidelines with your cheer squad, leading the crowd in chants and cheers. The adrenaline is pumping through your veins, your body moving in perfect sync with your teammates.

Suddenly, a Slytherin player scores a goal, and the crowd goes wild. In the commotion, Theo makes his way over to the sidelines, Theo zooms past on his broom, he catches your eye and grins, winking at you flirtatiously. You roll your eyes and turn away, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. 

You've been hooking up with Theo for months now, but he refuses to commit to anything more than casual sex. It's starting to wear on you, the constant string of mixed signals and empty promises.

As you continue your routine, you can't shake the feeling of Theodore's eyes on you. His presence is like a physical force, drawing your attention even as you try to focus on the game. 

The match continues, the score seesawing back and forth, but your mind isn’t focused on the game

you're so lost in thought that you barely register the game going on above you. 

your eyes are focused on the ground, your mind wandering to places you’d rather not go. It's only when you feel a tap on your shoulder that you snap back to reality

Theo soars through the air, the wind whipping at his face, he spots you on the sidelines, distracted but still cheering and swaying your pom-poms. But it's not just your lack of enthusiasm that catches his eye - it's the tall, handsome figure standing beside you, the one with the easy grin and the sparkle in his eye.

Cedric Diggory.

you turn to see Cedric standing beside you, sending a friendly smile.

"Hey there," he says, his Hufflepuff uniform looking crisp and clean despite the intense game.

"Hey, Cedric" you reply, returning his smile. You two make small talk for a few minutes, discussing the game and your respective teams. Cedric is charming and attentive, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth as he listens intently to every word you say.

"I noticed Nott seems to be playing extra hard today. Must be all that pent-up energy from studying for exams." cedric says as he leans closer to you

you chuckle at his joke “yeah, exams”

Theo's grip tightens on his broomstick, his knuckles turning white. He watches as Cedric leans in close, saying something that makes you laugh. The sound of your laughter cuts through the roar of the crowd, piercing Theo's heart like a Bludger.

Jealousy surges through his veins, hot and bitter. Theo's gaze burns into the back of your neck, and you can practically feel the waves of jealousy radiating off him. He plays more aggressively than ever, his broom dipping and weaving as he tries to outmaneuver the ravenclaw team.

His grip tightens on his broom handle as he zooms past the stands, his mind racing.

He knows he has no right to be jealous, not after he told you he didn’t want anything serious. But seeing you with someone else, laughing and smiling like that, it's like a punch to the gut. He wants to march over there and tear Cedric away from you, to remind you that you belong to him.

You can't help but notice Theo’s intense gaze locked on you and Cedric as you chat on the sidelines. Even from across the pitch, you can see the jealousy burning in Theo's eyes, the way his jaw clenched as he watches Cedric lean in close to hear you over the roar of the crowd.

A part of you feels a thrill at seeing Theo so clearly affected by your interaction with another guy. It's a power trip, knowing that you have that kind of hold over him. Theo zips past the other players, his broomstick cutting through the air like a knife. There's a wildness to his flying, a recklessness that both thrills and terrifies you.

you bite your lip, torn between wanting to reassure Theo that there's nothing going on between Cedric and you, and the desire to let him stew in his jealousy a little longer. It's petty, you know, but seeing him so worked up over you is intoxicating.

In the end, you decided to play it cool, focusing your attention on the game and cheering loudly for slytherin. But you can't help sneaking glances at Theo, watching for any sign of how he's handling your conversation with Cedric.

And deep down, you have to admit that a part of you is hoping he'll do something dramatic, something that will force him to confront all his feelings for you once and for all.

As the final whistle blows, announcing Slytherin's victory, the green and silver stands erupt in cheers. you join in the celebration, waving my pom-poms and shouting for your team. But even as you revel in our hard-fought win, your eyes are drawn to Theo.

He's hovering near the ground, his chest heaving with exertion, a triumphant grin on his face. The other Slytherin players mob him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him on his impressive performance. But Theodore seems oblivious to their praise, his gaze fixed on you.

He strides towards you, his movements purposeful and angry. As he approaches, you can see the tension radiating off him, the way his fists clench and unclench at his sides. But then you remember Cedric, still standing beside you, feeling a twinge of anxiety .

When he reaches you, he doesn't even acknowledge Cedric, his gaze laser-focused on you.

Theo grabs your hand roughly, his fingers intertwined with yours as he drags you towards the locker room. His pace is fast, almost frantic, as he weaves through the crowd of celebrating players and cheering fans.

Once inside, he slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing in the empty room. 

You're alone now, trapped with the angry, jealous Theodore you've managed to provoke.

He turns to face you, his chest heaving with exertion and his eyes dark with a mix of anger and desire.

“Diggory huh? look who's cozying up to the enemy."

You feel your face heating up, a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment rising in your chest. 

"I wasn't cozying up with anyone," you snap, trying to keep your voice steady.  "I was just being friendly. It's part of my job as a cheerleader."

Theo lets out a short, derisive laugh.

"Friendly? Is that what you call it?." He leans in even closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear.

he purrs, his voice low and threatening. "You think you can just toy with me and get away with it?"

his breath hot against your face. "You're mine, dolcezza. Whether you like it or not. And I won't let Hufflepuffs golden boy come between us." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle compared to the bruising grip on your arm.

"You belong with me. You always have. And I won't let you forget it."

His hand slides up your thigh, his touch possessive and demanding. your heart pounding in your chest.

You know you should pull away, tell him off for his arrogance and possessiveness. But there's a part of you that thrills at his words, that wants to give in to the desire that's been building.

Theo's lips crash against yours, his kiss rough and hungry. He devours your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you as his own. His hands roam over your body, slipping under your cheerleader uniform, his fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing heavily, your lips swollen and your skin flushed. Theo's eyes are dark with desire, his gaze roaming over your body with a predatory intensity.

"You had your fun out there, Bella," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Teasing me, flirting with that prick. Well, now it's my turn."

You watch as he strips off his Quidditch uniform, his lean, muscular body on full display. Your mouth goes dry, your pulse racing at the sight of him.

Theodore turns to face you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Now, let's see if you can follow orders like a good little cheerleader."

He shoves you to your knees, his hand fisting in your hair. You gasp as he forces your head towards his crotch, the bulge in his Quidditch pants impossible to ignore.

"Go on, bella. Show me how sorry you are. Show me that smart mouth of yours can be put to better use than running off at the gutter."

His words are harsh, but you can feel the heat of his arousal pressing against your face. Your heart pounds in your chest as you reach for his zipper, your fingers trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you free his cock from the confines of his pants, no matter how many times you’ve seen him you can't help but stare. He's huge, thick and hard and throbbing with need.

Theo's hand tightens in your hair, urging you forward.

“Well, someone’s inpatient” you tease 

"Don't make me tell you again, dolcezza. Put that pretty little mouth to work before I really lose my temper."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement. You know you're playing a dangerous game, but the thought of submitting to Theodore's desires is just too tempting to resist.

He rocks his hips forward, the head of his cock brushing against your lips. You can feel the heat of his skin, the pulsing need that radiates from his core. Your mouth waters as you imagine the taste of him, the feel of his thick shaft sliding over your tongue.

"Open that smart mouth of yours and put it to good use. Show me how much you want to please me."he warns, his voice a low rumble.

With a shaky breath, you part your lips, letting your tongue dart out to taste the bead of pre-cum that leaks from the tip of his cock.

Theo groans, his grip on your hair tightening as he guides you forward. You open wider, taking him into your mouth inch by delicious inch. The taste of him explodes on your tongue, salty and musky and utterly intoxicating.

As you begin to bob your head, taking him deeper with each movement, Theodore's breath comes in harsh pants. His hips rock forward, meeting your mouth with each downward stroke. You can feel him growing harder, thicker, stretching your lips around his girth.

The locker room is filled with the wet sounds of your sucking, the grunts and groans of Theo's pleasure. You lose yourself in the rhythm, in the feel of his cock sliding over your tongue, hitting the back of your throat with each thrust.

As Theodore's cock slides deeper into your mouth, you can feel him growing harder, thicker, stretching your lips around his girth.

His grip on your hair tightens, forcing you to take him even deeper. You gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat, but the discomfort is quickly overtaken by a sense of power, of control.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, faster. Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive flesh. Theodore groans above you, his hips rocking forward to meet your mouth.

"Fuck, tesoro" he gasps, his voice rough with pleasure. "Just like that. Use that pretty little mouth of yours to make me feel good."

His words spur you on, and you double your efforts. You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meeting his. The look in his gaze is one of pure, unadulterated lust. He's watching you, drinking in the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock. His free hand moves to grip your chin, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper.

"You like this, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. 

"Like being on your knees for me, like having my cock in your mouth. I bet you've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of shame and excitement. You know you shouldn't enjoy this, shouldn't revel in the degradation of it all. But the truth is, you do.

You love the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue.

He rocks his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your throat. You gag and sputter around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. But the pain only seems to spur him on, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

"You wanted to get me all worked up, did you? Wanted to see what I'd do? Well, here's your answer.",

The taste of him fills your senses, the musky scent of his arousal making your head spin. You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, faster, determined to bring him to the edge.

Theo groans above you, his hips rocking forward to meet your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding you as you bob your head up and down his length.

 "Fuck, yes,"he hisses, his voice strained with pleasure. "Just like that. You're going to make me cum so hard, tesoro. You're going to swallow every last drop.” your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock, teasing the slit.

Theo's breathing becomes more ragged, his thrusts more erratic. You can tell he's close, his balls tightening as he nears his peak. "That's it" he growls, his voice a low rumble.

"Don't stop. I'm going to cum down your pretty little throat, dolcezza. You're going to drink every last drop like a good girl."

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt in your mouth. You can feel him pulsing, throbbing against your tongue as he reaches his climax. Hot, bitter fluid floods your mouth, and you have no choice but to swallow it down.

As he pulls out, a string of cum connects your lips to the head of his cock. He wipes it away with a careless swipe of his thumb, smearing it across your cheek.

"There's a good girl" he purrs, his voice low and satisfied. "You took your punishment well. I think you've learned your lesson about flirting with other boys, haven't you?"

You can only nod, your mouth still full of the taste of him. Your thighs rub together, the ache between them a constant reminder of your own arousal. But you know better than to ask for anything more.

Theo tucks himself back into his pants, his eyes never leaving your face. He looks pleased with himself, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Get up," he commands, releasing his grip on your hair. "We're not done yet. I still have a few more lessons to teach you."

With shaking legs, you rise to your feet, your knees weak from kneeling on the hard floor.

Theo's hand finds your ass, giving it a rough squeeze as he guides you towards one of the benches.

"Bend over" he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You bend over the bench, Your skimpy cheerleader skirt rides up to reveal the curve of your ass, exposing the lacy panties underneath. You can feel his eyes on you, drinking in the sight of your vulnerable position.

A smirk plays on your lips. You can't help but poke the bear, even as your heart races with anticipation

"Ooh, I'm sooo scared," you drawl, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Whatever shall I do?

The big bad Slytherin is going to punish me for flirting with another boy. I might just faint from the sheer terror of it all."

You hear Theo's sharp intake of breath behind you, followed by the sound of his palm cracking against your ass. The sting is immediate, a hot burst of pain that sends shockwaves through your body.

"Watch it, Bella" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "That smart mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days."

His hand comes down again, harder this time, the force of it sending a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain straight to your core. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatens to escape.

"That's it, keep that smart mouth shut,"

Theodore taunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he kneads the reddened skin.

"I'm going to fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in and see" Theo whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"And you're going to take it like a good little slut, aren't you?"

He reaches down, his hand sliding between your legs to cup your aching sex. You're already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin. Theo chuckles darkly as he feels how wet you are.

"Look at you, getting off on this. You're sick, you know that? Teasing me, flirting with other boys, just to get a rise out of me." His fingers slide under your panties, teasing your swollen folds. You can't help but arch into his touch, desperate for more.

"Beg for it, tesoro" he demands, his voice rough with desire.

 "Beg me to fuck you like the naughty little slut you are. Maybe if you beg nicely enough, l'Il give you what you want."His words are cruel, but they only serve to fuel your arousal. You're desperate for him, desperate for the release only he can give you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg.

"Fuck you, Theodore" you hiss, glaring back at him over your shoulder.

“awe come on baby, i know you can’t resist me”

His fingers dip inside you, stroking your inner walls. You can't help but moan at the intrusion, your hips bucking back against his hand. Theodore chuckles darkly, his thumb finding your clit and circling it mercilessly.

"That's it, let me hear you," he taunts, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping core.

Theodore's fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, your hips bucking back against his hand as you chase your pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he growls, his voice low and dark

You can't hold back any longer. As his fingers drive deeper, his thumb pressing harder on your clit, you let out a loud, wanton moan.

Your back arches, pushing your hips back against his hand, desperate for more of that exquisite pleasure.

"Fuck, Theo!" you cry out, your voice echoing off the locker room walls. "Please, don't stop!"

Theodore chuckles darkly, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on your most intimate places. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's more like it, You sound so pretty when you beg." he purrs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

Theo's fingers pump harder, faster, his thumb rubbing your clit with merciless precision. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. The wet sounds of your arousal fill the locker room, mixing with the slap of skin on skin as he fucks you with his fingers.

"That's it, tesoro" he growls, his voice low and husky. "Cum for me. Show me how much you want it. I want to feel you clenching around my fingers, begging for more."

You're so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy, your body trembling with need. With a final, brutal thrust of his fingers, Theo sends you over the edge.

“oh godd” Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as you cum hard. You cry out, your voice raw with pleasure, your body shaking uncontrollably. Theo doesn't let up, continuing to finger-fuck you through your climax, drawing out your pleasure until you're a boneless, panting mess.

As you come down from your high, Theo withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth. He sucks them clean, his eyes locked on yours as he savors your taste.

"Delicious" he purrs, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "But we're far from done. I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight, until the only name you remember is mine."

Theo's hands grip your hips, he positions you on your hands and knees on the bench. his fingers digging into your flesh as he positions himself at your entrance. You can feel the heat of his cock, the hardness of it pressing insistently against your sensitive folds. 

"Spread your legs wider,tesoro” he commands, his voice rough with lust. "Let me see that pretty little cunt." With a brutal thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely.

"Fuck, you're so tight" he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "I can feel every inch of you squeezing around my cock."

He sets a relentless pace, pounding into you with a force that steals your breath. The bench creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin on skin, the grunts and moans of your mutual pleasure.

Theo's hips snap forward, driving his cock deeper with each thrust.

His hands roam your body, groping and squeezing as he fucks you. He reaches around to your front, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Mine to fuck, mine to use, mine to claim. Say it." he growls, his voice rough with desire

The moment you hesitate, Theo's hand cracks across your ass in a stinging slap.

"I said, say it" he demands, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me who you belong to."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, instead thrusting forward hard and fast.

You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing at the familiar burn of being filled so completely.

Theodore doesn't pause, pulling back only to slam into you again, setting a brutal pace. The force of his thrusts rocks you forward on the bench, your breasts bouncing with each harsh snap of his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the locker room, mixing with your moans and Theo's grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he pants, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. "So tight, so perfect for my cock.”

You can feel your pleasure building with each thrust, your inner walls clenching around him, desperate for more. Theodore leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he pounds into you relentlessly.

"Say it," he growls in your ear, his hot breath fanning across your neck. 

"Tell me who you belong to”

You're so close to the edge, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm. But you refuse to give in, refuse to give Theodore the satisfaction of hearing you submit. Instead, you clench down hard on his cock, trying to distract him, to throw him off balance.

It works, at least for a moment. Theo curses, his hips stuttering as your walls grip him like a vice. But he quickly recovers, pulling out entirely and flipping you over onto your back. He hovers above you, his eyes dark with lust and frustration.

Theo looms over you, his eyes wild with lust and frustration. You meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to submit, to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. Instead, you reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him down to you.

"You're mine, Theodore," you whisper, your voice low and seductive. "You've always been mine, even if you won't admit it. Say it. Tell me who you belong to."

Your challenge hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken desire. Theo's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. But you can see the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, the momentary crack in his carefully constructed facade.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts against his chest as you wrap your legs around his waist.

"Fuck, Bella" he pants, his voice strained.

"You drive me crazy. You make me want things I shouldn't want, feel things I shouldn't feel. But you're right. I am yours, just as much as you're mine. We belong to each other, whether we like it or not."

Theodore's admission hangs in the air between you, a confession whispered in the heat of passion. He gazes down at you, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before the hunger returns, dark and intense. His hips move in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust driving him deeper, filling you completely.

"My perfect little minx, my tempting little tease. You drive me insane, make me want to possess every inch of you, claim you in ways no one else ever could." he growls, his voice low and possessive.

His hand slides up your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast before palming the soft mound 

Theo's hand slides lower, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, teasing circles. Your hips buck against him, seeking more of that delicious friction. He chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your skin.

"That's it, my little slut" he purrs, his voice dripping with praise. His hand fists in your hair, tugging your head back as he leans down to claim your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue delves deep, exploring, conquering, leaving no doubt as to who owns you.

You moan into his mouth, your own tongue tangling with his in a dance of dominance and submission.

Theodore's thrusts grow harder, faster, each one driving you closer to the edge. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. You can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls clenching around him, desperate for release.

"You're going to be the death of me, dolcezza. But what a way to go." he growls, his lips crashing against yours in a brutal kiss.

He angles his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

Each stroke sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, building the tension coiling in your core.

"Harder," you gasp, your voice raw with need.

"Fuck me harder, Theo. I can take it. I want it." you whine out

Theo obliges, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more brutal. The bench creaks beneath you, the metal frame rattling with each powerful stroke. You can feel him growing harder inside you, his cock throbbing against your walls.

Theo's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, teasing circles. The added stimulation is almost too much, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches.

"Cum for me, Bella " he demands, his voice low and commanding. "Cum on my cock like a good girl. Show me who you belong to."

Theo groans, his hips stuttering as he nears his own climax.

"Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Fuck, I'm going to fill you up so good."

“omg theo!” You cry out, your back arching off the bench as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. your voice raw with pleasure, your body shaking uncontrollably. Theo doesn't let up, continuing to pound into you, riding out your climax with his own.

Even as your orgasm crashes over you, Theodore doesn't let up. He continues to pound into you, his hips slamming against yours with relentless force. The sensation is almost too much to bear, your overstimulated nerves screaming with pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel incredible when you cum" Theo groans, his voice strained with effort. 

"So tight, so perfect. I could fuck you like this forever, make you cum over and over again until you're a satisfied mess."

"Theo" you moan, your voice raw and desperate. "I can't... I can't take anymore. It's too much."

But even as you protest, your hips are moving in time with his, meeting each of his thrusts with your own. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your body responding to his touches even as your mind struggles to keep up.

“It's okay baby just a little longer, you can handle it right?”

you nod not being able to say anything else

His hip quicken as he feels his release approaching 

“fuck fuck fuck” he cries out, his voice raw with pleasure

Theo slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat. His body tenses, his muscles rigid as his climax hits him like a freight train. With a guttural groan, he finds his release, his cock pulsing and twitching as he fills you with his seed.

The sensation is overwhelming, your oversensitive body shaking and quivering with the force of his orgasm. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back, your body milking him for all he's worth.

Gradually, his thrusts slow, his body relaxing as he comes down from his high. He collapses beside you on the bench, both of you gasping for breath, your bodies glistening with sweat. For a moment, there is only the sound of your ragged breathing, the pounding of your hearts gradually slowing.

Theo reaches out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. His touch is gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutal passion of moments before. He looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, a hint of vulnerability in their depths.

You reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him down for a kiss. It's slow, tender, a stark contrast to the brutal passion of moments before. You both pour all your feelings into the kiss, all the emotions you’ve been trying to deny, to suppress.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathless, smiling softly at each other. Theodore's hand slides down your side, his fingers interlacing with yours.

"no more games" he whispers as he kisses your forehead "just you & me okay?"

“just you and me” 

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

tag list: @leona-hawthorne @kaliuchislov4r @esmerai-artemis @5cr3w101

[v6quewrlds]

❝ guilt trip, t. alexander-arnold. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: every year, trent and his mates bet on no nut november. and every year trent fails to hold out. it's really not your fault you can't hold off.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: so sorry this is up so late <3 day ten of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, brief fingering, begging.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.7k.

"I can't believe it's November already," you said, your eyes fixed on the calendar. The page, a warm palette complementary to the warm autumnal hues of the season, glared back at you with a single, scribbled note: "No Nut November begins today". You sighed, knowing what this meant for you and Trent's love life for the next thirty days.

Trent sailed into the room, his broad frame casting a shadow over your thoughts. "I think this is my year, babe," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I swear I'm gonna win that bet."

You could only roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the bet. "You've never made it past the first week," you reminded him, your voice laden with skepticism.

Every November 1st, you had come to expect the same conversation with Trent. You knew the drill: he'd announce the start of the "No Nut November" challenge with the excitement of a kid on Christmas Eve, and you would play along, feigning shock and annoyance. But this year, you felt a twinge of genuine annoyance. You had been dating for almost two years now, and you had hoped that by this point, the juvenile betting pool with his football mates would've grown old. But here you were, staring down the barrel of another month-long abstinence challenge.

Trent, ever the competitor, was undeterred by your eye roll. "This year's different," he assured you, crossing the room to give your arm a playful squeeze. "Me and the boys have upped the stakes. The winner gets bragging rights and a sweet little prize."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what's the prize this time?" you asked, already bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Trent's eyes lit up. "It's a weekend getaway to a posh spa resort. Imagine it, babe," he said, his voice full with enthusiasm. "Just you and me, no interruptions, no training, no matches."

You couldn't help but feel a spark of interest. A weekend at a spa was something you hadn't indulged in for quite some time. "And who's doing the challenge this year?" you inquired, knowing full well that you would be the one keeping Trent honest.

"Just me, Dom, Ryan, and Harvey," Trent listed off his competitors with a grin. "But it's mainly between Dom and me, to be honest."

You sighed, knowing that Dominik was going to be the toughest competition for Trent. "Alright, you know the rules," you said, trying to hide your amusement. "No funny business for the next thirty days."

Trent nodded solemnly. "I know, I know," he said, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. "But just think of the prize, love. A whole weekend of pampering and no distractions. We can finally relax."

You couldn't argue with that. "Fine, I'll hold you to it," you said with a smirk. "But if you even think about cheating..."

"Would I ever?" Trent protested, his eyes wide and innocent. You just raised an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled, admitting defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll behave."

The first week was surprisingly easy, with Trent's focus on the bet keeping him in check. The two of you spent your evenings watching movies and playing board games, your hands brushing against each other in innocent gestures that somehow seemed more intimate than your usual passionate encounters.

But as November marched on, the tension grew. You could feel it in the way Trent's eyes lingered on you, the way his touch slightly lingered. The air in the apartment thickened with unspoken desire, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from teasing him too much. You knew how much this ridiculous challenge meant to him, and you didn't want to be the one to make him stumble.

One evening, with about four days left to go, Trent came home from training with a new haircut, the fresh scent of aftershave wafting through the door before he did. You were in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your dinner, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. His hair was buzzed closer to his scalp than it had been that morning, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his brown eyes. Though you would deny it, you nearly dropped the knife at the sight of him.

"What do you think?" Trent asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice as he spun around to show you the full picture.

You couldn't help but stare. The clean-shaven edges of his head and the short, textured hair on top were always a favorite look of yours, but the excitement in his eyes was purely childlike. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile. "Looks good," you said, your voice a little too flat. "Very clean, babe."

Trent stepped closer, leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze trained on your reaction. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little too casual. "Thought I'd go for a change."

You could see the challenge in his eyes, the silent dare to push the boundaries of the bet. You scoffed, trying to play it cool. "Don't get too cocky," you warned him. "You've still got a few days to go."

Trent chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Cocky?" he repeated, his smirk growing wider at the double entendre. "Now why would you say that?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your expression neutral as you continued to prep dinner. "Because you know it's going to be hard to resist," you said, your voice low. "Especially looking like that."

Trent pushed himself off the counter and sauntered over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Is that so?" he murmured, his breath warm on your neck as he peered over your shoulder. His fingers danced across your waist, making your heart flutter despite your resolve to keep things PG for the next few days.

"Trent, don't," you chided, swatting his hand away, but not before you felt the electricity of his touch zipping through your body. You turned to face him, your desire shimmering in your eyes despite your stern expression. "You're making this impossible."

"Impossible?" he said with a cheeky smile, his thumb brushing the side of your face. "You know you want to." His voice was a low murmured tease that sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the smell of his fresh shower gel and the sight of his toned arms flexing as he leaned against the counter was making it increasingly difficult. "I've been helping you remember?" you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"Ah, but what's the fun in that?" Trent whispered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, it can stay our secret?"

You knew you should be the voice of reason, but his touch was making your knees weak, and the way he looked at you with that cocky grin had your mind racing. You stepped back, trying to create some distance, but the kitchen was small, and he followed you, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer.

"Trent," you protested, even as she felt yourself melting into his embrace. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch, your body craving his warmth.

He kissed your neck, his lips lingering on your sensitive skin. "Come on, love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "One little slip won't hurt."

Your resolve was wavering. The smell of him, the heat of his body, and the promise in his eyes were too tempting. "Trent," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We can't. You'll lose the bet."

Trent leaned in closer, his mouth finding yours in a gentle but urgent kiss. "It's okay. I don't care anymore," he murmured against your lips. "I just need you."

You felt the last of your resolve crumbling. You pushed away the guilt that tried to surface. After all, it was just one time. And you had missed him, more than you would like to admit. "Fine," you whispered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But you better make it worth it."

With a growl of victory, Trent swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, leaving the chopped vegetables forgotten on the kitchen counter. He laid you gently on the bed, his hands tracing the curves of your body with a hunger that had been building for weeks. You couldn't help but feel a thrill at the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Your kisses grew more urgent, your hands more explorative. Trent peeled off your sweater, revealing your bare chest, a silent invitation that hadn't gone unnoticed. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat. Your pulse quickened, the anticipation of his touch making your skin prickle with excitement. He kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as he untied your sweats and slid them off your legs.

Trent's strong hands roamed your body, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a gasp from you. You reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head with an eagerness that surprised you. His skin was warm and smooth, the muscles of his chest tightening under your palms.

You rolled over the bed, a tangle of limbs and passion, the intensity of your kisses matching the urgency in your movements. You felt the heat of his erection pressing against your center, and you moaned softly, your arousal growing. Trent kissed a trail down your body, his teeth grazing your skin, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

Your hands found his hair, tugging him closer as he nibbled at your skin, teasing and suckling until you were squirming beneath him. His hand slid down your stomach, his fingers finding your wetness, and you arched your back, your breath hitching in response. He chuckled darkly against your skin, knowing just how much it drove you crazy.

Trent took his time, savoring every inch of your body as if it were his first time. His touch was both gentle and demanding, leaving you gasping for more. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips when he slipped a finger inside you, stroking you in a rhythm that had your hips moving in sync. Your legs fell open wider, giving him full access as he kissed and licked his way down your body.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional sound of skin against skin. Your thoughts swirled in a haze of desire, your body responding to Trent's every touch with an urgency that had been building for weeks. You could feel the tension coiling within you, tightening with every stroke and kiss.

Trent paused, his eyes locking with yours as he reached for his shorts. Your chest heaved with anticipation, your heart racing at the thought of what was to come. He hovered over you, his gaze filled with a mix of need and love.

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his erection nudging at your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed in, the sensation of being filled by him almost too much to bear. He groaned, his muscles tensing as he buried himself deep inside you. The two of you moved together, your rhythm a dance you had perfected over the years you had been together. Each thrust brought a wave of pleasure that crashed over you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the bed sheets.

Trent moaned into your ear, his voice a mix of passion and affection that sent shivers down your spine. "You feel so good," he murmured, his breath hot and ragged. You responded with moans of pleasure, your body arching to meet his as the tension grew tauter. The room was a cocoon of passion, the rest of the world outside your window forgotten in the heat of the moment.

"Baby," you whispered, your voice a soft plea as the tension coiled tighter within you. Trent's rhythm grew more urgent, his breaths shallow and ragged against your skin. The heady scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a silent testament to your shared need.

"Yeah? Tell me what you need, pretty girl," Trent's voice was strained as he moved above you, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort to hold himself up.

Your nails raked down his back as he brought your legs up around his waist, changing the angle and driving even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt the orgasm building, the heat pooling in your core. "Please," you begged, your voice barely audible.

Trent kissed you again, his movements growing more frantic as he felt you tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the knowledge spurred him on. "Come on, baby," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "What do you need, love?"

"Harder," you gasped, your eyes wide with desire. "Please, T. Harder."

Trent complied, his strokes becoming more forceful, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your breathing grew ragged, and your eyes squeezed shut as the wave of pleasure built, threatening to consume you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, and you knew that with one more push, you would be over.

"Now, baby," Trent whispered, his voice a mix of command and desperation. And with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through your body like a storm. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you clenched around him. The intensity of your climax took you by surprise, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Trent followed closely behind, his own release crashing over him like a wave. He buried his face in your neck, his breaths coming in heavy pants against your skin. You felt him pulse inside you, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your core. Your hand gently fluttered over the trimmed hair at the nape of his neck, your touch soothing his panting breaths.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the distant murmur of the city below. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that Trent had just failed to win the bet. But as Trent rolled off you, pulling you close, you pushed the thought aside. For now, you would revel in the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Trent leaned in and kissed your forehead gently. "Worth it?" he whispered, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Your head shook but you couldn't help but laugh. "You're such a tease," you huffed, your voice still shaky from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"Couldn't resist," Trent said with a grin, his chest still heaving. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Besides, it's not a big deal anyway. Dom gave up this morning."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What?" you exclaimed, pushing yourself up to look at him. "You mean you could've..."

Trent nodded, his cheeky grin growing wider. "Could've," he confirmed, "but I had to make it good. For the prize, obviously."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. "Trent," you said, shoving weakly at his chest. "I felt so guilty."

Trent chuckled, kissing your forehead again. "It's alright, love," he assured you. "I think we've been good for long enough."

You sighed, a mix of relief and annoyance crossing your face. "I guess. But you could've told me sooner," you pouted, snuggling closer to his warmth.

Trent shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?" He leaned in, kissing your cheek. "Besides, we both know I was going to win anyway." His voice was full of good-natured arrogance, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, even as you felt a warmth spread through your chest at his confidence.

The tension of the past few weeks dissipated into the comfortable silence that had become a familiar blanket between you. Your mind raced with what you could say to scold him, but the feeling of his strong arms around you, his heart beating steady and strong against your chest, was too comforting to let go.

[strawberriesoup]

24 to 25٠࣪⭑

── .✦ A snowstorm forces you to take refuge with Jisung on christmas eve

word count: 6.6k

genre: fluff with a little angst, jisung x female reader, mutual pining, comfort, acquaintances to lovers

warnings: cursing, feelings, reader is down horrendously bad for jisung, kisses, jisung is a sweetheart

a/n: this has been in the works for a while (i’m bad at writing stuff fast) SO IM SUPER HAPPY THAT I WAS ABLE TO GET IT OUT FOR THE HOLIDAY SEASON

any/all feedback is highly appreciated!!

taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools

if you would like to be added to my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The holiday season is a time for joy, a time to share laughter and meals, a time to wear fuzzy socks and fall asleep watching bad Christmas movies. Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be anyways. It’s a little hard to get into the Christmas cheer when each snowflake swirling outside your windshield is somehow concerningly larger than the last.

Wind whistles past your car as you squint your eyes, trying — and failing— to get any sort of visibility through the rapidly thickening blanket of snow and darkness. The gas light flashes on with a ping. Damn it. Continuing on whilst the best you can make out of your surroundings is a screen of nothingness and the occasional telephone pole doesn’t seem like the best course of action right now.

Eventually, you manage to pull into a small gas station about five minutes away by reluctantly putting your life into the hands of Google Maps.

Blowing warmth onto your hands, white-knuckled from your death grip on the steering wheel, you yank your phone out of the cupholder. Stranded in some dingy parking lot a good forty-five minutes away from your apartment is definitely where you needed to be on Christmas Eve, thanks so much universe. And your feet are cold.

You had really wanted to surprise them. The last time you’d seen your family was back in March, well over half a year ago. You thought Christmas as the perfect opportunity to visit. Just imagining the look on their faces alone was more than enough to spur your enthusiasm. But, then again, you hear the worries in the back of your mind. You hadn’t visited in so long, rarely even sending a text their way. And coming over with zero warning? They might not be as happy as you hoped.

No, of course they would be happy to see you, right? Right. Either way, there’s no way you’re going anywhere tonight.

Warm air from the AC fans across your face as you slump back in your chair, unfastening the top clasp of your coat that suddenly seems to be suffocating you. What do you even do in this situation? Call someone?

Scrolling through your contacts, your eyes alight on a familiar name.

Han Jisung

You face lights up with hope. Didn’t he say something about living around here? You open his contact, immediately faced with the looming call button in the top right corner of the screen.

Jisung is somewhat of an aquaintance of yours. Calling him a friend might be too bold. Being partners on a group project doesn’t automatically equal friendship, but you two had gotten along quite well. At least, you thought so. Maybe that was wishful thinking coming from your fat crush on him and his gorgeous smile, but still.

What are you doing? You hardly know this guy, and you’re going to call him on Christmas Eve night so he can, what, pick you up? You have to admit, the thought sets off little warning bells in your head. But what other options do you have?

Finger hovering over the button, you hesitate for a moment longer before pressing call.

The line rings once, twice. What if he doesn’t answer? He’s probably busy, it is Christmas eve after all. Did he ever mention leaving town for the holidays?

You’re so busy trying to recall previous conversations with him that you almost don’t notice the line picking up before the third ring. Shit, that was faster than you were expecting. Jisung’s voice greets you through the speaker.

“Heyy, what’s up?”

At the sound of his voice, your heart does a little leap in your chest. You take a deep breath before answering.

“Hi Jisung. I, uh, have a bit of a favor to ask.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You were right about him living close, because less than fifteen minutes later the bright flash of headlights announces Jisung’s arrival. You know that looking nice should be the least of your priorities right now, but that doesn’t stop you from flipping open the sunvisor and briefly inspecting your appearance.

Jisung’s car door thuds shut as you hop out of your own car, met with a brisk rush of air that fills your lungs, chilling you from the inside out. He wasn’t far, but with the heavy snow you can just make out his form from across the lot. You’re quick to hustle towards his dark sillouette, eager to get out of the cold as soon as possible.

Meeting in the middle sooner than you had expected, both you and Jisung halt in tandem, breaths coming in puffs of condensation. The zipper of his puffer jacket is half undone, complimented by a scarf thrown haphazardly around his neck. His hands that are shoved deep in the pockets of his coat give hint to the fact that he’s probably not even wearing gloves.

Neither of you had spoken a word. The silence is painfully awkward, and you can tell he feels it too, if the way he glances down at his feet in favor of meeting your eyes is anything to go by.

“So, do you—”

“Should we—”

Speaking simultaneously, you both cut your sentences short, falling into a silence that’s somehow louder than the last. God, you had expected it to be awkward but not this awkward. Meeting with Jisung outside of a college setting feels so foreign, the only way you’ve interacted with him thus far has been through school. You can feel your ears burn as Jisung clears his throat.

“Sorry, uh, you were saying?” He pulls his hand out of his pocket to gesture at you, confirming that he is indeed not wearing gloves.

The question hangs in the air as Jisung pushes his glasses up with two fingers and looks at you expectantly. His cheeks are tinted with blush from the prickling cold. Lips slightly parted, his breath hisses through his teeth with every inhale, as if trying to supress them from chattering.

“Oh, yeah,” you begin your sentence again, shaking your head to focus. You’re standing in a parking lot in the middle of an actual snowstorm, now is not the time to be fawning over him. “should we, like, head to your car? I’m freezing. I’ll just leave my car here because it’s— yeah.” You twist around to look at your drab little car. It’ll be fine.

He lets out a little puff of laughter, sending a cloud of frost into the air.

“Yeah, good idea. c’mon let’s go.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The car ride to Jisung’s place is less awkward than your experience in the parking lot, but not by much. A comment is occasionally made about the storm, but other than that the ride is filled with silence and the steady swishing of windshield wipers.

Jisung glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re examining the fluff on your gloves with your head down, not seeming too intrested in conversation.

Or maybe you’re uncomfortable. That would make a lot of sense.

Wincing internally at himself, Jisung draws his attention back to the road and furrows his brow, trying to remember if he’s done something wrong. Although, he supposes that being alone with, well, not a stranger— Jisung would like to think he’s at least a good aquaintance to you— but with someone you don't know too well, is enough to put anyone on edge. He has to remind himself that this was your idea.

When your contact info had popped up on his screen, interrupting his very important business (scrolling), he promptly froze, had an intense mental battle on how he should answer, dropped his phone, picked it back up again, and hit answer, all in the span of about four seconds.

Jisung has to admit he does have a slight thing for you. Well okay, maybe a big thing. Like, he has your class schedule and favorite study spot memorized kind of big. Also you wear your hair up on Tuesdays.

But thats besides the point really.

After what feels like a lifetime of driving and the occasional buzzing of muted christmas music playing through the radio, you two finally arrive at Jisung’s place.

It’s nicer than you had expected. The house is dimly lit, but perfectly tidy. Best of all, it’s warm. Behind you, Jisung’s keys jingle as he hangs them up next to the door.

“Uh, make yourself at home, okay? There’s instant ramen, some milk… actually, that’s about it but hey, at least there’s ramen.” He beckons you in, tugging his scarf off while smiling ruefully at the lack of food options to offer.

“That’s okay, I believe in instant ramen supremacy,” you state confidently, earning a laugh from Jisung as you follow him into the kitchen, resting your weight on the counter.

“A woman after my own heart I see,” He jokes, closing his eyes and placing a hand dramatically over his heart. His knuckles are still flushed pink from the cold.

If only he knew.

You can feel the awkward tension from earlier start to melt away now that you’re here. Thank God, because you were seriously considering going back to your car and just waiting out the night there. You couldn’t do that though. Jisung was so willing to help, coming as soon as you had called. Which is kind of crazy, if you stop to think about it for a second. Going out of your way to drive out in a snowstorm and picking someone up on Christmas Eve would be absolutely out of the question for most people, let alone someone you aren’t even close with.

Jisung is busying himself with running some warm water in the kitchen. He rests one elbow on the counter, testing the water tempature. You find yourself watching his movements, how he runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands dampening with the moisture from his hand, and how his eyebrows pinch in concentration until the tempature is just right. Jisung seems more comfortable and relaxed now that he’s here. He’s not a tall man, by any stretch of the imagination, but his confident demeanor makes his presence seem much larger.

Running his chilled hands underneath the warm faucet to bring the warmth back, Jisung looks to the window. You blink and follow suit. Fortunately, he hadn’t caught you staring.

“Holy shit, we must have made it here just in time,” He laughs incredulously, shutting off the sink and shaking the rest of the dampness from his hands.

The window is completely engulfed in white.

Outside, the wind angrily laments that you’re inside and safe. You can’t imagine being stuck out there in that, alone. Just the thought of it makes your insides churn with a strange mixture of anxiety and relief, and you realize that you haven’t even thanked Jisung yet for saving your sorry ass. You open your mouth, but the words seem to dry up on your tongue.

Jisung tilts his head at you, questioning.

“No for real, I haven’t seen a snow this crazy in a while,” Running your hand along the cool countertop, you fix your eyes on an unlit candle to the left of Jisung’s form. Why can’t you just say thank you? It’s not that hard, yet you find yourself avoiding the two simple words like the plauge.

A beat of silence falls over the two of you, but this time it’s comfortable. There’s no rush or pressure to say anything, just a quiet presence while gazing out at the bright sheet that blankets the night.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You have an idea.

Is it a good idea? Probably not, but it’s an idea nonetheless.

While you had been absentmindedly thumbing through your Pinterest homepage in an attempt to pass time, you came across a recipe. And not just any recipe, it’s a sugar cookie recipe in the likeness of a snowman. With a little face on it.

The tantalizing image stirrs your sweet tooth, and you glance over at Jisung on the other side of the couch. He seems to be putting an obviously large amount of distance between the two of you, as the entire middle section of the couch remains empty with you and Jisung perched on either side.

“Hey, so… are you any good at baking?”

Jisung’s head jerks up at your question.

“Uhhh. I plead the fifth.”

You find yourself grinning.

“How about this, do you like baking?”

“Now that. Is a different story.” His knees spread apart as he adjusts his position on the couch, slouching lower and crossing his arms across his chest. He looks at you sideways. “What, did you have something in mind?”

You definitely do have something in mind, and it doesn't have anything to do with baking.

“Hear me out,” you point your phone screen at Jisung, who leans in to squint at it. “we make christmas cookies. In the shape of snowmen.”

“You know what, hell yeah. Nothing better to do,” Jisung stretches his arms towards the ceiling, hands balling up into fists. Your wandering eyes betray you, and you can’t help but notice the little sliver of smooth skin that peeks out from where his shirt slides up as he stretches. He needs to stop being so casually sexy right now or you might go crazy. “Cross your fingers though, ‘cause I dunno if I have any eggs.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

Currently standing in a neat line across the countertop are all the gathered ingredients necessary for the cookies. Jisung had miraculously acquired two eggs from the depths of his fridge, which now sit next to the flour, and you had spent a good five minutes opening and closing cabinets in search of all the dry ingredients.

You’ve baked a couple of times before. Granted, the first time the cookies were still soft in the middle and the second time may or may not have involved the fire department, but third time’s the charm right? You’re determined to make and eat these cookies.

Next to you, Jisung is staring at the ingredients, hands on his hips. Seemingly at a loss, he looks over to you for instructions.

“Okay, step one: combine the dry ingredients…”

So far, so good. Jisung was put in charge of the flour mixture, while you had started the task of creaming the butter and sugar together.

When you glance up to check on Jisung after a bit, you find him leveling out a scoop of flour, meticulously brushing any stray lumps of powder off of the top with a butter knife. His eyes squint in concentration until he is satisfied with the measurement, proceeding to dump it into the bowl. A faint cloud of white powder dusts the air.

You watch him with amusement as he scoops another cup out of the flour bag, starting the whole process over again.

He must have felt you staring, because his head darts up, eyes finding yours. You quickly duck your head back towards your work.

You wonder if Jisung is a perfectionist with most things in his life. He’s mentioned before that he writes and produces music, you figure that has a certain degree of perfectionism to it. Then again, during the car ride here your feet were resting on several bags of fast food from various restaurants. Maybe his perfectionism is selective.

The undeveloped batter clings to the mixer as you switch it off and pull it out of the bowl. You swipe a finger over one of the whisks and pop it in your mouth. It might just be sugar and butter, but hey, that shit’s good.

Turning your head to offer Jisung a taste, you let out a gasp of surprise upon realizing that he’s standing right behind you. He leans forward, lowkey trapping you between him and the counter as he crosses an arm around you to scoop up some of the mixture from the edge of the bowl. Your breath catches at his proximity. His warm breath brushes againt your neck, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

He draws away, licking his finger while you remain frozen in place. What happened to him keeping a good distance from you? You don’t think he even realizes what he just did, because he just strolls on back to his little station, quietly humming a tune as he goes.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

As soon as the oven door slams shut, Jisung is immediately squatted in front of it, dutifully watching the uniform balls of dough through the yellow tint of the oven light.

“You know those will take, like, thirteen minutes to cook, right?” Leaning over the countertop, you raise an eyebrow at his crouched form.

“Thirteen? No way. I’ll basically be dead by then.” Jisung stands up, brushing some of the remaining flour off his pants. That’s when you notice a patch of white just above his left eyebrow. How did that even happen?

You step forward without thinking, reaching up to rub the spot off with your thumb. His skin is ridiculously soft, and you find your treacherous fingers lingering for probably longer than was strictly necessary.

Jisung’s eyes are twice as wide as normal as you pull your hand away. He blinks at you and swallows, causing his throat to bob up and down.

Oh so now he’s flustered. You’re beginning to think your little crush is reciprocated after all.

Momentarily confident, you send him a sweet smile.

“That’s better.”

Jisung doesn't say anything in return, but you don't think you’re imagining the slight red tint to his ears.

Three loud beeps announce that the cookies have completed their oven time and are now ready to be taken out and consumed.

Jisung arms himself with oven mitts and carefully slides the cookie tray out of the oven and onto the potholders that you had placed on the countertop a few minutes prior.

They look good. Like, really good. You can feel your mouth starting to water.

“Holy shit, I think we actually did it! Thank God they didn't catch on fire this time,” you exclaim, poking one experimentally with a finger.

Jisung’s eyebrows fly up and he shoots you a bewildered look.

“I thought you said you could cook??”

“Hey now, I never said that…”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Throughout the night, you have become painfully aware of the fact that you are wearing jeans.

Thankfully, since you were heading to your family’s house anyways, you have an entire suitcase packed with the works. Your comfy pajamas from last year are sounding really good right now.

Jisung is propped up on the corner of the couch with a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other. His cheeks are stuffed with probably half of said cookie right now, making him look like some sort of rodent. It’s cute.

You need to ask him where his bathroom is to change, but you find yourself hesitating. Jisung looks up at you with a confused expression and a cookie crumb clinging to his cheek.

Realizing that you’re just looming over the side of his couch ominously, you are quick to blurt out your question.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Goddamnit. Of course he knows where his own fucking bathroom is. What kind of question is that?

Jisung, luckily, seems to have found it amusing, his eyes squinting up as he lets out a hearty laugh. Which almost, almost, makes up for the fact that you just asked the stupidest question in the history of mankind. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up though.

“Yeah, I think it’s down the hallway to the left,”

He’s playing along. You wonder if he has any idea how much better that makes you feel as you break into a wide smile and thank him, scurrying off to go grab your…

Suitcase.

Your suitcase. Where was it? You don’t remember bringing it to Jisung’s place, where could it be? Did you- oh. You remember your dingy little car, sitting out there in the gas station parking lot. Your dingy little car that happened to have your suitcase in it.

Sometimes you surprise yourself, because how can one be this much of a mess? Everything has gone wrong tonight, and now this? You couldn’t even make it to your family’s house to surprise them. The weight of it all is beginning to crush you, forcing tears to well up in your eyes.

Stopping in the hallway around the corner, out of Jisung’s eyeshot, you shove your impending emotions down your throat, the roughness of the wall against your fist keeping you steady. You are not going to cry right now. You’ll find a solution. You just need to calm down first. Closing your eyes, you take in deep breaths, letting each exhale push you farther away from tears.

Once you’re sure you have yourself under control, you consider your options. You could ask Jisung for something to wear, or you could remain uncomfortable in your jeans for the remainder of the night. Now, you wouldn’t be upset about wearing Jisung’s clothes, not even in the slightest. They’d probably smell like him, too. How that man always smells so damn good is beyond you.

He’ll understand if you ask him for his clothes. You know he will. Hopefully, he won’t take it in the wrong way. It’s not like you want to wear his clothes, you just have to because you don’t have any other option.

Yeah no, you really just want to wear his clothes.

Rounding the corner, you expect to see Jisung on the couch only to find that he’s no longer in his spot, or in the living room, for that matter. He’s not in the kitchen either (which still has various baking supplies and smears of flour scattered about. You make a mental note to clean that up later). Huh. Maybe he went to his room. You settle down on the couch to wait for him, busying yourself with counting your knuckles.

Sock-padded footsteps cause your head to perk up in their direction. Jisung emerges from his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. His face lights up when he finds you on the couch.

“I wasn’t sure if you had brought any PJs or not, so, I grabbed some things you can wear,” He says, then seems to check himself and quickly adds, “If you want! You don’t, like, have to or anything, just thought I would offer.” In his arms he carries a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

You could kiss him right now.

“Oh my God, Jisung, are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s no problem at all.” He reassures you.

Jisung had offered the clothes purely out of wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. Sleeping in jeans is pretty awful and he didn’t see you bring a suitcase or anything. Maybe he also wanted to give you his clothes but that’s irrelevant.

He watches as you skip off to the bathroom to change with a newfound pep to your step. Jisung shakes his head, grinning despite himself. You’re just so damn cute.

This storm might just be the best thing that’s happened to Jisung in a while. Getting to spend time with you? And on Christmas Eve no less. If you’d have told him that yesterday, he wouldn't have believed it one bit. It’s like all his prayers have been answered.

He finds himself wondering, what were your plans before you called him for help? Are you upset that you’re here, at his place, instead of wherever you were heading to? Jisung hopes not. As much as he’s happy you’re here to keep him company, he can’t help but worry about how you’re feeling about the situation.

As if on cue, you appear once again at the entrance to the hallway. This time though, you’re all cozyed up in his clothes.

Jisung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you. The sweats nearly swallow your feet whole, and his hoodie— which is oversized in the first place—fits almost comically large on your frame; hanging off of one shoulder.

It’s not the exposed shoulder that gets him necessarily, this isn’t the 19th century, it’s the fact that you’re in his clothes and in his house.

He swallows.

“You look- you, uh, yeah. You look good. Warm?”

Jisung’s reaction tells you all you need to know. You laugh in response.

“Mhm! Add this to the list of things I definitely owe you for,”

“Pshh, nah don’t even worry about it, i’m happy to help,” Jisung figures that if he doesn’t look at you too hard, he’ll be able to keep his brain from short-circuiting. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Sparing a careful glance back up at you, he pats the couch to back up his offer.

The couch dips as you plop down next to him, sporting that smile of yours that has him weak. You had looked so distraught just a couple of minutes ago, and just the simple act of him offering his clothes and a movie had brought your spirits right up. Cute.

Jisung rests his chin on his hand and listens as you lay out your christmas movie options, but he’s only half-paying attention. He knows that he’ll enjoy whatever movie you choose, as long as you’re there to watch it with him.

He also knows that he’s probably more than a little bit head over heels for you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The smell of freshly-microwaved popcorn fills the room as you and Jisung take your respective places on the couch, the silent agreement apparently being to keep at least a foot between your bodies at all times

You settle in and get comfortable while the opening credits roll across the screen. Jisung is tossing some popcorn in his mouth, having already eaten nearly half of his bag. You get the feeling that he’s going to be asking to steal some of your popcorn sooner or later.

Even with him being a foot away, you are hyper-aware of his presence. The movie is starting, but you know there’s no way you are going to able to maintain any sort of attention span with Jisung sitting right there.

Still facing towards the screen, you sneak a quick look at him from the corner of your eye, only to find his eyes already trained on you.

The unexpected eye contact makes your heart jump to your throat, and you quickly jerk your gaze back to the television.

Why was he looking at you? Is he still looking? You consider turning again to check, but then decide against it, preferring to live in ignorance for the time being. You’re not sure you can deal with knowing he’s looking at you right now.

Not even ten minutes into the movie, a particularly loud whistle of wind rushes past the windows. The lights flicker once. And then again.

Fuck.

You barely have time to turn and look at a now wide-eyed Jisung before both of you are plunged into absolute darkness.

A small yelp of terror escapes from Jisung, and you feel his weight shift on the couch.

Blinking rapidly as though that would make the lights magically turn back on, you find yourself scooting towards Jisung. A heartbeat of silence passes, with only the sound of your and Jisung’s soft breaths cutting through the darkness.

“The power’s out,” He observes helpfully, voice noticably higher than it’s normal tenor.

“No shit.” You pull out your phone to turn on the flashlight, illuminating your faces. Jisung squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden intrusion of light, peeking one eye open at you after a moment.

The light reveals that he is a lot closer than you had thought. Barely an inch of space was left between your legs, and you swear you can feel warmth radiating off of him. Huh. That little mole on his face is visible from here.

Jisung swallows hard (apparently a habit of his) and quickly combs a hand through his hair, pulling himself up from the couch.

“Hold on, I think I have a candle somewhere,” He still looks a bit frazzled, but heads towards the kitchen nonetheless.

You turn and cross your arms over the back of the couch, illuminating his path.

“You do, it’s on the counter,” You point at it, having noticed it earlier when you’d first arrived. “‘Spiced apple toddy’, huh?”

You grin at the offended look on Jisung’s face as he approaches, candle and lighter in hand.

“Hey! They’re seasonal,” he objects to your teasing, placing the candle on the coffee table.

T he lighter sparks into a flame as Jisung drops back down on the couch and lights the candle, bathing your surroundings in a soft, warm light.

Well. So much for the Christmas movie.

“That sucks, I really wanted to see what was going to happen to Frosty this year,” Jisung mirrors your thoughts with a sigh, crossing one ankle over his leg and shaking his head with a tsk.

You giggle, giving him a light shove on the shoulder. In the back of your mind, you feel like you should be upset about yet another thing going wrong tonight. But how could something be wrong, really, when Jisung is smiling like that. Smiling like that because of you. The thought ignites little butterflies in your stomach.

The power doesn't seem to have any plans to turn on again anytime soon, so you and Jisung break out a deck of cards. Turns out he’s a big trash talker when it comes to competition, which has you laughing your head off at the creative insults he throws at you. Seriously, how does he come up with these?

After losing your third game of speed, you realize that goosebumps have began to form all up and down your arms. Not wanting Jisung to notice, you try to smooth them down as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course, he immediately notices.

“Are you cold?” He furrows his eyebrows in concern, drawing his attention away from his hand of cards to you.

“Nope!” A shiver decides that it’s the right moment to shake your whole body. “Okay maybe a little,” you admit, “but I’m totally fine, it’s not bad at all.”

In all honesty, that was a complete lie. It’s cold as shit. You just hope your smile is enough to distract from your clenched teeth and slightly runny nose.

Jisung raises an eyebrow at you skeptically, obviously not buying it.

“So I guess if I got a blanket, you wouldn't want it, right?”

“Hey, thats not-” you start to protest to him poking fun at you, but your confidence shrivels when Jisung places his cards on the table, batting his eyes at you in mock attention.

It’s flustering, to say the least. He directly offered you the solution to your discomfort, and didn’t really leave you with the choice to say no. Which, you decide, is kinda hot. That seems to describe most of what Jisung does, though.

You drop your hands down on the table in defeat. “Fine. Can I please have a blanket?”

As a response to your request, Jisung simply hoists himself up once more, tapping you twice on the top of the head as he passes.

“Attagirl.”

The sideways grin he flashes you tells you that he knows exactly the effect that that little word had on your insides.

He’s going to be the death of you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

You had just barely managed to compose yourself when Jisung returns with not one, not two, but an entire armful of blankets. In favor of just dropping them all on the couch, he decides to launch both himself and the blankets onto the couch simultaniously. His legs fly up behind him as he lands belly-down onto the pile of blankets, face buried in the soft fabric.

Whether he’s trying to draw out a laugh or not, you bark out a laugh that’s probably louder than the situation called for. You slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment as he lifts himself up to sit on the empty cushion of the couch.

It’s intresting, the way he moves. Every motion so natural, every curve so perfect, it traps your attention to him like a moth to a flame. His muscles are lean, tensing when he pushes himself up. You follow the lightest trace of a vein trailing down from his bicep to his hand, absentmindedly wondering how his hand would feel in yours. Wondering if he would ever so lightly run his fingers over the back of your hand, your collarbone, your jaw…

“So do you want a blanket or what?” Jisung waves his hand, snapping you out of your head. You hope he hadn’t noticed the way you were essentially ogling him just now. He most likely had though, given how annoyingly observant he’s proven to be.

The corners of Jisung’s mouth quirk up, a witheld laugh brimming behind his eyes. Okay scratch that, he definitely noticed.

Too humiliated to say anything, you take a seat next to him and toss a blanket over your head. The outside noises dim significantly from under the shelter of the blanket. The blanket that— unfortunately for you and your creative imagination— smells quite strongly of Jisung. You find yourself having to refrain from burying your face in the cloth. Because that would be weird.

It’s warm at least. Staying here forever sounds like a good plan.

A wave of fresh, cool air washes over you as the edge of the blanket lifts up to reveal Jisung peeking in at you.

“May I join you?”

You nod, hoping the darkness will conceal your flushed face. Jisung scootches to sit next to you and flicks the blanket back over both of your forms. Darkness encases you once more, only this time you aren’t alone.

Jisung’s phone light shines out, lighting up your faces in such a way that makes you think he might break into some cheesy horror story; the kind that you were genuinely terrified of in second grade.

He’s close. Like, really close. You could count his eyelashes if you wanted.

His eyes crinkle slightly as he gives you a little close-mouthed smile. He looks so lovely right now, you can’t help but smile right back at him. Except your smile definitely isn't lovely since you’re cheesing so hard.

When he chuckles, a breath of warm air puffs over your face, making you warmer than you think you’ve ever been.

Despite being a good bodily temprature already, the urge to wrap your arms around Jisung and bask in his physical presence is getting stronger by the second.

“I’m still cold.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them, such a blatant untruth that it makes your heart speed up.

Jisung’s head drops, shoulders bouncing slightly with silent laughter.

As if your ears couldn't get any hotter than they were already.

“Still cold, huh? You know what’s crazy?” He leans in just a touch further as if about to tell you some great secret, his voice quieting almost to a whisper. “Me too.”

Jisung arm wraps around your shoulders, and he turns you sideways, pulling you flush to him. How you seem to fit perfectly in the curve of his side, you’ll never know. Resting your head down on his shoulder and tentatively reaching a hand up to curl on his chest, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. His heartbeat pounds in your ear, slower than your own jumping pulse, but much louder.

Wrapped in Jisung’s arms, you are definitely warmer than before. Which—since you really weren’t cold in the first place— has you sweating, the space under the blanket suddenly feeling small and suffocating.

You toss the top of the blanket off of your heads, inhaling the cold, crisp air now available to your lungs.

You’re not sure what comes over you. maybe it was the way that he tilts his head back to lean on the back of the couch, or maybe it was the little sigh he lets out, his breath just barely visible in the chilled air surrounding you. The hand that’s gently rubbing up and down your upper arm definitely isn't helping either.

You reach up and plant a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Jisung instantly tenses under you, every muscle tightening. You pull back to look at him, finding him frozen, staring straight ahead. a gorgeous pink tint graces his cheeks.

Always so confident until he’s the one being flirted with. Cute.

He’s silent and still for just a hint too long, and you start to get worried. Did you read the energy wrong? Was he just being nice?

You open your mouth to blurt out some sort of apology, but Jisung turns his head to look at you, eyes wide, searching your own. Your mouth snaps shut.

“Can you do that again?” His request is quiet and mumbled, nervousness evident in the way his knee starts to bounce up and down rapidly.

You reach up to grab his chin, his skin soft beneath your fingers. He’s real. He’s here and under your fingertips, gazing at you like you hung the moon.

You lean in, but pause to hover just millimeters away from his lips, your breaths mingling in the space between.

It’s not until Jisung makes a noise in his throat that is somewhere between a huff and a whine that you close the final distance between you two.

A white-hot flame ignites in your stomach when your mouths connect, only blazing brighter when Jisung runs his hand up the length of your back to rest it on the back of your head, holding you softly but firmly to him.

He wants you, everything about you. And you want him too, you always have.

When you part, you let out a breathless giggle. What just happened?

It seems as though Jisung is feeling the same way, a look of disbelief of his face as his eyes flick between your own.

“Thank you.” The two words that you’ve been skirting around all night finally slip past your lips.

“For what, the kiss? Anytime, babe.” He sends you an over-exaggerated wink, which of course doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it is drowned out by the slightly more pressing fact that he just called you ‘babe’.

Not that you mind. At all, actually.

“First of all, I’m the one who gave you the kiss, thank you very much, and secondly I just- well, it just means, y’know, a lot to me that you picked me up… and stuff…” You wince as your confidence audibly dwindles, looking at the couch beside him, “So yeah, thank you. So much. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“Hey, hey,” He brings your chin back up to look at him. “Seriously, it was no trouble at all. To be honest, I was so not looking forward to being alone on Christmas eve.” His gaze lightens, “So really, I should be thanking you because this is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.”

His genuine words paired with that soft look on his face make you realize that you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else tonight.

For the nth time tonight, you smile.

[whosjunglejim4322]

Reconcile- E.M (S)

Smut!, fluff because uhm how could I not, angst! cause you guys are pent up from stress and this is basically a make up sex fic teehee, mentions of weed, brief arguing, Y’all just desperate and gross, Eddie fucks you till you cry and talks you through it like the slut he is, he cums inside of you, makes sure to fuck all that attitude away, PUSSY EATING, very graphic descriptions of passionate n nasty intercourse

You hadn’t foreseen this happening.

Sure, you and Ed’s have gotten into little disputes before. Petty, insignificant quarrels about whether or not the other person actually took out the garbage or who would pay next date night. Two years is still short to some, for you and Eddie it felt like forever and yesterday all in the same universe. Heavenly, and mundane.

But this is a different beast all together. This morning makes day two that you two have had this weird, suffocating energy between both of you. The antagonist of this situation, is undoubtedly the conversation that was had at Steve’s weekend hangout.

A few hits from a joint, a shot or two of tequila and goofy sentences being passed around between two best friends. You and Robin being the spectators, content in your own little bubble, puffing on a spliff of your own. Heavy, fluffy blankets kept you warm, gave you weight to lean on when your head began to feel like it might float away.

The Christmas lights and the hum of the deep freezer in the corner of Steve’s basement almost distracted you completely in your haze, until it didn’t. Until Chrissy Cunningham came up. Until it was an innocent giggling fit about whether or not Chrissy ever had a crush on Eddie, the oxymoron in and of itself.

“Imagine that ever happening,” Steve chuckled, lightheartedly, taking a sip of his Diet Pepsi. “can’t say I can’t see it. She wanted you for sure, dude.”

Your ears twitched. Eyes thinning into inquisitive slits. Nothing about Steve’s tone was meant to be rude, or disrespectful, but the nature of the comment itself felt awkward and uncomfortable underneath your skin.

You almost turned your attention back to the Walkman blasting David Bowie. Almost.

“I saw her the other day, she came in for an oil change. Honestly, I never would’ve even thought she wanted me,” Eddie takes another rip of his bong. “But then she asked me if I do at home visits. Said she wanted to catch up with me.”

Maybe your reptilian brain overreacted. Or, maybe it didn’t. Honestly, you don’t blame yourself completely for the way you reacted after that statement. Nothing else he said after that mattered. All you could hear was your heartbeat in your own ears. Loud, thunderous

“I told her I wouldn’t do that, obviously.”

White noise.

And not only were you intoxicated, but you were already burnt out from work and school, touch starved from not having any time with your boyfriend as of late. A period of your current reality that you know will pass as all things do in life; but it was too much. This hangout was supposed to be somewhat intimate, something for you to both do together. A simplicity that normally wouldn’t even have to be mentioned. You and Eddie exist on the same axis.

The blanket became too heavy and the smoke in the room threatened to choke you further. You all but threw the fluffy cover off of you and stormed out. You heard Robin call after you, and Eddie. A pair of voices that meshed together like the drum line in a song that is so in sync with the guitar chorus that you can barely decipher it. The steps spin, but you manage to stay upright.

Cold November air chilled your face, your neck. You too a deep breath in while marching to the van parked just a few feet away on the newly slabbed pavement of Steve’s home. His parents are at their lake house so often that Steve claims their Hawkins residence as his own.

Predictably, a heavy thump of boots followed closely behind you. The scrape of worn soles and the squeak of an old leather jacket. A billow of smoke follows him, clings onto him like jasmine and rosemary to the freshly bathed. Your back felt like the warning signs at a crossroad. He felt helpless.

“Baby, hey,” he sounded breathless, desperate and confused. He’s never seen you so upset that you’d just walk out unprompted. “stop walking god dammit, please.”

You stopped reluctantly, the tears of frustration in your waterline blurring your vision of the violet, cloudless skyline. A wide, warm palm touched your shoulder and the heat seared you even through your hoodie. You flinched away instinctively, sore in your limbs from your own concoction of emotions. When you met his eyes, they were wide. Like a deer staring down the barrel of a gun in its own home.

Your face must have been something to see. A scowl, a mirror of sadness reflected in his umber eyes. Angry. He’d never seen you look at him that way. It felt like having his intestines twisted between two cold hands.

“You didn’t tell me that happened.”

You stated it plainly, but spitefully in nature. Your voice cracked and it made a brewing tear spill over your waterline and down the plump of your cheek. He had the overwhelming urge to comfort you, but knew he couldn’t. Knew you would likely flinch away like you did five seconds ago and he didn’t think he would physically be able to bear you trying to get away from him again.

He didn’t exactly know what was making you so upset. The conversation wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have said in front of you, which is why all of it was said in front of you. Perhaps his own intoxication made it hard to fully understand the velocity of his words, what they meant and how they could’ve been interpreted from your point of view.

“I didn’t think it was important.” His thick brows scrunched and deepened the wrinkle between them. You looked like your eyes might bulge out of your head.

You nearly choked on your own spit, the words to your reply getting caught square in the middle of your throat; and so you said nothing. You stepped forward, and then past him. And he realized too late that you were walking away from him.

“I’m gonna ask Steve to take me home.”

He was too stunned to speak. To react. To stop you, to plead for you to tell him what he did wrong. Or at least how to fix it. He felt himself crumble on the inside, like his bones were made of ash.

When he got back to the trailer that night, you weren’t there. And that’s when it all really set in. That he fucked up. For the past two weeks you’ve been here with him, playing house while Wayne caught a gig further up north. He thought, he thought that when you said home, maybe you meant here. With him.

He called that night, almost ten times. You answered on the eighth.

“I’m at my apartment Ed’s, I’m fine. I don’t want to argue, or talk. I just need to be by myself right now.”

He felt paralyzed by the pang in his chest. More so, he felt angry. Genuinely angry, and not just at himself, but selfishly, at you.

“Fine, glad you’re safe.”

He nearly broke the fucking landline.

Your eyes have to adjust to the brightness of your living room. Well, your bedroom, slash living room, slash kitchen. A studio in Hawkins is relatively affordable, but they aren’t lying when they say it’s a studio. The events from yesterday scream in your head instantly, along with the pounding of your pulse. Your bed is almost unfamiliar at this point, the blankets not worn enough, the sheets the scent of fresh dryer sheets instead of you and Eddie’s shared scent.

The beeping of your answering machine pulls you back down to reality, though not one you want to participate in currently. Unfortunately, you have no other choice.

They’re all from Eddie of course, and now that you’re not high you feel those wounds from the night before coming back, sticking you in the chest, ribs, liver. Along with the pain, you feel guilty. For your less than mature reaction. Though you know you can’t blame yourself, not having ever been in that situation. You’re human and reacted as so. But he’s your Eddie.

You listen to the last message, sent twenty five minutes ago.

“I’m coming over in thirty minutes, I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We are going to talk this out. I love you.”

You huff in frustration, though you can’t say you aren’t relieved. Relieved that he’s coming, that he’s not giving up over some quarrel about Chrissy Cunningham. You have a tendency to think the entire world is caving in around you upon one minor inconvenience. This disruption in your daily routine feels like Armageddon.

You have time to brush your teeth and rinse the remaining paste off of your mouth before your front door opens. If you didn’t recognize his footsteps so well, it might be off putting to have someone just waltz into your home.

The bathroom door is open, so he spots you immediately, slipping off his worn in boots and placing them beside the door. He takes his leather jacket off and puts it over the stool that sits at your kitchen island. It makes your face hot, still. The ease in which you two have melded into each others lives. Even if you’re angry at him.

“I don’t know what to say, Ed’s.” It’s a lie. You walk past him to the kitchen and open the fridge, hiding from his gaze as you pretend to search for something. He clears his throat and you reluctantly close the refrigerator door, staring at the floor and backing yourself against the sink.

“I just - you’ve never left. Without telling me. Or talking to me. And, fuck I-“ he’s stammering already, taking steady breaths and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think I had to tell you about an insignificant interaction with Chrissy Cunningham.”

You scoff, although it’s more of a giggle. And he looks at you like you’ve just lost your mind. Rare, for Eddie Munson to think someone else has lost their mind.

“Well you and Steve sure seemed to enjoy talking about it. You both were pretty giddy discussing whether or not Chrissy wanted to, or, sorry -“ you’re being defensive. Rude. You can’t help it. “wants to fuck you. Why would I want to hear about that? Why would I want to hear you guys talk about whether or not you both can see you and Chrissy together? Does that not sound incredibly fucked up, Ed’s?”

So much for not talking. Now it’s spilling out like a cracked flower vase. Your chest is heaving rapidly, face and body hot with anger. Your arms are crossed across your chest, a protection against whatever it is he might say, despite the fact that you’re the one who’s being rhetorical.

He shoves his ringed fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling lightly at the roots as he closes his eyes, contemplating. Seeing things through your eyes, attempting to. He winces.

“That’s not what we were trying to say,” he bites his cheek. “I mean I know it doesn’t matter what we were trying to say, the conversation shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t take it back. For fucks sake.”

He’s murmuring to himself, rubbing his rough palms over his tired face. He’s wearing one of your favorite tee shirts of his to steal. Iron Maiden. The sleeves are short enough to reveal the splattering of ink that crawls up his biceps. When his muscles move underneath his skin, the ink moves with them. It’s captured your attention suddenly, and now you’re raking your eyes over his entire figure.

Familiar black sweats cling onto his lower half. They fit perfectly on his lithe waist, loose on the rest. Except for his ass. He has a really cute ass. And these sweats specifically accentuate the shape before billowing down his thighs.

“Baby? You with me?”

The low timbre of his voice shakes you from your reverie. You’ve simmered off, the anger replaced with a different heat. It’s been too long since the two of you have just been together, this fight might be the most communication you’ve had in the past week due to your jobs, and school. Or the worries of the world, the overwhelming need to sleep when you aren’t working, to work when you aren’t sleeping.

You’ve forgotten about each other. Briefly, but not inevitably. Never that. You feel like you may collapse.

“I’m- yeah I’m with you.”

You let out a sigh, uncrossing your arms. You look and sound as defeated as you feel. He can’t pretend to not have noticed your silky, thin sleeping gown, but he is just a man. And your nipples are hard underneath the garment and he has never not thought you’re one of the most beautiful creatures he’s ever seen. You haven’t worn it in a while, preferring his clothes to sleep in since you’ve been staying with him. He missed seeing you like this.

He steps closer. Tentatively, afraid you might run away from him. You sense his hesitancy and a piece of your heart breaks, the piece where he lives. You meet his eyes, silently inviting him, glancing from his mouth then back up to his softening gaze. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He says, earnestly. His hands threaten to tremble when you reach out and grab them, heavy in your own. He hovers above you the closer he gets, your limbs connecting in a symbiotic way. One you feel the others skin, you can’t get away from it. Not until you’re pressed together, belly to belly, your chin tilted upward.

“You - ugh.” You can’t get words out anymore. They dissolve in your larynx and your head falls, the need to cry or scream or kiss him an overwhelming choice.

“I know baby, I know. I’m sorry.” He pats down your hair, rough thumbs caressing the softness of your cheeks. He pulls your face upwards again, staring down at you with regret, adoration, hunger.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have just left.”

He leans closer, till you smell the coffee on his breath and the hazelnut creamer alike. Your noses bump and rub against the other, his thick eyelashes fanning across his own cheekbones - casting a fluttery shadow.

“It’s okay now. We’re okay now.” He says it softly, just between the little space left between you two. “Let me take care of it. Please.” He closes the gap.

Some people assume it’s not supposed to feel as good as it does, kissing someone who’s lips you’ve mapped out like an atlas. That couldn’t be further from the truth, because kissing Eddie feels like being consumed.

And not just metaphorically, because it’s evident in the nips to your bottom lip, the sucking of your tongue whenever he feels it lick his teeth; that your small period of separation, and longer period of not having indulged each other, has weighed heavily on him as well. He’s starving.

You’re overtaken within seconds by the veracity of his mouth, your fingers taking purchase in the curls at his crown. Smacks and kisses and wet noises fill the small space, and the center of your stomach swells with a simmering heat. A reminder of how neglectful you both have been. Your nipples harden against him, as his dick twitches between his legs.

You feel nervous. Tentative. Excited.

His hands implore you like a new discovery, grasping at your back, and then down the sensitive slopes of your sides and over the plushness of your hips. Through the silky nightgown the sensation is riveting, enough to drive a person insane. You arch against him, and a whimper escapes your mouth into his throat.

“Mmm, mhm.” He groans.

“Eddie,” it’s a cry, wanton sound that makes him rut himself against you instinctively. Anything to relieve you. Anything to relieve himself. “baby.”

He smiles against your mouth, pecking it a few times before departing only for a second to see your kiss bitten lips, his and your spit coating your mouth. Your blown out pupils. He mirrors your appearance, like a wild creature.

“Never again,” his index fingers knuckle strokes the inside of your thigh, and you shudder, holding onto his broad shoulders for an anchor. You separate your legs without thinking. “we will never go through this again. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Three knuckles stroke your pubic mound, then down your covered slit where dampness threatens to leak. Your fingernails grip his shirt, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in anticipation. He’s so warm, so palpable. You want him to bury himself inside of you.

He’s in front of you, and then he’s not. You blink, and hair tickles your thighs like you’re frolicking through an overgrown field. Strong, rough hands lift the delicate silk of your nightie until it’s being bunched between ringed fingers above your navel. He’s on his knees, devout for you.

You gasp when his tongue broadens against your center. Your panties are just enough barrier to make you wanna cry out in desperation, while also offering enough sensation to not dare stop for even a moment to pull them off. You’re at his mercy. Or is he at yours? Neither of you know anymore, and it’s not important.

Not when he gets a taste of you. Not when he peers up at you between lust sodden lashes and sees you looking down at him like you’re about to crumble. Your knees shake and he bunches the nightie in one fist instead of two, placing his free hand on the back of your thighs to steady you while he soaks your underwear with the spit from his tongue.

The shape of your slit and the plump lips around it begins to show its phantom form through the material from the soaking. He sucks, prods with the tip of his wet muscle.

“Ed’s, fuck.” Your voice is so weak. His cock weeps in his sweats, dribbling with copious amounts of precum. It’s torturous to not touch himself but he’s too focused on watching you, pleasing you. You hums against your mound, mocking you.

He pulls the elastic to the side, not patient enough to take them off all the way. You get to see his face for a split second, cherry red cheeks and a messy halo of hair and stubble on his chin. And then, you feel it.

His nose keeps your lips separated, his tongue already splayed against the soft, sensitive flesh between them. You’re slick and sticky and coating the lower half of his face, though you have trouble grasping onto the helms of reality when he’s licking your pussy like this. He shakes his head from side to side, tongue still flat until he’s spreading your thighs farther, so that he can lick your honey from the source.

“Hold it.” He mumbles, struggling to hand the falling material of your night gown to your shaking hands, though you get the memo when it threatens to cover his head completely. You use one hand to hold it, and the other to tug at his hair.

You can barely hear anything another than the sloppy wetness of his mouth working on you, and the sound of your own heartbeat, but you’re sure you’re whining. You can feel the rawness of your throat as you let your head fall back and cry to the ceiling, feeling the need to tear up.

You grip the roots of his locks, rocking against his mouth like you’ve got no other choice. He hums, encouraged by every squeak and moan that comes out of you, by every drip of your cunt and tensing of your muscles.

He doesn’t care that your thighs are squeezing around his head, or that you can barely hold yourself together. You’re using his face like second nature and his cock weeps in his pants. He feels himself throbbing in tandem with the pulsing of your hole around his tongue.

Then he pulls your lips apart with his thumbs, revealing the pink bud that resides underneath your hood, suckling and coating it with enough spit to drip onto the floor.

“Oh god,” you pant “m’gonna cum. Please don’t stop please please please.” 

You’re throttled, and not just by the pleasure but by how fast you’re descending into your own madness. You can’t hear much of anything, see anything but the back of your own eyelids - and your boyfriend is using half of his strength to keep your body upwards as you threaten to wilt.

He doesn’t stop, per your request but to your ultimate demise. You feel yourself leaking as your clit throbs from the aftershocks of a powerful - much needed and thoroughly missed, orgasm.

You think you might pass out, but he feels the trembling in your body and despite his need to keep going until you’re completely done for, all but comatose- he stops.

Through your clouded and hazy senses, your hands tug at his face, his head, his neck. Lazily you attempt to pull him up from his knees, and it’s not your strength that does it, it’s his own. But he lets you believe you pulled him to your mouth, before he even has the chance to wipe your essence off. Not that he cares to.

Your tongues collide in a messy exploration, he’s rough and saccharine and sweet all at once. Your paw at him like you’ve never felt him before, like he didn’t just have his mouth on your most private of parts.

“I need you in me.” You slur the words between open mouthed kisses. He’s pressed so flush against you that you can feel his dick throbbing, and you’re not sure if the wetness is your own or his. Perhaps both.

You’re hungry for it. He’s still starving, and your fingers clumsily pull the waistband of his sweats down until they’re pooled at his ankles. You wrap your hand around the thick member, angrily red at the tip, veins bulging from either side. The thatch of curly hair at his base is covered by his shirt but you don’t have the energy to remove it- to do anything other than ogle at the blood rushing through him, the feel of his pulse through his manhood. He throws his head back for a split second, taking a deep breath.

You turn around, facing the sink and resting your cheek against the cool metal of the edge. You offer yourself to him like this, an invitation in the form of a leaking cunt and buckling knees. His hands, rough and wide pull this godforsaken nightgown up and over the swell of your ass, knuckles grazing the back of your thighs in the process.

You want to look at him but you’re far too flustered, ironically. It’s completely idiotic to still be embarrassed at your own need for your own boyfriend - but someone as beautiful as Eddie doesn’t come around very often. Getting to do this feels like retribution.

“You’re so pretty,” he groans, out of breath. He crudely spits on his cock, you can hear the slick sounds of his precum mixing with his saliva as he strokes himself a few times, one hand on your left hip while he guides his mauve tip to your slit.

“I’m gonna fuck all that attitude away baby.”

The stretch is jarring and unexpected, but the sounds you both make as he sticks himself passed your gummy entrance isn’t. You grip the counter, and he leans his weight over you so that he can mouth at your shoulders while he pushes himself in to the hilt- kissing your cervix before his cock moved around it.

“Yeah?” He taunts, hair tickling your back and lips smearing kisses against your nape. “You’re so goddamn wet, this is all you needed huh?”

He’s genuine within the ruggedness of his voice. Within seconds he’s pulling himself out and shoving himself back in with something fierce driving him. He’s unforgiving in his pace once he gets into a comfortable stance, kicking his sweats off of his ankles and planting his feet behind you.

It’s a symphony of sticky, wet sounds, and grunts with compositions of skin against skin in your small kitchen. It’s been so long since you’ve felt him, since he’s felt you. He’s not just fucking you from the back, he’s mounting you - panting lewdly in your ear while his hands snake themselves around your shoulders.

You cry out, nothing coherent leaving your mouth. Your poor cunt was still contracting from the orgasm he gave you with his mouth when shoved himself inside of you, and now that little spongey spot is being brutally massaged over and over again with each stroke.

“That’s - s-so - good.” Your words are staccato, followed by petulant whines. You’re thankful for his hit breath on your neck, the groans leaving him, the weight of his body behind you. He’s close while still delivering a delicious punishment - a fucking that’s meant to make you forget about anything that’s happened this past week.

“Awe baby, it feels good hmm? You - fucking hell-“

His balls tighten and he knows he’s gonna cum soon, he’s too caught up in how you’re squeezing around him, throbbing from the inside out with your admiration for him. You try to reach back and touch him, but he holds your arms in front of you, a sort of embrace and restraint all in one.

“need to cum baby, need to show you how much I love you. Need to fill you - oh baby - need to fill you all the way. That’s it - there you go there you go, I know.”

He kisses your cheek where a tear falls down, your knees beginning to tremble again in tandem with his own. He ruts and ruts and ruts, your cream coating his cock, your warmth swallowing him whole.

He pulls out, and you think you might start weeping, till he turns you around by your waist and licks the inside of your parted lips. He hiked your leg up around his lithe waist, bends his knees and maneuvers his hips forward so that he can slide back into you.

Now that he can see your face, and you can see his, you both feel cathartic.

You hang onto his shoulders, clawing at his curls and he holds your face, damp lips centimeters away from your own while your foreheads rest against each other. You look down to watch him disappear inside of you, and you marvel at it. Your juices and the sounds they make, how pretty his dick looks coated in your release and his own pre ejaculate.

“M’so fucking deep,” he’s shaking now, sweat beading down his neck. His bottom lip quivers and you begin to realize how this must feel for him as well. How badly you both needed the other. “it feels so fucking good, so good so good so good.”

He’s babbling and you pull his mouth to yours again, suckling on his tongue. With some foreign strength, you use your voice.

“Please cum, I love you Eddie. I want you to cum for me please please, I can’t take it. Cum for me cum for me cum for me I love you.”

He thinks he might cry, he’s so fucking deep when you wrap your arms around him, when your hips are connected so closely that you can’t tell where one of you begins and the other one ends - when the sweet lullaby that is your voice serenades him, begs him to let go.

“Oh god, oh fuck I’m - fuuuuck.”

He tightens, stuttering inside of you while small gasps of pleasure leave him like hiccups. You inhale the scent of his hair, feel the rise and fall of his breath from between his shoulder blades. You’re both twitching, barely standing. A mess, and certainly a sight to see.

He stays like that for a few moments, just enough for all of his cum to dribble out from the tip and into you. When he pulls out, the sound is audible and crude, and he swears to himself he will clean the mess on your kitchen floor.

You don’t know who kisses who first.

Both of you go for the others neck, cheeks, forehead. Gently, with enough love to fill an entire universe itself. It’s a juxtaposition to the way you just had each other. It’s love. Pure, unadulterated, sickeningly sweet to the melancholy.

“I’m staying here tonight,” he kisses your eyelids, then your nose, out of breath. “and I’m gonna make breakfast in the morning. We are never letting this happen again.”

You scratch his scalp.

“Which part? Cause-“ he rolls his eyes, smiling boyishly. Enough to show his dimples, flash his teeth.

“You know which part, I’ll give you whatever you want. But I’m never going this long without being around you. Not ever.”

He’s devout, sincere in a way that is irrevocable. You don’t argue, don’t wince, don’t make a face. You nod, suckling his bottom lip.

You listen.

[angelicguy]

the sequel to the grinch

The grinch was laying across his bed. He was trying out a new vape cartridge that he bought online, spewing huge purple green and red clouds throughout his cave home that spun around the stalactites hanging from his ceiling. he was absolutley fucked up. it tasted like strawberry kiwi grape taro root and coca cola. "i feel incredible" thought the grinch.

it was late march after he had saved christmas from himself and ever since he had been sad about his life. despite an awesome christmas no one wanted to hang out with him or really do shit with him. Fine he thought. even though im normal now im finding it really hard to make friends. but thats fine because i have a ton of stuff in my house to do to make it way easier to be alone. namingly his brand new immersive vr system. Which he popped on while still generously fucked up off of his strawberry diesel flavored 510 threaded cart, on the highest temperature for maximum clouds.

so when the game loaded up he was already feeling it. he had a VR assault rifle blasting the bugs in front of him to fucking smithereens. This is incredibly realistic he thought. little windshield wipers on his in-game goggles wiped guts and bug limbs from his view. it was the first level so he had it completely memorized so it was pretty much easy as fuck for him. so realistic, but so boring. he started to panic. no buddies... no crew... his dog is fine but you need boys to hang out with. fuck this vr shit. he threw it off and hopped on discord.

his favorite streamer banned him. whaat. he pays the 5 dollar patreon fee for access. what happened. "she saw the thing about you and christmas." fuck. "but i fixed it" "yeah but shes still playing it safe" maaan. fuck this.

[a-killer-obsession]

Day 1 - Christmas Cracker Kid + Forced Orgasm

Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), p in v sex, multiple orgasms, praise, cumshot, softness

WC: 2.4k

You weren't sure what had gotten you so riled up, but not knowing didn't help the face that you were, in fact, immensely horny. Actually, that was wrong, you did know what had done it. It was your thick headed captain sparring with you shirtless on the deck that had caused your current frustration, pinning you underneath him with sweat dripping down his chest, breathing heavily from excursion. It had you tossing and turning in your bed, unable to shake the thought of him on top of you. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten so close to you, you knew you had a crush on him but you were starting to think he had an attraction to you too. You caved and masturbated, but it wasn't satisfying. You wanted him, needed him to be the one touching you.

With a discontented huff you threw off your covers and marched down the hall to his room in your singlet and panties. Nobody else was likely to see you anyway, and if they did, you didn't really care. You hesitantly knocked on his cabin door, pacing back and forth before you heard telltale stomps as he made his way to the door.

“Kid, do you want to fuck me?” You blurted out as soon as the door opened. He squinted at you, looking you up and down. Fuck, he looked so sexy like that, in only a pair of black sweatpants, his metal arm put aside, makeup washed off, chest bare and proud, and firey red hair messy and untamed without his goggles to hold it back.

“No of course not,” he grumbled, throat a little husky from sleeping. It was late, and you suddenly felt bad that you must have woken him. You hadn't even considered it, too overwhelmed by your need. “Why the fuck would I?”

“Oh. Okay, sorry-,” you replied, dishearted. Not only had you woken him, but you'd completely misread his intentions. “Sorry for bothering you so late, Captain,” you said, confidence lost as you stared at the floor, “I'll be going now.”

“Wait, are you okay?” He quickly touched your shoulder as you turned to leave, reading your body language and seeing how disappointed you were.

“I'm fine,” you lied, feeling embarrassed and a little like crying, “I thought- never mind, it doesn't matter what i thought, clearly I misread you.”

“Wait, this wasn't a test or something?” Kid queried, his hand still on your shoulder until you brushed it off.

“What?” You asked, confused as you turned back to him, “why the fuck would this be a test?”

“Because- because I'm your captain?” He replied with furrowed brows.

“I- no, Kid. This wasn't a test,” you sighed, “just forget it, it's fine, forget I said anything. Goodnight Captain, sorry for waking you.”

“I didn't mean it,” he said quickly, “I thought you wanted me to say I didn't.”

“Eustass, stop,” you barked, annoyed. You didn't like being coddled. “You don't have to force yourself to lie to make me feel better. I'm a big girl, I'll get over it.”

“I'm not lying,” he grumbled, grabbing the back of your shirt as you tried to walk away from him, “I want you.”

“Kid-” you began as you turned back to him.

In a quick motion, he pressed forward and pinned you to the wall beside his bedroom door. Your chest heaved as his front pressed against you, one hand pinned to the wall over your head. He wove his fingers through yours, looking down at you through thick red lashes, his amber eyes locking with yours.

“I've wanted you for so fucking long, you don't even know how fucking bad i want you,” he growled, “The things you do to me - fuck - when you're flitting about in your tight fucking mini skirts, bending over to grab things like you're just begging for me to fuck you right there in front of everyone. Your tits spilling out in those low cut blouses you're always wearing, I want to fucking rip them off you. I want you screaming underneath me until you're so fucked out you can’t even think anymore. I want you cumming on my cock over and over till you have nothing left to give, and then some. I wanna hear you crying my name while I’m making you feel so fucking good you never even think about fucking anyone but me ever again, because nobody else can make you cum like I can.”

“Kid-” you replied softly, surprised and confused.

“Say you want me,” he pressed, “say it. Say you want me to fuck you until you're blacking out. Say you want your captain to screw your pretty brains out.”

“Fuck-” you huffed, thighs rubbing together, “Captain-”

“Say it,” he growled, putting his weight against you until you could feel his erection against your front. You groaned at the feeling, knowing you were no doubt wet in response.

“Fuck me, Captain,” you finally whimpered, “please.”

Kid pulled you roughly into his cabin and used his devil fruit to shut and latch the door behind him. Your body was pushed against the back of it, and his mouth was on yours before you could even process the change in scenery. You whined into his mouth and he took the opportunity to force his tongue against yours, groping your breasts harshly with his one hand before kicking your feet apart and threading his hand under the band of your panties.

“Fuck, you're dripping,” he groaned as his fingers wove between your folds, moving his mouth to your neck and sucking on it. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tugged on his hair until you could reclaim his mouth with yours, your moans swallowed as he pushed a thick finger inside you, his palm rolling against your clit. He soon after added a second, pumping you with determination, the gusset of your panties getting wet with your silk. He nosed against your jaw to turn your head again before returning to your neck, scattering kisses and nips over the sensitive skin. Your cunt fluttered around his fingers and he added a third, curling them with the intention of making you cum hard and fast.

Your nails sunk into his back as your other hand pulled on his hair. You moaned his name as your legs shook and your release flooded his hand. “Fuck, there you go,” he groaned as he worked you through the orgasm, pulling his fingers from you and rubbing your clit almost soothingly. You finally felt like that itch had been scratched, but Kid wasn't even close to being done with you.

Kissing you hard again, your cheek made wet with your own cum as he cupped it with his hand, he turned you away from the door and walked you backwards towards the bed until the back of your legs hit the mattress and you fell onto it. As soon as you were down he grabbed your panties and yanked them down your legs, before grabbing your thigh and pulling you towards him until your cunt was at the edge of the bed. He knelt on the floor between your legs, hooking one over his shoulder as he kissed up your thigh, before licking a fat stripe up your center. You were quickly overstimulated, still sensitive from your first orgasm as Kid began to eat you out with fervor. You squirmed, but Kid held your thigh tight and growled against your pussy, making you whine. You balled the blankets under you with one hand, the other weaving through his red locks as his tongue worked at your clit or dove in and out of your hole.

“Oh fuck, Kid-” you moaned, “fuck, oh fuck.”

“Let it out,” he groaned, muffled by your cunt. Spurred on by his encouragement, your back arched off the bed and you ground against his face as you came for a second time. Kid lapped at your cunt, until you relaxed back against the mattress, panting hard as he kissed your thighs and tummy. He moved further up the bed, pushing your singlet up and pulling it over your head, leaving you naked against his bedding. He pulled off his sweatpants and you shimmied further on to the bed to make room for him as he settled between your legs. He mouthed at one breast as he groped the other, erection bumping against your pussy.

“Fuck, you've got no idea how many times I've jerked off thinking about these tits,” he groaned, burying his face in your chest, “or about fucking you, I bet your cunt is just as tight as I imagined.”

“Kid, please,” you whined, “fuck me, please Captain.”

Kid made a satisfied grunt at your begging and settled between your legs, pulling you towards him so your ass was raised against his thighs. He took his cock in his hand, red and needy, pumping it a few times before lining himself up. As he pressed in he pushed back against you, folding you back on yourself, your legs forced to hang over his shoulders for support. The position made it easier for him to manhandle you with one arm, his hand holding your thighs steady against him as he made an experimental thrust. His cock was thicker than you imagined, and you moaned at how full you were. “Fuck, I was right,” Kid huffed, making steady but heavy pumps into you, “so fucking tight.”

Kid bent over you, his hand next to your head to support his weight, your knees almost at your shoulders as he started to fuck you harder. You clawed at his back and pulled his hair, stealing kisses and nipping at his bottom lip whenever he was close enough. The position he had you in let him fuck you deeper, and you were sure the whole ship would hear you wailing. “That's right baby,” Kid praised, “scream for me, let everyone hear how fucking good I make you feel. You're taking me so well princess.”

Your nails sunk into his scarred back as you came again, Kid making a smug smile as you went boneless underneath him. “Quitting on me already?” He scoffed, “that's not gonna do, I know you've got more in you, baby.”

Kid could see your exhaustion, but he was committed to forcing as many orgasms from you as possible, so he pulled out and flipped you to your front, letting you lay prone to be more comfortable and straddling your thighs. He gave your ass a squeeze before reinserting himself with a satisfied grunt. He made slower thrusts, making you whine as you scrunched up the pillow under your head and nuzzled into it. The new pace was more casual, but still a pleasant pull against your over sensitive pussy. “There's a good girl,” Kid cooed, “just lay there and take it baby, you're doing so good.”

You felt like you were melting into the mattress as Kid fucked you with his languid pace, alternating between sitting up so he could play with the fat of your ass, and planting his hand on the bed next to you for deeper, harder thrusts. You moaned into the pillow, but Kid decided he didn't like your sounds being muffled, so he threaded his hand through the base of your hair and turned your head. “Let me hear you sing,” he groaned. With your sounds now clear for him he went back to squeezing your ass, before giving it a hard spank that made you jolt and whine. Kid grinned at your response and did it several more times, alternating between each cheek until your ass was sufficiently red and you were on the edge of cumming again.

“I can feel you're close again, baby,” Kid purred, “go ahead and cum on my cock princess, let me feel it.”

With barely anything left to give you went quiet as you came, scrunching the pillow hard in your hands and biting it with a deep groan. “Good girl,” Kid praised as you went limp again, “not done yet though sweetheart, I know you've got one more for me.”

You were exhausted as Kid pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He entered you again, making languid thrusts as he gave you a cocky smile at your half-lidded gaze. The stump of his left arm raised with a series of purple sparks, before his metal prosthetic flew to him and attached to it. With your legs spread either side of him, he pressed one digit of his metal arm against your clit and you whimpered as you tried to bat him away from the overstimulated nerves. “Kid- please, I can't,” you complained, “can't cum again.”

“You can, and you will baby,” Kid grinned, “come on now, one more, just for me.”

You whimpered as the metal digit began to vibrate against your bud and he increased the pace of his thrusting. He was in his final stretch of what his stamina could manage but he was determined to make you cum one more time before he did. The combination of hard heavy thrusts from his thick cock and deep vibrations on your sensitive nerves made you squirm helplessly, your moans now turned to silent screams as your eyes rolled. Kid's flesh arm kept you held firmly in place by your hip as he fucked you, an impossibly intense orgasm quickly growing despite your exhaustion. You gripped his wrist hard, unsure if you were begging him to stop or keep going.

“Fuck, there you go baby, you're so fucking tight,” Kid groaned, “cum for me babe, one more, then I'm gonna paint you so good.”

With one last breathless call of his name your back arched and you saw white, legs shaking and squeezing Kid as he swore under his breath and praised you. You blacked out for a moment, coming back to as Kid pulled out and jerked himself off over your stomach, hot white splashes scattering over your soft skin. “Fuck,” Kid panted, “you still with me?”

You used the last of your strength to pull him down to meet you, kissing him softly, too tired for anything more, before going boneless again. Kid smiled against your mouth before kissing your cheek tenderly and climbing off the bed, letting his metal arm fall back to the floor again. You were falling asleep against his blankets but heard the sound of his bath running, before the sound stopped and you were suddenly weightless. He carried you with his one arm to his tub, where he sank in and settled you in his lap. You fell asleep like that, warmed by the water and his embrace.

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Oneshots Taglist: @daydreamer-in-training @chairmanraph @florcxo @luvnisstuff @nocturnalrorobin @fanaticsnail

[4pfsukuna]

Sharing is caring

Debrief: Finally the Satosugu x reader fic ive been promising since like march/april hope i actually have 4 of these in my drafts. 7.6k words

warning? Lmfaooooo

Part 1 with Gojo

Part 2 with Geto

Sharing might be caring but at the moment we are speaking about satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto. Two people who have never cared a day in their lives.

Suguru glares at his phone watching your insta story its you and gojo in his loft while you sing along to the new megan song that dropped. “Two pretty ass friends we besties” and yes— he thought you were pretty and so what he called satoru a  pretty boy it was the bestie part that had him rolling his eyes and the way you pranced around his loft the next 10 seconds of the song.

He sends a thumbs down before closing his phone, he was okay with being a hater and oh Satoru is no better.

Now when Satoru finds out you slept with Suguru… well you’re actually shocked by his reaction. He seems unbothered by it and remains his flirty self. The longing touches, nor neediness for your attention and affection actually never change. He may pull you to sit in his lap more often and makes sure to hold you tight and long so the smell of his cologne is on you but that's it.

Unless you include him sitting you on the countertop pulling your lips to his kissing you intensely lips smacking and teeth clashing. Satorus kisses always take your breath away and leave you feeling light headed, the way his cold fingers would sneak up your shirt pressing your spine so you arch into him as he bites on your thick bottom lip not caring about your lipgloss at all.

Even with you sitting on the marble island top he still towered over you easily, his lips go to your neck licking before leaving little bites.

“I could take you right here” he whispers in your ear licking it and you can feel his smile as you shiver, leaning further into his embrace. 

Before you can say anything further your chin is grabbed and pulled away from Satoru and the dark haired culprit presses his lips against yours kissing you softly but with purpouse. He waste no time pushing his tongue in your mouth and the weight mixed with light squeeze of satoru squeezing your breast has your head spinning. You shouldnt be feeling a heartbeat between your legs right now… at all. Suguru doesnt flinch when you pull away… at all he actually smiles wiping his thumb under your lip and leaving a kiss on your forehead. 

Your wicked thoughts have you pushing away from both of them and you aren't sure what's said directly after but you're pulled back in when you hear satoru snap. You missed the taunting smirk Suguru sent Satoru the unspoken challenge.

 “Her fucking you isnt the gag you think it is Suguru. Lets not forget she fucked ME first and probably fucked you out of pity since everyone knows how jealous you get” and your jaw is on the floor. Satoru definitely spent to much time listening to how you talked to your girlfriends and you spent to much time gossiping with him because the way you almost yelled “clock it” until remembering the situation.

Of course what he said wasnt true but Suguru was so easily baited by Satoru… he had a way of getting under his skin.

“She mightve fucked you first but i was better” and you fight the urge to yell at both of them because while this was entertaining This was actually your fault and you knew it, you knew the consequences of pushing that boundary within your friendship with two possesive and jealous ass men would reduce it to this and you still did it anyway.

Was the dick(s) worth it? Oh absolutely and youd do it again, but this was a bit much and you were getting overwhelmed. You liked when they jokingly fought or teased another you were actually starting to miss the times when they would be so up anothers ass that sometimes you felt left out like the time they fell asleep on the couch  watching christmas movies without you Suguru manspread heavy arms resting on the back of the couch and Satorus head in his lap half a twizzler hanging from his mouth or the times when they would cut anothers hair and gossip.

“Im leaving, in sure i have something to do” you say feeling the crushing weight of your consequences ignoring the dumbfounded looks they give you. If you were turning down spending time with them something definitely was wrong. They dont fight you on it either, your word was practically bible instead walking you to your car sending eachother looks.

While you depart from the two they end up sticking around another, throwing witty insults and catty remarks at another even resulting in shoving until Suguru stutters, making Gojo laugh. And Gojos laugh is so contagious that even when he tells him to “shut up” there's a small smile on his face.

Suguru doesnt let it slide though he invites satoru over when he knows youre going to be there. There actually must be a God because you slide down his legs pulling his pants with you watching his thick dick spring up and show him exactly why he's been acting so unhinged.

Between your tongue flicking over the slit on his tip and your warm mouth nearly sucking his soul from his dick hes 100% confident you could suck a melon through a straw or whatever that line is from the song you always sing. 

“Fuck sweetheart” he breathes heavily, head lolling back and eyes closed focusing on trying not to nut holding on the this for as long as he can. With a mouth like that he’d cherish every moment your lips were on him— the swirl of your tongue, the warmth, perfect amount of spit the way your moans made his whole body vibrate to the lack of gag reflex he can feel his thigh tensing up. Too focused on the sounds your mouth is making and the occasional gagging sound that strokes his ego a little bit too much he misses the sound of the door opening and slamming shut. 

Its not until he feels a shift in the energy that his eyes slip open slightly just in time to notice Gojo walking towards the two of you with a wicked smile on his face. The kind of smile someone gives when they're about to hit you with a uno reverse after you put down a draw four.Youre still completely oblivious though as your hand comes up to cup his balls earning a groan. You push him all the way to the back of your throat pulling the reaction you want from him a louder moan and all his attention all you. 

He’s so close to cuming, giving your tight little throat everything you want… everything he wants when your mouth is gone. It takes him a second to register Gojo is alot closer in the sense that his hand is on the back of your neck pulling you off before his hands are on your cheeks holding you in place for a kiss.

Your eyes are wide in shock for a moment yes you heard Gojo come in, heard him slam the door to but to kiss you right after your mouth was just… that little heartbeat between your legs come back.

He pushes his tongue in your mouth moaning at the way you melt into him and your eyes flutter closed, unable to stop yourself loving the feeling of his lips.

You pull away at the same time Satoru sending Suguru a wicked smirk who’s looking at you with pure lust, disbelief only a singular thought in his head as looks between you two.

Though before he can act on it Your phone rings saving you and you swear you’d pay whoever it is big bucks as you nearly run to Sugurus room to get it. 

“Makis having her Dojo opening today, you coming?” Yuki ask and you almost decline. You didnt hate the rambunctious blonde she was pretty, had good style and a girls girl but her and Suguru use to have a thing back in high school where she was practically pinning after him and theres a part of you that feels disgustingly possessive over him hating every girl thats came before you. Speaking of Suguru you don't hear him or Satoru the two you needed a break from at the moment.

“Ugh i dont have anything to wear” you huff looking down at Sugurus tshirt you had on this wasnt party attire. 

“You? Not having anything to wear? Thats like me not being blonde you always have the cutest clothes” she gushes over the phone and you can just picture her head tilt. You thank God for your sleepovers with the man after drunk nights because you spot a pair of denim heels you left over a few months ago and head over to his closet.

“Oh ill be there” you squeal pulling out a oversize short sleeve shirt you knew Suguru outgrown followed by a denim bucket hat to cover up your messed up hair. You stay on the phone as you get dress having small girl talk ready to celebrate your friends accomplishments pulling out your emergency tube of lip gloss placing it on your lips.

Neither of the men expect you to walk out dressed smelling good and looking like youre ready to go out so when they scramble to their feet ready to apologize theyre instantly confused.

“Uh hold on Yuki” you pull the phone away from your ear noticing it was on 12% anyway.

“I-Im going out to celebrate Maki so uh ill see you two later” you say feeling extremely awkward as the regret is there on both of their faces.

Ahhh fuck this was awkward. You want to blame Satoru hell you want to blame Suguru but you couldnt blame anybody but yourself.

Suguru feels guilty knowing it wouldnt have happened had he not texted satoru, knows that the 3 of you wouldnt be walking on egg shells right now so he breaks first and pulls you into a tender hug, well it was tender for all of two second before he squeezes tightly.

“Ok sweetheart, drive safe and let me know when you arrive” and letting you go he looks like he wants to say more or give you a forehead kiss but decides against it taking a step back. 

Satoru steps up this time pulling you in for a hug and you can feel the sadness dripping off of him, theres no smart quips, no teasing not even his usual arrogant smirk. He blames himself for being so arrogant in the first place walking in and kissing you like that. He doesnt regret it though.

“Call me when you need a ride home princess, you know ill come” he tells you fighting himself to let go as he takes a step back shoving his hands in his pockets to not reach back out and grab at you.

“Ok”

“Hey doll” you hear from behind you, turning to see a familiar scar lipped muscle head man and you roll your eyes.

“Im not interested” you tell him going back to scrolling on your phone cup of alcohol in your hand untouched not in a drinking mood at all.

“Wasnt persuing, i was just curious why the usual life of the party is cooped up in a corner holding the wall up…actually wheres your body guards?” He ask and you’re ready to go into defense mode about satoru and Suguru but you know that look in his eyes. Maki has the same one when she is about to pester someone trying to be friendly but it comes off bitchy.

“You a zen’in?” You ask squinting watching his body language as he squeezes his knuckles and tightens his shoulders, his navy blue compression seeming to stretch more across his broad chest..

“Was” he says sharply. “Took my wife’s last name it’s fushiguro now” he smiles and you take the time to notice the silver band on his hand.

“Youre married?” You gawk and he chuckles pulling out his phone showing his Lock Screen of him a woman a little girl and probably a 10 year old boy.

And you fall into conversation with him about married life and being a dad and how he was here to support his little cousin since they had a shitty family. The black sheep had to stick together and while he went away to prison for a few years Maki made it her mission to be there in his place. 

“The blue eyed freak is a good God father too, he’s always sending gifts when he can’t come but makes sure to come when he can”  and you can't help the grin as you think about how Gojo is and how he's more than generous with his money. He loves spending it on others and had mentioned a little spikey haired unimpressed with his antics rugrat. 

“Gumi, right?” You ask and he chuckles flipping to another picture, it reveals a few different types of guns, a purple worm and then an adorable boy probably about 6 or 7 who looks so unamused. He swipes at another one of him with a pink haired boy sharing comic books making you grin.

“He hates Gumi, somehow Gojo is the only one who can call him that. I think its because they start to play fight after and Gojo lets him be as rough as he wants even pretends the kid does damage. If i didnt hate him half the time id say it was adoreable” he chuckles as the two of you begin to fall into a wholesome conversation. though before you can comment on how he was actually a big softie you are suddenly yanked away with a bruising grip. The last person you expect to see is Gojo like at all so when he's staring at the man you roll your eyes only to catch Getos gaze.

Oh.

OH.

They had made up or enough to decide the only two that would be in this fight was them and not a third man. Not that he would, this man spent his whole time talking about his kid and something about men with kids… not your type at all. Plus this was probably the only man in the room that didn't try and talk to you.

“Fuck off shes taken” Suguru tells him and he eyes him up and down sizing him up and taking a step closer. The renounced Zenin smirks as he eyes him up and down before looking over at you sending you a wink.

“See you later doll” and walks off an air of areogance surrounding him and you see why him and Gojo were friends.

“What are you two doing here?” You ask crossing your arms watching as Suguru takes your cup downing all of its contents and tossing it.

“I think the better question is what are YOU doing HERE?” Suguru emphasizes pulling you closer but before he can pull you too close Satoru intercepts and throws his arm over your shoulders pulling you into his side.

“Princess were not here to argue with you we just…missed you” he pouts pushing his face against yours and as much as you want to fight the smile you can’t help it.

“Ive only been gone for an hour” you smile trying to push him off though he doesn't let you just sinking further into the dramatics holding onto you with an obnoxious groan.

“Hes so fucking needy” suguru spits and your suspicions off them arguing is confirmed as he tucks his hands in his black jeans looking around the room in his typical condescending way.  

“Shut the fuck up Geto” Satoru snaps and you know he’s pissed, in your several years of friendship you’ve heard him call him that twice and the first time led to the two of them in the infirmary. 

Suguru rolls his eyes, walking off to go get another drink as Satoru pulls you to a chair and sitting in his lap. He twirls a loose thread at the end of the shirt you're wearing and you can sense his attitude, his usual playful demeanor gone but he still is somewhat satisfied with you sitting in his lap.

Its like a hot cup of ramen waiting to boil over.

You hear giggling and notice its yuki standing too close to Suguru twirling a strand of hair around a finger and any teasing youd done about either men being jealous goes out the window. 

You were fucking seathing blood boiling and your nails digging into the thighs of Satoru unknowingly. He hisses grabbing your attention and once you notice you quickly move your hands.

“I-im sorry” you pout, wrapping your arms around his neck hugging him tightly sitting back some when he chuckles. 

“And you tease us for being jealous as if youre any better princess” he coos patting your thighs chastising you slightly and you roll your eyes. Before you can respond Suguru takes a seat next to the two of you and had either of you paid attention youd know that he had been talking about you ignoring Yukis advances.

Satoru rolls his eyes and Suguru uses that to taunt him.

“You have her in your lap and still not satisfied, so annoying” he manspreads poking satorus head purposely annoying him. Sometimes he liked to act like he was so much more mature than you both until he did shit like this.

He observes your attitude and chuckles.

“Oh you're mad at me too sweetheart, but forgave your little glow stick.” he sneers at Satoru who swats his hand away, not angry with you but you could see the tension rising.

“You know she's a brat who gets jealous and you're over there flirting” he says outting you and you blink incredulously he didn't have to clock you like that.

“Satoru!” You snap which only makes Geto suck his teeth.

“Satoru satoru fucking satoru—“ and jealousy was ripping through him he couldnt even hide it at this point his eyes dark and his usual ‘better than thow’ mature act completely gone. This was the worst side of your trio when the three of you were arguing and had the same shitty attitudes except Suguru had the worst and sassiest mouth.

Yet you still felt like you werent actually apart of their argument.

“Shut up shes literally in YOUR fucking clothes” he whisper yells and you can tell hes getting close to his breaking point. “Do you know what i fucking walked in on?” 

Its silent between the three of you for a second not even the sounds of the party could penetrate the metaphorical bubble yall were in. 

Satorus resolve has finally snapped and the way he actually felt was seeping through at a fast red hot pace, faster than either of you had ever seen. Everything was always a joke or teasing banter with him so the red hot pulsing anger that shifted to coat his ear tips was new for him.

 It's only a moment before Sugurus lips twist into an arrogant smirk and he pushes some of his dark locs over his shoulder further pushing Satoru to his limit. It was rare that Suguru was the antagonist… but not unheard of. 

“Wasn't a problem when you kiss—“ he begins and the panic that takes over Satorus face has you spinning. His whole body tensed and hand sank into your thighs.

“Shut up” you finally snap making both of them look at you insults dying on their tongue. “Were not doing this in public… and not at someone elses moment” 

The three of you fall into a silence but the tension is still there and its becoming unbearable for you. You felt like the mom of two unruly teenage boys and you just needed a minute to breathe without the two of them bickering. They don't stop with their dirty looks either it’s like they’re still arguing telepathically.

When you see Maki you immediately stand to congratulate her giving her the gift card you stopped and got on the way there telling her youd love to come and learn a few moves.

“Dress comfortable— that means no heels, mini skirts, ass grabbing jeans…” she laughs pushing up her glasses with a singular finger the other propped up on her hip.

“I dress to impress comfort is for the week” and you both laugh while the two are uncharacteristically quiet behind you making her look between the three of you.

“Everything okay?” She ask and you all nod but she doesnt look fully convinced.

“Well when you two idiots arent suffocating her id love to have you two as special guest for the students” she smiles sincerely and the word suffocating alerts them as she walks off. You probably were overwhelned and they definitely were suffocating you is all they could think.

“I'm tired, can we leave” you ask softly, almost getting drowned out behind the music they nod letting you lead the way. you’d done enough, come to show face, speak to Maki and even a futile attempt to get away from these two not that it worked. You were beginning to feel defeated and the drop of your shoulder and strut missing from your typical walk doesn’t go unnoticed          

Suguru stops satoru pulling him by the back of the shirt to fall a bit further behind you. He can admit when he was being an ass and knew that if he didnt stop hed lose you and his bestfriend… not forever but he didnt want to argue either. 

“Ill drop it if you do” he speaks taking note of how upset you were and you hear them knowing this was their version of making up.

“Dropped” satoru sighs adjusting his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose with his middle finger subtly flicking off Suguru who only laughs bumping his shoulder.

But theres still tension… you feel it. You know your boys well enough to know sonething happened when you left and had you gone back to Sugurus place instead of Satorus you probably wouldve figured it out.

They dont say much to another only to you, avoiding eye contact and even physical contact which was odd. Satoru was soooo.. touchy and Suguru as much as he snapped at him would let him. He always let you and Satoru do whatever you wanted to him play with his hair, poke at his cheeks even bite him randomly. Satoru was a weirdo.

You needed them seperated though so when Satoru goes to take a business phone call, something about sending Maki a gift you set your eyes on Suguru.

“Suguru” you purr giving him the fuck me eyes and he folds so easily. Men were so easy it really didnt take anything but a bat of your lashes and the purr of his name

He already knows what game your playing at and everytime him and satoru argued with another they always expected you to pick a side. You didnt understand how you become the peacemaker of their antics but you did. And when they argue they stoop low, like right now Geto had gone as far as eating you out to sway you to be on his side he had to before he told you what actually happened.

Its when Gojo walks back into the living room seeing him kiss up your thighs as you look down at him with a look thats suppose to be reserved for him that he looses his mind. 

“You ass you know we said we would wait until we talked to her first” Gojo hisses, phone clutching in his hand and you falter slightly because Getos actions seem like something Gojo would do. Geto shrugs pulling at the hem of your underwear.

“You walked off and she hasnt cum since you interrupted us earlier” he glares watching the way the white hair man stills in the middle of the room and you notice they both have a weird look on their face.

“What happened when i left?” You finally breathe out watching how both men glare at another and you pout when you realize their pettyness has increased in the past 3 hours. Neither of them say anything and you pull Getos gaze to you by his chin lightly stroking with your thumb watching as the glare melts.

 “Tell me what happened when i left” you know your boys well and Getos lips turn into a frown as he looks up at you from his spot on the floor.

“Fine we were arguing about that little stunt he pulled and and whos the better kisser and—“ Geto begins to sing like a canary unable to hold back when it comes to you until his words get stuck in his throat.

“And he kissed me! Grabbed me by the front of my shirt wrinkled it and kissed me put his warm tongue all in my mouth” Gojo shouts walking closer sitting on the chair next to you the hem of his boxers showing as his sweatpants shift slightly.

“Geto you cant just do that—“ you begin understanding why Gojo was upset.

“Yeah and you grabbed my dick dont forget that even swirled you finger around the tip” Geto hisses darkly his hand tight on your brown thigh. 

“Gojo—“ you gasp in shock not even sure who to scold because honestly the thought of them two was kind of hot and it made you wetter not the either of them noticed. 

“Oh you wanna talk about fingers?” Gojo hisses and youve heard enough when you cut them off. Their fight was silly, it wasnt about consent and in their fight of who can outdo the other their tension snapped while you were off at Makis grand opening and you were only mad you werent there to witness it.

“So are you mad that it happened or mad that you liked it” the questions directed at both of them but neither of them answer but the way the tips of their ears turn red is enough to tell you everything you need. 

“Well why dont you two kiss and see if you like it or hate it” you coyly throw it in your own horny attempts forgetting your word was bible and theyd do whatever you say so when they look at another and the sexual tension returns you feel your core clench around nothing.

“Gojo is too much of a—“ Geto begins to tease unable to hold back in his teasing ways but the white hair man joins him on the floor between your legs pushing his lips against Getos shocked ones. 

You can see the suprise at first and Gojo is definitely applying full pressure until your soft fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him back slightly giving the dark haired man a second to adjust but hes chasing his lips the next moment.

Your hand falls watching as their mouths chase anothers hot and heavy until Getos hand comes up gripping at Gojos neck slightly and he lets out a sound similar to a moan as he melts into the kiss. Your eyes float down for a second to the building tents in their boxers before watching their hands start to roam over the others body.

“So mean to me earlier satoru, now look at you” Suguru teases, pulling his shirt off before reattaching their lips.

Satoru bites Getos lip before his hand slowly trails down his chest and under his waistband the hand wrapping around his length. Your lip finds its way clutched between your teeth not expecting it to get this far. Geto is sensitive and you know that touching the tip is the quickest way to turn him on and it seems satoru ignited that in him because he pushes him completely back on the floor holding his wrist in one hand over his head with his other hand holding Gojos hips.

Its when their hips start grinding into another that your fingers find their way into your underwear pressing against your clit. The wetness coats your fingers and a soft moan slips past your lips as you watch your two lovers fool around. Your moan doesnt go unnoticed and they break apart Geto looking over at you and Gojo in a daze as he stares at the man hovering over his lips. 

“This turn you on sweetheart” Geto ask grinding his hips against the man under him pulling a strangled moan from him that does something to your core. Gojo looks like he wants more but hes to scared to ask so you use your pointer finger to tell geto to come closer.

His lips are instantly on your thighs kissing up your cloth cunt tracing around it with his tongue listening to your soft moans and the sound of satoru panting.

Your lips are shortly captured by satoru who doesnt plan on missing out on any of the fun(planning to go through his bi panic later) his tongue swirls around your mouth and all you can taste is Suguru letting you know just how much they enjoyed kissing another.

He slowly pulls your shirt off making it easier for access before sliding down next to Suguru between your legs trailing his finger everywhere sugurus tongue just was. You feel yourself beconibg wetter at having both of them between your legs anticipation brewing until your underwear is pulled off and theres 2 sets of fingers circling your hole.

“Sweetheart?” Suguru purs the same time “Princess?” Falls from Satorus lips and your heart races your core clenching around nothing. Any regret long gone and nonexistent.

Sugurus thick fingers use the slick practically pouring out of you to rub circles into your clit while satoru long slender ones push into you pulling a moan deep from your throat and oh do they like that. In a split second they learn they do better as a team than divided.

Suguru rests his head on your thigh loving when your fingers instantly go into his hair, nails brushing against his scalp.

“Sorry” and Satorus mouth is replacing his fingers thrusting into your core and you feel the knot begin to build, you were easily overstimulated and more than sure the two of them were about to take advantage.

“You forgive him sweetheart?” You hear the dark haired man ask, pressing harder into your clit making your stomach convulse and eyes squeeze shut. You wouldn’t be able to handle both of them ganging up on you, you honestly didn’t think this through at all.

So when satoru licks up from your core to your clit right over Sugurus fingers your burst at the sight of him taking his fingers in his mouth sucking on them and you don’t miss the way he’s challenging him. But Sugurus too far gone…or ignores it just smiles replacing his fingers with his tongue on your core licking up your juices.

You were so fucked, feeling your eyes roll back you let your other hand find Satorus undercut pulling him back to you both of their tongues licking over you. And yes you were greedy so fucking greedy moaning at the sensation.

“You taste so good, just for us” and its the first time Suguru acknowledges sharing not that he has a choice but you hear the need in his voice and when your eyes flutter open you realize why. Satoru had his dick in his hand using long slow strokes the same strokes he was using to eat you out with.

 They finally get enough of their tongues licking into the others mouth and the pressure snaps from them just tongue kissing around your clit before locking lips moaning into another’s mouth. The wet slaps and smacks the only thing filling the room as suguru uses his other hand to keep pumping in and out of you.

Their kissing doesn’t last long and satoru is exploring his way down his jaw and neck with licks and kisses that had Suguru breathing heavy, shivering when his pink tongue flickers over his nipple. He grins before his head is out of your sight and from the way Suguru grunts you can guess exactly what Satorus doing.

Leaning forward your eyes widen watching Satoru deep throat him not a single gag sound until he pulls off repeating the motion pulling a string of curse words from suguru.

“S-satoru… fuck fuck FUCK” and his eyes roll back hand completely stopping its assault on you both hands flying to the head if white hair in his lip. Oh and this was new— it was almost like Satoru was getting his payback from his man Suguru was earlier. Pulling his mouth to yours, your tongues clashing as you swallow every sinful moan that climbs up his throat, hands tightening in his hair.

“Come on” suguru grunts standing up tossing you over his shoulder and dragging satoru up by his chin leaving a nasty open mouth kiss on his lips.

“Whaaaat?” Satoru whines before Sugurus pulling the both of you towards the bedroom 

———-

Satorus longer slender fingers wrap around Sugurus throat pulling him close and squeezing never losing eye contact.

“Is that right Suguru? But youre doing so good fucking her so perfectly. I think You look so fucking perfect like that making me even harder” gojo tells him and you dont have to see him to know how Suguru is hanging onto every word you can feel his dick twitchibg inside you. Even turning to watch him in the mirror you watch his face and the beautiful way he falls apart you knew he loved the mental stimulation so being talked to it rather through it shouldn’t have had your mind spinning like this. But Satoru…Satoru did. 

Satoru sat propped on his knees, a hand tenderly on the back of your neck knowing better than to touch your hair while your lips were wrapped around his red leaking tip and Suguru? Suguru was complete putty for the two of you right now bottom lip harshly between his teeth while his hands gripped onto your hips keeping a steady pace as he thrust into you from behind the only thing louder than his balls repeatedly slapping your clit was the wet schlap schlap schlap sound of your core already having came 3 times but Suguru was relentless.

“Youre so fucking needy Suguru, you need me to keep talking you through it huh,baby?” His lips extremely close to Sugurus as he continues squeezes his throat tighter its when you watch his eyes squeeze shut at the nickname.

Oh you were fucking loving this, Suguru was so fucking tender for Satoru. He talked so much shit was so damn arrogant and had been fucking with him for weeks. Had he just wanted his attention this whole time? Had he been having his own bi panic this whole time?

Oh!

“Oh you weren’t jealous about me and Satoru fucking your were jealous you couldn’t—“ before you could finish your sentence he plunges two fingers in your mouth snapping his hips harder into your with a sharp slap to your plump ass.

“S-shut up!” He snaps grabbing satorus  wrist trying to hold onto something…anything. He couldn’t have both of you talking to him like this, he was going to cum too fast and he was enjoying the tight warmth and the way you constantly clenched around him way too much for that.

He’s grateful for his dark hair coming down as a sheild because between the way you sucked on his fingers with that evil yet innocent way you looked up at him and Satoru talking him through it his face was a crimson red. Not that it mattered, the redness was across his neck and chest yet no one spoke of it.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of your pretty boy with someone else” and satorus shameless guiding his dick back into your mouth sucking Sugurus fingers into his mouth instead. His eyes cross when one of your hands reach under the two of you palming at his balls.

Fuck putty.

He felt like ice cream on a hot summer day and he was melting. He never thought much about threesomes but to be used like this… overstimulated like this and by you two? His brain couldn't process a single thought let alone any of the smart remarks he’d been spewing earlier.

“Y-youre… youre such a brat, satoru” suguru grunts through clenched teeth only getting a chuckle in return as Satoru pulls all the way back going from his knees to sitting against the pile of pillows a singular leg stretched out while the other was propped up for you to lean against slinging a long arm over the headboard.

“Then come tame me, baby”

And that’s all it takes for suguru to pull out of you pick you up and sit you on Satorus dick making him hiss not ready for how tight or wet you were, moans slipping from your mouth as you try to brace yourself.

Satoru chokes on every word when Suguru lines his dick up with his entrance and uses the wetness from your orgasms as lube before sliding in.

“Fuck” the both groan loudly… louder than anything you did and you nearly orgasm listening to the raspiness of their moans.

You watch as Satorus eyes become glossy for a minute before leaning forward taking his lips in yours smiling when he instantly kisses back. Your hands find his undercut soothing him as his find your breast massaging them for his own satisfaction.

And right when he whimpers in your mouth is when you know he fucked up.

“Tame you?! Tame you! You— shit! You want me to fucking tame you, you bratty ass pretty boy. Look at you taking my—“ he rambles dare you say drunk off the stimulation from being in something so tight piercing blue eyes staring directly into his soul he almost cums at the sight of both of you.

Satorus quiet… except for the broken moans he chokes out his fingers gripping your hips with a bruising force, and it’s kinda what he gets for antagonizing the dark haired man. Your lips find satorus neck leaving little purple bruises and hickeys the thought of being claimed and possessed stimulates him the way  being talked through it does Suguru.

“Oh and don’t think i forgot your little teasing sweetheart”  he nips at your shoulder fingers coming for a full attack on your clit making your eyes cross. 

“Whole things her fault” Satoru manages to squeeze out and you practically taste how fucked out he is, how close to cuming he is.

“Yeah it is…i might be needy but shes greedy wanting both of us” he groans out marking up your neck you knew you couldn’t handle both of them ganging up on you, you were already fighting your trembling legs.

“Im g-greedy?” You breath leaning back against Sugurus chest your tiddies bouncing, stealing Satorus gaze.

“Suguru you did fuck both of us sounds like you’re the greedy one” you wrap an arm around his neck pulling his head to your shoulder before pecking his lips.

“I get it, look at how fucked out our Pretty boy Toru looks” you turn alliances ganging up on Satoru who jaw drops. He loves the attention and the use of “our” if his dick twitching in you was anything to go by.

“W-wait” he stutters trying to pull away only for suguru to lean forward pushing you forward as well. He guides your hips to match the pace that hes set inside of Satoru whos hair is finally starting to stick to his forehead from sweat.

Satoru finds his way to your clit taking over, feeling his stomach clench when you clamp down on him, your eyes rolling back when his dick curves up into that spongey spot inside of you pulling a high pitched whine from your glossy lips.

“So fucking perfect sweetheart” and Satoru isn’t sure if the nicknames for you or him the way he purrs it against your ear but keeps eye contact with him and he feels his stomach convulse shutting his eyes tight.

“Come on baby let me see those gorgeous blue eyes” Suguru pleads, grabbing Satorus chin as much of a sucker for his eyes as everyone else if not more. Pressing two of your fingers into his mouth he moans around them eyes shooting open.

“Fuck sweetheart that’s so fucking sexy, im so close” he heaves into your shoulder arm tightening around your waist.

“You feel so good satoru, squeezing me so tight. Gunna cum for us? Please baby” Suguru fucking begs and Satoru is a whore for him couldn’t help it if he tried actually begins shooting his heavy load into you triggering your own orgasm.

“Fuck” and Sugurus dumping his load into the white haired man leaning forward to kiss him sloppily your fingers quickly removed from his mouth.

You loved watching them kiss each other it was actually so fucking hot. Satoru whines pulling Suguru closer by his dark tendrils body rolling up into you as he sucks on his bottom lip before grabbing you by the back of your neck turning his lips on yours.

You instantly suck his tongue in your mouth the saliva dripping down your chin.

Suguru being the greedy fuck he is leans forward licking it back into your mouth kissing both of you at the same time.

Exactly, greedy. It’s nothing but the sound of teeth clashing lips shaking and subtle moans as the three of you continue making out hands roaming another freely. You miss the silent conversation they have as Sugurus fingers slip inside you and Satoru takes his time on your clit as they moan into another's mouths.

The pressure building up feels different. You were so horny all over again from watching the two of them make out so needy for another that when your orgasm explodes making you squirt the three of you fall into silence with nothing but heavy breathing.

Your body felt weak as you molded into satoru eyes fluttering shut as his hands instantly began rubbing down your back in a soothing rhythm and sugurus hair tickles your side as his large hand rubs down your thighs.

Smiling you crack an eye open to sink your hand into his silky locs gently massaging at his scalp not at all surprised when he purrs into it scooting closer to you just to trail kisses on your wrist letting out a loud satisfied sigh.

 “Gonna go start a shower” Suguru stretches as he sits up leaving a lazy kiss on Satorus lips before he tilts your head up to leave one on your lips as well before gliding off to the bathroom.

Satoru wraps his arms around you a bit tighter being the big cuddler he is leaving a series of kisses on the top of your head.

“You think he’d be down to fuck on camera?” He mumbles against your lips, thumb trailing over your cheek pushing curls away from your eyes.

“Of course, his hair would be noticeable though everybody would know who we are” you giggle brushing his snow white hair back and off his forehead leaving a tender kiss that turns into a slight makeout as you hold his face in place.

“Satoru, I can't figure out your stupid shower. Why is it a touch screen and has knobs?!” Suguru huffs before walking back into the bedroom grinning when Satoru gently places you down climbing out the bed. 

Suguru doesn't hesitate at all, taking his spot pulling you to cuddle into his chest as he wraps your legs around his waist.

“Feeling ok sweetheart?” He asks his thumbs massaging deeply into your thighs rubbing out any kinks while his other hand rests on your lower back. You smile up at him not wasting a second to press your lips against his and he slots his tongue in your mouth.

Slowly pulling back he rests his forehead against yours though his dark eyes never leave your puffy pink lips.

“You need to get rid of all your little boy toys” he finally adds possessively the certainty in his voice that has you missing the sound of Satoru walking back in the room.

“MY boy toys?” You ask incredulously as if the two of them didn’t have a phone book of women to call. But they don’t register that instead seeing that they need to make it known you belong to them and vice versa.

“Yes, or we could just crash every little date you go on makeout with you and then each other” Satoru smiles pulling your head back so you can see the seriousness in his eyes.

“And if that doesn't work we’ll just beat the shit out of them” Suguru shrugs as if he hasn’t just threatened a hypothetical man but it seems to only turn Satoru on as he agrees climbing back in bed waiting for the shower to warm up.

Suguru only leans back resting his head on Satorus' stomach, both sending you matching devious looks as they wait for you to say anything that could start a second round.

“I think I liked it better when you two didn't get along.”

Sharing was caring and maybe these two actually did know how to do it.