#cup them n kiss me as i fall into the cough

[demonsslayersstuff]

First Time (Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader)

Description: A short fic about the first time the reader and Sanemi sleep together.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, hand job, P in V sex, (went a bit softer for Sanemi this time), fluff. Written with a female reader in mind.

A/N: I’m sorry it’s a bit late! Life is just soo busy lately. First Demon Slayer fic in a bit, sorry about that. This was one I was thinking about for a while, so I’m happy to finally work on it. Hope you enjoy!

His sweet breath fans your face as the two of you try to regain composure. You’d never gone this far with Sanemi, but here you now were. Back pressed into the futon, lips swollen from the previous activity the two of you were involved in. You hear his shaky intake of breath and watch him as he lays his forehead on top of yours, his plum colored eyes looking into yours. His hips roll into yours and breathy moan falls from your lips. “Fuck I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, it just happened”, gruffly comes from Shinazugawa as he quickly moves to get off of you, the realization of what he just did hitting him like a brick wall. Cool air hits your body and you nearly whine from the loss of him, but you cover it with a slight cough, moving to sit up with him as well.

“It’s ok, I really didn’t mind”, you tell him honestly, looking over at him. Shinazugawa’s cheeks flush red at your words. “Wait, really?”, he asks earnestly, surprised at your response. You’d always been firm about keeping boundaries, something he respected. He thought tonight he’d gone too far. “I know…this is new for us”, you start, trying to find the right words. “But if you are ready, I’m ready too”, you finish meekly. It’s not that you were scared of having sex with the Wind Hashira, it’s just that you’d never been intimate before, with anyone. “Are you sure?”, he asks you. “Yes, it’s just that…well you’d be my first”, you tell him, turning your eyes away in slight embarrassment. “Hey now”, Sanemi says, moving his hand to cup your chin softly, forcing you to face him. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that”, he tells you. “Now if you want, we can try today”, he continues, his thumb softy brushing your cheek. “If you get uncomfortable or scared, tell me and we can stop immediately”, he finishes.

You grip his wrist lightly, “Ok, let’s try. I really want this Sanemi”, you respond, a small smile gracing your face. He laughs slightly before leaning down to kiss you, his hands grasping the underside of your knees before he hauls you on to his lap. You gasp, breaking the kiss as the two of you settle into this new position. Your hands rest on his shoulders while look down at his face admiring his beauty, scars and all. “You know, you’re quite handsome from this angle”, you say leaning down, giving him in another kiss before he has a chance to respond. As his tongue slips past your lips, deepening the kiss, you can taste the last remnants of the green tea the two of you had before you entered the bedroom. It's not long before your fingers grip his white locks, tugging at them gently as you let your desires take hold over your body.

Your hips move on their own accord, grinding down greedily on Sanemi's lap, his own hips moving up to meet yours. "Fuck", Shinazugawa murmurs against your lips, each thrust of your hips leading your clothed pussy to rub against his ever growing cock. His hands move towards your uniform top, removing the garment with ease. Cool wind hits your nearly bare chest, causing your nipples to harden, the outline clearly visible for Sanemi to see. He takes a steadying breath, "Sorry, I should have asked for you-", he starts, but the words die in his throat as he watches you remove the rest of your upper body garments. His purple eyes take in your rounded breasts, your nipples still taunt from the air hitting the bare flesh. It takes everything in his will power to not take you right then and there. "Touch me love", spills from your mouth, breaking Shinazugawa from his lustful thoughts.

He doesn't respond, simply following your command his hand slides up your waist, before his it cups your breast, softly squeezing it, earning a sharp moan of pleasure. "You are so beautiful", Sanemi praises as his other hand moves to grasp the other, his fingers flicking the nipple, causing your back to arch, your breasts inching closer to his face. "Oh", falls from your mouth as he leans in, his tongue replacing his finger for a moment before he suckles on your breast. "Feels so good", you tell him as he moves to work on the other one. Your own hands move to his shirt, fingers moving in frenzy, wanting his skin on your own. Sanemi chuckles as his shirt is quickly ripped off of him, not that much of it was on him to begin with. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. Your face is buried in his neck as you lean down, forcing the two of you to tumble down on the bed, his body overlaying yours. "I want you, god I want you so bad", you tell Shinazugawa as your hands move all over his unclothed chest and arms, wanting to feel every square inch of his rough skin.

"Pants", Sanemi huffs out before his hands grip yours, quickly ripping them down your legs, leaving you completely bare for him for the first time. Inadvertently you move to cross your legs, but Sanemi is quick to stop you. "I want to see all of you" he tells you, voice thick with desire. His hand grip your thighs, giving them a soft squeeze before spreading them open, giving direct sight of your already wet pussy. "Gorgeous", he mutters, more so to himself. He looks up towards your face, noticing a deep scarlet blush littered across your features. "Is this ok?", he asks, worried that you were uncomfortable. "Well, its just..", you begin, but you fall silent, unsure of what to say. "Its what?', Sanemi questions as he moves back up your body, giving you a light peck of reassurance. "We can stop if you want", he reminds me. You shout a quick, "No", before closing your eyes for a moment. "Then what?', Shinazugawa questions again, this time a little more serious. "It's just I've never felt this way, I just have this..uhh", you start. Sanemi looks down at you, patiently waiting. "Fuck, I just want you so bad, I want you touch me in places that I've not been touched in", you tell him, hands covering your face in embarrassment as you had finally voiced your own desires openly.

"Darling, that's perfectly normal", Sanemi coos as he removes your hands from your face. "I want to touch you there to if you'll let me", he continues before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. You sigh into the kiss as you feel his hand move down your body slowly, tension pooling in your lower abdomen as his hand continues to move down. "Oh god", you cry breaking the kiss as his finger lightly circles your clit before he slips into your wet hole. "Atta girl", Shinazugawa hums as your damp walls suck his digit further in, your pleasure the only thing on his mind. "Sanemi", you groan as he adds a second finger, gently gliding them in and out of with his thumb occasionally swiping across your nub, adding more pleasure. The Wind Hashira picks the pace up as you throw your head back in pleasure, crying out when you feel his tongue flick your breast, continuously adding more stimulation. "Please don't stop", you beg as his fingers thrust in and out of you wildly and before you know it the tension that was building in your body snaps and you nearly scream from the pleasure as your orgasm rips through your body.

As much Sanemi thinks he can coax another orgasm out of you with just his fingers, he knows not to push the over stimulation. Not to mention the fact that he is so desperate so slide his dick into your heat, to watch you come undone with him deep inside of you. So as you come down from your high, he carefully removes his fingers, wiping your juices on a discarded shirt before coming to lay next to you as you catch your breath. “How are you feeling?”, he questions as you open your eyes. “Good, so good. That felt…amazing”, you respond with a small smile. “Do you want to keep going?”, Sanemi asks. “Yes, you made me feel so good, I want to return the favor”, you tell him earnestly, feeling the energy return to your body. You take a steady breath before sitting up. “Can I take off your pants?”, you ask him before you lose your confidence.

Sanemi nods his head and you maneuver your body, now you hovered over him, fingers trembling slightly as you grip the waistband of his pants. With a steadying breath you begin to pull down, eyes going wide as his harden member springs free. You couldn’t deny that you hadn’t imagined his size, but as you take in his girthy dick, you wonder how it’s going to fit inside of you. Shinazugawa coughs, breaking you away from your thoughts. “You good?”, he asks, voice hooded. “Yeah you’re just…big”, you respond timidly. “Don’t worry my love, it will fit”, Sanemi tells you as if he’s read your thoughts. You nod your head, quiet for a moment.

“Can I touch it?”, you ask him, eyes trailing up his body before they make contact with his own. “Please”, he says, though it sounds more like a whine. As your hands delicately grab his cock, Sanemi sighs deeply. He’d wanted this for so long, masturbating to this exact imagine, though now it was a reality. Your thumb brushes along his tip, fingers feeling the slight wetness from the precum. You think back to the many conversations you’d had with your friends, trying to prepare for this moment. So your hands shift, stroking him slowly, eyes continuing to watch his face, wanting to note any signs of discomfort. “Faster please”, Sanemi moans and you follow his command earnestly. You spit onto his cock, helping to make the slide easier. “Fuck”, his hisses when you add a slight twist.

Sanemi knew that he wasn’t going to the last. Usually he can hold off his orgasm, but he’s nearly there from just your hands. So, he takes a deep breath, moving to stop your hands. For a second he sees the hurt in your eyes. “Did I not do a good job?”, you manage to ask before you squeal as he flips you over. “Did a great job, but I need to be inside of you”, he says gruffly before pushing your thighs open. You watch as he grips his cock, rubbing it along your entrance. “I will try to be as gentle as possible, but if the pain is too much, tell me and I’ll stop”, Shinazugawa says, leaning down to give you a soft peck. “I’m ready”, you tell him, giving a him a reassuring smile. Sanemi takes your cue before lining himself up to your entrance.

Pain, that’s all that you feel as he slides inside of you. You grip his shoulder stiffly, fingers sinking into his skin deep enough there will be marks later. “Ugh, just a little bit more baby, you’re doing good” Sanemi huffs out as he pushes further into you. Tears cloud your vision for a moment as he settles. Sanemi leans down, kissing you softly. “I’m gonna make the pain go away”, he murmurs before he pulls out of you slightly, then sinking back into you, methodically. “Oh”, falls out of your mouth as the pain transforms into a feeling of pleasure you can’t describe. You want him deeper, you want to feel him come undone, hear his moans as he hits his high.

“Faster please”, you cry out, chasing the sweet feeling of his dick brushing your inner walls. Shinazugawa complies immediately, picking up the pace. He enjoys the view of your tinged cheeks, the way you gasp as he hits that the spot, the way your boobs bounce deliciously with each thrust. He grips your leg before throwing it over his shoulder, allowing him a deeper angle. You are unable to stop the filthy noises that erupt from your throat. The familiar heat from when he uses his fingers begins pooling your belly. “Close”, you breathe out choppily, hands gripping his hair. Sanemi picks up the pace even more, slamming his hips into yours, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix with each brutal thrust.

You’re gone before you even know it. Sanemi watches as the orgasm rips through your body. Your legs wrapping tightly around his hips as your walls squeeze around his dick. About two thrusts later his follows suit, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he pulls out, spilling his warm seed onto your stomach. Sanemi crashes onto the mattress next you, pulling you to his side as he comes down from his high. “How are you?”, he ask after a few minutes of silence. “Good, so good. That was amazing”, you gush out before snuggling into him. “You?”, you ask him. “I’m good, this felt good”, is all he can muster as sleepiness begins to set in. As much as he would love to burrow under the covers, he knows he needs to clean up first.

“Let’s go get cleaned up”, he tells you as he reluctantly moves to sit up. “Then cuddles?”, you question with a yawn. “Then cuddles”, he responds with a slight chuckle. The soreness is already kicking in, but for once you don’t complain, this is a sore you hope to have again.

A/N: Sorry the ending was kinda trash. Might edit it later.

[haeigoo]

do u think if they were eating a specific kind of chips say — cheese rings that chenle would have whipped out a piece of it and offered it as the Temporary-Ring-Before-I-Buy-The-Prettiest-One-For-You?

⇢ just for you

pairing: best friend!chenle x reader genre: fluff word count: 628 warnings: jokes about murder, food?? note: going thru sad boi hours and i love chenle. chenle makes me less sad

“If we’re still single in ten years, let’s get married.” 

You and Chenle were sprawled across the rug on your living room floor, munching on the bags of snacks he had brought from his trip to the Asian grocers. Chenle’s focus which was once set on the movie playing on screen quickly averted to your figure, nonchalantly adjusting your position on the couch, shrimp chips in hand.

“That’s a stupid idea,” He replied, rolling his eyes at you.

“Why?” You sat back up whining, “We basically live with each other, know everything about each other and I wouldn’t mind if you were the one to kill me in my sleep so what’s the problem?”

Chenle snorted, shuffling back to reach into your bag of chips before placing a couple in his mouth, softly chewing on the savoury goodness. 

“Why do I have to wait ten years to marry you when we could just do it now?”

The hand that held your precious snacks halted mid-air, your head turning to face your best friend’s innocent eyes. 

You weren’t exactly sure how you were meant to interpret his response, was he finally done with the dating field? Was this his way of telling you that no one was ever going to love you? Or was it-

“Don’t tell me that you didn’t realise that I had a crush on you until now,” Chenle interrupted your thoughts, sending you a pointed look from below.

You sat in silence, blinking every so often at Chenle who now sat crouching on the floor, cackling at your obliviousness to his feelings. Though only laughter overwhelmed his current state, there remained a state of what seemed like disappointment. Maybe disappointment with your lack of response or maybe disappointment of what felt like a silent rejection of his confession, which — was not true at all.

You and Chenle met in the second grade when your homeroom teacher had seated the two of you together for an art project. You were a relatively shy child, opting to quietly pick up your paintbrush and sketch out a design on your own whilst Chenle sat with his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with this arrangement.

“You don’t have cooties do you?” He grumbled, peering over at your poor attempts at drawing a field of flowers.

You merely shook your head as you pushed a small brush to his side of the desk, gesturing for him to join you. You remember him giving you that skeptical look, the same one he holds at you now for a few seconds before sighing and picking up the brush, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Fine, only because you look like a flower.”

Badump went your heart.

Your feelings only grew as the years went by, with you pathetically waiting for a sign of reciprocation. It wasn’t like Chenle was actively talking to you about other girls, in fact — he just didn’t seem interested in anyone, period.

Throughout the course of your schooling journey, you and Chenle did everything together. From being each other’s prom dates to going to each other’s respective sporting games, with no signs of romantic affection from him — it was only fair to assume that nobody had caught his eye yet, until now.

With Chenle’s infectious laughter bubbling in the background, you quietly spoke, “What about the ring?”

Chenle paused, whipping his head back around to face your cautious gaze. 

“Well, if we’re gonna get married, then I want a ring,” You mustered out, holding your hand out to him.

Chenle glanced down at your outstretched hand in awe, eyes widening at your unexpected response before letting out a short giggle.

“Just you wait Y/N. I’ll get you the prettiest ring in the world, just for you.”

taglist: @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @rum-gone-why @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @dearlyminhyung @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Long Distance

A followup to Suburban Sparks Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's Little Sister Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: He knows he shouldn't fall for you, he knows he shouldn't pick up the phone, but you're all he can think about. Warnings: Javi's POV, angst, guilt, yearning, pining, heartbreak, impressionist paintings, using a Clairo lyric as a play monologue, jealousy, smut, phone sex, secret bathroom sex, dirty photos. Takes place after S3. Words: 8,320

A/N: Written for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge, who made the GORGEOUS mood board for inspo. It truly fit the vibes of exactly what I was thinking would be the next step for Steve's Little Sister and Javier. My thanks to @devineconjuring, @mothandpidgeon, and @schnarfer for filling up my draft with suggestions, reactions, and edits and always letting me yap and ... them. Masterlist

—-

His heart thuds against his chest with every descending step. He hears the clatter of plates and silverware mixed with soft conversation– hears your voice. You’re awake. His eyes immediately catch yours when he walks into the kitchen. You sit at the breakfast table in an oversized sweatshirt that hangs off a shoulder, the same shoulder he kissed before he snuck out of bed and back to his room across the hall.

You’re so beautiful, he almost falls as he takes a seat.

“Damn, Peña, still drunk?” Steve asks as he flips the last pancake.

“Just tired,” he responds. “Morning,” he casually nods towards you, trying not to let his gaze stay on you for too long.

You nod a casual “hey” as you reach for the orange juice, your fingers wrapping around the glass. He loses his breath as he remembers how those same delicate fingers felt wrapped around him.

“Coffee, Javi?” Connie asks, pulling him from his reverie.

He nods, mumbling a response as you smirk. This is going to be an interesting breakfast.

“Good breakfast, thank you,” you say as you rise. “I’m going to get a shower before I go back home. Landlord still hasn’t fixed the hot water heater.”

“Help yourself,” Steve nods. “And Jesus Christ, find a better place.”

Javier takes a sip of coffee until the thought of you under the warm running water, naked and wet, flashes through his mind. He coughs as he chokes on the hot liquid.

"You okay there, partner?" Steve asks, eyebrow raised.

Javi nods, clearing his throat. "Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe." 

As your footsteps fade upstairs, Javi focuses intently on his breakfast, avoiding Steve's gaze. He can feel Connie's eyes on him, a hint of suspicion in her expression.

He eats his breakfast, listening closely to the rumble of the water heater as Steve and Connie discuss their plans for the day. The water heater turns off, snapping Javi back to the thought of you just upstairs.

"I should get ready too," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he picks up his plate and coffee cup, dropping them off by the sink. "Thanks for breakfast."

“‘Course, you’re our guest,” Steve says.

As he climbs the stairs, his heart races. The guilt over Steve sitting just downstairs getting drowned out by the anticipation of seeing you again.

He passes the bathroom door and then retraces his steps, standing in front of the white wooden blockade. You’re right behind the door. He knocks softly.

The door cracks open, a cloud of steam escaping as you peek out. Your face glistens with moisture, drops of water clinging to your skin. You take his breath away.

Your eyebrow quirks up before you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. He slips inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You’re wrapped in a towel–one measly towel. A drop of water trails down your collarbone to between your breasts, and his mouth waters, thinking of how good it’d taste.

"Javier," you whisper.

He steps closer. "I know, I know. We shouldn't."

But, as the words leave his mouth, you’re already reaching for him. His mouth crashes against yours, desperate to taste you again. You instantly mold into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backs you against the cool tile wall.

The towel slips, pooling at your feet. He breaks the kiss, his eyes reverently roaming your bare skin. “Fuck,” he breathes.

You grab the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down. “We don’t have much time.”

He nods, helping you pull down his boxer briefs, his cock already hard for you, weeping to feel your tight pussy around it.

He lifts you onto the countertop, spreading your legs wide and groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. Your eyes stare into his as he sheaths himself in you, both of you gasping at how good it feels. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer as he begins to move. His hands grip the counter as he quietly fucks into you, the faint sound of his skin against yours and your soft moans echoing off the tile.

His tongue licks a path down your neck, tasting the condensation on your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is softly repeated against your sensitive skin. The way you softly moan back makes his legs weak. You sound so good, you taste so good, you feel so good.

Your hips meet his as his thrusts become more urgent as he listens for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He wishes he could savor you, hear you scream his name, fuck into you for hours, but he can’t. He has to be quick. His hand travels down your smooth skin, and his finger begins circling your clit as his other hand grips the plush of your breast, kneading it in his hand. Your head falls back, your bottom lip captured between your teeth to stop yourself from making any more noise.

It’s forbidden and wrong. He knows this, but the way your body trembles underneath his touch, your hands exploring the broadness of his back, your tight pussy beginning to clench around his cock–he can’t say no to you. He circles your clit faster and harder, his fingers working in quick, tight circles as he fucks into you faster. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fight to stay quiet.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers. “I need to feel you cum.”

Your body tenses, a strangled moan escaping your lips before he presses his mouth against yours, swallowing your cries as he chases his own release. You pulse around him, and it’s too much. He buries himself inside you, his body shuddering as he cums, spilling inside of you. He stays buried in your heat, even though he knows he needs to leave. He just can’t. He rests his forehead against yours, listening to your soft gasps, trying to savor the moment for as long as he can.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice lilts in awe.

He nods, trying hard to swallow the guilt. “I know.”

He pulls out slowly, both of you wincing at the loss of each other.

You hop off the counter, grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around yourself again. Javi tucks himself back into his pants and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You should go," you say softly, not meeting his eyes. “You know… just in case.”

He nods, his hand already reaching for the doorknob. "Hey," he says, waiting for you to look at him. When you do, he sees the conflict in your eyes, knowing it mirrors his own, but he ignores it. “What’s your number?”

—-

The phone line hums, building a bridge between Laredo and Washington, D.C. He waits all day to hear the sound of your laughter spill through the receiver–sweet and warm, like honey. Most of the time, silence settles between the two of you, content to just stay on the line with each other 1,800 miles away.

He’d always be the one to call. Phone bill be damned, he made good money.

On some nights, after too many whiskeys or beers, he’d let some of the burden of Colombia off his shoulders. He’d tell you about the girls, the bodies, the nightmares. You’d meet every revelation with understanding and acceptance, letting him talk as little or as much as he wanted. 

It’s simple and comfortable, something he never felt like he deserved. But he can never have simple and comfortable–there’s always a complication. You are Steve’s little sister, after all.

He hates nights like this when the guilt creeps in and gnaws at him. The world is hushed, his thoughts loud. He tosses and turns, sheets tangling around his legs as he wrestles with his heart. He’s falling for you–Steve’s little sister. The same Steve who had his back in Colombia, who became more than just a partner.

He stares at the ceiling, your voice always echoing in his head.

It’s been three months since he met you at that ordinary suburban party. He replays everything in his head to calm himself–your smile, the sweet lilt of your voice, your wide eyes as you stared at him. The sound of your muffled moans escaping from behind his shirt, the warmth of your body pressed against his as you drifted to sleep.

Now, the memory of your soft skin under his fingertips haunts him, an almost bittersweet reminder of what he can never have. It could never work. Steve’s so protective of you that Javi can’t even imagine how he’d react if he knew someone like him was falling for his baby sister. He can’t do that to you… or Steve.

You’re in your twenties, still full of life and promise. While he’s forty, scarred from the long life he’s already lived. He pictures you growing resentful, feeling held back by his world-weariness, longing for someone more carefree and unburdened. He’s not the one for you, though you’re the one for him.

He turns, shuffling his cold sheets up around his shoulder as he stares out the window. One night spent together in his friend’s backyard and guest bedroom. One morning spent in a white-tiled bathroom. Countless nights on the phone.

He thinks about you curled up on the couch during your late-night calls, wrapped in an oversized sweater, your voice soft and sleepy. He dreams of one day being on that couch with you. In a perfect life that he’ll never have.

—-

Javier Peña never reads the news. He doesn’t pay attention to the news. He doesn’t care about the news. He doesn’t want to hear about the news—that is, until you entered his life.

“Any news?” he asks, hearing the rustle of your newspaper crackling through the phone.

“Hmm, lemme see.”

He can imagine you scanning the headlines, your finger running down the text, brows furrowed in concentration. You love the news, love reading and learning, love being informed. Now, Javier Peña reads the news.

"Ohh! The Smithsonian's got a new exhibit opening next week. An Impressionist Sensibility. It says the paintings in the collection are linked through a shared sensibility about American cultural aspirations at the turn of the century."

"Yeah?"

“Yeah, it looks really cool, Jav.”

He loves it when you call him Jav. It’s so casual, so comfortable. Nobody ever calls him Jav besides you. He listens intently as you read, letting the sound of your voice wash over him.

"Sounds pretty interesting. Sounds like something you have to see in person."

You hum in agreement, a wistful note in your voice. "It does. Maybe someday we could…"

The sentence hangs unfinished, both of you acutely aware of the complications that keep you apart. He clears his throat, pushing away the surge of longing that threatens to overwhelm him. Move on, agent.

"My turn," he says, unfolding his paper. "Let's see what thrilling news Laredo's got today."

—

“Tell me I did good, Jav. Tell me to stop obsessing over it. Tell me they didn’t notice I paused a little too long between lines.”

He chuckles. “You did amazing. I’m sure of it, cariño.”

He doesn’t know how you can be so brave, going up onstage in front of auditoriums full of people. All eyes on you. He could never do what you do.

“Really?”

“I’d surely cast you if I could.”

“Mm, I’m sure you would,” you respond. He can hear the smile in your voice.

You’ve been so nervous over the audition for the play. He remembers how you'd practiced your lines with him, how he stayed up late listening to you recite the main monologue over and over just so he could hear your voice. He could hear the emotions. You’re so talented, there’s no way you’re not going to get the part.

“You’re going to get it, cariño.” 

"You really think so?" you ask, a hint of hope in your voice.

"I do. When will you find out?"

"Rehearsals start next month, so hopefully soon," you answer.

"You've got me to keep you distracted."

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…”

—-

He’s lying in bed awake again. He’s getting to a point of no turning back with you. He closes his eyes, and all he can see is you.

“I swear, I’d lose my mind without you…” repeats through his head.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand. It would be so easy to call, to hear your voice one more time. But he can't. He won't.

Instead, he pushes himself out of bed, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor of his apartment to the sparse but functional kitchen. He pours a glass of whiskey, hoping it’ll help drown out his thoughts.

This feeling is so foreign to him. He hasn’t felt this way about anybody since Lorraine–and even then, he fucked that up. He shouldn't have let it go this far. Shouldn't have knocked on the door of that guest room, shouldn't have kissed you like a drowning man praying for air. But he did. And now he can't forget.

You’re too young, too bright, and too adventurous. You’re so full of potential. What the hell are you doing talking to him every single night? He has to step away and let you go. But he won’t. Because underneath all of those accomplishments and pursuits, he’s still a coward.

—-

You softly moan into the phone, and he can hear the swishing of the sheets as you get comfortable on your bed. He can almost see you, feel you, remember how sweet you tasted. He thuds his head against his pillow, an ache of loneliness from his heart traveling down to his cock. 

“You can’t do that, cariño,” he lowly growls.

“Huh?”

“Moan like that,” he responds. Now, he’s the one adjusting. “I–it’s been a while.” 

You chuckle, a low, tempting sound. He’s in trouble. It’s been a month of talking to you almost every night, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t constantly fighting the urge to touch himself while listening to your voice. But he’s resisted, not wanting to cross that line and make things even more complicated than they already are. 

“Sorry, my bed feels really good. Quite lonely, though,” you pout, your voice dripping in saccharine sarcasm. 

Fuck. He’s so needy for you, he’s already growing hard.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, feeling a little ridiculous at the question, hoping you’re just as turned on as him.

“Don’t laugh. Promise you won’t laugh.” 

“What? Why would I laugh?” he smiles, shaking his head.

“Because Javi. Just… don’t laugh or judge.”

“I won’t. Trust me. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Your green shirt.” 

His spine straightens. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wear it a lot?”

“Mmhmm, I sleep in it all the time.” 

“I’m sure it looks real good on you, doesn’t it?” 

“I think it looked better when it was stuffed in my mouth while you were fucking me.”

He groans, his heart racing as he reaches down and grips the heft of himself tucked away in his shorts. 

“That was a good night, wasn’t it?” he asks, softly squeezing himself. 

“It was one of the best, Javi. I think about it all the time.” 

“Me too,” he divulges, remembering the brightness of your eyes, the sweet taste of your lips, the feel of your pussy clenching him. “I also really liked the morning in the bathroom.” You laugh–a sweet sound that makes his heart beat even faster–before you sigh. “I wish you were here, Javi.” “I do, too, cariño.” 

“What would you do if you were with me?” you ask, your voice low. You’re such a temptress.

His voice drops to a sultry whisper as he closes his eyes and imagines you in his bed. "I'd start by getting you out of that shirt, real slow. I’d get to take my time and kiss every inch of skin."

You let out a soft moan. "Mmm, then what?"

"I'd push you back onto the bed, trail my fingers up your soft thighs." His own hand mimics the motion, sliding up his leg. "I’d spread your legs and kiss my way up, before giving your sweet pussy a long lick, savoring just how good you taste."

"God, Javi. Please," you whimper.

"Touch yourself for me, baby. Pretend it's me."

He can picture you perfectly–laid out on your bed, his shirt bunched up around your waist, your hand between your legs.

You let out a gasp and a long, low moan. He pulls his shorts down and gives himself a tight, slow stroke.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, rubbing the bit of precum he’s leaked out across his head.

“Mmhmm,” you moan. “I love it when you call me baby.”

“Baby,” he groans as he spits in his hand and strokes himself.

“Fuck, I’m so wet,” you breathe into the phone.

“I wish I was there with you, baby. I'd slide two fingers deep inside your tight little pussy, curl them just right to make you moan for me." He strokes himself faster, imagining the slick heat of you clenching around him.

You let out a whimper. “I need you inside me.”

“I need to be inside you too, cariño,” he replies, his hand moving faster along his length. “Tell me how badly you want me.”

“I want you to fuck me hard and fast,” you moan. “God, I think about it all the time, Jav.”

He grunts in response, imagining your body writhing beneath him.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

He squeezes his cock harder, picking up the pace as you whine and moan for him.

“You sound so good. I love the way you moan for me. You’re all I ever want to hear.”

“Fuck,” you pant. “Gonna cum.”

“That’s it, cum for me, cariño.”

You let out a loud moan as your orgasm hits. It floats through the phone into his ear and down to his cock. He lets out a long, low “fuck” as he reaches his own release, grunting your name as his cock pulses in his fist, streams of cum spilling out onto his hand and stomach.

All that can now be heard is heavy breathing and soft moans as you both come down from your highs.

He feels the guilt begin to show its ugly head just as you say his name.

“Javi, that was… wow.”

“I know, baby, I know.” 

—-

He pulls an envelope out of his mailbox. Your handwriting is neat and flowy–he smiles at the bright green marker you chose.

So, this is why you wanted his address.

He’s opening the envelope before his door even shuts. He hasn’t been this excited to open something since Christmas morning thirty years ago.

He pulls out a handmade card–a dark green Christmas tree adorned with little red hearts is painted on the front, with MERRY CHRISTMAS JAV written in cursive above it–and his face lights in a wide grin.

As he opens the card,  a bundle of Polaroid photos tied together with a ribbon falls out and lands on the table.

A simple message is inside the card.

Surprise! I hope you like them. xoxo

With a quick pull on the silky ribbon, the bundle is untied. He slowly flips through each photo, his heart skipping a beat as he assesses each one like evidence.

You’re smiling in a few of them, his green shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders. You look so beautiful, so carefree and happy. He traces a finger over one, wishing he could touch you.

His breath catches in his throat as he flips to the next photo. You’re still in his shirt, but you sit, wearing only that on your bed. Your smooth legs bent to the side of you, your eyes hooded, with a coy smile playing at your lips. He swallows hard as he flips to the next photo.

His mouth goes dry. You’re completely naked, lying back on your bed. Your body is on full display for him. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling slightly dizzy, his cock twitching at the sight of you.

It feels so forbidden, so wrong to have these photos of you.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he turns to the next picture. You’re kneeling on your bed, your hands resting on the back of your neck. Your tits are pushed out, your nipples hard. He can see the glistening wetness between your thighs. He wants to taste you so bad.

The following picture makes him gasp. You’re lying across your bed, one hand gripping the soft swell of your breast while the other is between your legs. Your lip is caught between your teeth. He can almost hear the breathy moans you’re letting out.

He flips to the next one, and his cock throbs painfully against his jeans. You’re on your hands and knees, your head turned, peering over your shoulder at the camera. The sight of your ass makes his mouth water. He wants nothing more than to grab your hips and pull you back onto his aching cock.

With a shaky breath, he reveals the final Polaroid. Your hand is outstretched towards the camera, a drop of your arousal glistening on your fingertip as if you’re offering him a taste of you. The image is so visceral he can almost taste you.

He sits back in his chair, the Polaroids tightly clutched in one hand while the other palms himself through his jeans. This is, without a doubt, the best gift he’s ever received, but he still feels wrong to have it.

—-

“So, any news?” you ask, your voice still a bit slow and low from the orgasm you just moaned out for him. It’s now a nightly ritual–phone sex followed by sharing local articles.

He scans the headlines. “The Laredo Little Theater is putting on a production of Our Town next month.”

“Our Town! I was Emily a few years back.”

“I-I’ve never seen it.” Frankly, he’s never heard of it. He’s never really seen a play–unless he counts the couple of productions Lorraine was in during high school. He wishes he was more cultured for you.

"I still remember my lines. Emily's monologue at the end about realizing what she missed in life. It's always stuck with me."

He leans back against his headboard, intrigued. "Tell me about it, cariño."

You clear your throat softly. "Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?"

“Wow,” he whispers after a long pause. "That's beautiful, baby.”

“Thanks, Jav. I just wish…”

Your voice trails off, and his chest tightens.

“I know,” he sighs. “Me too.”

He knows exactly what you’re thinking. If only things were different. If only there wasn’t a shadow of guilt and secrecy. He knows he’s already fallen for you.

Silence stretches. He clears his throat. “Your turn, cariño. What’s in the news?”

—-

Another sleepless night, another internal battle, another lonely sunrise, another cup of black coffee to try to wake him up.

The shrill ring of his phone cuts through the silence, startling him from his brooding. He glances at the clock–8:17 a.m.–an unfamiliar number with a DC area code on the screen.

"Peña," he answers gruffly, his voice rough from whiskey and lack of sleep.

"Mr. Peña, this is Agent Thompson from DEA headquarters in Washington. I wanted to inform you personally that we'd like to offer you the position."

The job. The one he'd interviewed for months ago, the reason he'd been in DC. The reason he'd met you. He should feel elated, triumphant even. Instead, dread settles in his stomach and heart.

"Mr. Peña? Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Thank you for the offer. When, uh, when would you need me to start?"

"We'd like you here in two weeks, if possible. Is that doable?"

Two weeks. Fourteen days to uproot his life, to move across the country. Fourteen days to figure out how to tell you… or if he should tell you at all.

"Mr. Peña?"

"Yes, that's fine. I'll make it work," he says, his mind already racing.

After hanging up, he stands motionless in his kitchen, the half-empty whiskey glass from last night sitting on the counter. The job he'd wanted, the fresh start he'd been seeking for so long–it's all here for him. But now, it feels like a curse.

He imagines being in the same city as you, knowing you're just across town. The temptation to see you, to touch you, would be constant. And Steve–how could he look Steve in the eye, knowing what he's done with you?

The guilt gnaws at him, heavier than the weight of everything else. He should be honest, should tell you about the job offer. But the words stick in his throat every time he thinks about picking up the phone.

Days pass in a blur of packing and paperwork. You try calling, leaving a message each time. They start out sweet until the third day when you sound upset.

"Javi, hi, it’s me. I-I don’t know what’s going on, but please call me.”

Each night, he stares at the phone, his hand reaching to grab it. But he can't bring himself to dial. Can't bear to hear the excitement in your voice when he tells you he's moving to DC.

On the sixth day, you leave another message.

“Hey Javi, it’s me again, I… I hope you’re okay. I… did I do something? Please just call so I know you’re okay.”

He has to call you. Has to think of some way to let you down because he knows, deep down, that he can't have you. Not really. Not without destroying his friendship with Steve, not without ruining your relationship with your brother. Not without tainting the pure, beautiful thing that's grown between you.

By the tenth day, you’re mad.

“Hey, Javier. I ended up having to ask Connie if she had heard anything about you, so that was real fun. Listen… I don’t know what the hell is going on. If you found someone else or… got tired of me, but I just—I hope you’re happy. I… I guess I’ll… I don’t know. I hope you’re fine.”

His heart clenches as your voice cracks on the last words. He can hear the hurt, the confusion in your tone, and it tears him apart. 

He can't take it anymore–the guilt, the longing, the fear. It's all too much. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

Ring… ring… rin–

"Hello?" Your voice is hesitant, guarded.

"It's me," Javier says. "I'm… sorry."

There's a long pause on the other end. He can hear you breathing, can almost feel the tension radiating off of you through the line.

"Javi?" You sound uncertain, like you can't quite believe it's him. "Where have you been? I've been so worried."

He closes his eyes, leaning against the wall. "I know, I'm sorry. There’s been a lot going on. I… I got a job offer last week. The job in DC is mine."

Another pause. "Oh," you say softly. "Javi… that’s great news. Congrats.”

"Thanks," he says before taking a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knows has to be said. "Listen, I-I think it’s best if we don’t keep doing this."

The silence on the other end of the line stretches. He can almost picture you, your eyes wide with confusion and hurt.

“This?” 

“Yeah, talking and… I just fear it’s gone too far.”

"What?" you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels his heart break as the words get caught in his throat, but he forces them out. "It's complicated. I’m so much older than you, and you’re… you're Steve's little sister, and I’ll be working with him again. It's not right. It was never right."

He hears you take a shaky breath. "So, you ignore me for over a week and then call to let me know this? I know you’re older than me. I know I’m Steve’s sister. That’s fucked Javi. How could you? I thought we had something speci—”

"I know," he interrupts. "I know, and that's why we have to stop. Before it goes any further. Before anyone gets hurt."

You gasp, and his heart clenches at the sound. He wants to take it all back, to tell you he didn't mean any of it, but he forces himself to stay silent.

“Yes, before anyone gets hurt…”

“You deserve more than me, cariño. I’m old, and I’ve been through so much. You’re still so young and full of life… I’d only hold you back. I’m sorry.”

"I see," you say, your tone suddenly cold and distant. "Well, thank you for your honesty, Agent Peña. I hope your new job in DC is everything you've ever wanted."

The formality in your voice cuts him deeper than any anger could have. He opens his mouth to speak, but you've already hung up. 

—-

He stands at the windows of his new apartment in Arlington, gazing out at the lights of DC across the Potomac. Snow falls outside, and he reminds himself he needs to buy some warmer clothing. It’s beautiful, he thinks. His eyes search the horizon, wondering if your building is visible.

His apartment is nice–modern and spacious with sleek furniture that doesn’t suit him. It’s more than he needs, really, but the DEA had been generous with their relocation package. It doesn’t feel like his place at all, but a Polaroid of you that leans against his bedside lamp makes it feel like home.

He'd chosen this place for the view, telling himself it was because he'd always wanted to live somewhere with a skyline again. But deep down, he knows it's because he wanted to look out at the city you love.

He imagines what you might be doing right now. Are you curled up on the couch, reading a book? The newspaper? Are you, like him, standing at a window, looking out at the city and wondering what might have been? Or are you out with your friends, trying to meet somebody else? Do you miss him like he misses you?

He tries to dislodge the thoughts with a shake of his head. It’s been two weeks since that phone call. Since he broke things off. Since your cold voice let him go. He tells himself it was the right thing to do, that he’s protecting you from the darkness that follows him.

In a perfect world, you’d be here, looking out the same window as he wrapped his arms around you. You’d lean back against his chest, fitting perfectly in his embrace. There’d be no hesitation, no guilt. Just pure happiness, waking up next to you every morning. In that world, Steve would be happy for you both. In that world, Javier would be happy. But he knows all too well this is not a perfect world.

—-

He goes to the Smithsonian alone, wandering through the halls of the art museum on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The same exhibit you read to him about. The same exhibit he dreamed of taking you to, holding your hand and kissing your cheek as you gazed at the paintings. He moves slowly, hands clasped behind his back, taking in each painting. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, how to describe what he’s seeing, or how to feel… he wishes you were here to help him understand. None of it makes sense to him. Are the paintings supposed to look unfinished and kind of blurry? He imagines you beside him, telling him all about the break from tradition these paintings represented. He’d nod, pretending to understand, the same way he’s nodding as he reads the guidebook.

He pauses before a painting. Vibrant flowers grow amongst the dappled sunlight–the bright colors remind him of the way your eyes light when you laugh. He can almost hear your sweet voice reading the exhibit description to him again. He wonders if you’ve been here, if you’ve stood in this very spot, admiring the same painting.

As he moves to the next painting, a flash of familiar color catches his eye. For a moment, his heart stops. A woman stands across the room, her back to him, wearing a dress in the same exact shade of green as the shirt he’d left you. She resembles you from the back, and he takes a step forward, your name on the tip of his tongue, before she turns.

It’s not you. Of course, it’s not. All that’s left now is a hollow ache in his chest.

What would he do? What would he even say? What is he doing here, a cop trying to be cultured?

He moves on, trying to focus on the art. He thinks of you again, imagines your voice in his ear. “Art is for everyone. There’s no right or wrong way to experience it. Just let yourself feel.”

Feel. He doesn’t want to feel. All he can feel is how much he misses you. How much he knows he’ll never have this with you, seeing the world through your eyes.

Each painting seems to hold a piece of you. The soft light of a Twachtman landscape captures the glow of your skin in the firelight. The bold strokes of a Sargent portrait remind him of your spirit and personality.

He pauses in front of a Renoir. A man leads a woman, her hand in his. His eyes focus on their fingers intertwined with each other’s, imagining the feel of your hand in his. He rubs his hand against the denim of his jeans, trying to warm the coldness running through his veins.

He turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer. The weight of his regret, his longing, settles heavily on his shoulders as he exits the gallery.

He'd pushed you away to protect you, but being here, surrounded by a softer, more beautiful world, he wonders if he made the right choice.

—-

He finds himself driving through the busy streets of Adams Morgan, the same neighborhood you call home. His heart pounds stronger with each turn as he navigates the unfamiliar roads. 

He parks his car and steps out onto the sidewalk, feeling out of place as he takes in the colorful row of houses and stores that line your neighborhood streets. He walks down the street, his eyes scanning the bright buildings until he finds the taco place you’d always rave about.

“I bet it’s just as good as Laredo, Javi,” he remembers you saying. “You have to try it when you’re here.”

He hesitates for a moment before pushing open the door. The small restaurant is packed.

His order is simple: two al pastor tacos and a Topo Chico, just like you’d recommended. He takes a seat at a small table by the window and waits for his order.

How many times have you walked down this very street? Have you sat at this very table?

He takes a bite of the taco. It’s good. Damn good. Almost as good as home. He can practically hear your triumphant "I told you so!"

People pass by on the sidewalk as he eats. He imagines you and him–his arm wrapped around you, your body close to his as you walk around your neighborhood. Your face lighting up as you show him all of your favorite places. He'd follow you, unable to resist your enthusiasm… or you.

The winter wind snaps against his skin as he steps out of the restaurant. He starts walking with no real destination in mind. Colorful murals, bright storefronts, and eclectic homes line the street. This is your world, he realizes. These are the sights you see and sounds you hear every day.

He wonders how close he is to your apartment. He imagines you coming home from work and stopping at one of the little bodegas on the corner for some milk or bread.

He doesn’t think he’d fit in well within this world, but he sure as hell would try, just for you. God, he misses you.

—-

Steve drops a pile of files on Javi’s desk.

“New case. Have some fun. So, how’s DC treating you?” Steve asks, casually leaning against his desk.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. Trying to hide the sadness that consumes him. “It’s different from Laredo, that’s for sure.”

Steve laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, you should come over for dinner sometime. Connie would love to see you. I’ll invite the usual group.”

Javier’s heart skips a beat as he tries to keep his face neutral. “Yeah, maybe,” he says noncommittally. “Been busy settling in, you know how it is.”

“Well, find time, Peña.”

The guilt, a constant companion these days, gnaws at him as he watches Steve leave.

—-

The early spring evening is warm. His heart beats faster as he gets out of his car and walks up the pathway to Steve’s front porch.

He steps through the front door, breathing in the scent of a happy home, feeling so out of place among the marital bliss and designer furniture.

“Javi,” Connie breezes over, looking like the perfect hostess she always is. She pulls him in for a hug. He’s always liked her, felt comfortable around her.

"Hey, Connie," he says, returning her hug. "Thanks for having me."

"Of course! I’m so happy to see you," she beams. "Come on, everyone’s outside.”

Everyone. Does that include you? He's never been this nervous, not even when he saw Lorraine after all those years.

He follows Connie through the house, his eyes scanning for any sign of you. His heart races as they step out onto the back patio. Steve's at the grill, chatting with a few friends. There are kids running around the yard, couples mingling with drinks in hand. But no sign of you.

It’s as familiar as all those months ago. He felt like an outsider… until he met you. He still searches for you. Still no sign.

"Beer?" Connie offers, already reaching into a cooler.

"Thanks," he nods, taking the cold bottle from her. He takes a long swig, trying to calm his nerves.

"Peña!" Steve calls out, waving him over. "Get over here, man!"

He makes his way across the patio, overhearing a snippet of conversation. He hears your name and slows his pace, straining to hear more.

“She’ll be a little late. Rehearsals for the play ran long.”

The play. You got the part. In a perfect world, he���d be there on opening night, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers for you. He’d watch you, so proud and in awe of your talent. After the show, he’d wait for you backstage, hold you close, and whisper in your ear how amazing you were.

Pride swells in his chest… until the guilt creeps back in.

“Hey, man,” Steve’s voice breaks through his daydream. “Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. What?”

"I said, glad you could make it," Steve repeats.

“Oh, yeah, me too.”

“A couple of guys from work are here. I’m sure they’d love to get to know you. I’m tired of answering all of their questions about you.”

He lets out a tense chuckle. The last thing he thinks he can do is pretend to care about a group of rookie agents wanting to get to know the Javier Peña.

He really hates these parties.

—-

An hour passes. The sun begins to set, casting everything in Steve’s picturesque backyard in long shadows. Javi goes through the motions. He makes small talk with his new coworkers and Steve's friends, laughing at jokes he barely hears. His eyes keep darting to the gate, waiting for you to arrive.

He remembers the first time he saw you. You walked through the gate, your flannel shirt tucked haphazardly into your ripped jeans. He couldn’t look away from you. Maybe he knew he needed someone like you in his life–honest, bright, funny, and too cool for him.

He hears the click of the gate latch. His breath catches as he turns.

And there you are.

You look so beautiful. A plaid skirt sits just above your knees, paired with a simple white tank top under a soft, oversized cardigan. His heart hurts as he takes in your beauty, trying not to stare. You look happy, relaxed, glowing. He wonders if you know he’d be here tonight.

His rapidly beating heart sinks when you turn to say something to a man following you through the gate.

The man’s wavy chestnut hair falls perfectly in place, and thick-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, framing bright green eyes. He’s wearing a vintage t-shirt underneath a well-worn brown leather jacket. Everything about him screams, ‘hip theatre guy.’ The exact opposite of an old, grizzled DEA agent haunted by his past.

He envies the man with everything in his entire being. The way he gets to look at you–a wide smile, soft eyes that get to follow your every movement.

Javi’s jaw clenches as he watches you and your handsome stranger approach a group. Your eyes also scan the backyard, and for too quick of a moment, they meet with his… until you look away and laugh at something your companion just said. The sound feels like a knife twisting into his chest.

He’s hyper-aware of your presence all night, watching you from the corner of his eyes, each sight of you a blessing and a curse.

He tries to focus on his conversations, on Steve, on his coworkers–on anything but you. But his eyes keep drifting back. The man who came with you never strays from your side, his hand often resting on the small of your back or brushing against your arm.

He wants nothing more than to cross the patio, pull you aside, and explain everything. To beg for forgiveness, to tell you how much he misses you. But he stays rooted in place, trapped by his own choices and the consequences that followed.

The gathering begins to thin out as the night goes on. He watches as you say goodbye to a few guests, hugging them warmly. Your eyes sweep across the yard again, and for a moment, he thinks you might look his way. But you turn, whispering something to your companion before heading towards the house alone.

Before he can second-guess himself, he sets down his beer and follows you. He slips through the patio doors and can just make out the soft pad of your footsteps heading upstairs.

He follows you as if you’re a perp, softly ascending the stairs–just like that morning after he first met you. The light escapes under the door of the guest bathroom. He takes a breath, steeling himself as he waits for you to come out.

The knob turns, and his heart races as the door opens, revealing you in the soft light of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Can I... can I apologize?" Javi asks hesitantly.

You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, Jav. You can't."

Jav. Fuck. Hearing you say his name makes his heart drop. His hand taps against his thigh, fighting the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms.

"You hurt me," your voice trembles. Each word feels like a dagger in his heart. "I'm... I'm trying to let time pass by. To move on."

“Please, I never meant to—”

His plea is cut short by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.

Connie appears, her keen eyes taking in the scene before her. She reaches for your hand while shooting Javi a glance. She understands without a single word spoken.

“Go on, love, go back to the party. Elliott is waiting for you,” Connie softly says to you.

He watches as you nod and quickly leave, not even sparing a glance back at him.

“Javier,” Connie says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s happy.” 

He swallows, his brown eyes rounding with the guilt he too often has to hide.

Connie's eyes soften as she looks at him, her hand still resting on his shoulder. She leads him to the guest room where he spent that first night with you.

She closes the door and motions for him to sit on the bed. The same bed he held you close on.

"Javier," she begins, her voice gentle but firm. "I know what happened. I know you care about her. And I know she cares about you. She told me.”

He looks up at her, surprised by her words. "She told you? About us?"

Connie nods, a sad smile on her lips. "She was heartbroken. That first month after you told her not to call, she was a wreck. She tried to hide it, but Steve mentioned you while she was here for dinner one night, and she… she quickly got up and made an excuse. I found her crying in this room. She told me everything.”

“Steve?” he asks, feeling even more guilt wash over him, the weight of his choices crushing his chest.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t know. I promised not to tell him.”

“I had to let her go–for her, for Steve, for everyone." He hangs his head, staring at his clasped hands. He squeezes them harder, needing to let the pressure out somehow. He searches for the right words. "She’s happy now? With him?"

Connie nods. "Elliott is a good guy," she says gently. "He treats her well. But..." She pauses and then sighs. “But I don’t think he’s you.”

A flicker of hope ignites in his chest. “How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know. If you really want to make things right, you need to tell her how you truly feel."

He nods slowly. “I can't stop thinking about her. About what could have been."

"If you really care for her–if you're willing to face whatever might come from being with her–then you need to let her know. But if you're going to run away again at the first sign of trouble, then you have to let her go. For good this time."

“And Steve?”

“Listen, he’s a big softy underneath it all. Might take him a bit to come around to it, but I’ll hide his gun for you. I know that, in the end, as long as she’s happy, he’ll be happy.”

He nods. He knows you’re the one. “Thanks, Connie.”

She stands, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just think about it, okay? And whatever you decide, be sure. She deserves that much."

Connie leaves him alone in the bedroom. He runs his hand along the comforter, closing his eyes, and can almost feel the warmth of your body curled against his. He wishes he could hold you again.

He takes a deep breath, his decision made.

—-

The house lights dim, the audience hushes, and the stage lights brighten. The curtain draws back, and there you are, center stage, glowing like an ethereal being.

His heart soars with pride as he watches you mesmerize the crowd with your talent. You embody your character completely, and he’s in awe of you even from his seat in the back row.

He hears the familiar lines of the end monologue–the same lines he heard you recite over and over months ago. They transport him back to those nights spent on the phone with you. The familiar ache in his chest gets tighter, squeezing his heart harder. A lone tear wells in his eye as he mouths the final line with you.

“I’d rather be alone than a stranger.”

The crowd erupts into applause as the curtain closes. You were flawless. He knew you’d be amazing.

You return to the stage, a wide smile on your face, the stage lights glinting off unshed tears in your eyes.

Now’s his chance. He slips out the stage door, walking down a side hallway marked "Authorized Personnel Only." In this hand, he clutches a bouquet of bright flowers and the day’s newspaper.

He pauses at each door, reading the names scrawled on makeshift placards. He finally finds yours, glancing over his shoulder before gently turning the doorknob.

He’s never been in a space of yours before. He knows he has to be quick, but he takes a moment to breathe in the scent of your perfume.

He places the bouquet and newspaper on the vanity, before quickly exiting and slipping out the stage door.

—-

Javi paces in his apartment, unable to sit still. He can still hear your voice and picture how you looked under the stage lights.

It’s been hours since he left the flowers in your dressing room. Did you find them? Did you read his note? Has enough time passed?

He pours himself a glass of whiskey, hoping it might calm him.

As he raises the glass to his lips, the shrill ring of his phone cuts through the quiet. He sets down his drink and reaches for the phone.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself before answering. "Hello?"

"Javi." Your voice is soft and hesitant. He closes his eyes, smiling at the sound he's missed so much.

“Hey,” he says, a relieved smile lighting his face. “Congratulations. You were incredible.”

“Thank you. The flowers are beautiful… and the newspaper?"

His heart speeds in his chest. “I-I was hoping we could read the news together like old times?”

Silence hangs between the two of you as he waits for your response.

“I’d… I’d like that. What’s your address?”

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

hongjoong x gn reader + seonghwa x gn reader (separated)

this is a continuation of ateez stuck in the friendzone, read that part first so it makes sense!

tw: tooth rotting fluff (+ keep in mind that english is not my first language)

a/n: originally i was gonna make the 8 different scenarios in one single post but then i got reaaaaally carried away (friends to lovers IS my favorite trope after all), and realized it’s probably gonna happen with the rest of the members as well. so be patient please!

masterlist

HONGJOONG

hongjoong was sure he was going to explode if you didn’t stop your actions in the next following minutes. it started casual, occasionally patting his shoulder in agreement with whatever he was saying at the moment. then, he started short circuiting when you scooted closer to his chair in order to see his screen as he helped you out with new stickers for your laptop. the new distance you established was a bit closer than normal: he believed that he could pull you on his lap with a single movement if he was brave enough.

yet he couldn’t cross that boundary, reason why he was feeling like a ticking time bomb.

“do you think i’m printing too many?” you asked, as you downloaded another sticker from pinterest. hongjoong smiled, finding the amount of fairy cat stickers you downloaded endearing. “knowing you, you’ll end up sticking the rest anywhere plain, or on my laptop” he said in response, earning a chuckle from you.

“you know me too well hongjoong” you said in between giggles, before throwing your hand behind the back of his head as you played with strands of his hair. your attention went back to the screen though, but in contrast he could only think about the way your fingers felt against his scalp. unconsciously, his eyes turned to you: he always knew you were beautiful, he didn’t just fall for your personality. but sometimes he couldn’t help but notice small aspects that normally would go unnoticed by the rest: how you would play with your lips whenever you’re focused on something, the way you would squint adorably as you tried to read small phrases on the screen. also your eyes, he could get lost on them forever and wouldn’t even care. in moments like this, he would also focus on your lips, mind wandering about how they would feel against his or-

“joong, is everything okay?” you asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. he blinked rapidly, regaining his composure and fake coughing. “what’s going on in that pretty genius head of yours?” you taunted, getting closer to his face.

“trust me, you wouldn’t want to know” he muttered in a low voice, but you heard him anyways. “i’m asking because i want to know, you can tell me anything, i’m your best friend”

“that’s exactly the problem y/n” he sighed, turning his gaze back on the screen, finding the satoru gojo cat suddenly super interesting.

what you did next set the timer in him though: you grabbed his chin and turned his face back to you, staring curiously. “i want to know, joong” you said in a firm voice. your eyes remained interlocked for a few moments, but hongjoong’s patience started running extremely thin. “i can show you” he whspered back, gaze going back to your lips. your hand left the back of his head and went down to his neck, pulling his face even closer as you nodded in response.

hongjoong closed the distance between you, finally pressing his lips against yours softly. you tasted the way he imagined: faint traces of strawberry from the chapstick he once gifted you, the one you refused to change despite the years. his lips moved against yours in sync, as his hands cupped your face, angling it to a degree so he could taste you better.

he thought he could kiss you forever and never get tired or bored, reason why he also felt disappointed when you pulled away. he chased you lips, so you pecked him as you tried to suppress a smirk from creeping on your face.

“finally” you admitted, causing him to look at you questioningly. “i wanted to do that for a while, joong”

“you literally friendzoned me more times than i can remember” he pointed out, shock evident on his face. “i don’t get touchy with just anyone! i had to camouflage it somehow” you said in response, blushing. “plus i also thought that’s how you viewed me, just a friend”.

“hell no, y/n never say that word around me again” he said, finally giving in to his initial thought as he pulled you on his lap in one smooth movement, making you laugh. you cupped his face, looking at him intently. “i like you, joong” you whispered. “you have absolutely no idea how much i adore you” he answered, before crashing his lips against yours again.

now that he knew how you tasted, he was never going to let you go again. you’re his new addiction, just like he always imagined.

SEONGHWA

“i still can’t believe my friend is getting married to him” you said, as you finished applying your lipstick before turning back to seonghwa. he was standing next to the window, admiring the view from the luxurious hotel while you finished preparing for the wedding reception. he was already dressed in a gorgeous wine colored suit, which was a bit oversized yet still looked formal on him.

your friend had announced a few months ago that she forgave her boyfriend for cheating, claiming that it was just a “drunken mistake”. she also informed you that she was getting married too, having already set the date and venue, and telling you that you could bring a plus one. of course, you immediately dialed seonghwa, not just to spill the hot gossip but also to invite him. he immediately agreed.

“that marriage is already doomed” he said, turning his gaze back on you, chuckling. “but at least we get an opportunity to stay at a fancy hotel, get all dolled up and then party” you pointed out, carefully pulling out your outfit from your suitcase. you had picked a dark blue long dress, that had the back open. you had picked it because it reminded you of the yellow dress from “how to lose a guy in 10 days”, which, by the way, seonghwa found absolutely gorgeous. in fact, he chose the color of his outfit to match yours.

“very true, the hotel is amazing” he said, turning back to the window “i didn’t know what to expect when you told me it was in the middle of literally nowhere”. you laughed in response as you exclaimed ‘right?!’, before entering the bathroom to get dressed.

a few moments later, seonghwa found himself having difficulty to breathe due to how gorgeous and breathtaking you looked. the dress fit your body like a glove, and when you did a little turn to show it from the back, he had to literally control himself from crossing the friendship boundary. “so? how do i look hwa?” you asked him, a little nervous. seonghwa walked towards you, holding your hand as he twirled you around, before setting both of his hands on your waist. his eyes, unbeknownst to you, were holding so much love and devotion, yet you failed to realize it. “if i was the bride i’d kick you out for stealing my spotlight” he said, earning a chuckle as you cupped his cheek. he unconsciously leaned in to the palm of your hand, wanting more of your touch. “thank you hwa, you look mesmerizing too” you said. you both stared at each other, too lost on the small intimate moment you were having.

in seonghwa’s opinion, it ended too soon, as you broke away the moment you started blushing intensely. “come, i’ll do your hair” you said, fake coughing as you led him to your shared bed for the night. you climbed on the bed and sat behind him, and seonghwa was sure he died and went to heaven. he unconsciously closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your fingers combing his long hair into a half ponytail. once you were done, you straightened your dress and grabbed his hand.

“ready to go?” you asked, smiling. he nodded.

———

the ceremony was beautiful, and even the vows you and seonghwa swore would be questionable ended up being terribly adorable. once the groom finished what he had to say, seonghwa whispered in your ear “cute, but i still think this is doomed”, making you laugh silently in your place while simultaneously getting side eyed by other guests.

as the night went by, you found yourself in the need of fresh air from all the intense partying inside the venue. as if seonghwa read your mind, he pulled you from the dancing crowd and led you to the garden with your hands intertwined.

“thank you, i was starting to feel overwhelmed” you thanked him once outside. he nodded, smiling “i could see it on your face”.

“you always seem to know what i’m thinking about, hwa. you’re amazing” you said, in a low voice that only he could hear from his place next to you. “of course, i’m the only exception, right?” he said. you nodded “you’re also my only exception, y/n” he added, now turning his body to face you entirely.

the garden was lit with tiny lights and candles all over the place, and thankfully the sky was clear enough you could see the stars. you could hear a slow dance playing in the background, belonging to the main venue where everyone watched the newlyweds waltz.

“wanna dance?” seonghwa asked, taking notice of the way your gaze switched from him to the main couple. you looked at him once again and smiled “i don’t feel like going back so soon, can we dance here?” you asked. “of course” he answered, taking a better hold of your hand as his other wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer. funny, you didn’t even realize you were still holding hands. it almost felt natural to you.

you slow danced to the faint music, and you could feel your heart beat louder and louder with each step. a strange feeling bubbled up on your chest, before lifting up your head from his chest to face him. he was already looking at you, making the feeling more intense. “hwa, can i ask you something?” you asked, earning a hum from him. “anything”.

“why am i your only exception?” you asked in a whisper. you saw the faint blush creeping on his cheeks as he sighed, thinking of different ways to approach the topic. “i think you’re the only one who has ever made me feel the way i feel” he answered, deciding to just spill the truth he was yearning to say. “you’re the only exception because you are the only one for me”.

as soon as he finished saying that, his hands dropped to his sides, as he took a few steps back, giving you space. “i’m sorry i can’t continue being your best friend, not when i feel the way i feel every time i see you”, he said, loud enough for you to hear while averting his gaze.

yet you always managed to surprise him. he was sure you would feel disgusted, betrayed that your best friend of years suddenly viewed you in a different light. but instead, you approached him again, hugging him close and shaking your head. “i don’t want to lose you” you started saying, feeling the way he slowly and cautiously wrapped his arms around your waist. “but also i would be a fool to ignore the butterflies in my stomach when you say such beautiful things. can you, i mean, can we give each other a chance?” you asked, voice trembling in fear of ruining it.

he cupped your face, thumb smoothing your right cheek. you realized that his stare held a lot more than you initially noticed, for how long did he look at you light that? for how long have you been dismissing his feelings? your questions subdued as he leaned closer, lips now only inches apart. he looked straight to your eyes, as if asking for your permission. you nodded, closing your eyes before his soft lips touched yours.

as cliche as it sounds, you felt like fireworks erupted inside of you. it just felt so right, so genuine and like nothing you experienced before. it felt like the first time you ever experienced love as a teenager, but now you were older and wiser. seonghwa wasn’t just your best friend, he was also your only exception, the only one for you.

on seonghwa’s side, he further proved his point of being meant for each other.

[tender-rosiey]

MORE HUSBAND!SUKUNA PLSSSS (not forcing TvT) (not modern-)

tough love — ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

a/n: okay but like imagine living in a palace with this guy

your husband is sweet, but not in the traditional sense.

when you think of sweet, you think of nights spent with hushed whispers and mutual giggles, you think of flowers at your doorstep every single day.

you don’t think of a 7 foot something man, with the biggest scowl on his face, staring at you in the early morning and scaring the heebie-jeebies out of you.

but he is still sweet.

despite the blood staining his hands and his manic grin doing such acts, the same hands have the ability to hold you as gently as one would stroke a flower’s petal.

they’re able to cradle you and carry you to bed and tuck you in. sure, there is no goodnight kiss, but that’s because he doesn’t leave. when you rest, your husband stays awake on the look to make sure that no harm comes to you.

he is rough with what he does. still, you feel happiness about to overflow when, for example, he gets you jewelry he believes would suit you.

add to that, the fact that he personally puts them on you. you remember that one time he got back from his endeavor—terrorizing yet another village—and he greeted you with a box painted with gold and wrapped in velvet.

you took the box from his hands and opened. it revealed a very exquisite anklet with jewels of your favorite color. they are organized in a matter that you distinctly remember telling your husband about and how pretty that is to you.

you looked up to him giddily, “so you do pay attention!”

he takes the anklet from the box, grumbling, “shut up,” and despite his harsh tone and words, he kneels and puts the anklet on you. it’s a bit hard, considering his big hands and long nails, but he manages. he pulls back with a smirk, and you examine the anklet on your leg.

“I like it.”

“of course, you do; I chose it.”

he is an ass, but that same guy takes care of you when you’re sick—somehow. when news had spread that you’ve fallen ill, you expected that your husband would simply send the maids to your aid and the doctors to ensure your rapid and swift recovery.

instead, what you saw was the figure of your—scary—husband stood at your door. you peek from under the covers, a cough escaping your lips, “how can I help you, husband?”

he frowns down at you, “you look like shit.”

you start laughing, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit—his frown deepens—, “well—obviously! I am sick,” you try to get a look of what’s behind him, “where are the maids and doctors?”

he sits on the bed, right by your side, and rests a hand on your forehead, “I am not letting their filthy hands touch you,” a sigh threatens to escape him, when he feels your temperature, “you’re foolish.”

you huff, “I can’t control how sick I get, you know!”

“well, you could’ve avoided this, if you had listened to me when I told you not to play in the rain.”

the memory brings a dopey smile to your face.

the rain was falling freely but gently. the wind was blowing just right. and your husband was watching you, under the door frames so he doesn’t get wet. he called for you, of course, but you’re a free spirit and wanted to enjoy the outdoors a bit more.

you’re never confided in the walls of the palace, but it’s nice to feel like a rebel every once in a while even if it ends up with you being sick in bed.

he sees the little kick of your feet, “but, it was fun, right? I even managed to get you to stand in the rain with me!”

yes, he did, in the end and after much whining, go in the rain with you. he was simply standing there, but it’s the thought that counts, right? and because he is the king of curses, he didn’t get sick, but he did get stuck taking care of you.

it’s a win in his book—even if he hates seeing you all frail like that—but he would never tell you that.

he shoves a cup of water to your lips, and grumbles, “shut up and drink.”

your goes up to hold the cup, but his glare makes you slowly lower them back down. you get the memo that he wants to take care of you, to the fullest. he slowly helps you drink all of the water.

so you relax the entire night, letting him nurse you back to health. he is a bit clumsy throughout it, and you understand it’s because he never truly cared for someone before nor did someone care for him in a way so tender and gentle.

you think it’s cute: his determination mixed with a hint of roughness and cluelessness.

you want to giggle and chuckle at some of the things he does like how he was confused about which medicine you were supposed to take and at what hour.

or like how—despite his enormous strength—he was unable to take the cover of the bottle of herbs off, but you’re sure he would either glare at you or leave you to suffer alone for an hour.

so yeah, he stays with you the entire time you’re sick, night and day, never leaving your chambers. even when he needed something like medicine or a wet cloth, he would send the maids.

he stays by your side till you’re back to your feet with a smile on your face.

and when you’re dinning on the very long and gigantic table, you look intently at your husband’s face. he reminds you of something with his permanent scowl and grumpily attitude.

he notices your gaze and groans, “what is it now?”

you gasp as you finally come to the long awaited realization.

a tiger.

your husband is a tiger, one hell of a grumpy tiger.

“your face looks stupider than usual; what’s up with you now?”

an asshole tiger.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[niki-phoria]

OMGGGG !!! I LOVED THE LATEST WORK SO MUCHHHH SO CUTE !!! would it be too much to ask a continuation of that but with different characters like gojo, toge, nanami and the rest ?? the exact same just different people where they fall asleep on the reader <333

⋆｡°✩ ANGEL / KNEW YOU WERE SPECIAL FROM THE MOMENT I SAW YOU

gojo satoru, geto suguru, inumaki toge, and okkotsu yuuta falling asleep on you

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), not proofread, sorry if anyone is ooc !! not super happy with these tbh but i'm so glad you liked the last one !! i hope you enjoy this one too :)), header from pinterest, title from the weeknd - angel

curses make GETO SUGURU sick. they taste like a rag that’s been used to clean vomit. swallowing them is an indescribable feeling - one that cannot be forgotten, even with drugs or alcohol.

he sighs as he slips into your shared bedroom. moonlight illuminates your figure, sitting up wide awake on your side of the bed. “you’re home.”

suguru smiles. his hand slips into his hair, brushing a few stray strands away of his eyes. “you waited up for me?”

“of course i did.” his face flushes as you reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck. his hands linger around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug. “how did it go?”

suguru closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. with each passing moment in your embrace, he can feel the weight of the world slipping off of his shoulders. swallowing his distaste for sorcery, he murmurs, “it was fine.” 

you hum. pulling away slightly, you press a chaste kiss against his cheek. “come here.”

with flushed cheeks and a soft smile, suguru slips underneath the covers to lay beside you. his hair falls down his back in waves, finally released from the confines of the usual bun. 

“i love you, suguru,” you whisper. “i’m glad you’re safe.”

“i love you too.” suguru sighs in response, hiding his face into the crook of your neck. curses make suguru sick. but when your arms wrap around his waist and your fingers tangle in his hair, maybe his life isn’t so bad after all.

GOJO SATORU flinches when shoko slams a cup of water down in front of him. “drink it,” she commands. “you’ve been sitting here wallowing for days. it’s not a good look on you.”

he remains silent, accepting the cup with a shaky sigh. shoko’s dark eyes study his features with a sharp glare. the usual playful glint in satoru’s ocean blue eyes is missing - replaced by a dullness she hasn’t seen in years. his shoulders slump from exhaustion; usually pristinely combed strands of his hair have become tangled from a lack of care. 

shoko sighs. “y/n will be fine.” her words ring hollow through satoru’s mind. his gaze catches a glimpse of you once again - body laying limp in the hospital bed, covered in layers of bandages and bruises. his heart leaps into his throat. 

it’s only when shoko places a hand on his shoulder that he realizes she’s expecting a response. satoru coughs, muttering a soft, “yeah.” 

time blurs together. seconds turn into minutes into hours. it moves agonizingly slow and far too quickly all at once. he closes his eyes, cursing everyone he can think of. of all people - why did it have to be you?

satoru jumps when you cough; the quiet noise is enough to rip him out of his daydream. he digs his nails into his palms. this isn’t real, is it?

“y/n!” he scrambles to his feet; his face looms over you as he studies your face. “you’re awake! how are you feeling? are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you chuckle. reaching up, you brush your thumb against his cheek. “you look worse than me.”

“i was just… worried.” satoru sighs, leaning into your touch. “don’t ever do that again.” 

you softly smile, reaching up and gently carding your fingers through his hair. you guide him to join you in the overly cramped bed. “i love you, satoru.” closing his eyes, he presses his ear against your chest, letting the steady rhythm of your beating heart slowly lull him to sleep. 

INUMAKI TOGE slumps into the seat beside you, not bothering to stifle his yawn. the hem of his uniform presses against the tip of his nose, effectively hiding the curse marks embedded into his skin behind the fabric. he leans against the wall as he studies the smooth plaster coating the ceiling. 

“are you tired?” you murmur. toge startles slightly at the sound of your voice before he nods slightly. you smile. “me too. i wish they would stop sending us out so early.”

shivers run down toge’s spine when your shoulders casually brush against each other. he hadn’t noticed the limited space between your bodies until you were already touching. hesitantly, he leans over until his head settles against your shoulder. “mustard leaf?”

“yeah, it’s fine.” you smile, warming his cheeks once again. toge’s breath hitches in his throat when your lips casually brush against the crown of his head. his heart beats erratically in his chest and his face burns a deep red, thankfully hidden behind the fabric of his uniform. deep violet eyes stare into your own as you brush his bangs aside, softly smiling down at him. “get some rest. i’ll wake you up when ieiri-san gets back.”

toge doesn’t tell you that it’s nearly impossible to relax around you - butterflies swarm around in his stomach relentlessly and he can feel his face burn. he doesn’t tell you that shoko will likely just hand him another bottle of cough medicine and send him back to the dorms to sleep it off. he doesn’t mention that you probably need the sleep more than he does. 

instead, he simply smiles, murmuring a soft, “salmon,” beneath his breath before he allows himself to relax, finding solace in the crook of your neck. 

OKKOTSU YUUTA groans, nuzzling himself closer against your couch cushions. his throat scratches every time he swallows and the world spins each time he opens his eyes. his body aches with every movement he makes as he kicks his blankets off, letting the fabric fall into a heap at the corner of the couch. 

you chuckle softly as you make your way into the living room, sliding into the seat beside him. “how are you feeling, yuu?”

“like death.” his worlds slur together in his sleepy state; syllables mush into one until you can barely comprehend the words escaping his lips. his skin is flushed, stained a light pink from his still-ongoing fever.

yuuta raises his head, tired, dark eyes finally meeting your gaze. “i can’t believe i got sick.”

“i’m sorry, honey,” you hum, reaching over to rub your hand against his back. yuuta shivers at the feeling, further relaxing against your touch. his eyes flutter shut; stray strands of ink black hair framing his sharp features. “just focus on getting some rest, okay? you’ll feel better in the morning.”

yuuta grumbles quietly, but relents nonetheless. your hands slip underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. your fingertips rub miscellaneous shapes against his skin, gently massaging the tension away from his shoulders. a soft smile lingers on yuuta’s lips as he sighs, finally falling back into sleep’s familiar embrace.

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vamxpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #50 - Roundie]

"When Jungkook accidentally gives himself a bowl cut."

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Warnings: just Kookie being the cutest and roundest, she teases him for messing up his haircut, and he playfully bites her cheek for it, they're so in love, snuggles and kisses hihi

Wordcount: 1.3k

a/n: i don't have to mention what i was inspired by LIKE he is so cute you have no idea i love him so much it's actually insane :( this is also something that ogc!googie would do so i wanted to be self-indulgent and write it ihihiih <3 have fun besties 🧡

“No!” 

You heard your husband exclaim this one small word around twenty minutes ago and haven't heard a word from him since. Only the blow dryer, which has been running the last few minutes, can be heard.

You and Jungkook are on a romantic holiday in Japan because the land is especially nice this time around to explore by motorbike. You are currently staying in an Airbnb somewhere in the Japanese mountains. The architecture and furniture is traditional with a hint of modern and the house offers a small private spa area. You and Jungkook have already enjoyed it earlier today, but decided to call it quits for now. You currently find yourself on the sofa in your pyjamas, relaxing with a good book and a cup of tea, while your husband locked himself up in the bathroom. 

Except for his very enthusiastic and shocked “No!” you haven’t heard from him. That changes however right this instant when the blow dryer stops and the door unlocks. 

“Baby?” 

“Yes, Kook?”

You can’t see him yet, talking louder to make up for the distance. Judging from his voice coming closer, he is walking to you. 

“So, remember how I told you that my hair is getting too long?” 

You set down your book.

“What did you do?” 

“Okay so, hah, funny story. So okay, you know how we met when we were both nineteen, yeah?” 

“Yes?” 

“Okay cool and I looked really sexy and handsome and mature?” 

“Thinking back, you still looked very boyish back then, but I guess yeah you did. Why? What did you do?” 

“Did you ever wonder what I looked like when I was fifteen?” 

“Jeon Jungkook stop the riddles, what did you do?”

He crosses the corner, appearing in your vision. You instantly crack up, coughing out laughter and pointing your finger at him. He gave himself the roundest and cutest bowl cut ever, looking like a teen with it. 

“What did you do? Baby, oh my god”, you laugh loudly.

“I cut the bangs too short. I tried to save them by cutting the sides, but then I had to match the back too and I gave myself a bowl cut.”

“You look so adorable, I can’t believe it”, you say, stumbling to your feet so you can run to him and touch his hair, “you have the roundest head ever. You’re basically a circle.”

“I’m not a circle. Baby”, he whines and pouts.

You snicker, fluffing up his sides. They instantly fall back into their natural bowl cut state.

“I can’t believe it, you turned yourself into a boba ball. God, look at you. It’s like you aged backwards.”

“It’s the same stupid hairstyle I had in middle school. Baby, please tell me I’m handsome, I’m a sad doofus right now.”

“You’re the most handsome circle ever.”

He nudges you gently, furrowing his brows.

“Shut up, you’re not helping.”

You cackle, now fumbling with his bangs. 

“Of course you’re handsome, my sweetie. I’ve never seen you with your hair like this before, I love it a lot”, you say and tug on his bangs softly. They instantly bounce back into their bowl cut state, reflecting the lights from just how shiny and round his hair is. You snicker, “god it’s so cute. You’re adorable.”

“I'm neither cute nor adorable. I’m manly and sexy. Urgh, I ruined myself.” He whines and drops his head on your Shoulder. “I'll accept it if you divorce me now.”

“Divorce-ha!” You laugh loudly, giving his butt a playful spank, “you dramatic baby, you. I already told you that I love it. You’re very handsome and of course, very manly and sexy.”

He lifts his head, giving you a small grin. 

“But…also very cute and adorable.”

He furrows his brows, opening his mouth.

You instantly silence him, “which is a good thing because it means I wanna cuddle you even more often.”

“Wait. This is a good thing”, he says, making you chuckle.

“It is. Gosh you, let me take a picture. You’re so adorable.” 

“If you must.”

Despite his initial complaints, Jungkook ends up posing with pouted lips and his hand throwing up a peace sign. It’s his signature pose he does in pictures and he looks very adorable tonight. You giggle at the picture, putting it as your lock screen. You show it to him.

“Look, now when someone asks me about you, I can tell them I’m married to a roundie.” 

“You”, Jungkook points his finger at you. “Stop it.” 

You cackle. 

His features soften, a warm smile washes over his face. He gives up with a fond scoff and a little chuckle, closing the distance by grabbing your waist and pulling you snug against him. You and he sway from side to side, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. You have your arms hooked behind his head.

“You’re lucky that you’re so cute, otherwise I would have to bite your cheeks for your annoying antics”, he says.

“Mhm bite my cheeks you say? Ohoho mister what a thread, especially coming from a life sized choco ball such as yourself.”

“Yah”, he complains and gives your buttocks a squeeze. 

“Sorry, sorry last one I promise. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself”, you snicker, rubbing his neck in apology. 

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing his hands over your buttocks innocently. 

“It’s insane how good it fits you. Up close, you can really tell that you fucked it up, but it looks so good on you that it’s not even bad that you fucked it up.” 

“Is it really bad?”

“No, not at all. Your bangs are a little choppy, but it’s cute. Very handsome. Gosh”, you squish his cheeks, “your eyes look even prettier with this hair. It’s like they’re supporting each other’s roundieness. You’re seriously so handsome.” 

Jungkook smiles shyly, “thanks, heh. Roundieness isn’t even a word by the way.”

“It is now.” 

Jungkook simply furrows his brows and goes in for the attack. He bites your cheek. Gently of course. 

“Yah”, you step back, wiping the saliva from your skin. 

“I warned you and you wouldn’t listen. Consequences of your own actions, missy.”

“Don’t talk to me about consequences of my own actions, Mister Accidental Bowl Cut Which Aged Him Back Decades.”

Jungkook laughs and hugs your waist. You chuckle.

“Come on you, let’s go to bed and cuddle.”

“Yay cuddles. I swear today drained me. I almost fell asleep in the hot spring.” 

“Baby, you fell asleep. I had to hold your head so you wouldn’t accidentally drown.”

“I guess I did. I couldn’t help it. It was warm and cozy. I felt very relaxed.”

You and he get under the same blanket. He lies down on his side, you face him. His bangs fall to one side, now looking like those typical two thousand tens bangs every teenage boy had back then. 

You play with them, eyes spilling over with love.

“If I had met you back then, I so would have had a crush on you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm totally. You would have been my type. You are my type, but you get what I mean.”

“I do, yeah.” He smiles and reaches out to play with your hair. “You would have been my type too. Your mom showed me pictures of you when you were a teen and I would have had such a crush on you back then.”

“Oh god”, you chuckle, “I was such a mess though. Did she show you the pic of my clip in leopard print hair strands I rocked with black eyeliner?” 

“Of course she did. You totally rocked them.”

“No I didn't, I looked ridiculous.”

“At least you didn’t look like a circle.”

You laugh, “mhm maybe, but you’re the most handsome circle I have ever seen”, you say, pushing him to his back and climbing on his lap.

Jungkook holds your hips instantly, purring his words as he gazes at your lips.

“Yeah? I’m a handsome circle?”

“Mhhm the most handsome.”

“Hah, come and kiss me, baby.”

You smile, he smiles, sharing a breathy chuckle and little moan with you.

“Kiss me, please.”

“Fuck Kook, I can’t get enough of you”, you say and pull him into a deep kiss. 

[candylix]

a functioning member of society | han jisung

Pairing • Jisung x GN!Reader

A/N • This takes place during the events of another series called one little lie. This can be read as a stand-alone fic, but some parts will make more sense with the context of one little lie. (The reader is not the same person as in oll!)

Summary • Jisung is sick at home... or at least, that's what he tells his boss. Really, he just wants to sleep in and hang out with his cute neighbor across the hall. However, less time working means more time fighting the thoughts in his brain.

Genre • smut (with feelings!)

WC • 3k

Content • no pronouns used but the reader does have a vagina, making out, fingering, oral (reader receiving), jisung has issues

Jisung shot up from his bed. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table; it was 12:54.

He was late.

He had everything planned for today. He woke up early and called in sick to work, just so he could stay home. He was going to sleep in until 11, eat breakfast, make himself look good, and then pay his neighbor a visit across the hall. You invited him over to 'hang out' at noon, and he didn't want to miss it. Unfortunately, he forgot to set his alarm, and he hoped you wouldn't think he's the worst fling ever.

He scrambled to change out of his pajamas.

He might kill himself if he ruined this, like he'd done so many times with so many people in the past. There's only so much a dumb joke and a cute smile can resolve.

You moved in a few months ago, and ever since then, he'd been looking for excuses to see you more. You were gorgeous, fun, smart, and to be honest, way out of his league. He didn't know how he did it, but his boyish charm captivated you enough to have a one night stand. Which turned into a two night stand, and then you just started having casual sex every once in a while.

Maybe one day he'd want something more, and he could certainly see himself falling for you in the future. You were, quite honestly, a perfect match for him. You actually liked his personality instead of just tolerating it, and you were respectful of his boundaries when he avoided more personal questions. The sex was good, but your friendship was better, and for now, this was enough. Whether or not his feelings would grow, he liked to live in the moment- and in this particular moment, he was very late.

He knocked on your door, and when you didn't answer fast enough, he knocked again. Were you ignoring him? Did you get tired of waiting and leave?

He finally heard the door unlocking, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He stood leaning one hand against the door frame, trying his best to look cool, calm, and collected. Unbeknownst to him, his messy hair stood up on end and his shirt was half-buttoned and half-collared, and when you finally opened the door, he gave the impression that he just woke up.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you said, and your fingers combed through his hair, smoothing it down to look more presentable.

"I wasn't sleeping... I was just sick." He faked a cough, a purposefully unconvincing performance.

"Ew, go home then," you laughed. You lightly shoved him, and he dramatically staggered back.

"How dare you! Do you know how hard it was for me to get here?" he asked, knowing full well his door was three feet behind him. "I had to climb uphill, both ways, in the snow, barefoot, just to see you."

You looked down. He was wearing pink fuzzy slippers.

"Just get in here," you said, and opened the door wider to let him in.

You barely had time to close the door before he pulled your face towards his own. His lips met yours, and he pressed himself into your body. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and you felt the ghost of his fingertips all over your back, until they finally found purchase in your hair. His tongue slipped over your soft lips, asking for entrance, and you gladly parted them for him.

Your back met the door as he pinned you against it. You cupped his cheeks, melting deeper into the kiss, and soft moans passed between his lips. He rolled his hips into yours, hungry for as much contact as possible.

Suddenly, you heard something. It sounded like... creepy carnival music.

He pulled away from the kiss.

"Sorry, that's my phone. My friend is calling me," he said, no attempt to turn it off or indication of how ridiculous this situation was. Knowing him, this was probably in his top 10 most normal things to happen while making out.

"What... why is that that ringtone?"

"One day he pissed me off and I changed his ringtone, and then I just never put it back," he explained. "He hates it, but I kind of find it endearing now, like my nightmare clown friend is calling."

The music continued to play, creepy music box melody haunting the room while sinister laughter faded in and out. You couldn't believe this is the man you invited over.

"Aren't you gonna pick up?"

He took his phone out of his pocket, and threw it across the room, landing on your couch and bouncing across the cushions.

"But it's so far..." he said, weakly raising his arm out towards the couch, as if the phone was barely out of reach.

He cupped your face, and went in for another kiss, but you struggled to kiss back. The music completely killed the vibe. You tried to get back into the mood, your hand finding its way into his hair, but his phone was too distracting.

It's only when his hand reached between your thighs that you're finally able to forget about it. You don't know when it stopped, because your mind was consumed with his tongue in your mouth and his hand on your cunt. It clouded over with thoughts of Jisung and his body, and it wasn't until he picked you up and carried you half way to your room that you came back to reality.

His mouth was still pressed against yours when he laid you down on your bed. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, not wanting him to go. You were too addicted to the taste of his tongue, and when he broke away for air, you chased his lips back onto your own. You could tell he felt it too, with the way the hard bulge in his pants pressed against you when he leaned further in.

He was finally able to part from you, and he peppered kisses over your nose, cheeks, chin, where ever he could reach. He lowered himself down your body, kissing you over your clothing, until his head reached your crotch. He wasted no time pulling down your pants. He licked your core over the wet spot in your underwear, savoring the taste of your arousal for him.

Maybe you would've been like this for just anybody, wet and excited for a touch, but he wanted to think this was especially for him. He didn't care if you fucked other people- that would be hypocritical, considering he'd fuck anyone that asked- but he did look forward to seeing you the most, and he hoped you at least felt that way too.

He nestled deeper into your clothed cunt, nose pressed into you, just to stall until you couldn't take it anymore. You whimpered his name, asking for him to do anything, to please touch you, and the sound of you begging for him was like a sweet melody that he never wanted to stop listening to. You liked him, you wanted him, you needed him.

"You're that desperate for me, huh?"

He finally gave in, and pulled your underwear down your legs, stuffing it into his pocket.

If there was one thing Jisung liked, it was the way you reacted when he licked up your folds, lapping up your juices and seeing you squirm. Both his heart and his dick throbbed seeing you get this worked up because of him.

Words could be deceitful. He was painfully aware of this. His thoughts haunted him when he was alone.

But when your fingers combed through his hair, pushing his face closer to your core, those thoughts vanished. He knew, at least right now, you wanted him here. Words could deceive, but actions under the influence of pure pleasure didn't lie.

He inserted one finger, slowly pumping in and out while his tongue flicked over your clit. He licked and sucked, tongue poking down into your hole, savoring the way his name spilled out of your lips. You rocked into his face, needing every inch of him on your pussy, and he happily obliged. He licked a long stripe up your cunt, making you gasp, and he pulled out his finger to tease your entrance. You were soaking wet, and by the way you clenched around the empty space where he once was, he could tell you were desperate for more.

He pushed his finger back into you, a second finger joining this time. His thrusts were faster, and he loved the way you moaned in pleasure when he curled his fingers. Your bucking became more frantic, and he met your desire by sucking on your clit.

You could feel your orgasm building up as his fingers rubbed into you harder. He forced them into you, completely filling you up until he reached his knuckles, before pulling them out and pushing them back in again. You twitched wildly in pleasure, and he had to hold you down with his free arm just to keep licking your folds and circling your clit.

You were trapped under him, unable to grind into his face at the extreme pleasure you were feeling, and he gave you no respite either. He inserted a third finger into you, stretching your walls while he kept pumping into you, and when he pressed a sensitive bundle of nerves, you could feel your climax coming quicker. You barely had time to think before it came gushing out of you, a loud moan of Jisung's name being the only warning he got before his fingers were drenched in your cum.

He pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, lapping up your juices from inside and out. Not a single drop went to waste.

All he wanted was to pleasure you. Maybe if he made you feel good every time he came over, you'd keep calling him. Maybe you wouldn't get tired of him, like so many others did when they stopped finding his jokes charming for seemingly no reason at all. At least with you, he knew how you liked to be touched.

He didn't want to feel like his friendship was transactional, but how could he not. Everyone found him annoying eventually. It was inevitable.

He didn't want this to end. He was scared. When you caught your breath, would you expect him to go?

"Jisung," you called, snapping him out of a spiral you didn't know he was having. You patted the bed next to you, and he hesitantly climbed in.

Why was it that the more time he spent with you, the worse his thoughts became? It was like his brain couldn't accept a reality where you enjoyed his company, even though you were the one that invited him over in the first place. It made up excuses to explain how this could be happening; you probably just liked sex and he was the only one available, or you just felt sorry for him and somehow this was all you could think of.

You cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes to bring him back to earth. He pushed those thoughts aside as best as he could, and snuggled into your arms.

"Are you alright?" you asked. "You looked a bit distracted right now."

"Oh, uh, just thinking about how sexy you are.

He wanted you to smile, forget about your concern, but a look he can't quite place flashed across your face. It went away just as quickly, but he can't help but read into it.

Was that pity? Disappointment? Worry?

Was there a difference?

He wished he could open up to you, especially after something as vulnerable as sex, but he didn't know how to break down that barrier that kept his anxieties to himself.

"How was I?" he asked softly, and as if he was afraid of being genuine, he added "Was that the best sex you've ever had or what?"

"You were amazing," you said, and a bit of tension eased up in Jisung's body.

"Avoiding the second question, I see."

"Maybe if you used this," you said, and your fingers move to trace the bulge in his pants.

A sudden rush of nerves washed over his body, and he realized just how hard he was. He was so distracted by his own turmoil that he didn't even notice the way his cock throbbed in his boxers.

"I will if you promise to invite me over again," he said, winking at you.

"Of course I will, you don't even have ask," you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious to him.

His heart beat in his chest. Maybe, just this once, he'd believe it.

His body reacts on its own, leaning in to kiss you. It was soft and sweet, an unspoken 'thank you' that he wasn't prepared for.

It's over just as quickly as it began, breaking away to snuggle into your chest.

And then his stomach growled. He didn't eat breakfast because he slept in, and he didn't eat lunch because he was late. He hoped you didn't hear it, but he knew you had to have. Maybe you had some granola bars he could snack on. He could check in the fridge, maybe you could eat together in the living room, make a fun moment out of it...

The living room. Where his phone was. Because he threw it there when he got a call.

He should probably see what Minho needed... but he was so warm and cozy. He didn't want to leave the bed, and he definitely didn't want to leave you. But he really should.

"Hey, remember when my clown friend called?"

You winced, remembering the creepy music that almost completely ruined the mood.

"No, I don't remember. I'm choosing not to."

"You don't remember this?" he asked, before singing the ringtone, followed by menacing laughter, cut off when you covered his mouth to get him to stop.

His creepy laughter turned into giggles as he tried to pry your hands off his face.

He finally did, holding both your wrists in his hands.

"Should I go call him back? The circus might be in trouble..." he said, and then sunk his head deeper into the mattress, "but it's so nice here..."

"You probably should," you replied, and Jisung groaned.

"Ugh, fine."

He pushed himself up, leaving the comfort of your bed and the warmth of your body. He walked out of your room, turning his head repeatedly to give you his sad puppy dog eyes. You shooed him away, and he finally left for the living room. His phone was still on the couch, face down and waiting for him to rescue it.

One new voicemail. Press 1 to play.

"Jisung, call me back ASAP. It's an emergency."

"Oh, shit."

He called Minho back, and he immediately picked up.

"Oh thank god," Minho sighed.

"What happened!?"

"Ok... don't laugh."

Of course, as soon as he heard what Minho had done, Jisung erupted into a full body laugh.

He hadn't noticed you enter the living room, but you couldn't help but be curious after what you heard.

"Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can," Jisung said, and he heard Minho sigh in relief. "But I wouldn't worry about her. Trust me, I've known her waaaaay longer than you. She'll be fine."

The conversation didn't last much longer, Jisung promising to be there 'as soon as he finished some important documents', and hanging up.

"Are you leaving?" you ask. "I was going to get you some food."

The way you looked at him, sad to see him possibly go... maybe he should've felt his heart break seeing you like that, but instead his heart swelled. You didn't want him to leave, you didn't just want him for sex and nothing else.

"Well... if you're offering food..." he said, and your face lit up. You body language was expressive, and he noticed it every time.

He knew words could be deceiving, but your actions always told the truth. He would always have thoughts about how people perceive him, if they really liked him or not, if they would leave if he became 'too much'... but with you, he wanted to trust you. He chose to trust you, even if his brain screamed the opposite.

"Nah, I'd stay regardless," he said, "he thinks I'm at work anyway, so I can spend more time here, if you want."

"That's why I invited you over, isn't it?"

If only he could express the warm tingly sensation that ran through his body when he heard those words. He felt butterflies in his stomach, something he hadn't experienced since high school.

He was going to ignore what that could possibly mean for him.

Time passed, you enjoyed your time together, but he thought it was finally time to go rescue his friends. You walked him to the door, and hugged him goodbye.

You pulled away, and that's when you see it.

"Is that my underwear in your pocket?"

"Huh?" he looked to his pocket, and sure enough, white fabric was spilling out. "Oh... whoops! How did that get there? Must've crawled in when I wasn't looking." He pulled it out and shoved it into your hand.

"You know what? Keep it. You obviously want it more than me," you said, stuffing it right back into his pocket.

He was definitely going to use that later.

"If you say so," he said. He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm to say one more thing.

"Just... when you're done, please wash it and give it back."

He gasped, and his hand clasped his chest in mock offense.

"I would never do something so uncouth-"

"Jisung. Wash it. It was expensive and I want it back."

"Ok, ok, I will," he said, and smirked. "You want me back here that bad, huh?"

You roll your eyes.

"You're lucky you're cute."

He finally left your apartment, and when the door closed behind him, he felt twice as light as when he came in.

taglist: (using the same taglist as one little lie since it's a spinoff, hope you all don't mind!)

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi@kpopsstuffs

@weareapackofstrays @jabmastersupriseee @neko-squidblog @lurking-coconut @kiaralynn3838

@chanssmiles @linos-kitten @jehhskz @stanskzot8 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ell0thebell

@hinalara @kaicreech @lazybean246 @idoughnutreadsmut @aeliuss

@the-ninth-moon @poody1608

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie Munson x reader,they fight over something stupid, but Eddie ends up screaming at Reader, so she stops talking to him, until Eddie realizes that he needs to apologize to reader, so he ends up making a cute date at the bench in the woods, and Reader accepts his apologies

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Don't yell

Y/N hated to be yelled at. She grew up with a family that screamed at each other and she hated the nasty stomach ache it caused. She'd break down, sob for hours, and hide in her shell.

Which is what she was doing right now. She sobbed into her pillow as her TV blared. She kept turning up the volume to silence her sobs. Whenever Y/N needed comfort, she'd go to Eddie. But she couldn't do that, because he was the last person she wanted to see. Because he screamed in her face. The argument wasn't that big of a deal, and Y/N didn't even remember what it was about.

All she remembered was Eddie's loud voice ringing through her ears as his hands moved dramatically. Eddie knew she hated being yelled at, yet he still did. His anger got the best of him and now she suffers from it.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Chanted in her head over and over. He tried to chase after her but she refused to listen to him. He wanted her gone so she left.

She ignored all his calls. She refused to open her window or doors when he knocked. She ignored him completely.

Even when they went back to school, she marched past him like he was nothing. He felt like an idiot when he chased her all around the school but she refused to turn around.

~~~

They haven't spoken in a week and Eddie was falling apart. He truly didn't know what he was supposed to do. He couldn't get her to talk to him so he screamed he was sorry down the hallways. He technically apologized, but it didn't fix anything.

He needed to convince her to see him and then he had to come up with the best apology he could. He had to make himself worthy of being forgiven.

Since she wouldn't talk, he tried to write instead. He begged her to meet him at his spot in the woods. He slipped the note into her locker and raced to the woods.

He unzipped his backpack and pulled out the decorations. He placed down the candles and grabbed his lighter from his pocket. He flicked the lighter until he felt the warm heat of fire at the top. He lit the candles and placed them on the small wooden table.

He grabbed the box of rose petals and sprinkled it along the grass.

"What are you doing?"

Eddie jumped, causing him to spill the rose petals into one big pile.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie laughed. He gestured to the seat and Y/N followed. She still had a hard face and her arms were crossed.

Eddie coughed nervously and took a seat across from her.

"Thank you for coming," Eddie said.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"I want to apologize for raising my voice at you. It was wrong, and I know it's something you hate. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. I love you so much and I don't want to lose you. Can you please give me the chance to make this right?"

Y/N sighed but could feel his apology taking the weight off her shoulders. The sick filling in her gut lifted and she felt like she could breathe again.

"Can you promise to never yell at me again?" Y/N asked, she looked into Eddie's hopeful eyes and smiled.

"I promise," he said as he crossed his heart.

"I guess I can forgive you," she teased and rolled her eyes. Eddie beamed as he leaned over the table.

"Make-up kiss?" He pouted, his puppy eyes working their magic.

"Dork," she laughed but cupped his face and landed her lips on his.

Tags!

[midnight-bay-if]

Ro's reaction to MC who teasingly leans in to give them a kiss on the lips.... only to kiss them on the cheek on purpose *cough* on accident

S: They wait readily for the moment your lips press against their own, leaning forward in anticipation, only for you to artfully dodge their advance and kiss their cheek instead. Not wasting a moment, S reaches up to grasp your chin in their hand, firm enough to keep you still but not enough to restrain should you wish to break free.

"This will simply not do,” they mutter, leaning close enough to count the shades of colour in your eyes. “Now you have tantalised me, and I can be demanding when lured. Do not leave me wanting, darling."

Rain: They are smiling. A smile that quickly falls upon the location of your lips changing direction. They do not let you move far. Before you have even fully basked in their reaction, they are chasing you with their lips. You laugh, dodge, laugh again, and ultimately surrender to Rain's attack, letting them press a soft kiss to your lips.

"There," they whisper, pulling back barely a hair's breadth, "I used to be too afraid of the chase, MC, but no more."

Taj: They feel stupid for having waited for it. You leaned forward as usual; nothing about your body language suggested mischief, but it should have. The quick kiss on the cheek should have been sweet, but it wasn't enough. They want more. They swipe out a hand, fingers curling over the delicate line of your wrist to hold you in place. They bring your hand up against their chest, resting it against their beating heart.

"I've never enjoyed being teased, Koel," they mumble, ears twitching.

"Liar."

N: It's a game they play well. The kiss on the cheek does not come as a surprise, and N is already planning their next move. They smile languidly, their cheek resting on their hand, waiting for you to move again. And you do. You lean forward closer, readying yourself to relent to their waiting lips. They don't give you a chance. They lean to the side, pulling back just out of reach. Your sigh of frustration is music to their ears, and they laugh.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I could not resist..." This time, they initiate the advance, cupping your face and neck to keep you steady. "Allow me the chance to apologise properly."

Umbra: At first, they don't realise you are being playful. They see you tug on their sleeve, gesturing for them to lean forward slightly, so they do. They think you mean to tell them something, something for their ears alone. Instead, you gently kiss their cheek and pull back with a cheeky grin. But Umbra is still there. Still in the moment of your lips pressing against the cold expanse of skin.

They reach up, hands trembling, as they press the tips of their fingers against the heat of the spot your lips just were. "What did I do to earn that?”

[cherryredstars]

hello cherry! i hope you are having a wonderful new year because i know i am.

little info, this is the same slut who requested overstimulated hobie brown. i read it, gorgeous. literally screenshotted it because of how good it was. i need more of it and i am willing to fight with a spear and a shield for it.

so you know like, 70s/80s are when female domination finally was at it's peak? yes so i would like to request a very dominant and MEAN (maybe even older/more experienced though honestly thats up to you) reader. make her mean its hot. not that being rude is hot, but i like women just as much as i like xy beings and i like my women kinda fucked up

thank you🙏

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Slight Degradation, Choking, Penetrative Sex, Facesitting, Face Slapping, Hair Pulling, Sub!Hobie

Summary: Power to the woman.

A/N: So glad you loved it! Hope you enjoy this one too!!

Word Count: 1.8K (Not Edited)

The sound of his head hitting the wall is muffled by his moan. 

His hands grab desperately to your sides, his eyes rolling back when you suck hard at his lip piercing, the sting of pain going straight to his cock. Your hands are fisted around the lapels of his leather jacket, pushing him harder against the wall. Your hand falls away from his jacket, going further down until you roughly cup his bulge. He groans, his head leaning back as your mouth starts trailing kisses against his neck. Smudges of dark red lipstick stain his skin, being accompanied by hickeys as you bite and suck on him. His hips buck into hand as you return to kissing his lips. For a second, he tries to gain control, pushing back on you and fighting your tongue with his. 

Your brows furrow, your other hand leaving his jacket and wrapping the front of his neck. You use your entire weight to push back on him, your hand squeezing his neck enough to make breathing slightly harder. He whimpers when he’s forced back against the wall, quickly losing the battle between your tongues. Your tongue invades his mouth triumphantly, exploring his mouth before pulling away. His lips try to follow yours, but the hand around his neck prevents him from getting far. You tsk at him, shaking your head. You press your lower body against his, grinding your front to his bulge. He hisses, his hold on your hips tightening. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Hobie.” You sneer, squeezing his neck tighter before letting go. Hobie coughs slightly, his chest heaving as his breathing comes easy. “A pathetic attempt on your part.”

Hobie smirks slightly, tilting his head to the side. “What can I say, love? Y’make me weak.”

Your hand slaps his cheek, his head moving to the slide before you quickly grab his chin and force his face down to yours. You have a disgusted look on your face, and Hobie resists the urge to whine. “Don’t smart mouth me, little boy. Get on the bed.”

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, his eyes going hazy as he looks down at you. You scoff, pushing away from him. Hobie quickly shrugs off his jacket, grabbing his white beater from behind his neck and pulling it over his head. He throws it to the floor, looking down as his hands rushes to undo the button and pull them down his legs. His underwear goes with the pants, leaving him fully naked as he rushes to the bed. He throws himself onto it, leaning on his elbows as he sits at the edge. You’ve stripped too, leaving yourself in your bra. The rest of your body is bare, exposed to him. Hobie groans as he looks at your body, biting his lip as you straddle his lap. 

His hands fall to your thighs, squeezing them. Your hand goes to the nape of his neck, massaging the base of his head before your hand grabs a fist-full of his wicks. He winces as you pull his head back, forcing him to look up at you. You tilt your head to the side, your other hand coming up to trace the shape of his jaw. He gulps as your thumb presses into his chin, your face leaning down towards his ear. You blow warm air against his neck, causing his body to shiver. 

“Do you want to make me feel good, Hobie?” You whisper into his ear, your voice dripping with sexual appeal. Hobie tries to nod, wincing again when he remembers his hair in your hands. 

“Yes,” he mumbles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs. 

You smile, licking the shell of his ear before pulling away. Your hands leave his hair and chin, moving to his chest. You push him, making him fall back to his elbows. Your hands fall to either side of his head, your nose almost bumping into his. Hobie’s breath hitches, eyes dropping to your lips before moving back to your eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him, tilting your head again. 

“Good, then be a good little boy and lay on your back at the top of the bed.” You demand, pushing yourself up until you’re kneeling on the bed. 

Hobie is quick to follow your directions, pushing himself backwards and laying his head back on the pillows. You follow him once he’s laid flat on the bed, his eyes glued to your form. Your knees land on either side of his head. Hobie can’t decide where to look, his breath elevated as he looks between your face and your sweet pussy. You smirk, your hand landing on his head to keep his gaze on your cunt. Your other hand slides down your body, two of your fingers spreading your pussy lips apart so he can see the slick dripping from your entrance. Hobie groans at the sight, licking his lips as his mouth goes dry. 

Your hand joins your other on Hobie’s head, tilting it back. You slowly lower yourself, your thighs bouncing the second you’re fully seated on his face. Hobie’s eyes go to your face, half-lidded as his hands come to your thighs. 

“Suck.” You demand, grinding your hips down onto his face. 

He groans as his mouth opens and latches onto your clit, sucking and licking at it. You moan softly, your eyes closing in bliss. You tighten your hold on his hair, a vibration running throughout your body as he moans against your cunt. Your hips buck, his nose rubbing against your clit messily. His breath comes out in sharp exhales from his nose, warming your mound before being smothered with your cunt. His eyes are hazy, hands tightening on your thighs as he laps at your pussy. Wet clicks sound under you, the echoes of his tongue lolling being amplified by the walls. 

“More,” you sigh out, slapping one hand against the wall, the other keeping his head in place as you grind down on his face, “C’mon, Hobie. Tongue fuck me.”

Hobie’s eyes squeeze shut, mumbling against your pussy lips. You moan out when his tongue prods at your entrance, slipping in and licking at your throbbing walls. You curse under your breath, bouncing down on his face slightly to push his tongue in and out of you. The small sounds of skin slapping against skin masks Hobie’s whines, his hands coming up to your hips to glue your cunt to his face. You can tell his tongue is starting to ache by how sloppy it is when he flicks over your clit and tries to find your hole again. Feeling nice, you bring your hand to your clit, pinching at the bud until it triggers your orgasm. 

Hobie laps it up greedily, swallowing it down as he shakes his head to collect every drop. You hiss, getting off his face as your thighs twitch. Hobie pants under you, the lower part of his face shiny with your slick. His tongue peaks from his lips, licking up whatever he can. Even in his dazed state, he forces his eyes to follow you as you go further down his body. He pushes himself up on his elbows just in time to watch you extend your hand, squeezing hard around his tip. He whines, hips jolting as he falls onto his back again. 

You chuckle, letting go of him as you go to straddle his lap. Your hands are planted on his chest, keeping you balanced as you lift your hips. You tease your cunt over his tip, making him breath out shakily. Your hand slides up his chest, slipping around his neck, effectively distracting him before you slam your hips down on his cock. He cries out as his tip hits your cervix, his back arching off the bed before your hand pushes his chest down flat to the bed. One of his hands wraps around the wrist of your hand around his neck as you begin to squeeze, simultaneously lifting your hips and sinking back down on him. He whines at you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your walls suction around his throbbing cock.

You scoff, lightening your hold around his neck. “I just started fucking you and you’ve already gone stupid.”

“You’re. Acting. Like. A. Virgin.” You grit out, punctuating each word with a hard slam of your hips. Hobie only turns his head to the side, breathing heavily as his cock twitches inside of you. 

You laugh meanly, letting go of his neck. You force his head back to the position it was in before, slapping his cheek before grabbing his neck again. You glare down at him, your hips never slowing as you begin to cut off his air flow. His head is getting fuzzy from the lack of oxygen and from the pleasure coursing through his body, whimpering weakly as he ruts his hips into you. 

“I didn’t tell you to look away.” You scold. “Keep your eyes on me until you cum.”

He nods the best he can, his hands grabbing at your waist and squeezing the skin to help him fuck up into you. You moan, rewarding him by lightening your grip on his neck. He sucks in air greedily, gasping and choking on his moans. You can feel your orgasm fast approaching, making your hips just barely lift as you chase the pleasure. Hobie can feel your walls clench around his cock, causing him to moan and whisper pleas for you to cum around his cock. It sets you off, crying out as you slam your hips down on his one last time before your body twitches with your orgasm. Hobie hisses as he empties soon after, lazily fucking up into you to help the both of your ride out your orgasms. 

You breathe heavily, your eyes closing as your hand falls away from Hobie’s neck. You slowly push yourself off of him, landing beside him on the bed. His head is already turned towards you, a fucked-out look still on his face. You smile at him, turning on your side so you lean on your elbow. Your finger traces his jawline, your thumb dragging down his bottom lip. You give his cheek two quick pats before you push yourself off the bed. 

You grab your panties and pants, pulling them on before grabbing your own tank top and throwing Hobie’s leather jacket over it. You walk to the cracked mirror hanging on Hobie’s wall. You ruffle up your hair, swiping your thumb against the smudge of lipstick near the bottom of your lip as you see Hobie sit up on bed. You turn when you’ve fixed yourself up, walking back to him. You grab him by the chin, pulling him into a deep kiss. He moans against your lips, following after you as you pull away. You push him back onto the bed, walking away and to his door. You turn one last time towards him, giving him a moving wave. 

“Guess you weren’t that much of a loser after all.”

I’d let reader top me.

[evieolo]

Hey you should do an angst one where Matt and Y/n get into a fight while in the car and then y/n gets mad and then gets out of the car at a stop light and walkd home in the rain like crying and all that fun jazz, sorry if that's a little confusing.

Rain — Matt Sturniolo x Reader

A/N: @sturniolo-fav-matt you’re the best for putting up with the insane amount of time it took me to write this 💋 | It’s hard to write arguments where the characters don’t both bitch about it, so Matt and Y/N are both in the wrong here (more so Matt though)

Contains: Arguments/Big disagreement/hurt comfort (I think idk if this is sad in the slightest)

Date night hadn’t started well. Quite the opposite. Matt made a dinner reservation for nine. The dinner was supposed to be after he, Chris, and Nick filmed their latest car video, but filming ran late after the camera malfunctioned. So Matt shows up to your date forty minutes late to find you sitting on a park bench outside of the restaurant, arms crossed over your chest.

A light drizzle fell from the sky, dampening your hair and satin dress. Matt hurriedly shuffles over to the bench where you’re seated and frowns when he sees that you’re definitely not happy with him.

“Look who decided to show up,” you quip with a not-so-happy expression on your face.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says, sympathy laced in his expression. You nod, accepting his candor, and wrap your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss on his lips before speaking. “We lost our dinner reservation,” you say and purse your lips slightly.

Matt nods with a sigh, “Why didn’t you just wait at the table?”

You laugh dryly. “Alone - looking like I got stood up for forty minutes? No thanks.”

Matt smiles accordingly - he loves your witty remarks. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, kissing your forehead. You giggle lightly as his hands rub your hips, feeling butterflies arise in your stomach because you know he hates P.D.A., but he’s touchy like there’s nothing more important than you.

“You’re forgiven,” you say, giving him one more long peck on the lips before pulling back.

You stand silently for a moment before Matt speaks, “I heard a nice ice cream shop opened up a block from here. Want to go?” he questions, looking forward to your response.

You raise a brow, “Ice cream before dinner? You know me so well.”

The second you and Matt enter the shop, a gasp is elicited from the other side of the room, followed by a couple of gaping stares from what looks to be a group of fifteen-year-olds, and an, “Oh my god, is that Matt Sturniolo?”

Matt doesn’t notice this as quickly as you do and makes his way to the front desk, ordering for both you and himself before he’s bombarded with requests for photos. You stand back as he obliges, taking selfie after selfie with awestruck girls. You can’t say it happens a lot, but there have been a definite one or two times, meaning you had a “routine” for the situation; that being, awkwardly waiting in whatever corner of the room you were in for the fangirls to clear.

The clerk holds two cups of ice cream in hand and scoots them over the counter. You recognize them as the flavors Matt ordered and go to pick them up, though, not avoiding the “Matt” that falls from the clerk's tongue, signaling that the orders are ready. You thank the man, grabbing two spoons before taking the two cups of ice cream.

“Um, Mr. Sturniolo,” a girl coughs out, awkwardly tapping Matt's shoulder. Matt lets out an acknowledging hum, and the girl points to you. “That girl took your ice cream,” she says.

Matt laughs, pointing a smile at you. “That’s Nick's friend,” he says with nonchalance, “She’s just grabbing it for me.”

Your stomach drops. You knew he was just saying it because your relationship was off the media, but Nick's friend? He couldn’t have gone as far as to say you were his friend?

Matt finishes taking photos and walks towards the door where you are standing. You pivot to walk out the second he’s next to you, handing him his cup of ice cream and opening the door without a word. Matt doesn’t pick up on your mood change. “It’s so cool to run into fans,” he smiles, “It’s still weird to me, and did you hear how she called me Mr. Sturniolo? That was hilarious,” Matt gushes, spooning a generous amount of ice cream into his mouth.

You nod, giving him a dry, “Yeah,” before stepping past the shop’s awning, momentarily forgetting it was raining. You're snapped back to reality when a large raindrop falls directly on your forehead, dripping down your nose.

“Is your car close?” You ask. Matt nods.

༯ ༯ ༯

“Will you ever want to go public?” You ask once you're situated in the car, strapping your seatbelt over your torso as you speak.

Matt pauses for a second before he speaks, giving you time to get used to the pattering of rain on the windshield. “Maybe,” he mutters, with no clarity in his answer whatsoever.

“I just think we should revisit the conversation, Matt. I don’t want to always have to act like one of your ‘bros,’” you press, looking at him intently. Your harsh expression doesn’t waver when he speaks.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Y/N.”

Your heart aches, but you continue. “You never want to talk about this, Matt.”

Matt grips the steering wheel harder, and his knuckles turn white where the most pressure is applied. “You're getting on my nerves," he spits, looking not at you, but at the road.

“Matt…”

“Stop,” he grits his teeth, “just shut up! I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

Your jaw tightens with anger. “I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it, Matthew. You’re acting like a child. You have six - six million followers! And I have to act like I'm some celebrity hiding from the paparazzi because you can’t deal with the fact that you have a girlfriend who wants to be seen with you?”

This is a blow to Matt’s confidence, and he takes it as an insult to both his career and him. “You’re unreasonable,” Matt mutters, taking a harsh breath.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the only unreasonable one here, Matthew,” you spit, throwing your hands down against your thighs in frustration.

Matt doesn't respond to this. The only sounds in the car are the acceleration of the engine and the occasional clicking of the blinkers.

You sit in silence for minutes before your anxiousness has you spitting out a question. “Are you embarrassed of me?”

Matt shakes his head ‘No,’ but he’s still angry. “It’s not a big deal if we’re public if we’re both happy in this relationship,” he says with a sternness in his voice that says don’t push it.

“But-“

“But? Are you not happy?” Matt raises a brow with a question.

“Obviously I'm not happy, Matt! I’m not your fuck buddy; I’m your girlfriend. I shouldn’t have to act like I’m in the shadows all the time. I don’t want to be in your videos or anything! I just want you to acknowledge me as your girlfriend!” you claim lightly, your voice emotionally raising in pitch because everything you say, Matt ignores.

Matt ignores this too, further frustrating you. You know he’s paying attention to your words too, because of the way his face changes and the way his grip on the steering wheel is constantly tight.

He doesn’t respond, just lets out a deep sigh.

You feel a wave of emotions crashing over you, hitting you like a bus, and a fat tear rolls down your cheek in silence.

Matt notices this.

“Y/N…” he moves his hand from the steering wheel to your thigh, rubbing up and down soothingly while keeping his other hand occupied with steering.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me now,” you say, voice wobbling with emotion.

“Look, I’m sorry-“

”Can we go public?”

“Y/N,”

You cut him off, “Then you're not sorry.”

“That’s not fair.”

The argument is futile. Both of you know this, so you don’t continue because the streetlights start blurring in your eyes and the stereo becomes too much, making your chest tight with emotion.

You don’t want to be in the car anymore. The car with him.

“Matt let me out,” you say, feeling the car come to a halt at a stoplight. “What are you on about?” Matt questions, gritting his teeth, leaning back momentarily against the car’s seat.

“I don’t want to be in here with you anymore,” your voice wavers.

“It’s raining, Y/N.”

“Let me out.”

Matt begrudgingly complies, clicking the locked door open. You snap your seatbelt off and step out of the car, immediately feeling the wetness of rain droplets against your head. You walk out of the road, heels clanking on the pavement as you do so.

When the stoplight turns green, you watch Matt drive away. It’s not his fault, you try to tell yourself. You insisted on getting out. But still, your emotions overtake your mind, and inevitable tears slip from your eyes.

You wish you and Matt didn’t argue. No. You wish you had his jacket, but also that you didn’t fight. So instead of standing still, you start your trek to your apartment. A twenty-minute walk in your not-so-impervious satin dress.

༯ ༯ ༯

When you get home, the sadness hits you. Was the argument worth it? What if he’s so mad he breaks up with you?

Your negative thoughts only have you crying harder, so you trek to your room, strip off your rain-ridden clothes, and take a warm shower, washing the salt of rain off your body as you tremble with sobs.

You shower for far too long, running your hands through your wet hair as a silky comfort and washing the repentance of the day off your physical form. Not your mental form.

When you step out of the shower, the tile is cold. You throw on a robe and make a beeline for your dresser where you left your phone, needing to talk to Matt.

To Matt Sturniolo: I’m sorry for getting mad

To Matt Sturniolo: I miss you

To Matt Sturniolo: I’m sorry I’m not mad anymore

You take a second, typing anxiously as you wait for his read receipt to show up. When it does, he texts back instantaneously.

From Matt Sturniolo: Are you okay? I’m coming over.

Matt’s at yours in minutes, shortening the drive after making half a dozen illegal turns.

You’re waiting at the door when he knocks, opening the front before his fist can meet the door a second time. When the door creaks open, you're met with a wet, worried Matt. His hair is damp, clinging to his forehead after only the walk from the parking lot to your door. His eyes scan your body as you awkwardly stand in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice sad. Matt takes note of this and steps closer to you, closing your apartment door behind you and pulling you into his chest.

He runs a thumb over your cheek, wiping off the remnants of stray tears, and sighs, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

“It's not your fault, baby. I was being a dick,” Matt says apologetically. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist, embracing yourself in the hug and sniffling against him.

“I am happy in our relationship. I lied,” you mutter.

“I know, but you could be happier,” Matt hums, pulling away from the hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling his phone out. He swipes for a bit before turning it to you.

“You like this picture?” he asks. It's a picture of both of your eyes that you’d taken in a moment of pure happiness, right after you’d complimented how his irises looked in the sun. You nod, unsure of what he’s doing but smile out a ‘yeah.’

He’s on his phone for another two minutes before he clicks it off. “Check my Instagram,” he says. You pull your phone out of your back pocket and open the app, viewing Matt's most recent post.

From Matt Sturniolo:

[sillysillygoofygoose]

One and a Half Men + One

(Part 2 of One and a Half Men !!) Thank you to everyone who has commented, liked, and reblogged! It really makes my day 💕💕

You needed him. Bad. And it freaked the shit out of you...

Hiding out in your apartment didn't seem like such a bad idea. You missed seeing little Megumi and his drop-dead gorgeous father every morning, but you could persevere.

It was radio silence for an entire week. You told yourself you were just protecting your peace. You had too much going on to be falling for anyone, especially a father.

You were on track, focusing on your studies. One night, while you were finishing up a research paper, you heard three soft knocks on your door. So soft you almost thought you hallucinated them. Before you could even walk to your door, you heard fumbling of the knob, frantic and fighting.

"Hello? Y/n? Home?" Muffled by the thin wood between you, Megumi's voice wrung through your apartment, springing you into action.

You run to open the door, Megumi's little face greeting you, scrunched up in worry, little fists grabbing at his hair.

"Dada's sick. Really scared y/n, Dada really sick." Megumi points to his left, guiding your eyes to his apartment. You pick him up, shutting your door behind you and venturing towards the Fushiguro's apartment.

Entering the apartment, you call out for the little boy's dad, worry shining through your tone. You stand at the entrance, a groan answering you.

"On the couch, dada's on the couch." Megumi twists in your arms like a fish out of water as a signal to let him go, walking towards his daddy once he finds his footing.

Toji's entire body smothers the couch as he lays there in nothing but boxers, skin flushed, and sweaty. His eyes open, displaying a hollowed out, tired expression, making you gasp.

"Fuck. Gumi, bud you didn't have to bring y/n over. God, didn't even know you left the damn apartment." Toji felt guilty all over. He moved to sit up, stopping himself with hearty coughs.

"She take good care of you, dada. Promise. She made me happy again. Y/n help you too... right y/n?" Megumi looked over at your out of place state, boba eyes full of appreciation, his small hands resting on his dad's overheated torso.

"Um yeah, yeah, I can help out. Of course... Gumi, why don't you go to your room, baby?" You walk over to Toji's spread out form pushing back his sweaty hair to feel his forehead.

"Nuh uh. Stay with you. Make sure Dada okay." Determination in his voice, Megumi clung to you, copying the way you looked down at his father. Megumi nudges his way back into your arms, clasping his tiny hands in his hair as you hold onto him.

"Okay, bub. Daddy's gonna be alright. " You sigh deeply as you walk over to their sink, asking Gumi where they keep the glasses and washcloths.

Toji can't help himself, woozy headspace causing him to blush at your way of referring to him, melting deeper into the couch at your maternal instincts towards not only his son but him as well.

You return, glass of chilled water in hand, cool washcloth in the other, and little boy on your hip. Crouching down, you place the cup on a low coffee table, readjust Megumi, and shift yourself towards a flushing, smirking Toji.

"What's so funny?" You smile, resting your head on Megumi's to hold him in place as you move close to Toji, placing the washcloth on his chest.

"Heh, you come here often, pretty mama?" He coughs out a laugh as you pat the cloth across his chest, trying his best not to pop a boner over your innocent touches and pretty smiley eyes gazing up at him.

Those same pretty eyes widen as your cheeks heat up, playing it off with a laugh and an eye roll.

Megumi giggles.

"Dada called you Mama too, Mama! I told you. See dada, she takes good care." Megumi pokes your cheek before placing a gentle kiss on it.

"You two are absolutely unbelievable." You shake your head, entire body warm at the affection and attention.

"You're very right, Gumi. Very, very right." Toji mumbles to himself as you move to his forehead, folding the cloth in half to cling to the sweaty skin.

"There we go. Can I get you anything else, Toji?" You stand up, pulling Megumi with you.

"A kiss."

"Kiss!!" Megumi echoes, covering his mouth with two tiny hands to hide a big smile.

"Oh my goodness." You smile, shaking your head, putting Megumi down.

"Give your daddy a kiss, Gumi." You pat his back, inching him towards the dopey man. Megumi kisses his dad's cheek the same way he kissed yours.

"Your turn, y/n!" Megumi sung out, grabbing your hand.

"No, no, Gumi, let's get you to bed. It's getting reeeaaalllyyy late!" You quickly respond, scooping up the pouting kid, having him point to where his room is.

"Mama kiss dada..." Megumi huffs as you tuck him into bed and kiss his forehead.

"No buddy... I'm not Mama, okay? I'm y/n." You explain, rubbing his head soothingly.

"Ughhhhh, noooo!!" Megumi pouts, ruffling his sheets around, showing the true toddler side of him that is sometimes forgotten.

"Go to sleep, okay baby? I will check on you and your dada tomorrow." You smile as he settles down, rubbing his hands over his head, closing his eyes.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

...

Finally, Megumi dozes off after at least an hour of petting his head and back. You exit his room quietly, shutting the door. Turning your head, you see Toji's stature sitting up on the couch, much more lively than when you first arrived.

"How ya feeling, big guy?" You smile, glancing at the half empty glass of water on the table as Toji chuckles.

"Fuck, much better. I'm really sorry about all this, sweets. I was fucking delirious. Got home from work and could barely stand, felt awful. I didn't tell the little rascal to go bother you, though. He did that on his own... must've known you were good for the soul. Smart kid." Toji apologizes with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

"Yeah, smart kid, alright." You snort, shaking your head as you cross your arms in slight awkwardness. Toji gestures towards an armchair near the couch, inviting you to sit.

"But seriously, thanks a lot. You really didn't have to come over and take such good care of us. He really adores you, ya know..."

You warm up as Toji's eyes set on yours.

"Aw, well, the feeling is very mutual. You've got a lovely little boy, Toji."

Toji hums in response, slurping up the rest of the water in his sweating cup.

Silence overtakes the room as you momentarily shut your eyes, quietly reveling in the sudden peacefulness of the dim, lackluster apartment.

"You got a boyfriend?" You hear Toji question out of the blue, making your eyes fling open as you sit up a little straighter.

"Why you askin'?" You tease, confidence surging through your body. You never felt all too flustered by Toji's smooth talking or slightly invasive questions, easily surveying his game, understanding how he operates. You had quite a bit of your own moxie.

"Maybe I'm interested." Toji smirks back. Mirroring you, he folds his arms across his chest.

"Only maybe?"

...

Dating with a four year old is not always the easiest. Especially not when his daddy is all dressed up, wearing special cologne and his mommy (as he insisted on calling you, Toji not opposed to it at all) is in a long satin dress and high heels, not her usual casual wear.

"But I don't want you to goooooo! Stay!!" Megumi cried to you as he was faced with the kind old lady from apartment seventy-five, who was entrusted with watching him while his lovebird parents get a night to themselves.

You crouch down, balancing on your toes as you hold the toddler's torso, kissing his cheek.

"We won't be long, honey... maybe we'll be back before bedtime, right, Daddy?" You peer over at Toji, who was busy showing poor old Gertrude how to work the oven for Megumi's chicken tenders.

"Mama's right... and if not, you'll just see us in the morning anyways!.. C'mon, Megs, aren't ya sick of us?" Toji makes his way over to you, smoothing the hair on his little boy's head as he hugs his dad's legs, head bumping into the small, square-shaped, velvet box hidden in his dress pants' pocket.

"Alright, bubs, we really gotta get going, we'll miss our reservation." Toji lifts Megumi up, kissing both of his cheeks before handing him to you, prompting you to do the same.

Megumi huffs once you put him down, waving with attitude as you grab your coat, and Toji opens the door for you.

"Ugh. Bye mama, bye dada. Love yous." He yells as Gertrude slowly pauses in sorting out the little boy's frozen dinner on an oven tray, turning her achy body to wave bye-bye to the soon to be engaged couple.

"Bye Megumi, love you!"

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

My tag-list babies! 🥰

@fushipurro , @justbelljust , and @carylinflors 💕💕

[alwaysmicado]

What you need

2.9k | 18+ NSFW | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 4

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, facesitting, unprotected p in v, creampie, pet names, Joel is the little spoon Summary: Joel is sick and your pussy's the best medicine. A/N: This one’s just cute! 🤍 After the next two parts or so, we’ll start to get into it for real. Fucking around is fun, but it doesn’t last forever, does it…

pt. 1 ・ pt. 2 ・ pt. 3 ・ series masterlist ・ AO3

You: How was the client? Joel: I stayed home, not feeling too well You: You need anything? Joel: Just you ;) You: I’ll be there in 30. Stay in bed! Joel: No no babe, it’s okay Missed Call Missed Call Missed Call Joel: You’re unbelievable

“Oh, come on,” you groan and lift the measuring cup towards Joel’s lips. “Why are you such a stubborn baby, huh? Just drink the fuck-”

You stop yourself when you see him raise an eyebrow, a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his pale lips. He’s sitting in bed, his back supported by pillows, his head leaning against the wooden headboard panel.

Propping Joel up comfortably like this was a struggle in and of itself since this grown, successful man only sleeps with one, worn-out pillow he’s probably had since before you were born, so you also had to get two plumper ones from his couch to provide enough support for his poor back. What is it with him and refusing comfort? 

At least now you know what to get him for his birthday in September…

“Hmm, you love it,” he teases and puts his hand on your waist to pinch you lightly. 

“I would love it if you stopped fighting me and just took the damn NyQuil,” you counter and search his eyes. They’re heavy-lidded and glassy, revealing the exhaustion Joel’s been trying to fight all day.

You sigh and softly brush a strand of sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. He’s running a fever and the cool, damp washcloth you put on his forehead to alleviate at least some of his evident discomfort only did so much. 

At this point, you really just need him to listen to you for once, take the damn medicine and, most importantly, lie down and give his body the rest it so desperately needs.

You look at the collection of bottles on the nightstand next to him and shake your head. Since you didn’t know what his symptoms were before you came, you stopped at a pharmacy on your way over and bought everything : DayQuil, NyQuil, a bottle of cough syrup, peppermint tea, a bunch of pain meds, Epsom salts with eucalyptus and essential oils, fresh produce to make a smoothie - hell, even a thermometer because you weren’t sure if he has one.

The only thing missing is the patient’s cooperation. 

“I appreciate your care, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, reaching for your hand to pepper your palm with soft kisses, “but I really don’t need any of that. I’m just a bit under the weather, that’s all.” 

“You’d rather die than admit you’re sick, huh,” you state with a tilted head and raised eyebrows. 

“Now that’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it,” he murmurs and nibbles on your arm. 

“Says the grown man who gagged from the tiniest sip of green smoothie,” you scoff. 

“Yeah, well, that shit was disgusting,” he chuckles, pulling you closer by your waist so you’re straddling his lap. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

“You have a fever, Joel,” you sigh and cup his cheeks. “I’m worried, okay?” 

“About little old me?” He smiles and squeezes your hips. 

“Yeah,” you lean in to press soft kisses to his cheek. “And I need you to let me help you, so tell me what-”

“Sit on my face.” 

“Huh?” You sit back up and look into his eyes in surprise.  

“Take your slutty little pants off and sit on my face,” he repeats with a cocked eyebrow. 

“How is that-” 

“I’ll take the meds if you do,” he interrupts with a smirk, his eye crinkles giving away his genuine amusement at this genius suggestion.

You sigh deeply and look at the ceiling. How is this guy real? “And a whole smoothie,” you murmur as you get up. 

You push your shorts down together with your panties, let them fall to the floor, then climb back onto the bed to straddle Joel’s lap without the covers separating you this time. He looks at you hungrily, the fever completely forgotten as he sees and feels your naked cunt and thighs.

“Mmm, that’s it, baby,” he groans softly, his big hands on you immediately, gripping your ass and moving you up and down the length of his hardening cock. “Look at the mess you’re already making on me,” he murmurs, turned on by the wetness you’re spreading over his gray sweatpants. 

“You get off on caring for me, hm?” He taunts with a smug grin. 

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes and capture his lips in a bruising kiss. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, as close as he possibly can, kissing you greedily. You writhe and wriggle on his lap, moaning into his mouth, your hands tangled in his hair.

He breaks the kiss to nibble and bite at the soft skin of your neck, leaving marks behind. You’re letting it slide this time, enjoying the tantalizing sensation of slight pain mixed with the soft touch of his lips and facial hair that’s causing your pussy to clench around nothing. 

You’re just going to have to wear a silk scarf or something to work.

“God, I wanna taste you so bad, baby,” Joel moans into the crook of your neck, his eyes closed. You bite your lip and hum as the friction of your movements on Joel’s pants stimulates your clit perfectly.

“You gonna be good if I let you?” You purr into his ear with a roll of your hips, eliciting a soft whimper from him. 

“You come all over my face, angel, and I’ll do whatever you want,” he whispers, his fingers digging into your sides. 

“Alright, baby,” you coo and lift your weight off his lap. “Lie down for me.”

Joel scoots down and lays his head on the pillows, looking at you intently with big eyes. You position yourself over his face, hold on to the bed’s headboard panel and lower your hips carefully. 

“Look so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles before hooking his arms over your thighs and pulling you further down. His warm breath and facial hair tickle you as he kisses your lips softly, then drags his nose through your wet folds, inhaling your mesmerizing scent and nudging your swollen clit before repeating the movement. 

You throw your head back and moan softly as he slides his tongue between your folds, lapping at your dripping hole and pushing in ever so slightly before circling your clit. Your fingers tangle in his dark curls as the vibrations of his deep groans intensify every movement of his lips and tongue.

“Fuck, you taste divine like always,” Joel breathes as he dips his tongue into your wet heat to lap up as much of you as he can. You look down and clench around his tongue when you see his blown pupils and frenzied look. His mouth moves at a relentless pace, making you squirm and tug on his curls harder. You’re so close already. 

When your moans get louder and Joel feels you grinding your pussy on his face harder to chase your imminent high, he can’t resist biting the marks already adorning your skin. 

“Ow, fuck!” You cry out in surprise at the sudden pain shooting through you. You hadn’t even noticed the purple bruises on your inner thighs when you showered and got dressed today.

Maybe it should concern you that your body hasn’t been without bruises for a few months now. But it doesn’t, if you’re being honest with yourself. You just weren’t planning on showing someone else’s marks off to Joel this time. You really weren’t. 

“Fun night?” Joel asks with a smirk before sucking on your swollen clit hard, keeping you in place with his hands splayed over your ass.

“Can’t complain,” you bite back back, or at least try to, since your voice devolves into a soft whine at Joel’s harsh treatment of your sensitive bundle of nerves. The deliciously painful feeling is almost enough to send you over the edge. 

“Oh fuck, that’s it,” you moan as he starts lapping at your dripping hole again, his nose rubbing against your clit with every stroke. “Feels so good, baby.” 

Joel groans with each lick to your puffy folds and throbbing clit, hooking his arms over your legs again and digging his fingers into your skin. “Please, Joel,” you whine, tugging on his hair harder. 

“Use my face, angel,” he pants breathlessly, completely drunk on your pussy. You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen or tasted. “Take what you need from me.” 

He's bucking his hips, trying to get as much friction from his pants as possible, precum leaking out of this cock steadily. 

“I’m– oh fuck –I’m gonna come,” you moan, sliding your drenched pussy over Joel’s tongue and nose frantically. He hums blissfully, holding on to your thighs and watching your face as you arch your back and fall apart with a strangled moan. 

You come on his tongue, your hips stuttering and your whole body trembling from the intense orgasm. Joel groans as he eagerly drinks your cum and slowly licks you clean when he feels you come down again. You yelp and your hips jolt at the overstimulation when he sucks your pulsating clit into his mouth, savoring your taste. 

You lift your hips and look down at him, your chest heaving and a satisfied smile playing on your lips when you see his jaw and facial hair dripping with a mix of his saliva and your cum. He looks gorgeous like this. 

You swing your leg over Joel’s chest and lie down beside him. He turns to face you and gently traces your thigh with his warm hand, still breathing heavily. You scoot closer, so you’re flush with his body and place your bent leg between his. 

“Kiss me, Joel,” you purr as you nudge his wet nose with yours and caress his cheek with your palm. He gives you a smile before leaning in and capturing your swollen lips with his. You part your lips and allow his tongue to slip inside, feeding you your own cum. He grabs your ass to pull you closer against him, your bodies pressed together heatedly, both breathing heavily as you feel the thud of your combined heartbeat. Joel groans into your mouth softly as he rubs his throbbing cock against your hip, his hand traveling along your waist to your belly. You thrust your hips so your pussy rubs against his thigh on the bed, more than ready to come again. 

“So perfect,” Joel murmurs against your lips as he slides his hand under your shirt and palms your breast. He tweaks your hard nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you. He furrows his brow and looks into your eyes intently, his pupils even bigger than before. Every fiber of his fevered body is aching for you, to be close to you, to become one with you, to be yours.

You see something shift in his face, but can’t put your finger on what it is, so you don't say anything. 

“Can I fuck you?” He mumbles into your neck where he’s kissing and biting at you sloppily, his hand still massaging your breast and his cock screaming for release. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You breathe, your need for Joel to be alright still trumping your primal need to get off. You're an animal, not an asshole. 

“I’m more than okay, darlin’,” he reassures you with a tired smile.

“And you’re not gonna die on me halfway through?” 

“Don’t care,” he murmurs and takes your hand to press it against his erection. You rub up and down his length slowly as he slides his hand between your legs. You groan when he circles your sensitive clit a few times before sliding two of his fingers into your warm cunt. He pumps them in and out a few times before adding a third, the heel of his palm putting delicious pressure on your clit. 

“You want me to ride you, baby?” You pant, feeling your second orgasm build already. 

“Can we-,” Joel breathes, his cock throbbing, “can we just stay like this?”

“Of course,” you nod and help him pull down his sweatpants. He pulls his fingers out of you and wets his cock with your slick before removing his pants fully. “C’mere,” you coo as you draw him close to you and drape your leg over his hip. He strokes his length a few times before nudging your entrance with his pulsating tip and sliding in in one smooth thrust. He wraps his arm around you, splaying his hand on your back under your shirt, moaning into your hair when he bottoms out.

“Oh shit, you feel too good, baby,” he groans and holds on to your ass cheek to pull you toward him in unison with his frantic thrusts. “I– fuck –I ain’t gonna last long,” he pants. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yeah,” you nod with a needy moan, your brow furrowed. Joel’s cock is hitting your g-spot repeatedly, causing the muscles in your thighs and lower belly to tense and your climax to approach rapidly. 

“Tell me, baby,” he breathes, his cock massaging your inner walls with every snap of his hips. 

“I-I want you to come inside me, Joel,” you whine, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, please fill me up.” 

He can feel your walls tightening around him and your whole body tensing, so he tilts your head up by gripping the nape of your neck. “Look at me, baby,” he breathes and grinds his pelvis against your clit. It only takes a few more of his thrusts for the tension in your belly to snap with an intensity you’re never able to achieve on your own. Or with anyone else for that matter.

You come with his name on your lips, your walls spasming and contracting around his cock as you ride out your orgasm. Seeing and hearing and feeling you in such a state of ecstasy due to his touch pushes him over the edge, emptying himself deep inside of you with a breathless groan. He stays buried inside you as his cock pulses and your pussy swallows every last drop of his warm cum. 

You stay like that for a minute, limbs intertwined, skin hot and sweaty, breathing heavily, hearts pounding, looking at each other curiously. You slowly trace Joel’s eye crinkles with your fingertips, then gently run your fingers along his perfect nose before moving further down to gently touch the bare spot on his jaw where his facial hair never grows.

“What’re you doing,” he chuckles, drawing shapes on your ass and thigh with his fingertips. 

“Nothing,” you lie with a warm smile. “Just looking at the man who most definitely just gave me all of his germs and will most definitely come and clean my apartment when I’m lying in bed with a fever."

Joel rolls his eyes in mock offense and you giggle. “Told you to stay away when you showed up here,” he murmurs and slaps your ass playfully.     

“Oh, Joel,” you sigh, “you’ve come inside me so many times that our DNA is probably the same at this point.” You kiss his forehead. “I don’t care about a few germs if I get to ride your face and hear your cute little whimpers when you almost come in your pants like a teenager.”

Joel's cheeks flush with a mix of fever and embarrassment as he catches the hint of a grin on your face. “Stop it,” he grumbles, the corner of his lips twitching involuntarily. “You’re mean.” 

“And you’re impossible,” you chuckle, your hand reaching out gently to stroke his forehead and tousled hair in a soothing gesture. His eyelids flutter at your touch and a faint sigh escapes him, a small surrender to the tenderness you’re offering.

— “Thank you, darlin’,” Joel murmurs before setting down the glass on the nightstand and laying his head on the pillow mountain you’ve built for him. “I’m just gonna lie down for a bit.” 

“Alright, baby” you coo, walking over to your bag to retrieve your phone, then sitting on the bed beside him. You play a game for a few minutes, relaxing and monitoring Joel’s rhythmic breathing. He’s lying on his belly, his head turned away from you, his left knee pulled toward his chest. It’s the same exact pose you sleep in. 

In another life you might fall asleep like this together every night, two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly, completing each other. You smile softly at the thought and reach out to stroke his back. 

“All your fault,” Joel grumbles into the pillows.

“Huh?” You ask, startled and confused. You thought he was fast asleep. 

“Haven’t seen you in over a week,” he mumbles. “Bad for my system.” 

You chuckle and plant a soft kiss on his temple. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Won’t happen again.”

“Just stay for a while,” he murmurs, his voice a mere whisper. You linger for a few seconds, studying his profile, before lying down behind him. He instinctively turns from his belly onto his side, so you can drape your arm over him.  

“You can sleep now, baby,” you whisper as you nestle against his back, molding your body to his contours, your warm breath ghosting the nape of his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

---

Thank you for reading! 🤍

part 3 || part 5 || series masterlist

[worldlxvlys]

PELASEENDJDKSJWK

pls make a pt 3 to ice where reader uses a safe word bc matt is overstimulating her to much, and he like starts being all sorry and sub and shit💁🏼‍♀️🙏🏼🙏🏼

ice (part 3)

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: SMUT, overstimulation, oral ( fem and male receiving), cursing

a/n: this is the last parttt, enjoy <33

ice p1

ice p2

i have no clue how long we’ve been in this position.

matt’s tongue gliding through my soaking wet folds, as he fucked me with his tongue.

30 minutes ? an hour ? 2 hours ?

i couldn’t even keep up at this point.

and don’t get me started on the amount of orgasms he’s pulled out of me.

i lost count after the eighth.

my thighs were sore from the amount of times they clenched around his face.

when i looked down, all i saw was a mop of brown hair over my pussy.

yeah, he’s gone.

“matt- matt, please. i- you have to stop” i cried out, my voice breaking.

if he heard me, he did a good job of pretending like he didn’t.

he began to suck on my sensitive, puffy clit.

“MATT! RED! RED!” i cried out.

he immediately moved his face away, guilt taking over his features.

his eyes were wide as he took in my own features, realizing he took it too far.

“i’m sorry, shit- did i hurt you ?” he asked, eyes raking my body up and down frantically.

he looked at my thighs, seeing the dark marks that were already forming from where his fingers dug into me.

his face dropped as he swallowed harshly. “fuck, i’m so sorry” he got on his knees again, this time leaving light kisses over his bruises.

“matt, it’s ok”

“no, it’s not ok. i didn’t mean to hurt you, never want to hurt you” he spoke into my skin, intertwining our fingers.

“are you sure you’re ok ?” he asked as he stood back up.

i cupped his jaw in my hand, “i swear, matt. i’m fine” i pecked his lips.

i reached my hand down, palming his bulge through his boxers.

“let me help you with that, baby” i whispered into his lips, stroking his already fully hard cock.

“fuck” he whimpered out as his head fell back.

i sunk down onto my knees, pulling him closer to my face by the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down.

the sight that i was met with was mouth-watering.

his dick was already covered in his thick cum.

“hmm, i didn’t even touch you and you finished while eating me out ?” i asked him, looking up at him with a grin.

his face turned red, “maybe” he mumbled.

i wrapped my hand around his tip, swiping my thumb back and forth over it.

he whined out in surprise, his hips bucking up into my hand.

“what was that ? didn’t hear you, baby”

“yes, yes i did”

“how many times?” i asked him, continuing to tease his tip.

“fuck- three times” he heaved out.

“let’s make that four” i said before licking the underside of his cock.

“shittt” he groaned.

i took his entire length in my mouth, looking up at him through my lashes as i bobbed my head up and down.

i grabbed his hand, placing it on my head and pushing down.

“baby, you don’t have to-“ he cut himself off with a guttural moan as i began to deep-throat him.

he seemed to be hesitant to take control, so i continued to guide his hand on my head.

“i- if it’s too much -“ his eyes rolled back and he didn’t even finish his sentence.

i pulled off of him for a minute, “matt, i’m fine. just fuck my face” i told him before bringing my mouth back to his spit- covered cock.

he began to push my head further down onto him, my nose hitting his pelvis.

tears began to fall down my face, replacing the dried drops from earlier.

i felt him in the back of my throat, making me gag as drool dribbled out of the corners of my mouth.

“god, you take me so well” he whimpered as he held onto the marble counter that was next to him.

i reached under him, cupping his balls and playing with them.

“ shit shit shit, i’m gonna cum” he whined out, pushing his hips into my mouth, making me gag again.

i pulled him out of my mouth, pumping him quickly and coughing.

“yeah? wanna cum down my throat ?” i asked, leaving kitten licks on this tip.

“fuck, yes please, need it so badly”

“yeah? then give it to me, baby” i said as i took him into my mouth again, hollowing my cheeks.

his dick twitched and ab muscles tensed as he shot his load, strings of his hot cum dripping down my throat.

i swallowed, pulling my mouth away and wiping my face with the back of my hand.

i got up to my feet and matt handed me his shirt, before pulling his boxers back up.

“you’re fucking insane” he breathed out as i pulled his shirt over my head.

“i’m insane ?” i asked, looking at matt crazily.

“you just ate me out for hours over ice, look around” i said gesturing to the poorly-lit room.

“it’s pitch black out, the sun was up before we started”

“what can i say, i’m passionate about ice” he shrugged.

i looked back at the remnants of ice that were in the cup, it was now just filled with cold water.

i tilted my head, getting an idea.

“hey, you sure you still like ice?” i asked, reaching for the cup slowly.

“yesss” he dragged the word out hesitantly, narrowing his eyes. i grabbed the cup.

“good, you should cool down” i said before quickly pouring the cool liquid over his head.

he didn’t say anything, instead poking his cheek with his tongue and slowly looking up at me.

picking up on his anger, i slowly backed away.

he grabbed the cup, walking over to the fridge to fill it up with ice.

shit.

“matt, come on you’re not seriously about to start an ice fight, are you?” i rose my eyebrows at him.

he rose his eyebrows back at me.

yeah, he is.

“fuck” i said as he started towards me.

i took off down my hallway with matt hot on my trail, reaching into the cup.

“how’s that ice feel, baby ? nice and cold ?” i yelled back to him.

“you’re about to find out”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

masterlist

tag list : @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chris @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @angelic-sturniolos111

[star-girl69]

Too Sweet

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: a niche celebrity yourself, you and caroline try to keep your relationship private and secret- despite the rumors circling. but secrets come out when you’re on live.

a/n: this MIGHT be the worst thing i have ever written… anyways 😍 from this ask, i hope you all enjoy!!

Too Sweet - Hozier

warnings: reader cries like twice, i took this and ran w it lmao, hmmm like hurt/comfort, mentions of sex, kissing, the whole shabang, swearing, pretty chill but suggestive at times so lmk if i missed anything!!

—-

“Oh, my God!” You shout, sitting up in your girlfriend’s bed, blankets slipping off of you. She groans next to you, head falling off of your shoulder and arm still around your waist.

“I was asleep,” she complains.

“Look!” You shout, shaking her slightly as you shove your phone in her face.

Caroline, your very wonderful and very sleepy girlfriend who claims naps just aren’t the same if you’re not in bed with her, blinks a few times as her eyes adjust. You unpause the Tik Tok video, and the song plays, some emotion forming in her eyes that you can’t quite name. The sound starts looping again, and you shake your phone.

“See? It’s an edit! Of me!!”

She smiles. “Oh, wow, baby. You’re really famous now, huh?” Your stomach twists as she watches the edit in total adoration, pupils blown despite her sleepy eyes. It’s just a clips of you from screen recorded lives or Tik Tok’s from someone on the team, but you can’t help but be happy anyways.

You don’t want that whole famous thing, the spotlight and the pressure- you’re just glad your girlfriend is getting the attention she deserves. She’s the most talented person you know- an Olympian, for God’s sake.

“I like this,” she smiles. “It’s cute. Send it to me.”

You laugh but send it anyways, your eyes catching on the small text that says 12 comments.

Nobody knows you and Caroline are dating. At least, the fans don’t. After Caroline started coming to fame and Laila followed, the Badgers become sort of a social media hotspot. They were all talented and hilarious- they deserved it.

You’ve only been dating Caroline for a few months, but you’d been friends with her for years before that- always teetering on the edge of something more. In fact, the first time you were ever brought up was people questioning who you were in the background of lives- questioning if you were dating someone on the team.

Caroline did love her fans a lot, she often ranted about how cool is was being able to share her life with people and how amazing it was to be an inspiration to so many young girls who feel discriminated in sports, but the talk of introducing you to them hasn’t quite come up yet.

Maybe you’re still in the honeymoon phase. Maybe all the people who deserve to know- your friends and family- are the people who already know.

user-1 ok who tf is she. seriously like i love her but WHO

user-2 @/user-1 her name is y/n!! she doesn’t play for the badgers but she’s friends w all of them and hangs out w them a lot

user-1 i heard a rumor she’s dating kk… i would actually go crazy.

user-4 ok she’s pretty but like kk and i are married sooooo

user-3 i don’t even think she’s that pretty tbh

user-2 um ok wow wtf did she do to you

user-3 nothing i just don’t think she’s that pretty

user-3 if she is dating kk then kk could do a lot better (cough me cough)

You can’t help but frown, reading the words over and over again.

“What?” Caroline asks, cupping your hand with her own to angle the screen towards her. She turns from half-asleep to wide awake in seconds. “They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.”

You turn your phone off and let it drop onto the blankets, turning towards KK. She sits up immediately, putting both of her hands on your face- but you can’t quite meet her eyes.

“Hey, hey. Don’t listen to them. Look at me. Please. Don’t listen to them.”

“I’m not,” you say after a moment, eyes still shut. “It’s fine. I just… don’t get it.”

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and you’re all I’ve wanted for years. And now that I finally have you, I’m not letting you go. And I’m not letting you get it in your head that you’re not good enough for me- because you are.”

You don’t notice a tear has fallen down your face until she’s kissing it away.

“You’re perfect,” she says, with an air of finality you can’t help but smile at. “I love you. Don’t think otherwise. Of course, if you need some reassurance I’m always down to tell you how much I love you.”

“Thank you, KK,” you whisper, softly clearing your throat as you’re finally able to meet her eyes. “I love you, too.”

All you can do is think about when she won the NCAA championship last year, when she was high off of the win and came out of the locker room to find you- smiling so brightly and gushing about how good she had played- and all she did was smile at you, grab your face, and kiss you so hard you got tilted back onto an axis you didn’t even know you were knocked off of.

And suddenly, with her lips on yours, everything in the world felt right. And it’s felt right since then. It feels right now, 4 months into your relationship, with Caroline holding your face and kissing your tears away.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell them,” she whispers, kind of blurts it out. “I-I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and, well, this kinda sealed it. I don’t want them to get in your head, like this. I… just want you all to myself, really.”

You laugh, and she smiles back, her eyes moving from your lips to the bridge of your nose to your eyes.

“Won’t keeping it a secret be kinda annoying?”

“I mean, not being able to show you off will suck, but if it means you don’t cry about stupid people again then I’ll do it.”

“Okay, then. We don’t have to tell them.”

“Exactly.” She kisses you, once, like she’s sealing a promise between the two of you. “Besides, nothing about you is ever annoying.”

—-

The edit of you ended up going kind of viral, and then more and more were made, until suddenly you had 2000 followers on Tik Tok and hundreds of private messages begging you to go live with the team, or film some kind of video, or do anything.

The first thing you ever posted was a simple get ready with me, and that received so much support you did another one, and then you did a day in the life- that one featured Caroline, so it went very viral- and suddenly you went live one night, and then it all just kinda fell into place.

There was nothing more exciting then getting another sweet comment or message telling you how much they looked forward to your videos, or absolutely hilarious comments people would leave under your posts.

But, with your own social media fame skyrocketing and Caroline’s still staying strong- she was right. They did judge you, they did get into your head.

And they weren’t dumb, you quickly realized. This sort of abstract group of people you called “they” and listened to, they knew something was happening.

There were three instances that caused the fans to guess you and Caroline were more than just friends.

—-

The girls decided to have another movie night, and all of you were laying lazily about the couches and the floor, Laila on live showing off her fabulous singing skills yet again, and you were sitting with KK on the couch.

You weren’t even that close to each other. Your thighs touched, sure, and she had her arm around her shoulder- but she kept it back, so it was more so on the back of the couch and not touching you. But, her comforting presence was there, and that was enough for you.

Someone had paused the movie a while ago, and it had turned more into a hangout session that was filled with obnoxious singing and laughter.

“I should probably go soon,” you muttered to KK.

“Why?” She frowned, pressing her leg into yours.

“I have a test tomorrow morning, I should go to bed soon.”

You still whispered to each other, even though the room was pretty loud.

“You sure you don’t wanna sleep over? I’ll drive you over in the morning.”

She was always trying to get you to sleep at her apartment. Or just be at her apartment in general- sometimes, you would hang out at their place while they had practice and make dinner for them, and KK would jokingly call you her wife and thank you for having dinner on the table.

You have to cross your legs when she wraps her arms around you and kisses your cheek, saying “thank you, my wonderful wife.”

“I wanna be in my own bed, K.”

She leans in, closer to you so her lips are ghosting over your ear. “My bed is your bed, baby.”

She leaves a kiss to the shell of your ear, pulling away with a small smile on her face and you can feel your cheeks heat. And she knows the reaction she has on you, and she’s very proud of it.

You smile. “I’m sorry, Caroline. Not tonight, okay?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, hand playing with the hair at the back of your head. You turn to her, amused smile on your face she can’t take her eyes away from.

“I am one thousand percent sure that I don’t want to go to your place tonight.”

“You’re no fun,” she teases.

“I’m plenty of fun,” you gasp, faking offense with a hand over your chest. She takes her arm off of your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna prove that? ‘Cause I don’t think I believe you.”

“I think I proved that Friday night.” You place your hand on her chest, fingertip drawing patterns on her collarbone. She visibly swallows. “You remember?”

“Fuck yeah I remember, but I still think you should show me again.”

“Fuck!” Laila suddenly shouts, and you whip around only to find her frantically clicking buttons on her phone before simply throwing it across the room.

The chatter stops. Ava, another girl on the team, picks the phone up from where it’s fallen by her feet and looks at it.

“Um, what was that for?” She asks, and you can see the live ended screen on Laila’s phone.

“I’m so sorry,” Laila says. “They heard you.”

Your eyes widen. “The thing about Friday night?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t listening to you, what the fuck were you even saying? I just looked at the comments and suddenly everyone was asking who KK was talking to, and like, ‘wow, KK is so hot.’”

Caroline rolls her eyes. “Okay, whatever. That could have been about anything.”

“Caroline,” you mutter. “It’s pretty obvious it was about sex.”

“Okay, shush,” Laila says, holding her hands out. “First of all, why are you doing that when we’re all in the room? Second, oh, my God I am so sorry.”

You sigh, cracking your knuckles. Caroline immediately grabs one of your hands. “It’s not your fault, Lai. It’s fine- I mean, if we ignore it then they’ll probably just stop talking about it. Right?”

“Probably,” Laila agrees. “They’ll forget about it tomorrow. Hopefully it doesn’t end up in the edits.”

You can’t help but laugh. If you don’t laugh, you might cry.

@/user-1 here’s the screen recording!! side note: i NEED to know who kk was talking to at the end.

> View 102 commets

user-2 wait what do they say at the end

user-3 @/user-2 basically kk and another girl are just flirting like crazy

user-4 @/user-3 they could still be friends

user-3 @/user-4 um no that was gay as hell

user-5 WHAT HAPPENED FRIDAY NIGHT KK PLS PICS OR IT DIDNT HAPPEN

user-6 @/user-5 EXACTLY

—-

Your voice felt a little scratchy, and you couldn’t stop coughing- you had been screaming so hard during the entire game that you’re sure you’re going to wake up without a voice tomorrow.

The Badgers just won the last game they needed to win- the qualifying game for the Frozen Four tournament. This was the third year in a row Caroline had gone to the championships, and by the way a huge dog pile had formed on the ice when the buzzer went off- everyone was just a little excited.

You waited as patiently as you could outside of the locker room, but you found yourself again fidgeting with your hands and walking back and forth. All you could think about was just kissing Caroline so hard you saw stars, and telling her how good she did.

You closed your eyes for a moment, finally leaning back against the wall as you thought back to the goal she had scored. Maybe it was weird, but there was honestly nothing sexier to you than watching Caroline in her element like that.

Hockey was where she shined, where she was her truest self- and not only was it exhilarating to watch her in general, but she also looked really good doing it.

The door finally creaked open and your cheeks burned from smiling too hard, all of the Badgers coming out of the locker room and running to great their own friends and family who had gathered outside. It took a second for her face to appear in the line of people exiting, she was laughing with Laila and a few other girls about something, she was smiling just as wide as you were and, God, she looked so pretty.

When she saw you, it wasn’t possible for her smile to get bigger, but her smile changed. Suddenly, you felt so loved just by the way she was looking at you.

You practically ran across the room, half jumping into her arms, pressing yourself as close to her as you could. You kissed her nose as you wrapped your arms around her neck, and her hands ran along down your arms to your shoulders, then down your sides to finally hold onto your hips.

“Holy shit,” she said, smiling, still kind of in disbelief.

“I am so, so, so fucking proud of you, baby.”

Her eyes search all across your face, almost like she’s taking in every inch of this moment. You know that she’s been looking forward to this moment since the buzzer went off- her weird pleasure is that she thinks you’re so hot when you’re supporting her- and she drinks in everything about you like she’s trapped in a dessert and you’re water.

She doesn’t need to say thank you, because the way she kisses you, hands squeezing your hips even closer to her, hard and unrelenting and depriving you of air but you can’t think about anything else when she gets like this with you, is more than enough.

She kisses you like she’s starved, and there’s nothing else you love more than this moment with her.

When she does finally pull away, panting slightly but still chuckling at the way you’re literally about to pass out from lack of air- that’s the one shitty thing about her endurance, you swear she’s gonna kill you with kisses- she presses her forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” she breathes. “Thank you. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

There’s a few tears in her eyes.

Laila suddenly appears next to the two of you, her 6’1 frame quite literally casting a shadow over the two of you and your happy moment.

“We’re having a moment, Laila,” KK groans, but she’s smiling so hard.

“Great, some rando is taking a video, though.”

“Fuck.”

> View 236 comments

user-1 IS THAT CAROLINE HARVEY? IS THAT CAROLINE HARVEY KISSING A GIRL??

user-2 kk harvey girl kisser confirmed… this is a win

user-3 KK HOW COULD U CHEAT ON ME

user-4 @/user-3 KK THE KIDS MISS UUUUU

user-5 ok but appreciation for the hand placement.

user-6 @/user-5 THE WAY SHES KISSING HER??? LIKE A WOMAN STARVED??? that’s a hozier kinda kiss bro

user-7 @/user-6 would do anything to be in that girls place rn

user-8 can’t tell very well from this angle but i think the other girl is wearing a harvey jersey!! how cute

user-9 ok but the way laila blocks the camera from seeing them… that’s my wifey right there

user-10 absolutely obsessed with the way kk covers the other girls face when they walk away

user-11 @/user-10 we love a protective gf

user-12 don’t mind me just watching this video for the hundredth time

user-13 okay am i going crazy or is that y/n l/n??

—-

“Ok, hi Live. Y/N, say hi to the live.”

“Hi guys!” You smiled at the camera, keeping your eyes fixed on the boiling pot of pasta you were currently stirring.

“What are you guys making?” Laila reads, before shoving the camera yet again in your face.

“Okay, calm down,” you scold, setting aside your spoon and grabbing her phone. “Don’t bother me while I’m dealing with dangerous liquids.”

“It’s water,” Laila deadpans.

“Boiling water.”

Laila rolls her eyes but doesn’t give a verbal response, so you just smile and switch the camera around.

“Okay so, as you can see we’ve got some pasta boiling and some veggies and chicken cut up, and then we’re gonna cook that, and like… yeah.”

You look back towards the comments, most of them asking for KK. You decide to be nice, looking around the apartment and finding that your girlfriend is nowhere to be found.

“Carolineeeee,” you call, stretching out her name. “The people want to see you!”

The door to her bedroom creaks open, and she walks out carrying a hoodie. “What?”

“Laila went live,” you explain, flipping the camera around. “Okay, smile! Give us a little wave!”

user-1 y/n is so mom core

KK gives you a bored look, but begrudgingly puts on a very fake smile and waves.

“Aww how cute! What’s the hoodie for?” You ask, turning the camera back around and doing a few poses for the camera, admiring yourself.

“You. You said you were cold, like, two seconds ago.”

“Oops. Yeah, I did.”

user-2 kk is such a sweetheart

user-3 kk who were you kissing in that video??

user-4 i’m 99% sure it was y/n

user-5 i don’t think so

user-4 nobody asked you

user-6 KK PLS ADDRESS THE VIDEO

You prop the camera down against a random glass of water someone left on the counter, catching the hoodie Caroline throws at you and quickly putting it on.

“Okay, fit check!” You do a little spin, watching KK smile at the way her last name looks on your back. “Hoodie is from Caroline, bottoms are from… Under Armor, and… yeah, I don’t know where these socks are from.”

A few people compliment you, but the chat is still mostly filled with people asking for KK- or asking about the video.

The video that thankfully hasn’t been connected to you yet… but still, your name has been mentioned as a culprit multiple times.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m not good enough for them, they only want you, KK.”

She smiles but joins you in front of the camera, her eyes catching on your pouty lips for a second before she looks at the camera, wrapping her arm around your waist and standing close to you.

Immediately, the comments flood with questions about the video.

The two of you very pointedly ignore them, and Caroline finally gets up to grab the phone, opening the cabinet above the stove and propping it up in there. You sit on the counter behind them, legs swinging in the air as Laila shows off her vegetable cutting skills before dumping them in a pan to cook.

KK leans right next to you on the counter, her shoulder touching your arm, she squints at the camera before placing her hand on your thigh. You look down for a quick second, seeing that was in fact KK’s hand very not-friendly placed on your thigh, whipping to her with your eyes wide.

“Caroline,” you whisper, trying to subtlety push her away from you.

“Relax,” she whispers back. “They can’t see. You’re still my girlfriend, I wanna touch you.”

You look away, hoping the camera doesn’t catch the heat in your cheeks or the way you smile.

“Y/N,” Laila says, reading yet again from the live. “Someone wants to know why you’re always at our place.”

“What kind of question is that?” KK asks with an amused smile while you laugh. She pinches your cheek with her free hand. “Who wouldn’t want to look at this face all day?”

“You certainly do,” you laugh. Caroline smiles up at you. You’ve long since decided her smiles are your favorite thing in the world, but every time she smiles at you- which is a lot- you still get that same feeling you get when she first kisses you at that game.

“Okay,” Laila says, acting nonchalant as she turns around. “Hello?” She says, so quietly you have to read her lips. “Tone it down?”

You suddenly realize what you said.

You swallow and suddenly find the ceiling very interesting.

Caroline squeezes your thigh to be comforting but doesn’t look at you. You really want her to look at you. You wonder, for just a second, if maybe it would be easier to just tell people.

Then you remember the comments.

You still get them sometimes, the random trolls who don’t think you’re pretty or worthy enough for KK, to be friends with the team in general- and they make you feel so fucking shitty about yourself that KK’s even caught you crying about them a few times.

You know it’s stupid.

You try to listen to her, to not let them bother you- but maybe you’re just not as tough as her. Or you’re stupid, weak, sensitive- they bother you. They cut you deep like a sharp knife.

You hop down from the counter, KK’s hand sliding off of you. “Gonna run to the bathroom,” you mutter.

You can feel Caroline’s eyes on your back as you walk away. And she does come find you, but she waits a minute. She does ask what’s wrong, and you say nothing and she knows you’re lying- so she asks Laila to end the live.

And even though they’re not there anymore, you still carry the fear of their judgement.

@/user-1 screen recording from the live!!! i love kk and y/n’s relationship so much <3

> View 97 comments

user-2 if y/n and kk are JUST friends i’ll pay everyone on this planet 100 dollars

> view comment thread

user-3 really?? idk i think they’re just friends

user-4 kk said “who wouldn’t want to stare at this face all day” and y/n said “you do” that’s gay…

user-5 kk literally got a hoodie for her when she mentioned she was cold and then when she came on camera she looked at y/n’s lips

user-3 i just don’t know if i see it tbh like i don’t see them together

user-5 they’re dating mark my words

—-

It’s been weeks since the video came out, since the clips of the lives started circling, since more and more people starting saying your name when discussing who KK was dating- since everyone pretty much knew she was dating someone now, the only question was who.

Thankfully, despite the initial week where your comments were filled with people asking who Caroline was dating- asking if it was you- it finally died down, and people had either forgotten it or gotten bored by the lack of response.

And, you had found comfort in your own account. There was the occasional hate comment- but you didn’t cry anymore. There were always people ready to defend you, and everyone was just genuinely so sweet to you. They wanted to know about your life, your routines, your outfits- and the KK content you provided was just an added bonus.

That’s what you’re doing, Friday night at 4pm. The Badgers had a home game today, and like most home games, you were going to watch from the stands, cheering on your girl and the rest of your friends.

You decided to go live, sitting on the floor in KK’s room in front of her floor length mirror, pulling out her desk chair next to you, placing a stack of books on it and propping your phone up against it.

It was kind of therapeutic, answering random question about yourself and the team while you got ready. You showed the camera each product you used, and then they watched as you put it on- a few people even managing to give you helpful tips. It made you feel kinda wanted, kinda loved, kinda…good.

The door opens, and you look over your shoulder to see Caroline walking in.

“Hi, K,” you greet.

“Hi,” she says back, kind of distracted, already rifling through her messy bedside table, then her dresser-

“Okay, what are you looking for?” You laugh, smiling.

“Hairtie.”

You roll your eyes. “Babe, they’re on your desk, remember?”

“Oh,” she mumbles, eyebrows raising as she suddenly remembers that, yes, she did put the ceramic jar full of hair ties on her desk last night. She grabs one, standing behind you and pulling her hair back into a somewhat lazy ponytail.

She crouches down behind you, putting her arms around your neck. She looks at you in the mirror, and you look back.

“Well?” You say, teasing her, looking for a thank you.

She smiles.

“Thank you, baby.” She kisses your cheek. “Always keeping me in check.”

Your phone suddenly buzzed about 20 times, and you look over to the desk chair, mouth dropping in horror as you realize you’re still on live.

Fuck.

You’re still on live.

“Shit!” You practically screech, grabbing your phone and panicking, hitting buttons randomly before opting to just close the app altogether. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Caroline is completely frozen behind you.

“Were you… just… on live?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, and suddenly tears are streaming down your face faster than you can stop them, and all you can do is watch your pretty makeup get slowly ruined. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, I- I don’t- I’m sorry.”

Her hands come to your shoulders and she fully sits down behind you, massaging your shoulders gently as she kisses the back of your head, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetheart.” Her lips move against your hair. “Baby, it’s okay.”

She doesn’t try to comfort you beyond that, just calling you baby and telling you it’s okay, even though you want to scream that it’s not. It’s not okay.

She just lets you cry. And you cry, you cry for what feels like twelve hours.

“Y/N,” she finally whispers.

“What?” You moan back, sniffling.

“What are you thinking right now?”

You scoff at the ridiculous question.

But, you can’t help but lean back into her. She wraps her arms around you, keeping your arms tucked to your sides, her legs outside of yours, touching you- you never feel safer than you do when you’re in her arms like this.

“I’m thinking I’m the worst girlfriend in the world, and-”

You’re cut off by another sob.

“I’m so sorry,” you say again, because all you can do right now is apologize. “Are you mad?”

“Am I mad? Baby, I’m fine. It’s completely fine. Maybe this wasn’t the most perfect, thought-out way to launch “us,” but it’s okay. I promise, I’m not mad. And I promise it’s going to be okay.”

“Caroline,” you groan.

“What, baby?” She asks, kissing your cheek.

“I don’t know. Why did we even do this in the first place?”

“You cried. Because of the hate comments. And I don’t want to see you cry. But that was so long ago, babe, now you’re really famous. I mean, you have, what, 5000 followers? That’s impressive. We… we were just so new back then, and I was scared that you would break up with me. It was me. I was scared. I told you, I just want you all to myself.”

“I wouldn’t break up with you over that.”

“Well, I know that now,” she smiles.

You finally manage to open your eyes, meeting her gaze in the reflection. You look like a mess.

“I don’t know how you manage to stay so pretty when you cry.”

You try to hide a laugh, but you can’t.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t get to control how we did it, but I’m not sorry that we kept it for hidden longer. It was time, babe- it was getting on my nerves. All the bugging me about who I was kissing after games… I was done with it. I love you, and this is nothing.”

“I love you,” you repeat.

“And this is nothing.”

“And this is nothing.”

“Honestly,” she starts, loosening her grip on you. “We made this into a big thing.”

“We did,” you chuckle. You glance at your phone, still readily receiving texts. The notifications you originally got were from your friends who were on the live, who had saw Caroline kiss your cheek and call you baby, and immediately freaked out and texted you, realizing you had forgotten you were on live. “Whatever. This is nothing. We’re together, everyone knows, it’s fine.”

“And if anyone has a problem with that, you have 5000 followers to attack them with.”

You roll your eyes. “I would argue your, what, 35 thousand is more impressive and effective?”

“Same difference. Wait, hold on, can I get your autograph? You’re literally my favorite celebrity, like, ever. I would die for you, I love you so much.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry- no more autographs today. My hand is cramping from writing so many,” you frown, flexing your hand dramatically.

“Can I get a kiss then?”

“Very weird thing to ask a celebrity, but… you’re hot, sure.”

@y/n she chose me she don’t want u 💋

> View 327 comments

user-1 most iconic way to announce a relationship ever i fear

kkharvey4 love u baby so glad ur all mine

user-2 @/kkharvey4 hey thanks for ripping my heart out of my chest… happy for u or whatever tho

user-3 GODDDD THEYRE SO CUTE IM DEAD

user-4 fuck she’s beautiful… can’t even be mad

user-5 ok but they ate… power couple fr…

user-6 this reminds me of the day kate martin hard launched. i need to mourn

user-7 bitch i fucking called it