#every little thing is upsetting me at the moment and this is no exception

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[upon-sunflower-trails]

tenna headcanons

sfw and nsfw relationship headcanons for tenna!

never doubt me because when i have a hyperfixation i don't PLAY

The sweetest to you, he will do just about anything to keep you happy. Giant bouquets of flowers, broadcasts dedicated to you, extravagant dates, the whole works

Makes sure everyone within a ten mile radius knows the two of you are an item. You're so so dear to him <3

Pet names for you consist of sweetheart, honey, sugar, and muffin. He goes overboard sometimes, and probably uses these nicknames more than your actual name

He gets veeery insecure, so he needs a lot of reassurance. Whether it be about himself or your relationship, he will constantly ask you for your favorite things about him, the reasons you're with him, if you would love him if he were a worm

Expect to play minigames with him constantly. He likes to take you on little game dates, where he leads your avatar around the beach and takes pictures of the two of you together

Anyone who asks about you will be subject to a six-page thesis in real time about how amazing you are and everything Tenna loves about you

When he's flustered, blush pops up on his screen and you can swear that you see him switch to static for a minute

He would be the one to confess first, no matter how worried he was that you would reject him

Even though Tenna is flashy, his confession of love would be incredibly personal. He would almost shrink a little as he admitted to his feelings, getting emotional as he accepted the fact that you would most likely reject him

He, of course, was overjoyed when you reciprocated. Returned to normal size as cheerful music blared, scooping you up in his arms and pressing kisses all over your face

He loves everything about you, and he thinks you're perfect. He has to sneak in at least one reference to you every time he's on-air

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

I see him as a switch; he prefers being a service top but he'll bottom when he's feeling particularly down on himself

When he's upset with his employees, dom all the way. Probably the kind of guy to bend you over his desk to blow off steam

To him, there's no better way to spend his night than with his face between your legs. Much prefers giving oral than fingering, in my very humble opinion

Will lightly toy with the idea of exhibitionism, in the way that he'd have you under his desk and sucking him off while in a meeting or something

Horrific praise kink. Please tell him how good he is, what a great job he's doing, how badly you needed him. He will increase his efforts by tenfold.

I headcanon that his antennas are super sensitive, which you likely either find out by accident or in the heat of the moment. He'll beg for you to touch them while you ride his face or fuck him

Vocal as hell (especially if you play with the antennas), he is practically incapable of staying quiet. He whimpers and moans when he's being more gentle or subbing, and lets out groans and hisses while pounding into you during his more dominant moments

Loooves to tease you, both with pet names in the moment and overstimulation. He can be unrelenting when he wants to be

Not big into pain (both giving and receiving), but will tug on your hair when particularly lost in blowing off steam

Lowkey has a breeding kink, even if he may never acknowledge it. Just can't get enough of filling you up.

Whether his comment to Mike about kids is true or not, if you are able (and want) to carry children, it'll become his newest fixation. The second you give him the go-ahead, yeah, he's creampie-ing you for weeks

He prefers to actually fuck you instead of just jacking off, but if he doesn't have any other options, he'll gladly pump himself to the thought of you while at his desk. Free hand covering his mouth while his monitor practically burns, whines of your name spilling from his lips

Size kink is basically a given with him. I mean, he towers over everybody, so you are of course no exception. Holding your much smaller hands over your head as he pins you against the wall to obliterate your insides is one of his guilty pleasures

hope you guys enjoyed reading :) tenna my beloved i hope i did you justice

[castielthinkr]

BE MY BABY

bob reynolds x fem!reader cw thunderbolts* new avengers spoilers, inspired by prompt 7 of this post, bob is an anxious mess, reader implied to be on the younger side of the team

bob reynolds has been avoiding you.

at first you thought he might have just been having some sort of anxious episode, avoiding the whole team, but you catch him sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with yelena, and know it's just you.

it hurts, in a way. the two of you had been close since the whole void incident, and not having him by your side is beginning to get to you. your heart hurts every time you see him - or, rather, don't see him.

things come to a head when you get cornered by bucky of all people. he’s noticed that things are tense, that you’re withdrawing into yourself.

“talk to me,” he says, sitting next to you out of nowhere. “talk to you?” “something’s wrong. talk to me.” you sigh. no matter how much you try to deflect, you know he won’t give up. you’ve seen the same thing happen with yelena (and john, of all people).

“bob’s avoiding me,” you mutter. “i know,” bucky says. you furrow your brows. “you know?” “it’s not exactly hard to see.” you sigh. again. “i don’t know what to do.” "i can't really help you, kiddo," he says, his voice a little quieter. almost guilty. you bristle at the nickname but don't try to correct him. he never lets up. "i know. s'okay."

except, it's not okay. now that bucky knows, yelena somehow knows, and john knows, and ava, and alexei, and pretty soon it's gotten back to bob that you're well aware that he's avoiding you and that you're upset about it and you're both freaking out.

he comes to you, one day, practically vibrating with anxious energy. you don't even realise he's there at first, having become accustomed to his evasion tactics. he notices.

he clears his throat, and you look up from where you're reading in a corner. in one of his usual spots, he realises. "i'm, uh... i'm sorry." you blink. sorry? "what?" "i'm sorry," he repeats. "yeah, no, i heard you. just... what?" bob sighs a little, fidgeting with his hands. "i'm sorry for avoiding you. it was immature."

you stay quiet for a moment, your brain needing to catch up. weeks of silence, and now this?

"okay... why did you do it?" you ask, not sure whether you actually want the answer. "it's stupid. you don't— you probably don't want to know—“ "bob." "yes?" "just tell me," you say, your voice a little softer now.

he sighs, squeezing his hands together and rubbing them against each other every which way. he murmurs something, and you don't quite catch it. he knows. he clears his throat again and speaks up.

"i have... feelings for you," he says quickly, almost quick enough that you don't catch it. "you... what?" you ask, not sure whether you heard him right. "i have feelings for you. like, romantic feelings. and i thought that avoiding you would make them go away but it hasn't--" "why did you want to make them go away?"

his head snaps up, nervous eyes meeting yours. "what?" "why did you want to make them go away?" you repeat, gentler this time. "'cause, i mean... i just thought..." "you thought i wouldn't feel the same?" you ask. he nods.

"okay, just... stop, for a second. stop everything," you instruct. he does. "i find it so insanely stupid that you think for one second that i'm not completely and utterly head over heels for your oblivious ass."

that makes him pause. "you... what? head over heels?" "yes!" you say, a little exasperated. "i have been since you appeared out of nowhere in that incinerator." "oh," he says quietly, "wow."

he sits next to you, rather ungracefully hitting the floor with a small oof. the two of you sit in silence for a while, revelling in your new discoveries.

"so," he says after a long moment of quiet, "completely and utterly head over heels, huh?" you swat his arm. "shut up. but yes." he leans his head on your shoulder, and your cheek comes to rest on the top of his head. "what does this mean?" he asks quietly, that nervous energy back in his voice again. "whatever you want it to mean. but i want something with you."

he lifts his head. "i want to do this right. take you out, and stuff. i know it might be hard with this... life we lead... but i want to try." "okay," you smile, "yeah. that sounds... that sounds really nice."

it only takes him three days to take you on a date. it's awkward, but it's so quintessentially bob that you don't mind.

bucky gets a full rundown from the two of you - separately - and groans, but internally, he's happy for you both, happy that someone in your little ragtag team is finding some enjoyment in life. finally.

[ego13]

LET ME IN YOUR OCEAN – YU JIMIN

now playing : chase atlantic - swim

SYNOPSIS : your mafia girl loves it too much when you bring her lunch to work (in fact, she doesn’t mind fucking you on her desk either.)

warnings : mafia!jimin, lesbian sex, service top!jimin, praise kink, hickeys, fingering sex in public places, pet names (princess, good girl, kitty).

pairing : yu jimin x fem!reader

you? oh, her favourite baby-girl, damn, jimin loves her girl too much, she loves to pamper you incredibly, because if this comes up in conversation, then yu does not hesitate to spend several million a day on her princess. expensive prada dresses, diamond necklaces and rings are what you literally swim in, bouquets of flowers, romantic dinners and then night walks in a black porsche with jimin - your daily routine, her hand on your thigh as you both silently drive through Seoul at night listening to your favorite playlist, during such moments it always seemed to you that there were only you two left in the world, and no one else

and if her girl wants it, jimin will buy the whole world for her, as long as it’s really just the two of you.

when you first saw her in the casino, you would never have thought that a cold-blooded member of the mafia could be such a gentle romantic, whose words always made your knees weak. one of the nicest things was that she was so close to you, she didn’t allow anyone to see her as tender except her princess, because you were the only one who truly deserved it. and the only downside of all this was the fact that she was often busy, although in a very interesting way she always made up for her guilt to you. a romantic dinner, another necklace and wonderful sex right against the wall in the hallway of your mansion is probably the best way for her to made it up.

waking up after another such evening, you realized that jimin was not next to him in bed, which made you slightly upset, after all, your desire to wake up in her arms, spending the whole morning sleepily hugging, alas, was cut short. you stretched, rubbing your eyes sleepily, reaching over to the bedside table and taking your phone off the charger, having unblocked it, the first thing you did was go into chat with yu, realizing that she didn’t even write about where and why it would be so early in the morning.

you : jiminnie? no good mornings? :(

you : i hope that you really have something important, because depriving me of morning hugs and breakfast in bed is a crime

just as you were about to get out of bed, several notifications came to your phone, and seeing the messages from yu, your face broke into a sleepy smile.

jim💘 : so sorry, princess, had to leave early, important meeting.

jim💘 : you know that i love you, princess?

jim💘 : i would never leave my precious girl without cuddles and kisses without reason.

jim💘 : i’ll be home in the evening, afterwards, expensive champagne and a delicious dinner, perhaps even a continuation in the bedroom, or in the kitchen, if I can’t restrain myself. i love u.

after reading the messages, you were mentally preparing for the upcoming evening, fuck, she knew exactly all your weak points, and knew where to hit so that you wouldn’t get angry. getting out of bed, you stretched again along the way, going into the kitchen, wanting to drink a glass of water, you noticed that you forgot to take lunch with you, which you carefully make every evening. a small pink lunchbox with hello kitty and a small love note is what jimin put in her black leather bag, and it made her heart beat faster every time.

you were a little upset, but you could put up with it, considering how flighty jimin can be sometimes, so you once again got excited about the idea of ​​going to her office to give lunch for her forgetful girlfriend. quickly getting dressed, you called the personal driver whom yu hired with the words 'my princess will not walk several kilometers on the asphalt every time with her beautiful legs so give me the most skilled driver'. the road was quite fast, and upon entering the large building, one of the bodyguards let you inside with a warm smile, personally escorting you to jimin's office.

knocking on the door several times, you opened it, seeing how she carefully rummages through documents in her damn sexy glasses, the way she looked made you turn into a waterfall every time you saw her. finally looking up from the papers, she smiled brightly, seeing her beloved girl.

"princess," getting up from the table, she took off her glasses and put them aside, she came closer to you, seeing a pink lunch box in your hands, "damn, I'm too forgetful and forgot my girl's lunch..." she awkwardly scratched the back of her head, taking it from your hands, placing it on the table, returning her gaze to you as her hands found their way to your hips, "you didn't have to drive halfway across town to see me, sweetheart, but I really fucking appreciate it, kitty..."

her lips carefully approached hers as your noses touched each other, finally pulling you into a slow and loving kiss, deepening the kiss, yu buried her head in the hair at the back of her head with one hand, and touched tour waist with the other hand. you hummed right into the kiss as she picked you up, moving her hands to her hips, and sat her on the table, settling between your legs. having stopped tormenting your lips, she lowered herself to your neck, while her free hand lifted your skirt, getting under your underwear, jimin began to slowly stimulate your clit, making circular movements, carefully watching your expression, searching for any hint of discomfort, “good girl... already so wet for me?"

your body kept shaking, and the thighs tried to close, but yu was standing between them, and did not allow this to happen. your hands fell on her shoulders, you pulled her closer, so close that ypu pressed herself against her, resting your head on her shoulder, her free hand nuzzled your thigh until her fingers finally slid inside you, causing you to let out a loud whine that was like honey to her ears, "just like that, you're doing so well, kitty, it feels like you were created for me to be inside you..."

yu's lips kissed your skin from your neck down, reaching the collarbones and leaving several purple marks there, again fell to her beloved neck, without ceasing to work with her fingers and feeling how your body began to tremble.

she felt with her fingers how the walls tightened around her fingers, enveloping and sucking, and in the next second a languid cry flew from your lips, which made her instinctively squeeze your waist tighter, not allowing you to fall off the table, on the contrary, helping you sit more comfortably, kissing your neck soothingly, enjoying the sight of the purple marks on your milky skin, "everything is fine, princess, my good girl..."

finally moving away from your neck, her hand combed the fallen strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling, she liked seeing you like this too much, all excited, trembling from orgasm, while your hair stuck to your forehead and barely visible drops of sweat flowed from your temple.

"you know, after such a “lunch”, I’m no longer as hungry as before your arrival, you can come to me more often, I’ll be all for it."

[kingkaisen]

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, and his friends always tease him about it.

Eren and his boys—Jean, Connie, and Armin—spent four days together in Miami, Florida. It was a much needed trip, and each of them wanted to focus solely on spending money, having fun, and meeting beautiful women.

Except Eren.

He enjoyed ziplining over pools, drinking at clubs, going to the beach, and eating nearly all of the complimentary hotel breakfast food with Connie by his side, who started stuffing fruits and cups of cereal—with no milk, as he forgot, of course—into his clothes once the staff told him breakfast would end in ten minutes.

Even so, as he sat in the hotel’s dining area that had a light aroma of stale coffee and sunscreen, he missed you desperately.

Armin, who sat down at the little table across from Eren with his muffin, fruit, and eggs, could tell that his best friend was upset by the way he stirred his own scrambled eggs around on his plate, but not actually eating them.

“Don’t worry,” Armin looked up at his friend after taking a sip of his orange juice—Armin loved hotel orange juice, and Eren hated it—and the blue-eyed boy flashed a reassuring smile. “We’re going home tomorrow, so you’ll get to see her soon.”

“Yeah,” Eren mumbled.

“Maybe you could FaceTime her before we leave for the day,” Armin suggested. After all, jet skiing and scuba diving were on the agenda, and he truly wanted Eren to enjoy it.

“I already talked to her twenty minutes ago,” Eren sighed, slouching back in his chair. “It only made me miss her even more. She has a new hairstyle and everything.”

“Eren,” Armin slowly chewed on a strawberry as he blinked. “It’s only been a few days.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eren pinched the bridge of his nose, and that’s when Connie and Jean joined them at their table.

“Guess what,” Connie grinned, placing two packed plates of food on the table. “They said we can sit here and eat as long as we want even after they stop serving breakfast, but we just can’t go back for seconds.”

“Connie grabbed every fucking thing he saw,” Jean frowned, grabbing a seat next to Armin.

“Hell yeah,” Connie picked up a grape, tossing it at Jean’s head. “So don’t be shy, grab whatever you want and eat up!”

“Don’t throw the grapes,” Armin said. “They’re delicious, so try not to waste them.”

“Loosen up, will you?” Jean frowned, breaking his hash brown into pieces before diving right in.

“I’ll loosen up once I know everything’s going according to plan,” Armin paused. “I mean, someone has to make sure we’re on schedule. It’s our last day here, so if we miss something, we won’t get another chance to do it.”

“The hell does that have to do with throwing grapes?” Connie said, earning a laugh from Jean.

Jean ruffled Armin’s blonde hair. “Don’t worry, we know you love the beach. We’re not gonna miss anything, alright? So just relax.”

“Right,” Armin smiled softly, “sorry.”

For a moment, everyone ate their food and engaged in somewhat polite chatter about today’s planned events.

“Alright, so we have our entire morning and afternoon planned,” Jean paused. “What are we doing tonight?”

Armin took that opportunity to bring the one silent member at their table into the conversation.

“Eren, is there anything you wanna do?”

“Yeah. Pack.”

And with that, Eren left the table, tossing his uneaten food in the garbage before heading back to the hotel room.

“Damn it, Connie,” Jean frowned. “I told you to let the guy bring his girlfriend.”

Connie tossed his arms up defensively, swallowing his food before he said, “go to Hell.”

—

As the day went on, Eren managed to have a bit of fun with his friends. Even so, as he swam with colorful fish and zoomed across the sea, a tingle of pain would shoot through his heart whenever he remembered that you weren’t with him, experiencing all of the bucket-list worthy adventures by his side.

As the group headed home in Jean’s SUV, Eren sat in the backseat besides Connie. He pressed his head against the foggy window, looking out at the orange streetlights passing by.

“Eren,” Connie fought back a laugh, pulling his phone out to record the pouting man. “Why are you acting like you’re in a R&B music video right now?”

“Shut up, Constance.” Eren effortlessly tossed his hand out and smacked Connie’s tattooed arm.

Connie quickly ended the recording.

“I’m gonna drop Eren off first,” Jean said, gripping the steering wheel as he made a left turn, “I really think he might die if he doesn’t get to Y/N soon.”

“Turn left again,” Armin said, directing Jean from the passenger seat. “But guys, leave him alone. Y/N’s lovely. None of us can understand what he’s going through because the three of us are single.”

“Thank you, Armin,” Eren said.

Eren folded his arms across his chest, continuing to sulk like a kid who just had their favorite toy taken away.

But, once Jean turned down a familiar street, the depressed man instantly perked up.

“You’re grinning like a toddler, dude,” Connie teased, but Eren ignored him, gripping the door handle tightly.

Jean tugged on his hat, slowing down as he pulled up in front of your home. However, before Jean could come to a complete stop, Eren started to jump out of the car.

“Eren! Be careful!” Armin warned as Jean slammed on the brakes. His warning was utterly useless, as Eren was already halfway through your front yard by the time the words fell from Armin’s lips.

“You forgot your bags!” Jean shouted, rolling down his window. “Didn’t shut my damn door, either.”

Suddenly, you opened your front door, having heard all of the commotion outside. And when you smiled, all of Eren’s friends could easily see why he was so in love with you.

Eren nearly knocked you over once he finally made it into your arms, a big smile spreading across that beautiful face of his. He showered your forehead and cheek with kisses as he inhaled your comforting scent.

“I missed you so much,” he said.

“I can tell,” you teased, hugging the tall man back. “I missed you too.”

He pulled away from the hug only to cup your face with his large hands. He kissed your lips softly, melting over the touch he had craved for days.

“I’m not going anywhere without you ever again. I don’t care if it’s the grocery store or to the living room,” Eren mumbled against your lips, and you giggled softly.

“Hey!” Jean suddenly honked his horn. “You’ve seen her, now come get your stuff!”

“In a minute,” Eren shouted back, flipping the driver off.

He just had to stare at that gorgeous face of yours for a few more minutes, and who could blame him? He was madly in love with you.

[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤ୨ৎ ｡｡ MAKE MY HEART MELT IN YOUR ARMS, BABY ────── 보이넥스트도어

𝑓emale 𝑟eader ⟡ 1874 words / fluff , established relationship ✶ skinship , kissing ! ( click for more ) — @kstrucknet & @k-films & @sgz-net

alternatively ───── when they pull you on their lap.

myung jaehyun.

you’re sitting on the couch, the room bathed in dim light, and a movie is playing. a movie you’ve both seen a hundred times, but you never seem to get tired of it. even though you know the entire plot by heart, with every scene memorized, you’re still so engrossed. jaehyun, however, had grown bored within the first five minutes, now fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, hoping you’d notice and do something to entertain him. but you’re too focused on the screen, completely unaware of his subtle signals.

any other night, jaehyun would’ve been able to get through the movie with ease. usually, you’d be cuddling him, or letting him rest his head on your lap while you played with his hair. but tonight, you’re on the other side of the couch, and jaehyun’s patience is running thin. he needs your attention, and he needs it now.

he scoots a little closer, but you don’t even glance at him. he scoots even closer, still no response from you. finally, he can’t take it anymore. with a small whine, he tugs at your shirt, making you finally turn to face him.

“what?” you ask casually, not yet realizing what he’s up to.

another tug at your shirt, more insistent this time. “jaehyun, what—”

before you can finish, he pulls you onto his lap, catching you completely off guard. you land on his lap with a surprised yelp, and before you can protest, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. he buries his face in your neck, nuzzling his face against your cheek. “this is better,” he mumbles, his lips brushing your skin as he places a few open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

it’s hard to argue with him when he’s holding you like this. so you just bite back a giggle, melting into his embrace and resting comfortably against your boyfriend’s chest.

park sungho.

you’re pacing back and forth around the room, rambling for what feels like forever, hands moving animatedly as you explain new ideas for a project you’re working on. sungho’s head is starting to pound from watching you move around like a damn pendulum, your energy practically buzzing in the air.

just when you pass by him again, he can't take it anymore. he reaches out, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap. his arms secure you in place, pulling you close, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, breathing softly against the skin of your neck. “you’re making me dizzy,” he mutters, his tone light but his hands gently resting on your hips, a calm anchor against your whirlwind energy.

you’re still talking, but now your voice is softer, less intense. his warm breath against your neck makes it hard to focus. you can feel your heart do a little flip in your chest as you try to concentrate, but it’s nearly impossible with sungho staring at you, looking up at you with those big doe eyes that are full of admiration and something else—a softness that makes your stomach flutter.

you can’t help but smile, the words slowing down as you realize how much you’ve been rambling, your heart racing a little faster under his steady gaze. “sungho,” you murmur, and his arms tighten around you slightly, as if he’s making sure you stay right where he wants you.

“i’m listening,” he says, his voice low and a little teasing, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness in it as he looks up at you with that lovesick expression. and for a moment, everything else fades away. nothing matters except for the way he’s looking at you, holding you in his arms, making you feel like you’re the only thing in the world worth focusing on.

lee riwoo.

you’re pouting, arms crossed as you tap your feet against the ground impatiently, clearly upset about something. maybe it’s something silly, like a text you didn’t get a reply to, or someone stealing your food that you were looking forward to eating. whatever it is, riwoo can’t help but notice the way your lips are puffed out. it’s cute, but it’s also driving him crazy.

"hey," he says softly, patting his thighs. "come here."

you glance at him, a little surprised by the sudden request, but before you can protest, he’s already reaching out and pulling you into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you in close. the warmth of his embrace sends a little shiver down your spine, but you’re still too focused on your pout to fully let go.

"riwoo," you mutter, trying to squirm away, your blush spreading quickly across your cheeks. "i’m fine. i don’t need you to—"

"shhh," he cuts you off gently, his hand coming to rest on your lower back, keeping you exactly where he wants you. "you’re fine right here, okay?"

“hey, let me go,” you say, but it’s half-hearted, because being this close to him feels nice.

“nah,” he says with a grin, his fingers lightly tapping on your side. “i think you like it. besides, you know i can’t stand it when you pout.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. he pulls you a little closer, making sure you stay exactly where he wants you. “now stop being all grumpy. i can’t handle it.”

you finally stop squirming, relaxing into him, and he just grins, clearly satisfied with himself. he playfully pinches your side, the mood light, and for the first time today, you forget whatever it was you were upset about.

han taesan.

you were mad at taesan for whatever reason—maybe he forgot to do a chore you asked him to, maybe he left the toilet seat up, or maybe he forgot to kiss you goodnight last night. it didn’t really matter. all taesan cared about right now was making it up to you. he’d do anything to get you to talk to him again.

he was sitting in his chair, working on the new album, but the ideas just weren’t coming. he didn’t even care about the damn song anymore; all he cared about was getting your attention. you were in the same room, doing mundane tasks here and there, but not once did you glance at him. he let out a frustrated sigh, fed up with your cold shoulder. the silence between you two was driving him crazy, and he couldn’t focus on anything else.

finally, he pushed back in his chair and leaned forward, grabbing your wrist with a gentle but firm tug, pulling you towards him. “taesan,” you gasped, caught off guard as he tugged you back, your knees hitting the chair before you ended up in his lap. your breath hitched at the sudden shift, and before you could even react, his hands locked around your waist, holding you firmly in place as if he wasn’t going to let you go anywhere.

“can’t believe you’re giving me the silent treatment,” he said with a pout, his lips brushing against your shoulder before resting his chin there. his eyes met yours, and with a small smirk, he asked, “you’re not mad at me anymore, right?”

how could you be?

kim leehan.

you were just finishing up the last touches of your makeup, standing in front of the mirror with a brush in hand, trying to apply just the right amount of blush. the room was quiet, only the soft hum of music in the background. you thought you were alone, but the door creaked open, and before you could turn around, you felt the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

a small smile tugged at your lips. leehan had a way of sneaking in unnoticed, always so sure of himself. you kept your focus on the mirror, pretending not to notice him at first.

but you could feel his eyes on you, tracing every movement. was he doing it on purpose or just caught up in how you looked? you couldn’t tell.

after a moment of silence, you glanced over your shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “are you just going to stand there and stare?” you teased.

he didn’t flinch, just grinned. “just admiring my pretty girl.”

before you could respond, he was already walking toward you, slow and sure, and within seconds, you found yourself being pulled into his lap. you gasped slightly, surprised by the sudden move, but your heart skipped a beat when his arms wrapped around you, pulling you snugly against his chest.

"leehan, what the hell—" you started, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then your temple, and then your jaw.

“you look so beautiful,” he murmured between each kiss, his lips lingering against your skin, making you shiver slightly at the softness of his touch.

you tried to pull away, but his hold on you was firm. "leehan, I’m trying to finish," you muttered, but the soft kisses he was placing along your neck had you melting into him, your resolve weakening with each one.

"you’re already perfect," he whispered, placing a kiss right beneath your ear. “no need to rush, I just need a little more of you.”

you rolled your eyes, though the playful smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. "you're ridiculous," you sighed before finally relaxing into him.

kim woonhak.

woonhak had been grumpy all day. ever since he came home from work, it had been one sigh after another, banging doors, and muttering under his breath. you decided to give him space, not wanting to push him further, especially when you weren't sure what had set him off. so you sat on the couch, reading your book, trying to stay out of his way.

but then, without warning, woonhak flopped down beside you on the couch, pulling you onto his lap with a low grumble. you were caught off guard, your book slipping from your hands as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. you instinctively squirmed, surprised by the sudden shift in his mood. he'd been in such a sour mood all day, and now here he was, acting like he couldn't get enough of you.

"hey," he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. "i think i need a little attention from my favorite person." you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way his voice softened, a stark contrast to his earlier grumpiness. his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close, and his lips brushed against your cheek in a light kiss.

you tried to shift, attempting to regain your personal space, but he just tightened his hold, pulling you further against him. "what are you doing?" you asked, voice half-amused, half-confused.

"shh," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "you know i can’t stand it when you're all distant. now, relax." you rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. there was no resisting him when he got like this—soft, warm, and just a little needy.

"fine," you mutter, rolling your eyes, but you can’t resist resting back against him, a smile tugging at your lips.

‎ ‎     • feedback 🗯 reblogs ───── highly appreciated ˆᗜˆ

tags ( boynextdoor ) @voikiraz , @coquettejunnie , @hanninova , @chaeneu , @aloe-7 , @en-dream

[miange1]

𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 — revenge covered as cope

tw: takes place in s2, male reader, cheating, pretend they aren't musty(PLEASE.), riding, power bottom reader, big dick rick, reader and rick secretly have feelings for each other, dirty talk(?), reader moans like a girl, prolly occ, pathetic rick, i love lori but i can't not write this

note: pausing requests to write about my king

the news honestly made him feel heavy. he tried to act as calmly as he could after, tried to shove off the betrayal. his wife sleeping with his best friend, just because of a misunderstanding. he felt like he couldn't be upset, but he had every right to be. didn't he?

at least, that's most definitely what you thought. you knew about lori and shane from the start. didn't know how to tell rick when you found out about him. but now, you needed to be there for him.

"rick?" you opened the flap of the tent, the sun starting to set and the sky starting to get dark. rick had been sitting there by himself, head in his hands and he looked deep in thought.

"rick," you said much softer, coming to sit by next to him. you groaned, sitting with him in silence for a moment. you nudged him a bit, a small smile on your face. "hey, smile a bit man. can't have you down in the dumps, ruins my mood."

he didn't even glance at you much, still clearly upset. you'd frown again, leaning back on your hands. you didn't know how to make him feel better, you only knew him from when he first walked into the camp at the woods. you were as close as you could get with him (which was much closer than you thought.)

"rick, i..i don't know what to tell you except im sorry." sorry for not telling him you knew of the little affair, sorry that he felt as if he needed to carry it all on his shoulders. this must have hurt, must have hit hard.

he didn't look up still, didn't talk. "come on, man dont– don't leave me while you're all silent." you came to kneel in front of him, taking notice of the irritated red edges at his eyes, bloodshot veins being visible at the whites of those eyes.

god, you felt terrible. rick was tough, real tough, but it didn't stop the fact he couldn't feel what he wanted. things crashed in on someone all at once sometimes, you get it.

"hey..look at me." you knew you were crossing a boundary, you knew full damn and well that this was crossing the line. but you couldn't help it, your friend was feeling terrible you couldn't just sit here and do nothing.

he looked up, his hand wiping at his face and a sniffle coming through. "i don't..i don't know what i'm 'sposed to do no more." he shook his head, your hand coming to his cheek and his clasping over yours. his hand was shaking, gripping at yours as if you were going to turn into dust.

"..'m tired, i didn't ask for any of this-" "i know, i know." you stepped a bit closer, sitting between his legs at this point.

it was messed up, both of you knew. but deep down, neither of you fully cared. a hand gripped at your waist, the other holding onto yours. your body bouncing up and down quickly, your hole sucking him in with each time your ass touched his hips.

it felt good, so fucking good. no one but you knew how much he needed this. "fuck– fuck, rick.." half of the group were heavy sleepers, but you tried to stay as quiet as you could just in case.

you felt so full with each time you came down onto him, his dick felt like it was taking up spaces in your stomach. his tip felt like it was popping last rings of muscles that had never been reached. you bit your lip harshly, then your mouth fell open in a silent moan. you had to cover his mouth, god was he one hell of a groaner.

"shit, you're gonna get us caught.." you leaned down, putting a soft yet harsh kiss to his lips. they were somehow smooth despite all this crap going down. the kiss broke, and his words came though. "i can't help it..not when you feel so good 'round me like this, so tight."

his voice just melted you, as every little movement of his did. the tighter squeezes to his hold on your waist, the twitches of his cock inside you, the tiny held back bucks of his hips trying to plunge as deep as he could inside.

"don't say it like that..damn it," you whimpered, fucking whimpered and it drove him crazy. his hips lost control, shooting upwards and your eyes widening. "fuck—!" your hands clasped over your mouth, but your movements didn't stop. you were too driven to keep going despite the urging burn at your hips and legs.

he didn't seem sorry about it one bit, a smirk tugging at his lips. he loved each and every sound, each high moan, and pathetic whimper you let out all for him. it made him forget, forget all about it.

forget about the betrayal, forget about the pregnancy, the secrets. he just needed you, so desperately.

there was a rustle, but neither of you heard it. far too caught up. there were footsteps, neither of you heard that either. there was the zip of the tent, then a voice that made your heads snap and turn, your movements stopping.

"rick? is everything okay?"

[tgrs10]

Patience | PEDRI GONZALEZ⁸ [005]

MASTERLIST (N/A)

⤑ 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩| 2,516

⤑ 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮| After a game, you and Pedri share a private and intimate moment in the empty locker room. (REQ)

⤑ 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | SMUT 18+!!! Public setting, unprotected sex, shower sex.

You were starting to think he’d take longer. The stadium had gone quiet some time ago, the chants, the camera shutters, the shrill whistle marking the final minute, all of it now softened into memory, hanging faintly in the air. The celebration had moved on. The crowd had emptied. What remained were echoes, the low murmur of distant voices, and the occasional scuff of a shoe against concrete somewhere inside the tunnel.

You sat on the empty player bench, arms loosely on top of your legs, phone resting untouched beside you. You weren’t upset. Not at all. Just a little tired. A little heavy from the buzz of adrenaline that wasn’t yours, the kind of stillness that only comes after a night too full of noise, lights, and emotion. Pedri was still on the field, still doing interviews, still smiling for the press, still being pulled in every direction except yours. But you learned that it came with being in a relationship with him.

This was part of almost a deal, and you understood that and loved him anyway. No bitterness, no resentment, just a quiet patience, steady and sure. A small ache behind your ribs, maybe, not from hurt, but from want. You hadn’t been able to give him his celebration hug before they pulled him aside for interviews.

You kept your eyes on Pedri as he stood on the field, finishing what had to be his fifth interview of the night. You expected him to move on to another one, just like he’d been doing this whole time. But to your surprise, he glanced your way. And instead of turning back to another reporter, he started walking toward you across the field, a small smile pulling at his lips. His hair was still damp, clinging slightly to his forehead from the post-match splash of water. His jersey stuck to his skin with perspiration, and his cleats pressed into the grass with that lazy, worn-out rhythm you knew so well. There was a looseness to his walk, the post-match kind, part exhaustion, part adrenaline still humming in his veins.

“Lo siento,” he said as he reached you, his voice low and hoarse from the interviews and shouting on the pitch. “They wouldn’t let me go.” You rose from the bench slowly, legs a little stiff, brushing your hands over your jeans out of habit. He was right in front of you now, damp hair still dripping a bit from his temples, jersey clinging to his frame, eyes searching yours with that quiet, familiar guilt.

“It’s okay,” you said, stepping into him without hesitation. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and his came around your shoulders like second nature. “You were incredible tonight.” You buried your face into his chest for a moment, breathing him in, sweat, grass, that faint sharp cologne he always wore on game days. “I’m proud of you. You did amazing’’ 

He held you a beat longer, his hand rubbing lightly along your back before he pulled away just enough to see your face. There was a quiet kind of softness in his eyes, like he was trying to say everything he hadn’t had the time to earlier. “Thank you,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead, gentle, full of things he didn’t have the words for. He looked down, a little sheepish, then flicked his gaze back up with a faint tilt of his head toward the tunnel. “Walk with me to the lockers?” His voice was gentler now, threaded with something almost shy, like even after everything, he still needed to ask.

You walked with him, leaving the quiet of the bench behind as your footsteps met the edge of the pitch. Your fingers brushed his for just a second, a silent kind of closeness that didn’t need much more. The air inside the tunnel was cooler, echoing with the hum of the stadium winding down. Lights flickered overhead, casting soft shadows as you walked. His cleats clicked rhythmically on the concrete, grounding the silence between you. When you reached the locker room doors, the spot where you usually stopped and waited while he showered and changed after games, he didn’t let go of your hand. “Come in,” he said softly, almost cautiously. “No one’s here.” You blinked, your steps faltering. “You’re sure?”

He nodded once, gaze steady. “Gone. I’m sure.” You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what he meant. You did. And it wasn’t the first time he’d asked. Usually, you said no. Not out of coldness, but out of fear, of being caught in a place you shouldn’t be in. But tonight something was different, maybe it was the way he looked at you, like he needed you closer. “Pedri…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, still unsure. He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, steady, familiar, and opened the door, his hand never leaving yours. “It’s just us,” he said. And this time, you gave in and believed him.

The space was dim and quiet, the kind of quiet that settles after everyone else has gone. The air held the tension of the match, thick with leftover adrenaline and locker-room heat, cleats were kicked off in corners, shirts slung over benches, and a few water bottles left behind like afterthoughts. It felt more personal than you'd imagined. Like stepping into something you were never meant to see, and being let in any way.

Pedri let go of your hand only to push the door shut behind you, the soft click echoing against tile like a line being drawn. He didn’t say anything just looked at you. Eyes shadowed in the low light, lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to rush it. You stood still, arms loosely crossed, not because you were unsure of him, it was never him, but because this space wasn’t yours. Pedri moved first as he peeled off his jersey top in one smooth motion, muscles shifting under skin still damp from the match. The sharp scent of sweat and grass clung to him, the heat of adrenaline still faint on his skin. You looked away without meaning to, the moment too full, too raw, and too late for him not to catch it. But he noticed, “You’re nervous,” he said gently, stepping closer. “But you don’t have to be. No one is going to walk in, trust me.” 

You let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh, and finally dropped your arms. “I’m not nervous,” you said, barely louder than the hum of the lights above. Your eyes lingered on the scattered cleats, the half-zipped bags, the pieces of a world that had never really been yours, until now. Pedri didn’t say anything right away. He just stepped closer, slow and certain, until the air between you was shared. His hand brushed your wrist, then curled around your waist with a kind of reverence, like he was still asking even now. And then he kissed you without any rush. It deepened easily, the kind of kiss that took its time, until your fingers found the hem of his shirt and his hands slid beneath yours like muscle memory.

Somewhere between breath and heat, he lifted you, just like that, and carried you across the quiet space. You didn’t say anything, just held on, the soft thud of his cleats on tile the only sound. He set you down gently by the showers, eyes on you the whole time, waiting. You paused, breath shallow, heart loud in your chest. This was still unfamiliar, not him, but the space, the echo of it all.

But when his hand found yours again, grounding and warm, you nodded. Slowly, piece by piece, the layers came off. Jerseys. Shorts. Every barrier undone with care. He turned the knob, and the water rushed to life, steam curling upward as he pulled you in with him, close, skin to skin, the quiet turning into something else entirely.

You stepped out of your shoes, peeling off your layers slowly, half in a daze, half in anticipation,  until there was nothing between you but the wet air and your pulse roaring in your ears. You crossed the threshold, stepping into the stream beside him, and the warmth hit you like a sigh. Steam wrapped around your bodies, and water slid down your spine in lazy rivulets.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he’d been holding his breath since the final whistle, waiting for this exact moment. Then he touched you, hands tentative at first, thumbs brushing softly against your hips, fingers trailing slow, reverent lines down your arms like he was rediscovering you piece by piece. The warmth of the water paled compared to the heat of his touch. You reached up without thinking, your palms pressing flat against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your hand, calm, certain, like he wasn’t nervous at all. But the second your mouth hovered close to his, his breath hitched. “I missed you,” you whispered, your lips brushing his like a secret. His answer was a low, broken sound, more breath than voice, and then he kissed you. Not rushed, not greedy, just deep and full, like he needed you to feel it in your bones.

And you did. Every nerve sparked to life as his hands slid down your waist, then lower, pulling you flush against him, warmth lingered in every breath between you. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet urgency, like he wanted everything but was still letting you set the pace, still holding back just enough for you to decide where this went. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, giving the slightest tug, and that was all it took to unravel the last thread of his restraint. He pressed you gently but firmly back against the cool tile, his mouth trailing from yours to your jaw, then lower, down the line of your neck to your collarbone, each kiss a spark catching fire under your skin. The soft sounds he drew from you only fed his hunger, made his hands grip tighter, made his mouth linger longer.

“I’ve wanted this all night,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick and unsteady. You couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. But you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your chest, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. The steam wrapped around you both like a second skin, heat clinging to every inch of bare flesh, blurring everything but the way his hands held you, the way his lips found you again and again. 

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, eyes searching. “Still okay?” he whispered. And though your breath came quick, your answer was steady. “Yes” you said, voice barely above a breath. “I want you.” That was all it took. His hand trailed down your side, deliberate, slow, until it curled under your thigh and hitched it up around his hip. The shift brought you even closer, chest to chest, heat pressed tight, slick and flushed and needy. You gasped softly, one arm winding around his neck, holding on as his hips rolled once testing, teasing.

The thick, wet slide of him between your thighs made your head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud. He groaned, the sound low and wrecked, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rocked against you again. “I can’t wait anymore,” he muttered, voice rough with restraint. “Please, mi amor… I need to be inside you.” You whimpered at the way he said it, all breath and ache, all please, like you were the only thing he needed in the world. And maybe you were. Right now, it felt like it. You guided him with trembling fingers, breath catching when the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. He paused, just for a second, just to look at you, and when you nodded again, he pushed in slowly, carefully, stretching you open inch by inch until you were full.

Until there was no space left between you, you clung to him as a moan slipped past your lips, and he gritted his teeth, trying to stay still, to give you time. But you couldn’t stop the roll of your hips. Couldn’t stop the way your body welcomed him, tight and hot around him, already fluttering. “You feel so good,” he breathed, voice almost a whisper. “Fuck… you’re perfect.”

He started to move then, slow, grinding thrusts that made you feel every single inch of him. He didn’t rush, didn’t slam into you. He devoured. Kissed your shoulder, sucked gently at the curve of your neck. His hand cupped your ass, adjusting your angle so he could hit deeper, better. And when he found that spot, your head fell forward against his chest with a strangled gasp. “Right there?” he asked, already doing it again. You nodded against his skin, unable to speak, legs shaking from the pressure building inside you. He was so deep, so thick, the stretch so overwhelming, every grind of his hips sending sparks up your spine. “I missed you,” you breathed, voice catching on the edge of a moan. He pressed closer, whispering into your hair, “Say it.” Your breath hitched. “I needed you.”

“Yeah?” he groaned, fucking you a little harder now, water slapping faintly against your skin. “You gonna come for me, baby?” Your answer was the arch of your back, the way your fingers dug into his shoulders, the whimper that spilled from your lips as the wave crested inside you. He felt it, the way you clenched around him, fluttering, gasping, coming hard and fast, eyes squeezed shut as it all rushed through you. He didn’t last much longer. Your walls still pulsing around him, your legs shaking, the sound of your moans echoing off the tiles, it was too much. He gripped your hips with both hands, pulling you tighter, hips stuttering as he spilled into you with a deep, guttural groan, forehead pressed to yours as he breathed through it.

Silence settled again, just the hiss of the water and the crash of your breathing, tangled together, still holding on. Pedri didn’t let you go. Even after he softened, even after his breathing slowed. His arms were around you, lips brushing your wet temple, whispering things you could barely catch. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.  You looked up, and he kissed you again, slow and sweet. No urgency now. Just warmth. Intimacy. The kind that lingered longer than any match, any press conference, any moment out there on the pitch. “Still scared?” he murmured, teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You just laughed softly and rolled your eyes at him, still breathless. 

[captain-huggy-bear]

Had an idea: Okay but Keller writing your initials on the tape of his stick and Sarah asks him about it. Not my favourite execution of it, not sure how I feel about it but here you go anyway. Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

He's not the biggest fan of doing media, he does it because he's captain and it's expected. The exception to the rule is mini-mic. Maybe he doesn't want to spend hours on it, but the questions are funny and he likes making jabs at the boys. It's the only reason he doesn't mind so much when Sarah catches him as he's getting his gear on for practice, mini mic in hand.

The first few questions are fun, hypotheticals, the sort of thing that Cools and Doaner would respond to be with 'King' or 'King's cats'. Nothing too deep or serious, stuff Clayton barely has to think about as he ties his skates.

"Clayton, one final question before I let you go, what do the letters on your tape job stand for? Is that reminder to do something or a sentimental thing?" Sarah pushes the mini mic back to him and Clayton can't help it really, can't help that way his smile grows even when having a mini mic and a camera shoved into his face....because the question is ultimately about you and he loves talking about you, almost as much as he loves you.

"These?" He's pulling his stick forward without being asked, showing off the 3 little letters on the tape of his stick near the top, showing it off to the camera like it's a trophy.

"Uh, my girlfriend's initials. She's my good luck charm so this way she's always with me." The way Sarah awws over him while he smiles down at the initials, a letter for each of your first, middle, and last names, has him turning beet red. Flushing brightly because he's the Captain and here he is gushing over having his girlfriend's initials on his stick.

It's Cooley who chimes in as he walks past with a towel around his neck, a wide grin as he pokes fun at Clayton, "Cause he's whipped!" Like Cooley can even talk. He can talk when he's not single as fuck and complaining about it every time he gets drunk.

"Hey, hey! You would be too if you were dating my girlfriend!" Clayton might be whipped, smitten, enamoured, infatuated. Whatever you want to call it, but he'll never be ashamed of it. Fuck, he loves you so much that it's actually scary sometimes. It doesn't matter that he's red in the face, that Sarah's grinning at him with the mini mic still picking up every word he says or that this is definitely going on the Utah Hockey Club tiktok later. All that matters is that he's not going to hide how he feels about his girl. Ever.

"He's got a fair point there, Cools." Kess throws his two cent in, shoving Cools out the way to get to his locker section.

"You saying you have the hots for the Captain's girl?" Cooley gets the biggest shit eating grin on his face at the way Kess flounders, face dropping in horror because shit, he's not trying to hit on his Captain's girlfriend, he doesn't want to die. He's seen how protective Clay gets of you and he doesn't want a hand around his throat (if Kells can reach him without a step ladder that is).

"No! No! Kells, i'd never-"

"Are you saying my girlfriend isn't hot?"

Kess literally freezes, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Not knowing which was the better option, saying Clayton's girlfriend was indeed hot in an effort not to offend, but upsetting Clayton anyway or saying that she wasn't and risk having the Captain still upset with him.

It's the way Clay laughs at him that has Michael nervously laughing back, shoulders relaxing a little, body unfreezing because of course...Kells is joking with him. Of course he's not serious...

Until he is. Until Clay's face drops into a glare, lips pursed tight and eyes narrowing on Kess like he's contemplating 1001 ways to dismantle him.

"But seriously, don't think about my girlfriend like that."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Whatever you say, boss!"

It's Sarah that breaks the moment, grinning at him still as she holds that mini mic in Clay's face because this might be the most entertainment she's had in a while. She loves working with the Utah boys, but this? This is something else.

"You were saying about your girlfriend?"

"Oh, um...y'know she's just good luck, y'know? First game she came to was a win, so I just...I feel better if she's with me on the road." Clay's hand reaches for the back of his neck, rubbing at it nervously. He's back to flushing red, a hand gripping the tape of his stick tightly, thumb unconsciously smoothing over your initials like he does with the back of your hand.

"Does she know her initials are on your stick? That you're such a soppy romantic?" Sarah's already thinking up at least 3 or 4 more video ideas for Clay on the topic especially as Valentine's day gets nearer and nearer.

"No and maybe? I guess she'll find out now though."

"Oh, she definitely will when this goes on the tiktok channel. 100k followers and she's one."

He groans even as he grins because he knows...God, he knows the internet is going to love this one but he can't find it in him to be ashamed or care that much. He's going to love you unashamedly even if that means the internet makes fun of him for it, especially because he knows he's definitely going to get a kiss out of it once you find out. Maybe 3, maybe even 5.

[revelboo]

More Transformers x Reader Headcanons

Various Transformers thoughts and nonsense

Soundwave/Blaster

• Cassette carriers can make a very specific crooning sort of purr that’s meant to soothe or coax unruly cassettes. Most of the time it’s not even a conscious thing. Which isn’t a problem except around humans. Because of our size, we can trigger that instinctive sound by accident if we’re upset. Even if the Cybertronian doesn’t even particularly like us or care for us at the time, leading to some… awkwardness.

Earthspark Soundwave

• “Silence,” he snarls, looming over you, big servos flexing in what you’d already figured out was an empty threat. Big and scary won’t actually hurt you, just threatening when you’re getting on his nerves. Aware of the cassettes watching the exchange, of Lazerbeak glaring at you in an attempt to telegraph how bad an idea it is, you know he’s right. But pushing Soundwave’s buttons is just too fun.

• “Or what? You can’t actually make me do anything, can you?” You just grin up at him. Insolent, little brat. Striding after you, he sees you glance back at him and the exact moment your attitude falters. Lunging for you as you scream and run. Aware of how undignified this is as his cassettes watch the drama. Seizing you as you kick and fight against him, he’s not sure what to do know. Just wants you to shut up. Not try to pick fights at every turn. “What are you doing? Are you purring?” The shaky question makes him freeze in horror. Realizing he is crooning at you like he would a cassette. Snarling, he releases you and you stumble away, staring up at him as Frenzy makes a strangled noise trying not to laugh. Because he didn’t just do that for a human. For you especially.

• They’re also very likely to try to carry a human around in their cassette compartment for safety, but also because they like having your warmth there. It can also be a way of ending an argument, picking you up and placing you inside like an errant cassette until you cool down, while crooning at you.

Body Language

• Cybertronians with wings/ door wings do unconsciously telegraph their emotions with them, but while wings lifted up is a sign of aggression in a Seeker, it’s a friendly or alert gesture in nonflyers. And can cause misunderstandings.

• Antenna can function much the same way and tend to be sensory appendages and, as such, very sensitive. The way they flick or move making them targets for curious humans. Touching a Cybertronian’s antenna because they’re cute comes across as an invitation to interface or can cause aggression. Or both.

TFP Shockwave

• Feet silent as you move closer to where his head is resting on his outstretched arm, you bend to check that his single optic is dim. Falling asleep at his desk while working isn’t exactly anything new, but staring up at the screen of alien gibberish, the graphs, and diagrams, you really wish you could make sense of it as you wrap your arms around yourself. Movement draws your attention back to him as his antenna flick in his recharge. You’d decided they look like bunny ears at some point, but haven’t dared to point that out to him. Doubt he’d be pleased to hear you call him cute.

• Shuddering as he comes awake to the feel of soft little hands playing with his antenna, his optic flares, arm shifting to flatten you against his head with a warning growl. Hears your little squeak of surprise as you grab onto his antenna for balance and his whole frame shivers. Can’t move, his cannon pressing against your back to pin you against him. Torn between the desire to encourage that touch and the urge to drop you and back away, because it feels too good.

Seekers

• When under extreme duress, Seekers will hiss, the noise typically accompanied by a whistling from their turbines that’s meant to call their trine for help.

• Seekers naturally gravitate toward forming trines and can be aggressive to outside trines, but several trines will band together against a common threat. In Everything is Alright, the elite trine is broken. True Romance is a better example of a healthy trine dynamic. In Everything is Alright’s universe, I’d intended to use the Rainmakers as an example of the normal dynamic, but made the True Romance alternate take instead. The drive to form trines in Seekers is so strong, they can also unconsciously form trines with non-Seekers if they’re around the other Cybertronians constantly, though they’re unlikely to admit to the mental association, finding it embarrassing.

Rainmakers

• There’s no such thing as alone time, not even resisting when an arm curls around you and drags you back into a warm frame. Shivering when your hair begins to float, and a mouth finds your throat. “Missed you,” Ion Storm murmurs, your skin prickling wherever he touches you. Even though it’s only been hours by your estimate since you last saw him. Hear Acid Storm make a low, rumbling noise of amusement from where he’s setting out energon cubes for them and food for you.

• About to walk by, Nova Storm reaches out to touch a stray strand of your staticky hair. Giving in to impulse and moving to pin you between him and Ion Storm, relaxing at the feel of your much cooler body against his own. “Fuel first,” Acid Storm growls without any real heat. Making a sound of acknowledgment, he cups your throat and tips your face up toward his, mouth brushing yours as you soften against him, relaxing into the heat of his touch. “I know you two can hear me.”

Mixed Signals

• Especially a problem with more aggressive Cybertronians- when arguing humans will sometimes just walk away to get some space to calm down. Unfortunately, that can come across as an invitation to follow with Decepticons in particular. A challenge. Continuing to ignore them or avoid them, upping their aggression and even seen as flirting or attempts to get their attention.

TFP Megatron

• “Where are you going?” That low, angry growl makes the hair at your nape prickle. He has a point though, trapped on his berth with the mass displaced mech, there’s nowhere to actually go. Except away from him right now, because you’re over arguing with him. Need to calm down and for him to just leave you alone for a minute. Which isn’t happening when you hear his heavy peds following you.

• Stalking after you as you ignore him, that aggression shifts and heats, becoming hunger. Catching your arm to force you to stop, you spin towards him, palm smacking against his face. “Don’t you dare, I’m angry with you.” Growling, he hauls you off your feet against him, chuckling when you slap him again and his spike stirs at your defiance. Wonders who you’re trying to convince, him or yourself as his mouth crashes down on yours.

• Decepticons and Autobots are often taken off guard when humans do something they think is cute. Yawning, sneezing, the way we get flustered are all fascinating to some of them, making them try to provoke reactions. Decepticons especially, have trouble dealing with humans being affectionate or sweet. Gently stroking their helm or curling up against them can be so unexpected they may gently bite in reprimand just because they don’t know how to respond.

• Humans tend to be tactile and want to touch everything. Cybertronians not used to this can be taken off guard when trying to offer a human a ride in their alt mode. Not realizing we’ll touch anything in reach, admiring them without understanding how sensitive their interiors are. These are surfaces that are never really handled. More of them will just tolerate the touch if it’s a familiar human, while others will forcibly eject them or snarl at them not to touch. Especially if the touch comes across as intimate.

Bluestreak

• Struggling to focus on the road as you run your fingers against his dash, shifting distractingly in his seat, a hand on his shifter, Bluestreak swallows a whine. “It’s so wild. I can’t believe the amount of detail you incorporated,” you say, a fingertip tracing a tooled leather seam to make him shudder all over. “Um, are you okay?” No. Not at all. And far too embarrassed to actually say anything because he’s not sure if he’d ask you to stop or beg you to keep touching him with those soft hands.

[suplicyy]

Hello!! Can you do tsukki, kuroo, akaashi, kenma, shirabu, suna, and atsumu with a fem reader gf who is an actor and she has to do kiss scenes sometimes and char gets jealous? Tyy!

Also ik this is a lot of characters so take your time :)

— Tags/Genre: Fluff | Fem!Reader | Timeskip

— Characters: Tsukishima, Kuroo, Kenma, Akaashi, Shirabu, Suna and Atsumu.

— Warnings: None!

╰┈➤ Tsukishima Kei

He's definitely one of the most rational on this list, and as much as he tries to look at this situation as normal, he can't help but feel his eyebrows furrow slightly at the idea.

Well, that's your job, and you're not going to stop loving him and he's not going to stop trusting you because of something that both actors are dealing with professionally.

But even if he doesn't show it (at least that's what he thinks), you know the man you have.

The eye roll when you mention what happened, the drumming of his fingers on the table, and also the short but dry answers he gives you.

He really doesn't want to act like this towards you, after all he loves you, but he really can't help but feel jealous.

And speaking of jealousy, he would NEVER declare it to you out loud, this man is is annoyingly proud until the end.

However, you know very well what he is feeling, since every time you mention the recordings of your current project, he always finds a reason to mock about your romantic partner in the series/film.💀

╰┈➤ Kuroo Tetsurou

Even though he is the more playful type with you, so to speak, he wouldn't mind too much if you had to do something like that.

All the moments you spent together, all the words of love exchanged, every gesture, every look, all of this is enough for Kuroo to know that you love him with all your heart, just as he also loves you very much. <3

So obviously he's going to make some sarcastic comments about how 'I'm definitely a better kisser than this guy' or something like that.

But he wouldn't be worried about things like "maybe she won't love me anymore", for him these are silly thoughts.

He trusts you completely, and knows that you always handle everything that happens on set in a professional manner.

I think you would be more worried about this kiss than Kuroo, so he's the one who has to assure you that he knows how much you love him!!

And even if he assures you that everything is fine, he won't refuse the many compensatory kisses you give to him...🤫

╰┈➤ Kenma Kozume

Kenma is really a calm guy, it's rare for him to lose his temper.

And even in a situation like that, I honestly see him continuing to be the same.😭

It's not that he doesn't mind you kissing another man, after all the first time you told him that, you saw his face contort into an irritated grimace.

But he knows it's just for the recording, so he'd just be a little jealous at first!!

I see him as someone who doesn't share much about his personal life as a streamer, but his subscribers definitely know that you are his girlfriend, after all you are a very famous person too.

So they wouldn't be surprised if, At the beginning of his live, out of nowhere, he announced a film that had just premiered just because you were in it.

"Well, the movie is already in theaters, so watch it! It's pretty cool... except for the kissing part..." he says pretending to be jealous, and then gives a small smile, while showing the movie poster in his hands to the camera.

╰┈➤ Akaashi Keiji

Definitely the calmest and most responsible on the list.😭

There's no way he would be jealous of you, because he knows you both love each other, he trusts you and knows he have nothing to worry about.

Just like Kuroo, you might be more worried about this situation than he is, thinking that it would upset him in some way.

And if you're nervous because it's your first time doing a movie scene like that, Akaashi would definitely calm you down and assure you that you'll do well in the filming!!

He sees how talented you are as an actress, and believes you are capable of completing any type of scene, even though they might make you a little worried.

But he will always be there to support you with whatever you need, comforting you with the sweetest words.

╰┈➤ Kenjiro Shirabu

He would be PISSED💀

I see him as someone who, when he's jealous or upset about something, can't hide it at all.

Whether it's his facial expressions, like a contortion of his face, and a slight pout appearing on his beautiful face... or in his own words.

"...Ew." That was the only comment he made when you showed him the photo of the person you were going to record with...

Even if he gets jealous about this whole situation, he would try not to think about it too much, otherwise he might just stay with a sullen face all day long.

But all you have to do is give him a few kisses and he'll melt right away and forget about it!!

If some of his friends (probably Goshiki and Tendou...😭) asked him if he was jealous of your kissing scene, teasing him, he would probably let another comment slip out.

"Why would I be jealous of someone who doesn't even know how to kiss well?"

╰┈➤ Suna Rintarou

When you talk to him about it, you can be sure that he would immediately pull out his cell phone to research the actor who will do the scene with you.

He didn't say this to you, but he did it in the hope of finding some controversy in which the person is involved, so he can show it to you...🧍‍♂️

Somehow, I see him as someone who is very much in the know about things that happen in the world of celebrities, the internet, etc.

So if he was a well-known actor, I think Suna would recognize him and other movies/series he was in and comment on it for you.

"He has the charisma equivalent to that of a door. Why did they put someone so boring in that role?"

I don't think he would be too jealous, but he is too clingy, so I think he would just cling to you all day while making fun of the situation.

╰┈➤ Atsumu Miya

If you told him that the world would be invaded by aliens and all of humanity would be exterminated, it would be less important for him than hearing that you were going to kiss someone other than him...

He acts in such a dramatic way, it's as if you're actually going to marry the person you're going to do the scene with.

"LET ME DO THE SCENE WITH YOU INSTEAD OF HIM!!" "Tsumu... you are not an actor..." "Huh, I guess now I'll have to give up my career as a volleyball player and become an actor..."

He's the kind of guy who when he's jealous, he crosses his arms while tapping his foot impatiently on the floor, rolling his eyes while huffing in annoyance, waiting for you to pay attention to him.

But despite that, of course he would watch your movie, after all, he wouldn't miss any work his beloved participated in!!

But when the kiss scene came on screen, he would do anything to grab the TV remote and skip that scene, swearing that this scene adds nothing to the film's purpose.😭

— A/N: I'm obsessed with Alien Stage and that's all I can think about...... You guys have no idea, this has completely changed my life (for the worse)😍🤩🥰🤩😍🤩😍

[raekensluver]

george and reader angst!!!!! george has to grovel for forgiveness because you now that boy is a people pleaser and would hate to piss anyone off mistakenly

masterlist | main masterlist

my babyyyy

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, miscommunication, emotional vulnerability, people-pleaser!george clarke

george clarke x fem!reader

he doesn’t know what exactly he did wrong. that’s the worst part. because you’re not yelling. not crying. you’re just quiet.

too quiet.

you won’t look at him when he calls your name the second time. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed with your phone in your hands, thumbs frozen mid-text like even that’s too much effort.

“can you just-” you say, voice sharp in a way that slices clean through him, “give me a minute, george.”

he stares. blinks like it’ll reset something. like this is a misunderstanding and all he has to do is ask the right question and you’ll laugh and shake your head and tell him he’s overthinking again.

but you don’t. you just breathe out. tired. like you’ve had to explain yourself too many times already.

“i didn’t mean to upset you,” he says finally, quietly, like it’s an apology even though he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for.

you still don’t look at him. “that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

he freezes.

“you didn’t mean to,” you say. “but you still did.”

and it lands. heavy. true.

he thinks back - replays the night in his head like cctv footage. the offhand joke he didn’t defend you from. the way he brushed off your expression because he was trying not to cause a scene. the way someone laughed at your expense, and he laughed too, because god forbid george clarke make someone uncomfortable.

except it was you.

it was always supposed to be you he protected first.

“i’m so sorry,” he says, finally stepping closer, hands flexing uselessly by his sides like he wants to reach for you but knows he doesn’t get to- not yet. “i wasn’t thinking. i didn’t mean to- i swear, i just thought-"

“you didn’t think,” you say, but it’s not cruel. it’s just...exhausted.

and that’s worse.

you press your palm to your eyes like you're trying not to cry. like you’ve already done that part and you’re trying to hold onto what’s left of your pride.

his chest twists painfully. “i should’ve said something. to him. i should’ve shut it down.”

you don’t answer.

“i didn’t- i didn’t want to make things awkward,” he says, voice cracking a little, “but i’d rather have every one in the room hate me than have you look at me like this.”

and you finally look up. his breath catches.

“you really hurt me, george.”

he nods. “i know. i hate that i did. i hate that i didn’t realize in the moment. and i don’t expect you to forgive me just because i’m sorry. but i am. so, so sorry.”

you stare at him for a long time. like you’re trying to believe it. like you want to.

he takes a step closer, voice quiet. “please don’t shut me out. let me fix this.”

a beat. then:

“don’t do it again,” you whisper.

his whole body sags like the breath’s been punched out of him. he nods, fast, desperate. “never. i swear. never again.”

you still look guarded. but you don’t move away when he kneels in front of you, hands gentle on your knees, eyes wide and wrecked with guilt.

and when you finally lean forward, pressing your forehead to his, he closes his eyes like it’s a blessing he didn’t think he deserved.

[moonchildreads]

don't you know what the night can do?

summary: you call for help in the middle of the night and eddie comes to your rescue

pairing: best friend!eddie x reader

tags/warnings: mdni. technically a college au? depression, abusive relationship (not eddie, he's a sweetie), talks of potential homelessness, no SA happens but eddie thinks it did for a second before it's cleared up (again, it does NOT happen, but since it could be triggering consider this your warning), hurt/comfort, happy ending!

wc: 2.8k

a/n: i was supposed to post this yesterday but upon rereading it i realised it was me trauma dumping so i rewrote a significant portion of this to make it into it's own thing. i hope it brings you as much comfort for you as it did for me, and if you are in a situation like reader is, please seek help. i believe in you and i am rooting for you 🖤

Now's the time when it's down to me and you Spread these wings, we'll be flying

It’s already late when the phone rings and he’s immediately shoving his feet into his sneakers, rushing out the door of his apartment and into his van. It’s even more late when he parks across the street and decides against waking your entire building up by ringing your doorbell. Hurriedly, he searches his glove box for that little spare key you gave him for emergencies - the one that has a big metal ring and a tiny plastic tab with your name on it. He lets himself in, the storm outside in the sky and inside your head getting worse and worse every second that ticks by.

Eddie finds you slumped against the small table where your phone rests, the receiver still in your hand, and he knows. He knows something terrible has happened and it doesn’t matter that he’s been anticipating it ever since you told him you’d begun dating that asshole classmate of yours because nothing could have prevented his heart from shattering the moment he sees you.

You’re a lifeless looking doll, devoid of any emotion and feeling. He’d fear you’re actually dead if he couldn’t see your chest rising and falling slowly.

“Sweetheart?” he says, lowering himself to where you’re sitting and trying not to spook you. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” you say, almost surprised when his eyes come into view. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, baby, of course I’m here,” he shuffles closer to you, but still doesn’t touch you.

Eddie swears he can still feel your arms around his neck sometimes, how your hands always used to find his, and how your legs would tangle on the couch all the time. You don’t like to be touched too much these days. He misses your warmth.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

“Cold.”

“You’re cold? Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“NO!”

Your voice rings loud in the quiet apartment, your eyes locking with his in a fiery yet terrified stare. What are you so afraid of? Eddie takes in your appearance and it’s clear that you’ve been crying, though he doesn’t really understand why. He peers into the hallway that leads to your bedroom, searching for answers though he finds none.

“I- I’m sorry… I made a mess,” you explain, deflating once more. “I was upset and the sheets, they… they’re not on the bed anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie says. “We can put them back on.”

You afford him a movement that barely registers as a nod and he thinks he hasn’t seen duller eyes in his entire life, except for when he used to look into the mirror when he was younger. You shouldn’t feel like that, not if he can help it. He raises up onto his knees, still keeping his distance but signaling that it’s time to get up.

“It’s late, sweetheart. Come on, you need to get some sleep.”

“Can… can I get a hug first? Please?” you whisper, your face contorting into a pitiful sight.

Eddie doesn't say anything before he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms shielding you from anything and everything that might be trying to hurt you. He lets you bury yourself into him, lets you crawl underneath his skin and bones, become a part of his very soul and he holds you tighter whenever you exhale another heavy breath.

He waits and waits with his ass turning into ice on the harsh linoleum floor of your kitchenette area, and he doesn’t let go before you do because you once read to him that you should always hug kids until they let go first and he still hasn’t forgotten about it. A booming thunder shakes your windows and Eddie feels as though the storm has moved inside your home. You are no longer a kid, but right now you remind him too much of himself when he first went to live with Wayne, and so he keeps holding you until you pull away first.

"I really needed that, thank you," you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. He takes it as a win anyways, because you haven’t smiled in a while and Eddie has always loved your smile.

"You can have as many hugs as you'd like, sweetheart. Why don't you go take a shower while I get your bed ready, huh? You can leave the door open if you want, I’ll be here."

You follow him into your hallway, eyes full of tears at his words. He might be the only person in the world that knows you better than you know yourself, and you don’t take that for granted. You take a hot shower and rub at your skin with your washcloth until it's raw and sensitive and cleansed, and when you come out wrapped in your fluffiest towel Eddie says nothing about the fact that when he walked into your bedroom, he could tell that you’d ripped your bed sheets off the mattress somewhere between a nervous fit and calling him in the middle of the night. There’s a new set, clean and smelling like your favorite fabric softener, and he’s laid out your most comfortable sleepwear at the end of your bed.

Eddie throws your used sheets into the washing machine and gets it started while you get changed, and when you're done you fish out a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt he left behind what feels like eons ago. He thanks you, almost surprised to see you have those clothes and it dawns on you that he doesn’t remember he gave them to you, because you haven't had one of the movie nights where he used to wear them in a while now. When you're both ready for bed, Eddie lifts your covers for you and tucks you in, laying next to you on top of the duvet.

"You can get in if you want," you say, and it's clear you want him to do it.

Eddie thinks he'll never be able to say no to you, so he gets in without you having to ask twice. You are quick to shift closer to him once he gets under the sheets and he takes the hint to put his arms around you, bringing your head to his shoulder and tangling his legs with yours. It’s been ages since he’s held you like this and he’s not going to start complaining about it now - not when you’re right back where you’ve always belonged.

"I have to move out by the end of the month," you mutter, starting to explain the night's events.

"That sucks. You’ve been house hunting yet?"

"No. I found out today and I was hoping Matt would help."

"And he didn't," Eddie says, knowingly.

"He didn't," you confirm. "I asked him to come over earlier because I was upset and he said he’d be here for dinner."

"You cooked?" he hums, petting the back of your head.

"Yeah. I made, uhm, lemon chicken? It wasn't very good."

You've always been a wonderful cook, at least in Eddie's eyes. You don't have a lot of recipes you can whip out from under your belt upon short notice, but the ones you do have are some of his favorites. The chocolate chip cookies he has to hide from Wayne, the chicken noodle soup you bring over when he’s sick, the banana pancakes that always went along with his scrambled eggs and bacon when he used to sleep over. You've never made lemon chicken for him, but you're good at following a cookbook so he thinks it mustn't have turned out inedible.

By now Eddie has learned that "it wasn't very good" means "Matt didn't like it". He doesn’t understand why that piece of shit is dating you if never likes anything you do. Hearing you repeat the things he says to make you feel bad makes your best friend want to dig through your fridge for the leftovers and eat them all just to prove to you that your boyfriend is wrong.

"I think I have to break up with Matt."

Your words make Eddie's head turn. Of all the things you could have said tonight, this was not something he ever imagined. He could have sworn you'd date Matt until he'd decided he'd had enough of you, or you'd marry him and he'd have to sit in the front row watching that fucking guy sap you of your life force for the rest of your days.

Eddie is haunted by the sound of your vacant voice when you'd asked him to come over. At the forefront of his mind he can see it all in loose pieces: the disarray in your bedroom, your obsession with being clean, Matt not being here after you said he’d come over earlier for dinner. He waits for you to paint a clear picture, hoping he won't have to break your boyfriend's nose (or worse) when he sees him around.

"Did he hurt you?" Eddie asks, heart sinking.

"I don't think he likes me anymore," you say, breaking down. Eddie shifts closer and holds you while you shiver. "He, um… he said I can't live with him if I can't find a place before I have to move out of here. A-and when I got upset because I don't want to be fucking homeless during my last semester, he- he tried to distract me with sex."

"What the fuck."

"I t-think he only came o-over ‘cause he wan- he wanted to get laid," you admit between hiccups. "And when he- he couldn't g-get it, he just left.”

"Sweetheart, fuck, I'm so sorry. He's such a fucking asshole," he lets you sob into his arms, the tears coming out of your tired eyes rivalring the downpour outside hitting your windows.

“He- he wouldn’t even hug me. I was crying and he just stood there! He doesn’t care about me being homeless, he- he doesn’t care about me at all!”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he says gently, and you want to believe he’s telling the truth but you don’t. You can’t.

“It’s not. It’s not okay,” you try to move away but he follows you, heart chasing after yours.

"What do you mean, baby?" he brushes a tear away from your face as you both sit up.

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong and I’m just… there’s nothing in here,” you say through your teeth while you grab at your shirt frantically, scaring him with the rough motion. "I feel so empty and I think- I know there's something really wrong with me, Eddie. Something has to be wrong. I’m not normal.”

"Hey, no, no, there's nothing wrong with you," he pulls you into him once more, not letting you run away from him again. "Sweetheart, I promise you, you're- you're not empty, what are you even saying? You're full - you're so full. You're full of love, a-and kindness, and if that son of a bitch is making you feel like you're not full then, I don’t know, dump his ass! He's mean and pathetic, please don't- don't break yourself into a million pieces for someone who doesn't deserve you."

"I don't feel full, Ed."

"That’s okay, we can work on it," Eddie says, confidently. "And I’m not gonna let you be homeless, I swear. You can move in with me until you feel ready to start house hunting!"

"What if I never feel better?"

"Then we’ll live together forever,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you know he means it.

"Ed-"

"Babe. I'm serious. One hundred percent. You can even have my bedroom, I don't care."

"And where are you gonna sleep, huh? Don't be stupid."

"Wayne slept in the living room for like a decade and he's still kicking, I'll survive."

You turn in his arms so you can look at him. Eddie looks back at you with his warm eyes and mischievous smile firmly planted on his face. He’s so special to you. And luckily for him, you've never been able to say no to him either.

"When is your lease over?" you ask, wiping your tears and feeling suddenly determined.

"Uh, after you graduate I think?"

"I’ll move in with you but don't renew it. Let's find a new place."

"Yeah?" Eddie grins. "You wanna be roommates? For real?"

"I think- I think it could be good for me," you raise your hands and squish his cheeks. I think you could be good for me. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you."

"Me too," he says, gaze softening.

He knows it's not your fault Matt has taken over your life, not when he's conditioned you for the past year to depend on him for everything. Eddie also knows he himself has been the source of many of your fights, and while it hurts to see you cry every time Matt gives you the silent treatment until you apologize for something you didn't do, your adamant refusal to cut your best friend off your life makes him incredibly proud of you.

As much as you've stood up for Eddie throughout your lives, you've never been good at standing up for yourself. He thinks it’s time he starts standing up for you too.

"You, um," Eddie starts, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away from his cheeks and onto his lap. "You really are gonna break up with him though, right? Because I don't think I can pretend like everything's cool with the guy when he keeps hurting you like this."

"No, I know. I can't keep going like this anymore. There's... there's so much stuff you don't even know, Ed. Sometimes he really scares me," you confess.

"He hasn't, like… hit you or anything, right?" his throat constricts.

"No, but he says things... weird things. He's so mean sometimes,” you huff, finally getting rightfully angry. “He got mad for no reason the other day and said that the only time he felt I loved him was when he got sick and I stayed with him during Spring Break. I spent an entire week taking care of him and then when he gave me the fucking plague, because of course I got it from him, Robin had to take care of me because he was sooo busy."

"He's such a goddamn loser, he totally held you hostage ‘cause you had plans that didn’t involve him for once. I knew he had a problem with us going to Steve's cabin, he’s never liked any of us!”

"Also he says I humiliate him in class because I think I'm smarter than him. Like it’s my fault his grades suck.”

"You are, though," Eddie says, grinning.

“Huh?”

"You are smarter than him. You have always been the smartest of us all."

"No, I’m not,” you scoff. “Nancy was valedictorian."

"Be real, you didn't want that shit anyway."

"No, I really didn't," you giggle softly. "I was too busy running around town with you and Jonathan.”

“Those were the good days,” he snorts. “We totally made Hopper age in dog years.”

After the laughter ends, you two look at each other and know that something has changed tonight. Something that was slowly veering off track got violently course-corrected, and you let yourself feel hopeful for the first time in a very long time.

You’ll go to sleep in Eddie’s arms and wake up to the smell of him frying bacon. You’ll whip your banana pancakes from thin air and you’ll start deciding together what you want to sell, what you’ll put in storage and what you’ll take with you once you move out of your place. You’ll talk about your finals coming up and Eddie’s new job, and he’ll do the dishes while you call Nancy, who’ll call Jonathan, who’ll shake Argyle up, who’ll call Eden, who’ll call and wake up Robin, who’ll yell at a sleepy Steve to get up, who’ll then call you to ask when they should be coming to help you lug all your stuff into Eddie’s van.

And Matt won’t call all weekend, because he doesn’t care about you, but you will never know that because you’ll be getting drunk at Robin and Steve’s while Eden tells you about a two bedroom apartment that a classmate of hers is vacating after graduation, and everyone else will make bets on how long it’s going to take for you and Eddie to notice that you won’t actually need two bedrooms.

But for now, with eyes that hurt from crying and limbs that feel heavy with a tiredness you’ve been carrying for months, you feel a little less empty because you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll always have Eddie by your side.

thank you for reading!

[itneverendshere]

little miss perfect - r.c (+18) - pool day for us

pairing: siren!reader x rafe warnigns: suggestive; sexual act;

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It’s been a rare, quiet day.

Rafe didn’t get that very often anymore, not with Ward breathing down his neck and his phone vibrating every two seconds with some bullshit from Barry, from Kelce, from the universe in general. 

Today, the gods showed mercy. 

The house is still, the sun is brutal, and the pool is cold and deep and only his. No voices, no drama.

For once, no one is clinging to him, especially not you.

He recalls dinner last week. 

How you sat next to him, even though there were four other chairs available. How your hand happened to land on his thigh when you reached for the salt. How you didn’t acknowledge it, kept talking like your palm wasn’t resting half an inch from the tent he had to will into silence.

That night, he dreamed about you, not romantically or some repressed fantasy wrapped in guilt. It was disgusting.

In that dream, you were under the table, with your hand right where it had been before—but instead of resting, it slid higher. He’d jolted awake, hard as fuck and pissed about it.

Ashamed and angry, mostly at himself, but also at you.

You crawled into his head as if you lived there; his brain was your summer vacation home. You ruined everything with a fucking look, including the pool and the dinners.

Then he hears it: the click of the side gate. He freezes.

No one enters through that gate. No one except—

“Oh my God, is the pool bigger now?” Your voice calls out, completely unwelcome.

No. No, no, no.

He doesn’t open his eyes at first, because if he doesn’t see you, maybe you aren’t real. Perhaps it’s a demon summoned by chlorine fumes and the last vestige of his patience. 

But then your feet pad across the concrete.

He opens his eyes, and there you are, looking like you just came up from hell on a string of lies and sunscreen. Hair up, bikini... barely a bikini, meant for a private beach in Ibiza rather than his backyard.

“Seriously, no one told me,” you go on, acting like you haven’t broken into his quiet moment on purpose. “I would’ve been here every day.”

You place your towel on a chair and extend your arms overhead, your body arching.

Rafe blinks in sheer disbelief.

“What are you doing here?” he asks finally.

He keeps the sunglasses on because he can't trust his face.

“I’m staying here, remember silly?” You chirp, standing up and approaching the pool's edge. "Ward said I could use the pool at any time.”

Rafe clamps his jaw.

Of course, Ward said that, of course, you have permission. Of course, the universe handed you the keys to every door he wants locked.

You step in without hesitation, one toe, then the entire leg, water lapping up your thigh, delighted to see you. You let out a fake gasp of surprise.

"Oh my god—it is cold," you chuckle, as if the pool hasn’t been the same temperature for the past three days. “That’s so crazy.”

Rafe watches you sink slow, putting on fucking show. Your shoulders dip beneath the surface, and the straps of your bikini barely hold on.

You wipe the water away from your face and beam at him.

You say "Hi," as if it’s cute.

Rafe scoffs, "I was here first.”

You swim closer. “Oh, I won’t bother you.”

That’s a big fat lie, and you both know it.

You stop at the shallow end, folding your arms over the ledge and resting your chin there, eyes dragging over him, bored and amused all at once.

“You’re really tan,” you comment. “It looks good.”

Rafe doesn’t respond, instead lifting his beer and taking a long sip, hoping it will drown his thoughts.

You then tip your head.

“Are you still upset with me?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever I did.” You shrug coyly. “Looking too pretty, sitting close.”

You’re quoting him—mocking him. That thing he said last week, when he lost his cool at Topper's and told you to "stop acting like a fucking succubus every time we are in public." You’d said “wow, Rafe, big words,” and then called him a virgin under your breath.

Rafe had lasted about ten minutes at that get together. Ten minutes of Topper and Kelce laughing too loudly, leaning in too close, and brushing your arm as if they didn’t expect Rafe to shove their faces-first into the table.

And you—god, you—allowed it to happen. Twirled your hair. Bit your straw. Allowed Topper to talk about jet skis and the surf season. 

Now here you are, in his pool, half-naked, glistening.

“You’re like a mosquito,” he mutters.

You grin. “I missed you, too.”

Then you push off the ledge and float toward him, serpentine, arms drifting lazily through the water. When you stop in front of him, far enough to not technically be in his space, Rafe feels his whole spine tense.

You lift one hand and flick a drop of water at him. He doesn’t react.

“C’mon,” you urge, pouting slightly. “Are you gonna be boring? On a day like this?”

He turns his head slightly. “I'm relaxing.”

“You can still relax. I’m very easy to ignore.”

You’re not, you’re like a fire alarm in a church.

You swim a slow circle around him, and he still doesn’t move, only tracking you like a shark. Then you come up behind him and splash water onto his shoulder.

“Oops,” You’re not sorry at all. “That was an accident.”

He turns around, sunglasses still on, and your reflection in them creates a perfect, smiling siren. You climb onto the pool ledge beside him, glowing, sitting down with a contented sigh, ankles still in the water, leaning back on your palms.

“I forgot how nice it is here,” you say dreamily. “So peaceful.”

Rafe’s hands are fists underwater. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do first—drown himself or you.

He isn’t going to look.

He wasn’t.

But you’re talking again—about what, he has no idea, something pointless and annoying like how your tan lines aren't even because someone made you sit in the shade at the beach yesterday. You do a stupid thing where your head falls back and leans too far into your hips, knowing your bikini doesn’t leave room for accidents.

Just like that, his resolve dies.

He looks. One second, okay, maybe two, sue him, he’s a man.

Your tits are ridiculous. All soft and high and plump, framed perfectly by that microscopic top you have no business wearing around other people. They bounce when you shift your weight, enough to punch the breath out of him. He looks away fast, his sunglasses his only defense now—maybe they can hide how his brain has short-circuited.

Worst case scenario: you noticed everything.

You reach your arms up to fix your hair mindlessly, the curve of your chest tightening against the strings of your bikini top, and he almost chokes.

“Fuck me,” Rafe hisses under his breath.

“Hm?” You prompt, all feign innocence.

"Nothing," he says abruptly.

But he’s sweating and not from the sun.

“You look warm. Want me to get you some ice?”

Rafe stares at you, deadpan.

“I think you’ve done enough, thanks.”

You shrug, sweet as sin, and flounce off toward the chairs, giving him a perfect view of your ass.

Five minutes.

Five fucking minutes of peace after you finally wandered off, probably to ruin some other piece of his afternoon. Rafe just started to feel his shoulders un-knot, face warming to the sun, letting the chlorine and silence rinse the memory of you from his system—

“Rafe?”

He doesn’t move, praying that if he doesn’t answer, you’ll combust like a vampire left out in daylight.

"Rafe," you call again, singing now. “Can you come here for a sec?”

He groans under his breath, eyes opening to glare at the sky. He turns, dragging his gaze toward the lounge chairs, and promptly forgets how to breathe.

You’re on your stomach, lying on a towel, sunglasses on, legs crossed casually in the air behind you. Your bikini top rests untied, hanging loose over your sides, bare skin stretched down your back, glinting with the sun.

“Are you serious?” He rolls his eyes, already fed up.

"I need sunscreen," you complain. "On my back. Obviously.”

“Get someone else do it.”

You smirk without moving your head. “No one’s home.”

“Too bad.”

You sigh dramatically. “Rafey. Come on. I’ll burn.”

“Good.”

“Rafe!"

“Hopefully.”

That earns a laugh from you—his least favorite sound in the world, because it means you're winning. Again.

“If I burn,” you warn lightly, “everyone’s gonna notice. They’ll ask who let me lay out like this. Shirtless. Unprotected.” You turn your head enough to aim a lethal grin at him. “They’ll blame the host.”

He can hear Ward's voice in his head right now. 

Rafe, how could you let her get a burn like that? For Christ’s sake. 

You’d play it up, too. Show up to dinner the next night in some backless sundress, wincing dramatically, telling his stepmom how bad the sting was. Flashing your sunburn at every cousin and in-law like a badge of neglect.

Oh, Rafe? No, he said he was too busy…

You’ll get him crucified.

You adjust your hips on the towel, giving him a new angle of suffering. 

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re delaying my protection. Tick-tock, sunshine.”

He swears one more time under his breath, standing like the act physically pains him, and it does. Every second closer to you feels like walking into a trap he knows is rigged, but his pride won’t let you think he’s backing down. 

He grabs the sunscreen bottle from the deck with a snarl, twisting the cap open as if it had insulted him personally.

“You’re lucky I don’t drown you with this shit.”

The scent hits him instantly—coconut and vanilla and whatever sickly-sweet stuff you always wear that makes his brain turn sideways.

“Ooh. Romantic.”

“Shut up.”

You’re still grinning when he kneels beside you, squeezing the lotion into his palm, trying not to look. Failing. Because your back is soft, and the second his hand makes contact, you shiver.

Once his palm slides over your shoulder blades, you sigh. Not a normal sigh nor a human sound, something fucking suggestive, a whispery hum that goes straight to his swimming trucks.

“Can you get a little lower?” 

He moves his hand accordingly, smearing sunscreen down your spine with clinical efficiency. He needs to think straight and act like he’s performing surgery — a surgery that requires him to fight the urge to look at your ass every two seconds.

You let out another noise; that one sounds like a proper moan.

Rafe’s hand stops its ministrations.

"Swear to God," he pinches your skin. “I’ll drop you in the pool.”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m enjoying the service?”

He presses his fingers harder, not enough to hurt, but to shut you up for half a second. You wiggle a little in response, and the towel moves along; your top slips further to the sides.

“Stop it,” he snaps, yanking his hands away. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

You peek up at him from over your sunglasses. “Doing what?”

“That noise. Those noises. What's wrong with you?”

“I’m being appreciative.”

“You sound like you’re faking an orgasm.”

“Aw,” you coo, tilting your head to look at him from over your shoulder, lashes low, mouth curved into something cruel and pretty. “You’d know what that sounds like?”

For a moment, the only thing he can do is stare at you, sprawled out, top loose, glistening with lotion and sin, the human equivalent of a nightmare in a hot pink bikini.

Rafe’s blue eyes are flat, mouth parted in stunned offense. You might as well have kicked him in the balls and then asked if he likes it.

“I wasn’t moaning,” You continue to bait him, blinking innocently. “Do you think I sound like that when I moan?”

He makes a sound as if he bit his tongue through.

“Shut up.”

He’s crouched there like an idiot, caught in the blast radius of your bullshit, hands useless at his sides while you wink at him like you haven’t just hit him with the most backhanded insult of the decade.

“Well?”

You giggle again — that laugh — and Rafe wants to throw something.

Preferably you. Into the pool. Off the roof.

But instead, he paces a few feet away, arms rigid at his sides. His heart is jackhammering, not that he’ll admit it. Not that he can do anything except replay the words in his head like a personal torture loop.

Here you are, lying in his backyard like a trap designed by Satan and Victoria’s Secret, tits barely contained, lethal, and acting like he’s the one being inappropriate.

“Next time,” he grinds out, voice sharp with the effort of restraint, “Use a spray bottle.”

He came out here with good intentions — sunbathe, maybe a swim, no yelling — and now he’s dangerously close to snapping a pool chair in half.

You act scandalized, “But that’s so impersonal.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re being so dramatic right now.”

Rafe whips around to glare at you, aiming a threatening, sunscreen-coated finger at you.

“I hope you get sun poisoning someday.”

“I’ll send you pictures.”

You sit up then, spine arching, towel falling with a whisper of fabric, bikini top falling off. One hand clutches the middle, while the other flutters to your chest like a prim southern belle, as if that makes things better.

It makes it worse. 

“Thanks, Rafey,” you say sweetly, after you spent the last five straight minutes emotionally waterboarding him. Then you lean in and kiss his cheek as usual —sugary lips just shy of the corner of his mouth — while your fingers fumble to keep your top from slipping.

Rafe goes still, actually, stiller than still.

It’s like he’s been shot between the eyes and is waiting to drop.

“Stop kissing me."

You pull back. “Just saying thank you.”

His eyes drop to your chest and snap back up, the glance burning him more than the high IV.

“I should be institutionalized for putting up with you.”

You flash teeth, delighted.

“You say that, but you still rubbed sunscreen all over my back like a good boy.”

He glares, half-crazed.

“You’re lucky I didn’t write ‘Satan was here’ with it.”

“Why? Something’s wrong?”

Your legs stretch and your sunglasses slip down your nose, and that smile keeps reappearing like a loaded weapon. You're the embodiment of a fever dream, or a head injury.

Rafe scrubs both hands through his hair, borderline manic.

You’re a wide-eyed Bambi. “What is it? I didn’t even flash you.”

“Yeah, yet.”

“Would that be so bad?”

He makes a strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a scream. His hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I need you to stand up,” he says through gritted teeth. “Right now.”

“Why?” You giggle again. That sound. That fucking sound.

He steps back like you’re radioactive. 

“You’re done,” he declares. “You’re getting a t-shirt. You’re banned from the sun.”

“Rafe!”

“Sunscreen privilege revoked. You can burn.”

“But—”

“I hope you burn,” he snaps, already storming toward the house. “Blister. Peel. Suffer.”

You call after him, “You missed a spot on my lower back!”

He doesn’t turn around. If he does, he’ll kill you.

Rafe — poor, pissed-off, and painfully hard Rafe — is already halfway inside, planning how many cold showers it’s going to take to forget the way your bikini barely stayed up. He’s one step away from putting his own head through the drywall to knock the memory of your voice out of his skull.

He slams the sliding glass door shut behind him, muttering, genuinely unwell.

“Fucking bitch.”

You are the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

That night, after dinner, he’s in the shower, water pelting down his back, and he’s braced against the tile wall, head bowed, chest heaving. His other hand is busy, and he hates that, too.

He squeezes harder, hissing in the process.

All he sees is the smirk on your face when you kissed his cheek, still clutching your top, pretending to be the picture of perfect modesty after flashing him. He pictures the exact slope of your back, the way the sunscreen made you shine, how you fucking moaned to drive him insane.

His head hits the tile with a dull thud.

“Fuck. Fuck you.”

Not even an insult, a desperate wish.

Because in his mind, you're there with him, dainty hands on his shoulders, body against his, voice in his ear whispering all those cruel, perfect things. 

He strokes faster.

It's pathetic, shameful. And still, he can’t stop. He’s jerking off in the fucking shower like a teenager, hand furious, because you batted your lashes and said “Thank you.”

His breath stutters.

He imagines your legs wrapped around him, head thrown back, that look in your eyes —inviting. The way you’d giggle right after to ruin it. The way you’d whisper something so mean he'd want to muzzle you with his mouth.

He’s close.

Hand pumping, every muscle tense with it. The water’s freezing now, and he doesn't feel it. His eyes are shut tight, but in his head, you’re there—smiling that evil smile, licking the taste of him off your lips.

He comes with a ragged groan, forehead still pressed to the wall.

Water runs down his face, and he drags a hand through his hair, already mad at himself for every second of it.

He hates you. He hates you. But he’d do it again.

And he did so, for the next hour.

[rainyorca]

You know I love you girl 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, hurt, comfort, established relationship, smut, pnv, cunnilings.

Words: 2,029

Notes: Probably my last short one until I finish my long form one. Anyways, I am all about soft kenji so pls enjoy <33.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

Sometimes, not so often, you and Kenji will get into these little disagreements, simple fights in other words. And sometimes, neither of you will apologize, you’ll both go to sleep angry, backs facing each other rather than holding each other. You both need your space after fights, a little time to really sit and think, and then you’ll apologize or he’ll apologize and things will be back to normal. 

But recently, you got upset about something that started this whole problem. You can put up with Kenji’s life as a celebrity, him taking pictures with fans and doing the whole sports celebrity thing but him being gone all the time bothers you a bit. You were fine with it before but something about it just really grinds your gears now. You don't say anything about it at first, that is until he tells you a specific time he's coming home, and then he comes home hours later without saying a word. The first time it happened you brushed it off, he apologized, explained what happened and that was that. 

However, around the fourth time, you explained to him why it was making you upset, and asked him why he kept forgetting to let you know. Kenji isn't a cheater, you know that very well, he would never do anything like that to you but you just can't help but wonder what he's up to.

“I don't understand why it's so hard to at least send me a text,” you say, your tone firm but voice rather soft. You never yell, rarely ever raise your voice, Kenji is the same way except sometimes he can get a little carried away. “I just dont see the problem, you have my location,” he points out, the tone of his voice makes you nearly lose it. You two had been going at it for thirty minutes now and you were about fed up, tired of his excuses. “It doesn't matter that I have your location,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s still important that you tell me you're gonna be a little late, if you just sent me a text, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.” Some harsh words were said from the both of you, the argument about his absence turning into a fight about a plethora of other things. Eventually you gave up, frustrated and upset, eyes stinging with tears, you decided to go to bed a little earlier that night. 

About an hour later, you're still awake, staring at the dark ceiling. You left the curtains open to let some cool light from the city and moon pour in. The familiar click of the door opening could be heard throughout the silent room, you turn around, back facing the door to avoid any contact. Kenji stands in the doorway, shirtless, the scent of his body wash rushes into the room, sea salt and cedar. He stares at your backside covered by the silk blankets, a pang of guilt stabs him in the heart. You hear the door close softly, squeezing your eyes shut to pretend you're asleep as he gets in bed with you. His eyes linger on your face for a while.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, sitting up right in the bed, “I’ve seen you asleep thousands of times and I know your face doesn't look anything like that.” His words make you sigh, opening your tired eyes slowly, glaring at him. He feels bad, you can tell just by the way he's staring down at you. “Look, I'm sorry,” he finally says, “I know I should text you when I'm gonna be longer, and honestly I get a little tired of being out all the time.” 

“I wish I could be here with you every moment of the day and night,” he continues, reaching under the blanket and grabbing one of your hands, “and I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean any of it.” He places a gentle kiss on your palm, his lips soft against your skin. You think for a moment, appreciating the fact that he's apologizing even if it's an hour later. “I'm sorry too,” you say softly, voice muffled, “I just wish I could spend more time with you.” 

“I know,” he hums, “I do too.” You stare at each other for a minute in silence before Kenji suddenly pulls the blanket down lower on your body. A smile graces his face when he sees you wearing one of his shirts, he toys with the fabric momentarily before gently pushing you onto your back. Before you can say anything he crawls on top of you, pressing his lips onto your forehead before grabbing your waist and scooting you up further on your pillow a bit. Kenji was rather skilled with his hands, and his silence. He was practically fluent in touches, enough to make you forget the events of what happened earlier. His lips travel to your neck as his hands explore your somewhat exposed body, running them up through the shirt and then down to your bare thighs. His breath gentle against your supple neck, nipping and kissing at your wonderful skin. He pulls away, trailing kisses down to where the shirt starts and then he sits up, nestling himself between your legs and placing gentle, mellow kisses on your legs. It's not long before he reaches your thighs, giving them the same treatment he had the rest of your body. He places his hands on your thighs, holding your legs open and rubbing your skin with his thumbs. 

His lithe fingers curl under your panties suddenly, moving them to the side. It catches you off guard, so naturally you flinch, looking down at him with glossed over eyes. “Relax,” he breathes, his breath fanning over your already soaked cunt, “I just wanna make it up to you.” You watch him open his mouth slowly, sticking his tongue out and pressing it against your clit. The feeling makes you twitch and you lay your head on the pillow with a quiet whimper. You feel him wrap his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking and licking softly. He was without a doubt, so excellently skilled at this, you would mark it as another language he was fluent in. Surrounded by your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin and leaving red marks with his short nails, his mouth working at your core. Everything about this moment had you on edge. His tongue eventually slips into your cunt, keeping a reasonable pace as he watches you writhe simply because of his mouth. 

He gasps into your cunt, pulling away briefly before burying his head between your legs again. His eyes closed, determined expression written all over his slicked face. At this point, hungrily, rolling your hips into his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so often. He reaches up, pressing a hand on your stomach. “Stop moving, love,” he breathes, pulling away from your weeping cunt, “let me take care of you.” Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling on his black locks when his mouth meets your cunt again. 

“Kenji,” you breathe, your head moving side to side on the satin pillow. The familiar heat pools in your stomach, threatening to release in an intense orgasm, but the feeling is pulled away from you along with Kenji’s mouth. “I know, I know,” he says softly when you let out a noise of protest, “I’ll let you feel it in a minute.” You watch him tug his sweats off, along with his boxers. He grabs his cock with a large hand, angling so his flushed tip rubs against your dripping entrance. He leans down, his lips graze over your neck. You tilt your head up, sucking in a breath when you feel him slide into you. “Fuck,” he sighs, a grin appearing on his sculpted face, “it’s been so long.” His breathing is shaky as he slides deeper into you, filling you to the brim until his tip nuzzles just perfectly against your sweet spot. He stretches you out pleasantly, your plush walls already tightening around him. You see his adam's apple bob with a swallow, his eyes trained on your face, focused on your contorted expression of pleasure. A whimper slips off your tongue as he pulls out slowly before pressing back in. Your eyes close as he continues to thrust into you, mouth open in a silent moan. 

With every slow, deep thrust of his hips, stars blur your vision, eyes watering as he fucks the tears out of you. “Ken–” you whine, breathless and quiet, each stroke practically taking your breath away. “I wanna hear you, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse but gentle. Another deep thrust, hitting your sweet spot perfectly makes you cry out, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. The feeling of your nails makes goosebumps rise on his skin, knowing that you're gonna leave marks for him to see in the morning. He smiles, completely drunk on the feeling of your warm cunt, a quiet chuckle, barely audible, heard from his filthy lips. 

“Even when im gone,” he groans, fucking into you with a bit of a quicker pace now, but not too fast, “when im busy, you know I still think about you. You’re always on my mind.” The sound of his groans fills the room, mixed with your soft moans. “You feel so good,” he grunts, his hips connecting to yours before pulling back slowly, “seriously, all I think about is you and this perfect cunt that I’ve missed so much.” 

His soft, wet lips graze yours, making you open your lidded eyes. “Kiss me,” he says, firmly, “please, hm?” His little hum makes you lose your mind, you love it when he does that. You cup his face, pulling him down just a bit until your lips finally connect. He moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside by force almost. Your back arches, thighs tighten as he continues to repeatedly hit that sweet spot in you. 

The heat pools inside you again, your moans and ragged breathing picking up in volume, his thrusts still continuing at the same, even pace. “Kenji—ah—fuck, Kenji—!” You mewl, throwing your head back, parting from the heated kiss with him. “Gonna cum for me?” He says, dirty but still in that same gentle tone, “hm?” 

“Y-Yes,” you gasp out, “ah, yes.” He smiles again, your whiny pleads sending shivers down his spine as the pleasure climbs up yours. Your plush walls tighten around him like a vice as your climax builds up in you. “Good girl, cum for me” he whispers, his lips trailing up the line of your jaw. It’s almost as if those simple words were the signal for you, because seconds later your peak crests and you cum all over his cock. You cry out for him, desperately arching your back and scratching lines into his with your nails. He continues to thrust into you, drawing out your orgasm as your tears fall just as they had before. At this point, you're too blinded by your orgasm and his cock to even tell if he’s cumming himself.  

Your whole body shudders as you come to rest back on the bed, the silk sheets sticking to your sweaty skin. He sits up, staring at your fucked out state. Your chest rises slowly as you attempt to chase your breath, your eyes shut tightly, mouth open and brows furrowed. Both your arms sprawled out about your head, twitching as you came down from your release. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, still watching your face for any change. He gets up, leaving the room momentarily before returning with a towel, carefully and gently, he removes your panties and cleans you up before cleaning himself up. He gets you a new pair of panties before snuggling back into bed with you, pulling you into his arms tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling him in even tighter.  

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼