#finally getting back to my song prompts!

[akirakirxaa]

14. Rubbing your partner's back until they fall asleep

Slams hand down on the WoL x Emet button

This is a continuation drabble based on my fic Unwound because now I have the brainworms. The fic can be found here. More info in the tags.

Akira lay on her stomach, face pressed into her pillow as if trying to hide from the decision she had made with full faculties, with no drink to blame. She could hear the voices of everyone she cared about asking her what was she thinking? And yet, she didn't want to take it back. She just more wished the situation was different. That she wasn't who she was and he wasn't who he was.

"A bit late for second thoughts don't you think, Hero?" Emet-Selch's hand ran up and down her back, fingers lightly tracing along each obsidian scale. If she could just get rid of this guilt, it would probably lull her to sleep. She lifted one arm and pressed her index finger over his mouth, still not looking up.

"Stop talking," she grumbled into her pillow, and she felt him pull away from her.

"Well, if you want me to go-" Her hand snapped to his wrist without her full permission, as if now that she'd admitted to herself that she wanted him she was going to keep him right where she wanted him. He resumed his ministrations with a small huff of laughter, so quiet she almost missed it.

"I'm getting mixed signals, Hero."

"So am I." The noise he made was louder this time, a scoff of protest.

"I have been very clear-"

"Not from you." He was quiet for several moments and she sighed, knowing he was waiting for her to explain. Even though she knew he knew. He had to know, right? She pointed at her still hidden face as her explanation.

"Ah. You're still not sure what it is you want." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"No. Just not sure I should want it." Akira curled her arms under the pillow, the soft material giving under her horns. She could feel some threads catching but she'd long since gotten past feeling bad over every pillow her horns ruined. He gave a long suffering sigh and, before she could protest, hauled her by arm and leg over him until she draped across his torso, her head nestled into the crook between his neck and shoulder. The tip of one horn was not even an ilm from his throat, but if it bothered him he didn't show it.

"What're you doing?" she asked cautiously, still tense at the sudden movement.

"You don't want me to leave, so I was planning on getting some sleep if you don't mind," the words sounded irritated, but his hand had resumed its gentle rubbing of her back, not put off in the least by the body she still regarded at times as strange and unfamiliar. She wondered if he was trying to lull her into a false sense of security. As if he could read her mind, he let out another sigh.

"I'm not going to kill you in the night," he insisted. "I said I wanted cooperation and I meant it."

"Somehow I don't think this is what you originally meant."

"Besides," he continued, as if he didn't hear her. "You deserve to know when your death is coming for you." Akira was quiet for several long moments. What a strange compliment, but it did feel like one. Still uncertain, she leaned on her Echo senses. They were never wrong, and while in the midst of battle she might miss their signs, when it was quiet and she was still, she could hear them clearly.

Nothing. No looming danger. He was telling the truth. She was still loath to sleep while someone she knew for a fact would prefer her dead or at least gone was still in her bed, but asking him to leave felt even worse. She swallowed hard, then tried to relax, finding it somehow far too easy now that she'd established even with her preternatural danger senses that she was safe.

"Emet-Selch?"

"Hm?"

"Goodnight," she mumbled quietly, feeling her face heat just slightly as she adjusted just a little, just enough to assure herself she wasn't going to accidentally stab him with her horn in the night.

"Sweet dreams, Hero," he replied, and she could hear the slight smile in his voice, the softness that crept in occasionally when his guard fell ever so slightly.

Akira closed her eyes, letting her lose herself in the small circles he was now rubbing into her back, and as she was drifting off she could hear him humming something. It was just this side of familiar, like something she'd heard long ago, something she'd forgotten. But she was too far gone now.

Sleep claimed her, dragging her under to gentle touches and quiet songs sung by her enemy.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Singer! Phantom x Red Hood!Jason

Laws are easily changed if businessmen smell money.

Paulina and Sam suggest Danny to try to become a singer in order to change society's opinion about ghosts a little. In the end, the otherworldly sound of his voice can at least be used for the benefit of Realms.

And it seems like the Everlasting Trio is really liked by the public. At first they just release a few songs (Exams kill, Battle with myself, What an Autopsy Won't Show, Among the stars). But a mysterious atmosphere mixed with understandable teenage problems begins to take over teens playlists. Their fans want more and more.

So, when under the pressure of the public and profit-hungry bigwigs all bans on the presence of ecto creatures in the United States are lifted, the Trio goes on their first Tour.

~~~~~

Jason stumbles upon Phantom's songs completely by accident. It was painful to hear them for the first time but at the same time it was as if he could breathe again because he had found someone similar. Someone who understands, and who doesn't judge him for coming back wrong. Jason listens to his voice on repeat and the rage seems to recede and subside. There is sadness of loss and fear in the songs but most of them end bringing some hope and this thought gives Red Hood more strength not to break down for another day. and then another, and another..And one day, the green eyes in the mirror do not scare Jason but shows him that he belonging to something more. Todd can't explain it more precisely, but it was as if the waters of Lazarus inside him had calmed down and he was no longer enemies with them. He even jokes with Tim that he is finally rest in peace and ready to live a full undead life when his brother (God, his lil brother whom he wanted to hurt recently because of his own stupidity), asks him about his strange behavior.

~~~~~

Jason forgets how to breathe again. His favorite band, and most importantly his favorite vocalist, is coming to Gotham with a concert. For many years now, none of the nonresidents have dared to take such a risk, but it seems like Phantom has absolutely no instinct for self-preservation. Well, as a true fan, Red Hood will do his best so that none of the gothamites spoil the Trio's impression of their first concert here. Danny is beside himself with excitement. Their concert in the hometown of the Red Hood was approved. Of course, there is no chance that he would be able to meet such a busy vigilante but Phantom continues to dream. If he'll fly a little over the city instead of sleeping after rehearsals, maybe he'll get an autograph from at least one member of the bat clan.

~~~~~ Phantom: Thank you very much Mr. Nightwing sir. Just sign it for.. Nightwing: For a Phantom, right? Huh, I recognized you, my brother has poster in his room. Nice hairstyle by the way. Danny*urgently*: Which one of them?

Nightwing: Jeez, and I thought it was just a stage image. Ghosts are kinda creepy. Terribly persistent, to be precise. And yeah, Jason, he absolutely not against you as a vigilante. You can safely ask Phantom to sign your helmet, I promise. Man was so happy when find out you're listening to his songs, you have no idea.

Jason *holds out a hand*. Nightwing: What? Jason: If you dared to meet Phantom before me, then where is my autograph? Nightwing: Em..oops? I gave him mine if it helps.

Jason: *sounds of an angry lazarus demon*.

[oncillabrigade]

Consider:

The Bats all have personalized ring tones for one another, but everyone has both a civilian and a Bat ring tone. The civilian ones are chaos, with everyone choosing whatever they want for their various family members and friends. BUT! Everyone has a single Bat tone that all other team members use for them.

The catch? Bruce forbid them from choosing their own Bat ring tones because he proposed this plan back in Dick's Robin days and he IMMEDIATELY picked "Toxic." The choice was not well received.

Bruce: Dick, I will not be alerted to the fact that you're in danger by some Britney Spears song.

Dick: First of all, it is not some Britney song, it is the Britney song. That song finally won her a Grammy.

Bruce: *sighs*

Dick: Second of all, it won't tell you when I'm in danger... it'll tell you when Robin is.

Bruce:

Bruce: I'm taking the Walkman out of the Robin kit.

Dick: *offended gasp*

(Yes, Dick is old enough for a Walkman. No, you will not change my mind. Yes, the Tim-and-on siblings all find that hilarious. Yes, Jason has to be VERY careful not to mention that he borrowed that Walkman for years because he was uncomfortable taking expensive electronics out and about with him.)

Anyway!

Dick then proposes a slew of other songs for the whole team to use, all of which are pop culture references, e.g. the Scrubs theme because they're not Superman and also they're a dysfunctional family of coworkers; the theme from the Godfather because "let's be honest, B, we are basically our own mafia"; "Where is My Mind" by the Pixies because lol identity shenanigans, etc. The list is endless. Bruce spends weeks groaning every time his son texts him.

Eventually, they compromise on the version of "The Entertainer" from The Sting because they're hiding in plain sight to enact a mission defending good people in a hard world. Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all so pleased with this that they each take a different section of the song as their ring tone.

Then Barbara becomes Batgirl, so she gets a section... and then Jason becomes Robin and gets one, too... and then Tim, then Steph, and then Cass is taken in, and... uh oh. That's a lot of people for one song.

But it's family tradition! They can't stop now. That would be so unfair to the new kids, B!

So they start using alternate arrangements of the song. Bruce has mellowed slightly on the "no choosing your own" thing. As long as it's a version of "The Entertainer" (within reason) he'll allow it.

Tim retroactively changes his ring tone to a weird groove-ska arrangement Bart randomly sent him on YouTube because have you met Tim Drake? Of course he went for hilarious obscurity. (Bruce grits his teeth and approves it after lots of prompting from Dick and Alfred). Steph makes it her mission to find a weirder one (Bruce agrees because he's too tired to deal with accusations of favoritism).

Cass creates her own arrangement on theremin because apparently she knows how to play the theremin. No one is sure why. Upon inquiry, she just says, "spooky noises are fun," but does not elaborate further even when she's asked to do so. A Batgirl's gotta have her secrets—Babs taught her that.

When Jason starts working with his family again, he pays an aspiring music producer within Red Hood's ranks to create a minor key remix of the original Robin II ring tone. His siblings (minus Cass) are VERY jealous he has his own personalized arrangement. Dick, Tim, and Steph end up paying this goon who owns Garage Band to do ones for them, too. Duke does the same when he joins the team.

Meanwhile, in a fit of little brotherly pique, Damian steals Tim's original ring tone. He hopes to rub salt in the Robin replacement wounds. He fails! Tim finds it beyond funny that Damian's ring tone is groove-ska. So Damian quietly pays the amateur producer to make him one that's cooler than Tim's. He pays a ludicrous amount, though, because Steph paid for one cooler than Jason's and Tim paid for one cooler than Steph's.

(Dick wanted one cooler than Jason's too, but he had $63.02 in his bank account at the time and Bruce flat out refused to use the Batbudget on "a super cool ring tone that's better than Jay's." Eventually, Dick just paid himself for an averagely cool one. In installments.)

At this point, the Bats have single-handedly given this fledgling producer enough money to quit being a goon and start an indie music studio. His first customers are mostly superheroes from out of town who like what the Bats have going on and want their own team ring tones. Harley and Ivy get in on that action, too.

Then, as word spreads, every local crook/henchperson with a side band (there are many) flocks to the studio to have their stuff produced by one of their own. Gotham rogues suddenly have an unemployment problem, while the city finds itself with a flourishing indie music scene that puts Metropolis' to shame. The entire state of New Jersey is celebrating the dual victory.

Dick has never been so glad someone doesn't like Britney Spears' magnum opus.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Toji won't tell you he loves you, even when it's so painfully obvious.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Slight Angst

*The prologue is here🥹

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji has never felt more alive before. Toji’s known love before, but not like this. It isn’t sweet or comforting… Thrilling, yeah, he’d say it’s thrilling. He feels like a dumb teenager again, but he loves the feeling.

You’re sitting next to him in the car, singing along to the song on the radio as he drives you home. He has a hand on the wheel, the other caressing your thigh. It’s a little late, but your night is just getting started.

“Your singing is awful.” Toji tells you as he parks in front of your apartment complex. He turns down the song still, wanting to hear your voice better even when he claims it’s bad– That’s how he knows something is wrong with him. Toji would tell you to shut up if you were anybody else.

He turns off the car when the song is over, and you whine because he’s ruined your fun. You quickly get over it when he opens your car door, offering his hand, which you take to prompt yourself out of the vehicle. Your arm enlaces with his before you begin the short walk back to your place. 

“Your dad told me to make sure you get home safe, so no funny business.” Toji says, and you roll your eyes at him. He’s the one that breaks the rule first each and every time, it’s annoying to hear him say that even when he’s clearly joking.

“Step-dad.” You correct him, though you know it goes in one ear and out the other. He’ll make the same mistake over and over again. “Since when do you listen to him?”

“Since he promoted me.” Toji responds, which earns a chuckle from you. That’s fair enough. He lets go of your arm, choosing to rest his hand on your lower back until you’re finally at your door. 

“Alright, see ya.” You open the door and enter the place without even looking back at Toji. You’re shutting the door, but his hand stops it. His arm wraps around your waist and he brings you back to him.

“That’s not a proper goodbye.” He says, and there’s a smirk on your face. He’s not going to leave so easily, but you aren’t going to let him have his way so quickly. You’re convinced it’s the reason why Toji always comes back at your doorstep, seeking more. 

Since the very beginning, you both agreed that you didn’t want something that required commitment. It started off as something casual, but slowly your relationship has evolved. It’s come to the point where you call him your boyfriend to others– Though, when someone asks about your relationship status, you tell them you’re single. 

“No funny business, Mr. Fushiguro.” You remind him, and you feel his grip tighten. You can’t keep up the act for too long, quickly melting with his touch. He knows the effect he has on you, and you have to put up a fight at the very least to put off the illusion that you’re wrapped around his finger. 

“Since when do you listen to me?” He asks, and you hold your breath. You bite down your lip before slowly turning to look at him.

“You wanted me to take you more seriously this week, and I’m doing what you told me.” You’re fighting back on smiling right at his face. You’re right, you had a minor argument earlier in the week because you ‘treat everything he says as a joke’. He purses his lips together, thinking of his next words. “Do you have an issue with my attitude?”

Instead of answering, he chooses to pick you up from the floor, throwing you over his shoulder before walking inside. He shuts the door behind him and idles in your living room. Should he throw you on the couch or take you straight to the bedroom?

“Put me down, Toji!” You yell, hitting his back with your fist. It causes no pain or discomfort to him, so he’ll ignore you. On the contrary, your fist hurts from making contact with his back. “Toji! Put me down you big buffoon!”

He puts you down, per your request, gently laying you down on the couch. However, he gets on top of you so you really aren’t free. There’s a smirk on his face as he looks down at you, which slowly fades away as he looks into your eyes. His cheeks turn pink as he looks back and forth between your eyes and lips.

He’s in love, he really fucking is. Even at the mere thought of your presence, his heart feels like it's about to beat out of his chest. How can he not love you? You’re so fucking beautiful, and that’s the least impressive thing about you. You’re compassionate, intelligent, hilarious, respectful, responsible– The list goes on. You’re everything that he isn’t. 

“Toji, get off me if you aren’t going to do anything.” You stop the train of thought that goes through his head, and he proceeds to listen to you. You sit up on the couch, while he stands up, making himself welcome at your home and going to your kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

“You want some tea?” He asks as if you were the guest in your own apartment. You sigh, standing up from the couch and following him to the kitchen. You stay quiet, and he takes that silence as a no to his question.

You sit on the counter, watching every move Toji makes, in complete silence. Toji appreciates your gaze on him… But he can’t help but feel as if something’s wrong. You’re completely quiet, there must be something wrong.

“What’s on your mind?” He speaks up, not being able to bear the silence for too long. Silence between you is usually a good sign, he enjoys your presence as simple as it can be but there’s something up with you tonight. You’re watching him as if you were trying to figure something out. You shake your head, as if you have nothing to say but he knows you do, “I know that pretty little look on your face, you’re thinking of something.”

“I want to introduce you to my family.” You tell him, and he freezes. He furrows his brows before chuckling.

“Your family already knows me.” He answers, though he knows exactly what you mean. He’ll play dumb, that’s what he does best. He hears the water boiling, and he turns his attention to that. He hopes that with his answer, you’ll drop the subject. He doesn’t want to flat out tell you that he wants to keep things a secret.

“Where’s my mug?” He asks, searching the cabinets for the mug that he usually drinks from. That’s how serious things are, he has his own coffee mug at your place. He spots it, behind a nice tea set, one that’s usually hidden away. 

“I want to introduce you as my boyfriend.” You continue your conversation as he prepares his tea. He’s more than capable of talking as he pours boiling water into the mug, but he’s not saying anything. Your words fall on deaf ears. “Toji, I know that you heard me.”

“It’s such a big step.” He responds, and you feel your heart drop. A sheepish smile comes to your lips, and you nod in response. You’re not one to argue much, and you definitely aren’t a woman who will beg. 

If he’s not ready, then he’s not ready. He knows that you won’t wait around for him forever. He lets out a low laugh before saying, “Plus, I wouldn’t want your dad to kill me.”

“That man won’t be the one to kill you if you keep calling him my dad.” You stick your tongue out at him, and he stops what he’s doing to walk over to you. He loves that you’re sitting on the counter, with little room to escape. His hands go on either side of you, a cocky smirk all over his face.

“You killing me? I’d pay to see that.” His face is inching closer to yours, stopping when he’s practically breathing on your face. His nose touches yours, and you feel your body get hot as your heart threatens to beat out of your body. Your hands go behind him, interlacing on the back of his neck. His voice is much lower when he speaks again, “My big girl hurting me, oh I’d kill for that.”

“Since when are you a masochist?” You ask, and you hear him chuckle. When it comes to you, he’s everything under the sun. He’s looking into your eyes, getting lost in your gaze within a matter of seconds. 

He really is in love, it’s fucking sick. 

“Since a pretty little thing threatened to hurt me.” His hands go to your thighs, thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin. If he continues, he won’t stop until he’s satisfied– Not that you particularly mind either.

“Your tea is going to get cold.” You remind him that there’s something waiting for him. You’re just waiting your breath, knowing that Toji has long forgotten about it. The moment he put the mug down, the tea was wasted.

“Good. I always burn my tongue for being too impatient.” He steals a kiss from you, and when he pulls away, you bring his head back. His lips are overpowered by yours, your tongue making its way into his mouth, pressing against his own. It’s more passionate than the innocent kiss he had stolen from you. It’s hard for you to stop once he gives you a taste. 

“Toji…” You place your forehead on his when you pull away. You look into his lustful eyes, the urge of asking a question that you shouldn’t ask now, overtaking you. But you will, because in order to get what he wants, he’ll say anything you want to hear. “Do you love me, Toji?”

His hands cup your face and he presses his lips against yours. It’s just one kiss. Then two. You lose count, and you’re getting lost in his touch. You’re melting with his every move, and the desire to hear him say he loves you grows. You’re desperate to hear it, even if it isn’t true.

“Toji, answer my question.” You put your hand over his lips, stopping him from kissing you more. It’s to no avail since it takes no effort from him to remove your hand, and resume kissing you. You don’t stop him this time, instead, you allow yourself to indulge.

You accept the silence as a no, which you won’t take to heart. He doesn’t have to tell you that he loves you when he doesn’t. It’s unfair to him when you agreed in the very beginning that this is something casual. You put him on the spot in hopes that he’ll take what you have more seriously, but he isn’t going to because it isn’t what he signed up for… So why does Toji act so loving?

Your legs wrap around his waist as he picks you up before carrying you to your bedroom. He knows exactly where to go, not needing to look away from you for a single second. He continues to kiss you so needily, he’s searching for something that only you can provide. 

“I need you.” He slips in inbetween kisses, which nearly drives you insane. It’s not what you asked to hear, but you’ll take it. He gently lays you down on the bed, once again on top of you and leaving you without an escape route. He kisses you slowly, his lips slowly moving down your body.

Toji’s kisses come to a halt when your clothing gets in the way. He wants to curse at the fabric for covering you up and making his job slightly more difficult. He gets up from the bed and hurriedly takes off every article of clothing that denies him the lovely view of your body. He nearly wants to rip apart every piece but he won’t risk you getting mad at him for it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Toji says, licking his lips before tracing back all the places he’s kissed, just this time he won’t be interrupted by anything. He’s going to fulfill himself to his heart’s content.

He kisses down to your breasts before focusing his tongue around your nipple. You feel a warm hand travel down your body, and getting caught between your thighs. You inadvertently get shy with him, even when this has become part of your weekly routine. He always manages to get past it, spreading your legs apart and stopping his mouth to tell you, “Now’s not the time to get shy, beautiful.”

His mouth wraps one of your nipples, sucking on it, as two fingers run through your slick folds. You’re already so wet for him, and he’d tease you for it but his mouth is too preoccupied to mutter a single word. Toji’s priority at this moment is making you feel good– As well as enjoying himself.

You’re softly moaning while Toji flicks his tongue, and his fingers rub your clit. He detaches his mouth from your nipple, his lips going up to messily kiss yours before going back to your breasts. His mouth wraps around your other nipple, beginning to suck as two of his fingers apply pressure to your entrance. 

“Toji–” His name rolls off your tongue when he pushes his fingers inside of you. It’s the sweetest melody for his ears, motivation to keep him going. Your voice is all he needs to hear. 

He doesn’t waste a single second in satisfying you, curving his fingers so they hit just the right spot. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, pleasure already consuming you. Your thoughts from earlier are long forgotten while he’s doing what he does best.

Your moaning gets louder as his thumb begins to play with your clit. It’s getting harder for you to contain yourself, since he’s stimulating you in every way possible. He’s moaning on your tit, the vibrations of his tongue nearly sending you over the edge. 

“You’re such a good girl, baby.” He praises you, finally detaching himself from your breasts. His eyes focus on your face and the look of bliss that’s written all over it– And he isn’t even close to being done. 

Toji takes his fingers out before the pressure that builds up in your lower abdomen can release. He’s usually not impatient, but his cock is throbbing in his pants and if he doesn’t deal with it soon, he’ll lose his mind. He almost feels bad for leaving you unsatisfied… Almost. The whine that leaves your lips makes a smirk appear on his face, making him comment, “Aw, you need me so badly?”

“Just hurry up.” You respond in complete annoyance. You’re clenching around nothing, needing him to fill you with pleasure. Just for tonight, he won’t tease you more. He just needs you so much, he can’t waste any more time.

Toji strips down from his clothes, spitting into his palm before taking his cock into his hand. He slowly strokes his cock as his eyes watch you… What position will he take you in tonight? Before he can even decide, your legs wrap around his torso. He’ll watch your face contort with pleasure to serve as another stupid reminder that he’s in love with everything you do. 

Toji’s cock runs through your folds, slowly inserting himself into you. A soft moan escapes his lips as he feels you around him, feeling too good. This is what he’s been waiting for all night; his definition of a proper goodbye from you.

When he bottoms out he gives you a moment to adjust, until you’re moving for him, a little too desperate to wait any longer. Toji’s hands hold on to your hips as he begins to move for you. Toji hates the feeling– He’s in ecstasy the moment he’s inside of you. He’s addicted to you like a drug, how is he supposed to ever move on?

“You feel so fucking good.” He says through gritted teeth, trying to contain himself. Although he sees that it’s not only him that’s struggling in keeping control. You’re arching your back, eyes rolling to the back of your head and lips parted as Toji hits every right spot.

“It’s too much, Toji!” You’re practically yelling, even when he isn’t doing much. He just does everything right even when he’s barely trying. It boosts his ego.

“You can take it, baby.” He answers as his hand goes down to play with your clit, adding even more to your pleasure. You’re completely putty with his touch. You’re absolutely nothing. It’s hard not to be when a simple touch of his makes you euphoric.

“Toji– Fuck!” You moan, and he fucks you with more vigor every time he hears his name. It fuels him. He wishes it was a sound he got to hear each and every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. 

“Keep saying my name, beautiful, it sounds so fucking hot.” He says and you chant his name as many times as he needs to hear it. Your mind is completely clouded, you’ll do his every request with the promise that he’ll satisfy you.

Maybe you should use the situation to your advantage– Hear what you want to hear, but you can’t. Toji’s completely dominated your mind and body.

You get louder as your orgasm nears, slowly taking over you. You’re clenching around him, getting him to moan your name because of the way you feel around him. Your hand is gripping the bed sheets, shutting your eyes as the pleasure of your body consumes you as a whole.

You feel Toji force your hand away from the bedsheet, forcing your fingers to intertwine with his. Your legs spasm as you reach your climax, a loud moan almost drowning out Toji’s words, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

It doesn’t take too long for Toji to follow your lead, too worked up from the mere thought of being with you. Toji fills you up with his cum, not even bothering to make the effort of pulling out. He never does anyway, he’s not going to change tonight.

Toji pulls out, laying down beside you as you both pant to catch your breath. After this he’ll run you a bath and leave after a couple of kisses, it’s his usual routine. A routine he made to not get attached… A routine that’s gotten him nowhere.

You turn your head to look at him while he stares at the ceiling. The answer is no, but the question still weighs heavy on your chest. “Toji…”

“Hmm…?” He looks back at you, and there’s a spark in his eyes that’s unmistakable. You know that actions speak louder than words but you need to hear it.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” You respond, and a slight frown appears on his face.

“Why do you need to know?” He questions, and you feel your heart is about to beat out of your chest. You bite down your lip, wondering if you should drop it. Never ask him again, even if you know you’ll regret it in the near future.

“I–” A sigh leaves your lips. You can’t hide it from him, even if he doesn’t love you or care for you the way you care for him. “My parents want me to get married soon.”

He knows. He knows all about your situation, more than he’d like to know. Toji doesn’t say anything to comfort you, instead, he brings you close to him. He kisses the top of your head, instead of telling you all that he wants to say. He’s not going to tell you all that you want to hear.

“I’m not worth it.” He mutters. He doesn’t want you to ruin your future for him. Toji wants the best for you; after all, he is in love with you.

Even though it's different from the love he's experienced, he's still in love. No amount of arguing with himself will disprove it.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, hope in your eyes that he’ll say something more. You’d do anything to have him say just a little more. But he shakes his head, refusing to elaborate.

“I’ll run you a bath.” Toji changes the topic, standing up from the bed and walking to your bathroom.

He’ll continue the routine, knowing it’s one of the last times that he’ll get to do it.

[gutsby]

If You Like Piña Coladas

Pairing: Neighbor!Joel x Reader

Summary: You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Foodplay (i.e., Joel fucks you with a fruit popsicle). Girthy, unspecified age gap. Mentions of blood.

Note: Loosely inspired by ‘Escape (The Piña Colada Song)’ by Rupert Holmes…minus the part about mutual infidelity LOL

Word count: 8.0k

Joel Miller had been on his own for too long.

The least you could get him was a date. Or even just laid.

Likes: Long walks on the beach

Actually…he hadn’t seen a coastline in ten years, at least. You backspaced slowly and then lowered Joel’s phone.

What did that old grump like to do, anyway?

In all the years you’d been living next door to Mr. Miller, you hadn’t seen him take pleasure in much of anything besides mowing his lawn, rolling his eyes, and screaming like a fiend alongside your dad at whatever game was on.

Likes: College football. Quality time with friends :-)

Nope. Corny as fuck. Backbackbackback.

You wiggled your thumbs over the keyboard in muted concentration. You knew you didn’t have much longer. Joel was currently engrossed in one of the three things he loved most—mowing long, careful rows through his backyard—and you were supposed to be watching the season finale of the Mandalorian while he did. That had been the pretext of your visit, anyway. It’d been a little over an hour since he’d stepped outside and a little under thirty since you’d let your curiosity get the better of you and seized his phone, so you figured he’d be back soon.

You had to think of something witty, and do it quick.

Feeling inspiration strike a second later, you typed:

Likes: Piña Coladas. Getting caught in the rain. Making love at midnight in the dunes on the cape.

Perfect. Easy. Everybody loved that song in the ‘70s.

Having thus put the finishing touch on Joel’s profile, you leaned back and let out a contented sigh. You scrolled. Flicked through photo after photo of your very own hand-picked selection and smiled, feeling proud.

You’d started him off strong and suave with a picture from Tommy’s wedding, wearing a tux that fit him well. Then a cool, casual snap of him at a brewery. A photo taken out on the lake, life jacket snug and showing off a sliver of his broad, bare chest. Then a picture of him at your graduation—you made sure to crop yourself out—followed by a candid shot of him playing dress-up with his niece. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that all the yet-unknown, lovely folks of Hinge would eat this shit up.

You set the radius to 100 miles. Beefed up the age range and gender preferences to include virtually every living soul over 30, tweaked a few more prompts to be cooler, then scrolled through his newly-minted profile. Again.

Oh, and— shit, wait.

Quickly, you toggled to the phone’s settings and disabled all notifications for Hinge. Then you grabbed the app and wrestled it somewhere deep within all the utilities ones that no one ever used. This had to stay hidden for now.

And, just as you stretched your thumb to make a couple last changes to his page, the back door thundered open.

Joel stumbled in, half-hunched. Rubbing his face with a towel and treading slow, heavy steps through the living room. With your heart about to burst from your throat and your impulses blown to shit, you panicked and crammed his phone in your shorts—like, in them.

Joel’s phone was just then settling above the groove of your ass when the man collapsed on the loveseat across the room. Instinctively, you drew your legs to your chest as Joel groaned and pulled the towel away from his face.

“The beast is at it again,” he declared, expression grim.

Before you could ask who ‘beast’ might be, he clarified:

“Marlene’s shit-for-brains labradoodle won’t quit diggin’ holes under my fence. Whole thing’s gonna fall if he—”

You didn’t mean to be rude, but you had to tune out the rest of what he said; your butt squirmed against the sofa as your neighbor’s phone traveled perilously down and took partial lodging between your cheeks. Then stuck.

There was no way you were getting caught like this. One stray phone call or text and you would have the world’s most jarring ringtone buzzing straight up your ass. And a very uncomfortable conversation with Joel, to be sure.

So, while he droned on about the chaos being wrought by the paws of old Sparky, you nodded to the window.

“Aw shit, Mr. Miller…did he just…dig up another?” You feigned surprise as you stared over Joel’s shoulder at a hole that didn’t even exist. Then, when he’d jumped to his feet and growled ‘No fuuuuuckin’ shot’ as he made his way over to the window, you acted fast and pulled the phone out of your ass and stuck the old, cracked thing on top of the coffee table where it’d been last and stood.

Before he could see—or say—anything else, you seized your own phone and made a swift beeline for the door.

Shouting over your shoulder, probably sounding like a fucking lunatic but not particularly caring either way:

“DAD’SCALLINGMEGOTTAGOMISTERMILLERBYE.”

And you left. You had no desire to explain your baseless, bullshit observation or why his phone was currently covered in a thin sheen of sweat from your butt.

You’d never seen so many roses in your life.

Joel Miller could legitimately give the whole Bachelor franchise a run for its money with all the goddamn virtual flowers he’d been getting from his Hinge admirers.

It’d been a week before you’d finally gotten the chance to abduct his phone again and check his ‘likes’ for yourself. Honestly, you hadn’t been expecting much—Joel was hot, but more so in a niche-ish sort of DILF-sexy way. You figured he’d be more of an acquired taste, really.

Once you’d scrolled through just over a hundred different messages, you realized at once how wrong you were.

‘GNAWING at the bars of my enclosure.’

‘Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry, I mean, Daddy?’

‘Need you in a way that is concerning to feminism.’

‘Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.’

And that was truly just the tip of the iceberg when it came to all the wild, chaotic, and horny messages Joel had received over the last week. You couldn’t believe it.

You got to firing off responses as fast as you could. Sitting cross-legged on the back porch while your dad, Joel, Tommy, and a dozen other neighbors were busy grilling burgers and soaking up as much sun as possible.

The only other person who hadn’t joined them was Tess.

She peered over your shoulder and fought back a laugh.

“That man is a fuckin’ menace to society, I swear.”

“No, we’re a menace to society. All about team effort,” you corrected her as you typed up a lightning-quick ‘Hey ;-)’ to each message, fingers moving fast.

“He doesn’t even know you’re doing this!”

“He will soon enough,” you mumbled. Grinning. Then, “Mission’s not over until that old man gets his dick wet.”

You’d probably made it through seventy or so replies and got to go back-and-forth with a couple hot prospects by the time you heard footsteps trailing up the steps—heavy ones that you instantly recognized as Joel’s. Without another word, you exited the app, turned the phone off, and chucked it to Tess, who placed it discreetly onto the porch railing where Joel had left it.

That phone really should have had a passcode on it.

Two weeks later, it did.

You saw it as soon as you’d slid your thumb up the screen in the comfort of Joel’s living room—over at his place pretending to be watching your Star Wars spin-off again—and you felt your heart jump up in your throat.

Your passcode is required to enable Face ID.

Since when the fuck did your neighbor have a passcode? Or even know how to make Face ID a thing? Or use it?

These questions and a dozen more were thrumming through your skull when you heard the screech of the back door once again. This time, instead of taking his sweet time on his yard work, Joel had only been gone five minutes. You swallowed a scream and did that dumb, reflexive thing you had before: shoved his phone in your shorts and thrust yourself back into the couch.

Practically shaking when Joel stepped into the room.

Of course, he wasn’t sweaty. His shirt wasn’t smudged with flecks of dirt or swaths of green from the grass outdoors, nor were his Wranglers the slightest bit muddied. He was perfectly clean in a plain white tee, jeans, and boots. You couldn’t help but notice how tight the short sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps, and then you realized it was because his arms were crossed.

Joel regarded you with a look as long and as careful as the rows he was supposed to be mowing out in the middle of his backyard right now, and he let out a breath.

“Guess what,” he said.

“What?” you squeaked.

Your eyes widened without meaning to, and when Joel plopped down on the sofa beside you, you felt a shiver pulse through your body. Joel stretched his big, wide, denim-clad legs out as he leaned back, and you had to force yourself not to jump when his knee struck yours.

“I’ve gotta brush up on my Gen Z lingo,” he announced.

Wh— okay? What the fuck?

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, and feeling the slightest twinge of relief at this declaration, Joel started to tug something out of his pocket. It took you several seconds to see it, then a couple more just to work out what it was, then Joel was squeezing it. Flipping it open.

An old Motorola Razr? When did he get that?

“See, I, uh— met a girl last week,” Joel resumed, plainly careless in the way he fingered the thing in his grip.

Your chest tightened. Had he really?

“She’s a little on the…younger side. You might know her.”

Oh shit. Was Joel banging one of your friends?

You swallowed hard and nodded for him to continue. You pretended not to notice when he flipped the phone open and left it that way—starting to thumb through the keys to do something on it. You fought the urge to take a look.

To distract yourself, you watched his face instead. It was lax.

“She said somethin’ kinda funny last night, and I—” Joel paused to let out a breath of a laugh, and you nearly broke down to steal a glance at what he was looking at.

Narrowly, you resisted. And it was a lucky thing, too—the next thing you knew, Joel’s gaze was fixed right on you.

“Y’know what she said to me?” he asked.

“What?”

Joel blinked. You probably should’ve heard the click of a little button on the phone he was holding, but you didn’t.

You did feel the vibration of another phone under your ass a second later, though. That one was unmistakable.

That one was Joel’s.

Out of one more stupid, senseless instinct, you coughed. Loud. Like the momentary scratch in your throat might reasonably mask the sound and sensation of a small hunk of metal buzzing between your butt and the couch.

It didn’t, of course. You sat and stared at Joel as it rang.

Slowly, he brought the Razr to his ear. At one corner of his mouth, you could discern the first inklings of a smirk.

“Wanna answer that?” he hummed, nodding to your rear.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

You weren’t sure how you even had the strength to do it, but you reached back and plucked his phone out of your shorts. With your gaze still stuck to his, you answered it. Put it to your own ear out of habit—and a little bit of fear.

“Hello?” you said, stupidly.

“Hey.”

The second you heard Joel’s voice rumble out beside you on the couch and across the line, your heart dropped. Ironclad confirmation of all you didn’t want to believe.

You squeezed his phone even tighter and sincerely hoped the man couldn’t hear the wild, erratic beat of your heart as it throbbed and thudded in your chest. The noise was almost too loud for you to hear anything else, too fast-paced and frantic to discern another word until:

“Can you tell me what a ‘Hinge DILF’ is, darlin’?”

You rose to your feet, scarcely even realizing it.

You had to get off of that couch, had to get away from him and come clean, as calmly as you possibly could. The phone fell out of your grasp just as he ended the call.

“Shit— Mr. Miller— I-I-I-I can explain.”

Swiftly, suddenly, Joel recovered his phone from the floor. He set the other device aside and propped his feet on the coffee table, lounging a little more comfortably now that he could scroll the phone at his leisure. Before he did, though, he made a point to wipe the screen.

“Nothin’ I love more than ass sweat on my phone.”

Your cheeks heated to a thousand degrees.

You wished the ground below your feet would open up and swallow you whole. It was like you were floating somewhere over your own body, unable to move or speak. From this vantage point, and still paralyzed with fear, you could see Joel opening Hinge on his phone.

“Crazy how long the stuff sticks,” he mused aloud, starting to peruse his likes, “When you got up and high-tailed it outta my place that first day, I thought I must’ve been seein’ things—what with how wet my phone was.”

You would’ve closed your eyes in utter resignation if you’d had the strength. Joel had known this entire time.

The old man continued to scroll, cavalier as ever.

“I figured ya might’ve been havin’ some…personal time of your own on my phone—maybe your old man blocked PornHub on the home WiFi or somethin’—but then I kept diggin’ around…” As Joel spoke, his actions seemed to mirror his words, and he was really scoping out the app. Combing through profiles and roses and streams of old messages that you had sent, then shrugged to himself.

“…and all I found added up to jackshit,” he concluded.

This time, you managed to meet his gaze when he looked back up, but really, you hardly saw him at all.

Joel was smiling.

“I did see a text, though.”

He waved his phone, where a few messages were visible, though not legible, to you. You didn’t try to read them.

“‘Welcome to Hinge! Reply ‘C’ to confirm your phone number and get started,’” Joel rattled the first one off.

Of course you’d forgotten to delete the fucking text.

“And I know my memory’s all but gone to shit, but I didn’t remember ever replying ‘C’ myself, so then—”

“It was a joke,” you choked out, cutting him off.

Joel cocked a brow. He leaned even further back in his seat and crossed his feet. You were already vomiting words before he could attempt to get one out himself.

“N-Not a funny joke,” you clarified, voice shaking, “Fuckin’ stupid as shit, I just wanted to see— y’know— me and Tess were talkin’ ‘bout how hard it must be…in your…in your fifties— it’s just hard finding somebody.”

Joel didn’t know what you were trying to say, and his face showed it. You didn’t know what you were saying.

“So you think my sex life is a joke?” Mr. Miller quipped.

“NO!”

You hadn’t meant to say it so loudly. You quieted down:

“No. I didn’t…no. I just wanted to see who would…”

“…wanna fuck me?” he finished, blunt as ever.

If your face had been hot before, surely it was about to burst into flames right now. You didn’t get like this—not around Joel Miller, not around anybody—but here you were, chest constricting with humiliation and shame, wishing you were anywhere in the world but the place you were, and Mr. Miller was smiling, he was still smiling, and it was all you could do to just stand there and…stare.

And wince when tears started to prick at your waterline.

As if this day couldn’t get any more mortifying, you were actually crying in front of your neighbor, nose stinging and beginning to leak. Stupid, stuttered gasps leaving your lungs like you’d just learned to breathe yesterday, vision blurring the man in front of you and then dimming, momentarily, as you brought your hands up to your eyes and tried to shield this wretched display from his view.

You paced a couple hasty, blind steps away. You pressed the heels of your palms so hard into your sockets that stars started to dance behind your lids and a pain began to stab your brain. You continued to sob. It was just then dawning on you that you’d have to make a run for it now and never set foot near this man’s property again. You’d have to lock yourself away, never get to go to a barbecue again, probably face a restraining order from Joel and—

“FUCK!” you shrieked.

With all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates, you tumbled over Joel’s end table and took a nosedive into the floor. Your hands had no choice but to fly out in front of you in an effort to break your fall, and of course, they had to land on a lone, stray beer bottle on the ground.

One lovely little container of Corona Extra went splintering under the weight of your whole body, and briefly, before the thing exploded beneath your palm, you swore you could’ve heard a tiny, self-righteous voice:

‘¡La Vida Más Fina!’

Fuck you, Corona.

You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. Even if the bottle had managed to roll far enough to nick just the edge of your hand, slicing a minuscule strip of skin beneath your thumb, you still wanted to cry even harder. You looked pathetic, crumpled up beside this man’s couch with your wrist pinched between your fingers and your tears paving two steady streams down your cheeks. Hedged in by a field of shattered glass, you cast a look around yourself and whimpered. Then cursed. And cried.

You heard the shards around you crackle and snap even more when a pair of boots stepped in and crushed them.

Joel made easy work of your deadweight frame—your body hanging limply in his grip as he hoisted you up to your feet. Your vision was still as bleary as it had ever been, nose running and stinging and still struggling to take in breaths, but Mr. Miller’s hold was steady. He guided you into the kitchen and straight over to the sink.

Water ran. Wounds stung. A couple more sobs clawed out of your throat while Joel held your hand under the faucet, dabbed a paper towel across your hand to dry it off, then disappeared, momentarily, to retrieve what you assumed would be a first aid kit from the other room.

Instead, Mr. Miller returned with a fifth of Maker’s Mark. You eyed the bottle of whiskey in his hand and grimaced.

“N-Nuh-uh,” you blubbered, emphatic, “No way, man.”

“Uh, yes way, man,” Joel mimicked your voice, nose scrunching for dramatic effect as he elevated the pitch, “Like, you totally need this antiseptic so you don’t die.”

“I don’t s-sound like that!”

“I don’t so-o-und like that!”

Of course your neighbor couldn’t be assed to show an ounce of compassion to another person for more than two minutes. He drew closer with the whiskey. When he grabbed your wrist, you huffed and shook your head.

“That’s gonna hurt. I don’t want it.”

“Oh, cry me a fuckin’ river.”

Though as soon as he’d said it, the man winced a little. Maybe that had been a bit too harsh. You sniffled hard.

“Fuck you, Miller— I-I was doin’ you a favor!” you spat.

Tears and snot becoming the fuel for part of your newfound indignation, you shot Joel a look and scowled. You wrenched your hand out of his grip and made a point to rebuff the bottle of liquor as you moved back, shaking your head again. Mr. Miller stood there and watched you.

“Only time you ever leave this fuckin’ house is when you’re hangin’ out with my dad or your brother, you haven’t got shit else to do around here but mow that fuckass lawn and jerk off— I was tryin’ to help you out! Get you laid like any normal guy would like, but no, no— you’ve gotta go and be the world’s biggest ASSHOLE about it, just like you are with everything else. I’m sorry.”

Deep down, you were and weren’t remorseful at all.

You were sorry you’d gotten caught, ate shit over a side table and got your palm fucked up by a bottle of beer.

You weren’t as sorry that Joel seemed to be regarding you as a joke now—something to tease and poke fun at. Trying to pour his makeshift disinfectant over your cut and force you to obey his orders because you were just too dumb to figure it out yourself, then mock your voice.

Then watch you with tightly knit brows, eyes scanning your face with a skepticism that was almost palpable.

Condescending old fuck.

“What? Ain’t got nothin’ to say to that?” you seethed. Emotions running high—and humiliation momentarily usurped by anger—you stared him down and dared him to speak. You didn’t care what he thought of you now.

If it had been in your interest to care, you probably would’ve looked a little harder at what the man’s body language was communicating to you in the meantime. What his mouth was evidently loath to say, his hands and feet hardly displayed the same reticence: he set the bottle aside and stepped closer to you. He stared back.

It wasn’t until he’d approached near enough, had closed the space between your body and his with barely more than an inch or two to spare, and glowered down at you, face frozen with a frown, that your brain got the hint that he might not be the type to chicken out. Or back down.

He reached behind you and opened a cabinet.

“A favor,” Joel echoed, and you could tell he was trying his hardest not to replicate your intonation as he said it.

He’d just marginally checked his douchebag predilection, was closing the cabinet door beside your head and was starting to rock back on his heels, when a little cylindrical glass swung low in your line of vision. Joel held the tumbler loosely, then lifted it and pointed with his pinky.

“You,” he said, accusing, “fuckin’ suck at those—favors.”

Your stomach clenched at the sight of a slight, impish smile just then starting to frame the sides of his mouth. The featherlight grip he kept fastened on the glass, the ease of his stance, even the jab of that stupid, rough finger, still pointing at you, all bordered on nauseating. You fixed him with a pitiless look as he leaned in again.

And when his knuckles brushed your side, you tried not to flinch. You arrested his gaze without a word and let the smug, sun-tanned, sweet-as-shit-pie son of a bitch have his fill ogling you back and closing in on the bottle.

“What? Having half the tri-county population on Hinge ready to suck you off isn’t really your style?” you jeered.

Joel popped the cap and poured his drink. He shrugged.

“They ain’t you.”

As casual as if he’d just told you the weather forecast for the week ahead, his favorite place to eat, or the mundane specs on a construction project he’d been saddled with for months. Nothing of note. Nothing unknown. Just a routine admission of truth that sent your head reeling.

“You wh— w— well that’s—” you stammered, equal parts astonishment and exasperation as he continued to feed you steady, unrelenting doses of that look: “GROSS!”

You were standing stock-still, forced to watch that blip of a grin morph into a full smirk, slowly. He had to be joking.

“You are…fucked in the head, Miller. That’s not funny.”

Now you were the one pointing. Joel was drinking.

“—and I’d never in a million years even think—”

The side of your palm began to throb. It bled.

Blood was trickling down your wrist, roaring like thunder in your skull as your heart thudded away, impatient.

Impatient.

Impatient, impatient, impleeeeeeeeease fuck me, Joel, PLEASE!

Your libido a filthy, rotten traitor to all the rest of your better sense, you continued to stand there and suffocate on words like something akin to acid reflux in the throat. Your thighs snapped together, your back collapsed with equal force against the rigid set of cabinets behind it, and slowly, almost excruciating this time, you felt the pulse between your legs give way to a bout of warmth.

That cockhungry slut governing your bodily functions was actually getting wet for this asshole, and you were powerless to the effects of her wily, DILF-lusting ways.

“Gross,” you uttered out loud, again, reflexively—face overlaid with a look of horror as the heat began to pool.

And, as though the man had been endowed with the gift of infrared vision, or else just an external thermostat to gauge how hot you’d gotten between your two sweating legs, Joel brightened. His gaze flirted down to that soft, unseasonably tepid spot with a knowing look and then—

“Gross,” he parroted back. The smile behind his eyes said he wasn’t disgusted at all, just teasing some more.

When he pinched your wrist to get back to the business of blotting out blood with a paper towel, he kept that smug look painted across his creased, ancient face.

“‘S’that why ya made a Hinge for me? ‘Cause I’m gross?” Mr. Miller applied pressure to the still-bleeding cut, then directed your other hand to hold the paper towel in place.

You shook your head.

“No,” you started, trying not to wince before he turned. Again, the man ambled out of the kitchen, only to come back momentarily—finally—with a long-awaited bandaid.

“I mean…yeah, you’re a perv, but that’s beside the point.”

Joel exhaled a little harder through his nose. He pressed the underside of your palm again, ensuring the bloodflow had stopped, then swapped the napkin for the bandage. The adhesive might’ve been in place for two seconds before he was retreating again; this time, to the fridge.

“Then what was the point?”

Joel yanked one door open. You glanced over your shoulder to the one that led out to the back porch.

The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to go.

Go.

GO!

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

From where you were standing, you weren’t sure why you’d decided to make Joel the profile in the first place. Your curiosity, for one thing, had been one hell of a persuasive motivator to getting you scrolling on Joel’s behalf, but why did you care one way or another if your neighbor was drowning in pussy or enduring Sahara desert-levels of dick deprivation at his big age? It sure as fuck wasn’t your business to care, and nothing about Joel Miller had ever intrigued you consistently enough to venture an inquiry about his personal life before, so…

“Why?”

Joel was looming overhead again, the force of his presence like a fist through your chest. In an effort to steady your breaths, you turned your gaze away from his.

“I should go.” You couldn’t have dodged his last question more clumsily, or pathetically, if you’d tried, “It’s…late.”

Outside, the midday sun was still high in the sky, and there was nowhere in the world you had to be, Joel knew.

“Okay,” he said at length.

Then he leaned in closer and held something out.

“At least take one for the road, alright?”

And he was smiling, almost kind.

You looked down and—shit.

There it was, clear as day: a creamy piña colada popsicle.

The sneaky, conceited motherfucker had remembered what you’d written in his dating profile. You winced.

You accepted the cocktail popsicle without a word.

‘Thanks’ or ‘You’re a fucking pig, Miller’ likely would’ve sufficed for a farewell on any account, but by then, you were far too shell-shocked—and frankly, incredulous—of everything that had just transpired over the course of the last thirty minutes. You didn’t thank Mr. Miller, nor insult him by likening him to swine or any other thing; you left.

Your feet carried you fast out of his house.

Down the steps of his back porch, across pristine, power-washed concrete, past seemingly endless beds of hibiscus blossoms, marigolds, cape plumbago, and those god-awful periwinkle plants—who the fuck enjoyed gardening in a heatwave, anyway?—you practically sprinted away in a fugue state until the toes of your shoes hit the edge of your lawn, then you stopped.

“FUCK!”

You’d forgotten your phone.

It felt as though your body were turning in slow motion, and for a second, you seriously considered abandoning the device altogether and begging your dad for another. Then you set your sights on the wide, uninviting exterior of the back of your neighbor’s house, the place you’d just been hauling ass to escape, and almost rolled your eyes.

Joel was leaning back against the frame of his open back door, arms crossed, expression smug as he watched you.

It was extraordinarily difficult to throw a half-decent punch at a man while wielding a popsicle in your hand.

“Give it back!” you barked.

“Give what back?” Joel grinned, easily side-stepping what struck him as neither a punch nor a slap—in fact, the hit never struck him at all. He laughed as it missed.

“You know what.”

Of course, you’d gone back. Of course, Joel had tried to play dumb and pretend like you’d never left your phone behind at all. And of course, he hadn’t budged until you’d threatened to shove your left foot so far up his ass his dentist would be picking toes out of his teeth for weeks.

‘Violent little thing, ain’t ya?’ Joel had replied, chuckling.

Then, when he’d attempted to brush you aside with a patronizing wave of his hand and an admonition to run on back to daddy and quit buggin’ me, all bets were off. You’d aimed right for center mass and nearly dropped your frozen treat with how hard you’d shoved his chest.

That was how the conversation had started.

That was how the so-called ‘altercation’ had come to be—Joel easily swatting you off and indulging you no further than to chuckle and laugh and taunt you like an older brother who was faced with a sibling half his size—and all the while, your injured hand was throbbing again. White, sticky rivers of melted popsicle now trickled down your wrist instead of blood, and you were just as pissed.

“Listen—” Joel began, catching a fist meant for his face.

“Gimme my fuckin’ phone, Miller!”

“—you—”

“Can go to hell.”

“—owe me.”

“Owe you?!”

You stopped. Your weak, one-handed assault was halted just long enough to peer into Joel’s eyes, and the gaze that met yours was solid. Sincere as you’d ever seen it and blinking slow as the chocolate browns of his irises moved lower over you. Whether they were drinking you in, sizing you up, or merely plotting your demise by calculated turns, you could have been no more certain, or prepared to hear, what came out of his mouth next:

“Wanted to do me a favor, didn’t ya? C’mere.”

And the next thing you knew—or felt—was one thick finger hooking into your belt loops. One swift tug in his direction, another light push toward the old wood railing to your side, and then more fingers crowding in, crawling over, seizing the coarse denim material and pulling hard like the thing was the single most annoying impediment.

“Take these off,” Joel grunted.

You were too stunned to move. Even breathing felt like a chore, every last sense elevated to impossible heights, it wasn’t surprising at all when Joel just went and did it all himself. In a blink, your shorts were yanked down and then dropped to your ankles, your legs guided backward in shuffled steps, and then, nearly tripping in the fabric at your feet, you fell back, ass smacking the flat railing. You winced at the warm, knotty texture of the cedar beneath you and, out of habit, shot the old man a look.

Joel cocked a brow in response, likely already knowing what that glare from you was intended to convey, and instead of giving voice to any words himself, just sank.

Lower and lower and lower, until his knees were the only things holding him upright on the floor before you and his hands were pressing—melting—into your thighs.

Audibly, his kneecaps cracked.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

While Mr. Miller’s mouth moved dangerously close to a place you should’ve been appalled to see him go, all you felt capable of doing in that absurd moment, it seemed, was laugh. You gripped the thick white column beside you, scooted back slightly until you were in a comfier seated position, then snagged your lower lip between your teeth to contain the sound, but it was of no use.

Joel was both drooling and scowling between your legs.

“That funny, huh?” he managed in a low, ragged breath, “Sound’a some crackin’ joints on a man as old as me?”

“Yeah,” you said. Smug, for once.

Admittedly, any other normal person in your position would’ve been concerned with about a million different, more pressing issues—namely, your neighbor and dad’s best friend sticking his face between your legs—but really, after all the frivolity, commotion, and fucking insane behavior the two of you that day, it was like your brain had logged off and left the body to its own devices.

You didn’t mind that for right now.

When Joel’s tongue grazed the space between the cusp of your panties and inner thigh, you really didn’t mind.

Fuck it. If this was the favor he’d wanted after all, so be it.

As if reconsidering the foray of his mouth for the time being, Joel tilted back a little: just far enough to get his hands on your underwear and start tearing those down your hips too. One short, hot puff of air from his lips was a bliss unto itself, and your knees instinctively kicked up. With the thin white fabric barely halfway down one calf, you hooked your ankle over Joel’s shoulder and cursed.

“My daddy’s gonna kill you for this, Mr. Miller.”

And, for what felt like the thousandth time, Joel smiled.

Bigger this time, as if to show he didn’t really care at all what the man next door was liable to say or do about his present endeavor as long as he got to stay. You let him.

He pressed a kiss to your slick, puffy lips and hummed.

“Fine by me.”

Without another word the tip of the man’s tongue glided up the length of your slit and curled in, drawing your arousal between his lips in a hungry sort of kiss, and then sank even deeper. Going nose-deep in just one go, the old man looked positively obscene burying his face so far inside; his features alone a cruel, unseemly sort of fixture between legs as smooth and supple and warm as yours—how did a man so many years your senior get to be so lucky?—and somewhere further, in the darkest recesses of your mind, the sight sparked desire. A hunger, really.

Seeing that silver, stubbled chin getting drenched in your wetness, the weathered lines of his face growing even deeper with each new movement of his tongue, the strain in his neck with muscles that were firm and taut and so visibly aged with decades and decades of life—

You adored it.

A man Joel’s age never looked more out of place and still somehow perfectly fit for the space between your thighs.

You lowered the hand that was cradling your popsicle, braced your weight against the railing with the other, and then pressed on either side of his skull with your legs, quiet moans tumbling one after the next off your tongue.

“‘S’all for me?” Joel breathed, licking and suckling kisses along your clit, “This sweet, needy pussy’s all mine?”

“All yours.”

You scarcely recognized the sound of your own voice. Your legs were shaking. Though you loved to see him make you come undone, piece-by-piece, you also couldn’t bring yourself to stare a second longer, stimulation too great and his tongue too good.

If he kept going at a rate like this, you’d have no choice but to cum, and you didn’t want to be done just yet. Or ever. You refocused your gaze to look down and tell him as much, when your mouth fell open around a gasp, rather than words, and the weight in your hand fell away.

Swiftly, Joel took the popsicle in his own grasp and slid it down to the vicinity of his lips and tongue, now grinning.

The thing was half-melted by now, having sufficiently soaked half your forearm and leaving a vague, sugary aroma in its wake, but it was still intact. Still unlicked—unlike you—and still perfectly cool and light and long. The off-white hue was almost taunting in the way it winked and caught rays of the sunlight shining behind you, and as the man slid it even lower, you jumped back.

“Joel,” you hissed.

“What?” he hummed.

“That’s not—” You blinked, swallowing a moan.

“Not what?”

One warm, callused hand pressed the tip of the frozen thing to your bundle of nerves—the first contact it had had since Joel’s tongue—and you let out a low whine.

Even after all that time in the sun, the popsicle seared your soft, wet, aching parts with a biting cold you’d never thought possible. It sent waves of a strange, trembling pleasure coursing through your lower half and left your head with no choice but to moan. And fist Joel’s hair in a vice-like grip when he angled the wooden stick lower.

Suddenly, the white, sticky head slipped from your clit to the rim of your yet-untouched entrance, and that made your muscles leap to attention once again. You cursed.

“Not what, honey?” Joel pressed, with affection—and as he did, sank the tip of the popsicle deeper inside you.

“Th— that’s not—” You were shaking your head, racking your brain for any trace of the English language and failing miserably, “Not…doesn’t…g-go there, fuck.”

Joel sank the pretty, dribbling popsicle another inch inside your pussy and sucked a whistle through his teeth. If your senses weren’t as raw and utterly shot as they were, you likely would’ve seen the expression on his face transform from one of pleasure and amusement to awe, eyes darkening at the sight of your hole opening wider.

“That’s it, baby, take it,” he cooed, voice low.

Another couple soft utterances of ‘Joel,’ and your legs only parted wider. Free to grip his hair, the railing, the column beside you, or just the insides of your own palm as the icy sensation sank inwards and into your body, you whimpered. Your hips, instinctively, bucked toward the source, and you heard Joel’s groan join your sounds.

He withdrew his new toy just far enough to make you mewl for him again, then drove it deeper. With the friction of that, a stream of white went trickling out.

Joel couldn’t help himself; he flattened his tongue against the stream and licked you clean from the spot where he’d split you open to the cusp of your clit. He circled that place over and over, worked the object in his hand even further inside and back out again, then, getting a taste of your arousal with the white, wet, sticky-sweet juices starting to mix together, he moaned.

It was a guttural sound, something just shy of the ‘feral’ demarcation but at least ten steps ahead of desperate. You relished the gruff, throaty sound reverberating from his lips to your cunt, the way your walls fluttered around it and for him, and were just about to throw your head back and grind your hips even harder when it stopped.

Joel stopped. He started to get up.

Quickly for him, but slow as molasses from your point of view, the man straightened from his place on the hard wooden floor and expelled a breath. His chest heaved, and his torso twisted to one side, momentarily, to get the strain out of his back as best he could. From where you sat, the spattering of grey in his beard seemed to glisten even brighter with the sheen of your arousal now sticking in it. He wiped his chin and reached in between your legs.

“Got any favors left in ya, sweet pea?” he smirked.

Fortunately for you, it didn’t sound like a question at all, and didn’t appear to be intended that way, as the next second had Joel pulling the largely-spent popsicle out of your slick and straight into your mouth. He didn’t inquire whether he could push it down on your tongue and make you taste your own cunt on the thin wooden stick, but the smile on your lips assured him that was fine by you.

Nor did he ask for your permission to flip you around, bend you over his porch railing, and take your hips in his hands. You were still sucking down the last traces of sugar and citrus and a vaguely tangy taste when you felt the head of something else prod your soft, wet folds.

Much bigger—and warmer—than the thing that had breached you before, Joel nudged at your hole with the tip of his cock, coated the head of it in light, gentle circles, and sucked in a breath. He didn’t have to ask, and you didn’t need to answer; he just parted your walls with the force of one steadying thrust, and the pulse of that sharp, dizzying pleasure was back in an instant.

Shared this time, and manifesting in sounds from you and Joel alike: you gritting the stick between your teeth and managing muffled cries of his name and whatever expletives you could scream, Joel with ragged breaths.

For a man who ostensibly hadn’t fucked since the Clinton administration, he was off to a pretty good start.

Joel gripped your hip even tighter and started to saw his cock in and out of your dripping, pliant hole, his other fist finding purchase in your hair for more leverage. His thrusts were shallow enough at first to get you used to the new stretch, and you could feel him making space in a way no man’s girth ever had before. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined it had come to settle into a mix of guilt, rigid composure, and pussydrunk pleasure.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured behind you. Then, groaning, “Good fuckin’ girl, keep squeezin’ my cock just like that.”

You felt a slap on the ass and the speed of his thrusts pick up in turn. Your mouth fell open in a moan, and the stick on your tongue almost slipped out of place when, shortly, Joel leaned over your body and pulled you back. He snagged the popsicle stick between his teeth just in time to get your back flush with his front—in perfect position to get fucked against the nearest column.

Breaths coming out in short, ragged grunts in your ear, Joel teased the side of your face with the stick, then nudged it back in your mouth. You sucked it softly.

“One more favor, baby?” he panted against your cheek.

You nodded, not knowing what it was but that you wanted to be the one giving it. Joel pulsed inside you.

With every stab of his cock, every string of your wet, messy, combined arousals making the most profane noises imaginable between your body and his, you were squeezing him tighter and teetering on release. Joel’s hand snaked down between your legs, and just as the head of his cock nudged against that spot, you keened.

“Any favor?” Joel groaned and nipped at your earlobe.

The heft of his stomach and chest made for a warm, sturdy place to start rocking your hips, greying peach fuzz at the base of his belly a small comfort as you writhed against his body and whined that you’d do anything, anything he wanted, as long as he let you cum.

Joel’s middle finger found your clit, and you nearly screamed at the welt of pleasure coming to a head. Again, the popsicle stick tumbled out, but neither one of you could be bothered to try and keep it in this time.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

The man behind you didn’t even attempt to conceal his grin as he leaned closer, hugging your body to his while he circled your clit and fucked you harder, lips straying every now and then to press a kiss on your shoulder. He plunged his cock deeper and was met with a squeezing, leaking mess trickling down his length and onto his balls, growing louder with each new wet slap against your ass. The old man was a tease, but he couldn’t hold on forever.

“Wanna fill you up,” Joel groaned.

“Cum inside?” you murmured.

You were barely able to tilt your chin to him, but when you did, he held it—made you look him in the eyes and, for once, give your unequivocal permission to do it then.

And you did.

You were startled to find Joel’s lips crashing against yours in the next second, mouth overwhelmed with the remains of your own taste, his tongue, and a series of relentless, hammering thrusts. It was only a matter of moments, then, before your resolve gave way and his followed suit, and the waves of pleasure between you both manifested in ropes of sticky, hot cum painting your walls. Joel held you closer, as though needing to feel his seed as he fucked you through it, groaning when he felt it start to move with each sharp, stuttered thrust.

You panted in his mouth coming down. You kissed him back. You almost couldn’t believe the sensation between your legs, soon to come dripping out and undoubtedly bound to make a mess all over the floor of Joel’s porch.

Equally unbelievable was the fact that you’d just fucked your neighbor in broad daylight, outside, with Marlene’s house directly to your left and your own on the right.

You stared out at the sprawling expanse in front of you—Joel’s impeccably kempt yard, one of the reasons why you were standing where you were just then—and, as you’d found yourself before, you felt the urge to laugh.

Not on account of Joel’s old, ailing knees, this time.

Clearly, the man still trying to catch his breath behind you suspected that that might’ve been the case, though, because you felt him shift his weight and grunt, lightly.

“What’s so funny? My knees crack when I cum, too?”

You could feel the smallest of scowls start to take shape, muted momentarily with kisses that he pressed on your cheek, and others, still more teasing, down your neck.

You let him, unfazed and still giggling. Then pointing.

It seemed Joel was loath to detach his lips from your neck—or his cock from the place he’d just stuffed full—but when you lifted your finger to indicate a direction toward the side of his backyard, his senses perked up.

There, along the white picket fence between his yard and Marlene’s, was the furry, merciless, lawn-destroying labradoodle that had been plaguing Joel’s life for years.

The man was out of you in an instant. He yanked his jeans up even quicker, tucking his dick back, clumsily, into its place in a fit of rage, then cupping his hands:

“WILL YOU FUCK THE HELL OFF, SPARKY?!”

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[russo-woso]

Turned on by the simplest thing || Alessia Russo

Masterlist | Prompt list

Request Breastfeeding kink gets turned on every time you go to feed she gets annoyed someone else is sucking your breast instead of her

A/N Now I debated whether to add something into this fic, and I asked my readers and you can see their responses here and here.

Warning smut 18+, breastfeeding kink, soft smut, cunnilingus, postpartum sex, insecurities

Summary Alessia gets turned on by the simplest thing, breastfeeding.

Alessia’s favourite part of your body was your boobs.

You knew that, she knew that, most people knew that.

In the changing rooms, she’d always get caught staring at your bra.

If you were lying in bed, she’d have her hands resting on your boobs.

If you were having sex, her mouth would always be latched to your nipples.

She just loved your boobs.

But there was a new person who loved your boobs just as much now, your newborn baby girl, Ava.

The first time you had to feed Ava was eventful.

The nurse was teaching you how to get Ava to latch on, Alessia was sat just watching, specifically eyeing your boobs.

But because she was so wrapped up in the moment of becoming a mama, she failed to notice that someone was slowly replacing her.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that she finally noticed.

“Hi Ava, hi baby.” Alessia cooed, picking a crying Ava up and cradling her to her chest. “Let’s go see mummy, huh? She’ll feed you.”

Alessia walked out of Ava’s nursery, walking into the living room where you were sat.

“Hi, bubba.” You said, taking Ava in your arms and preparing yourself to feed her.

Alessia came and sat down next to you, helping hold Ava as you latched her on.

The room was silent apart from small hums of contentment from Ava as she drank.

You just so happened to look at Alessia to see her eyes drilled on your boob.

“What’re you looking at?” You asked, a smirk in your face.

“She’s stealing my job, your boobs are mine.” Alessia said, a pout on her lips.

“Lessi, baby, she has to do this.” You pointed out, a slight smile resting on your face.

“I know, but…”

“You can have them later, okay? When we’ve put her back down. As long as you’re gentle.”

Alessia’s eyes lit up, nodding her head eagerly before pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

—

Ava had fallen back asleep and you’d managed to transfer her back to her nursery crib without waking her.

Both, you and Alessia, had decided to start getting Ava to sleep in her nursery during the day so when it was time for her to go from your room to her nursery, she would be comfortable in there.

You heard Alessia in the bedroom and so you creaked open the door, your heart swelling with love as you did so.

You watched as Alessia lit candles around the room, playing some relaxing songs through the Alexa.

“Baby!” Alessia whisper shouted, not wanting to wake Ava up.

You waited a while and then opened the door, pretending to be surprised.

“Lessi… you did this?”

“I want to show you how proud I am of you and how much I love you.” Alessia explained, wrapping her arms round you and bringing you in for a hug.

You responded by kissing her gently, all the love you felt for one another being poured into it.

Whilst kissing you, Alessia reached for the bottom of your shirt, gently pulling it over your head.

“Baby, listen, my body… it’s not how it used to—” you began, pulling away from the kiss.

“—Y/N, you really think I care about that? Pretty girl, you’d just given birth to our daughter. I don’t care what you look like. I love you no matter what.” Alessia said gently, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, lessi.” You told her before reconnecting your lips in a passionate kiss.

Alessia guided you to the bed, unclipping your bra in the process and laying you down on the bed.

Alessia lips didn’t leave yours, even when she climbed on top of you.

Her lips travelled down to your boobs, gently kissing them.

“Fuck.” You hissed at the sensitivity as she licked your nipples.

“Do you want me to stop?” Alessia asked concerned, but you shook your head no.

Alessia continued sucking gently at your nipples.

You hadn’t realized straight away, but when you heard Alessia swallowing, you realized she was drinking your breast milk.

“Tastes so good, baby.” Alessia mumbled before sucking again at your nipple.

“Lessi, you’re drinking it?” You asked, shocked, but it came out as a moan due to the pleasure.

“Tastes too good not to.”

“Fuck, baby.” You gasped, finding the action hot.

Alessia hummed, satisfied, before moving down to your soaked core.

“Gonna be so gentle, love, I promise.” Alessia whispered, her tongue flattening against your folds.

You arched your back at the contact, having not felt it in months.

Alessia lapped at your folds before licking your clit.

“Feel good?” Alessia questioned, the vibrations of her voice clearly evident as jolts of pleasure ran through your body.

“Yes, lessi, feels so good.” You told her, your hand finding her hair.

Alessia stuck to your clit, thinking that you’d be very sensitive, due to the birth, anywhere else.

“Fuck, less — I’m so close, baby.” You warned her, pulling on her hair. “Please don’t stop, please.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

You let out a cry as your legs spasmed around Alesia’s head.

She licked your juices before coming up to be level with your face.

“Thank you for being gentle.” You whispered, bringing Alessia in for a kiss.

You moaned as you tasted yourself on Alessia’s tongue.

Alesia’s lips left yours and travelled down to your left boob.

“Can I have some more?” Alessia asked and you nodded, resting a hand on the back of her head and playing with the baby hairs.

Just as Alessia began to suck, a cry was heard over the baby monitor.

You and Alessia both looked at each other and sighed.

“I’ll go get her.”

[not-neverland06]

Hii ! I was hoping you could do Logan x Reader where all the teachers go to a club, and the Reader starts dancing with Storm and Jean while Logan is sitting on a couch, looking at her. They both have a crush on each other, but they don't know it, so when the Reader notices Logan staring at her, she gets shy and decides to go get a drink. When she got her drink, a guy starts flirting with her, and Logan obviously sees it. he gets jealous and walks up to the guy telling him to leave her alone. After they talk for a bit, the Reader accidentally confesses and Logan kisses her. this ends up in a private room with Logan fucking her as he always wanted. I know this is a long request and I'm sorry for that, bue I'm a writer myself, so I already had develop this bit of the story in my head. I completely understand if you don't want to do it. Hope you have an awesome day !!🤗❤️ Love your writing btw

a/n: I loved this prompt so much, did switch it up a bit bc I faced a bit of writer's block trying to flesh this out!! (and if I said I was listening to Thong Song while writing this, what then?)

18+ MDNI (fucking in a club bathroom, if that's not your thing, move on out)

Logan rummages around somewhere behind you, digging through the cabinets and moving everything around. The longer he searches, the more confused you grow. Your brows furrow as he cusses to himself.

There’s a low grunt of frustration as Logan rounds the kitchen island to glare at you. His face is screwed up in anger that seems to be misdirected towards you. You give him an awkward look, “Uh, hi?”

“He stole my booze,” he responds shortly and without explanation. You shake your head in confusion as the dots slowly connect. A small smile curls up on your lips but the glare he gives you makes it quickly drop. 

“Well, you know Charles' rules about it,” you tell him flippantly. Logan huffs and shoves away from the counter. He turns back to the fridge, destroying the organizational system as he continues his search. You roll your eyes, eating your food and watching him with a bored expression. 

Jean walks just as he really begins to work himself up. Her face pinches in distaste, catching on to the root of his anger quicker than you had. She looks at you with a small smirk. “Charles?”

“Yep," You answer, eyes still trained on him. He finally gives up the futile search, moving to stand beside you. Your eyes widen and you try not to physically react to his proximity. It’s an everyday struggle to remain calm around him. You’re desperately trying to keep a cool girl persona but you don’t think it's working. 

You’re pretty sure he sees right through your pathetic attempts at nonchalance every time you two are paired on a mission. Jean notices the look on your face and smiles slightly. “The rest of us are thinking of going out tonight.”

It's not an offer with her, more of a demand for the two least sociable members of the team. She gives you both expectant looks, ignoring the way you minutely shake your head in disapproval at the idea of going out.

“Pass,” Logan grunts. He steps away from you, making for the kitchen door. Jean quickly steps in front of him, firmly placing her hand on his chest and giving him a stern look.

You feel like you're missing something as they silently converse with tense looks and aggressive eye motions towards you. You might be worried they're flirting if it weren't for how fed up they both look right now with one another.

Your brows furrow in confusion and it only worsens when Logan lets out an aggrieved huff. “Fine. I’ll come.” He gives Jean a thin smile, “Happy?” 

She releases him and moves out of the way with a smug look. “Very. You’ll thank me, by the way.” She says to his retreating back, ignoring whatever he mutters back to her.

You’re completely lost about what that was but don't have much time to process it before Jean turns her attention to you. You already know what she wants and you immediately shake your head. “No, nope, you know I don’t like going out.” Jean smiles at you, but you know she’s just pretending to agree with you. 

“Jean,” your voice is sharp as you glare at her. “Not happening.”

You really regret ever befriending her. She’s either ridiculously persuasive or she's used her mind-warping abilities on you.

You're squished between Ororo and Logan on a sticky club booth. The smell of booze and cheap perfume soaks through your senses. You feel the beginnings of a headache forming as the music pounds.

While you love the feeling of Logan's biceps pushed up against you, you hate the club more. Storm catches the tense look on your face and sighs in disappointment.

"We need to get some more alcohol in you," she tells you with a faux sense of authority. "Come on," she nods her head and for a moment you think she's talking to you. But, with a move that seems practiced, Scott and Jean both follow her out of the booth and head toward the bar.

You watch them go with a suspicious glint in your eye, not trusting how smoothly they all just conveniently slipped away. That leaves just you and Logan behind at the table and you doubt that's coincidental.

They've been a little pushy about this crush of yours ever since they found out. They insist that he feels the same way about you as you do him. But you sincerely doubt he's fantasizing about going on romantic picnics with you and thinking of mushy dates.

He seems like the kind of guy to value silence over a girlfriend and you doubt you're his type. You don't tend to stray from the rules, ever. You don't think there's much you two have in common, as much as the others insist the opposite.

You give him a subtle look over. He hasn't moved away from you, which seems like a good sign. There's plenty of space for him to go now, but he keeps himself pressed up against you.

But, he's also not looking at you. His thumb is idly tracing the rim of his glass and he's refusing to take his eyes off the stained wood of the table. You know he can feel the way you're staring at him, but he's stubbornly refusing to acknowledge your presence. It almost feels petty and that makes you scoff and roll your eyes at the thought. You doubt Logan cares enough to be petty.

Practically in love with me, you think sarcastically. 

You know your friends are taking longer than necessary at the bar, trying to give the two of you some privacy. You feel like a high school girl, trying to get the cool guy to like her when he literally couldn’t give two shits. 

Your friends being pushy about the two of you really isn't helping anything. It only gives you false hope, and when he's inevitably a jerk again, it just makes all your little fantasies come crashing down.

You pick up your glass, tipping your head back and letting the alcohol warm you from the inside out. You've done your hair, spent forever doing your makeup, and you put on your favorite slutty dress. You don't feel like sitting here all night sulking alongside your unrequited crush.

More often than not, Logan is nothing more than a wet blanket. You've put in the effort and dragged yourself outside for once, you'd like to enjoy the experience. He could come find you when he felt like pulling the stick out of his ass. You slide out of the booth with a huff, uncaring as the hem of your dress rolls up your thighs. 

“Where’re you going?” Logan demands, voice gruff. Now he wants to pay attention, figures. 

You turn around and glare down at him. His eyes rove slowly over you, the way they should have been all night. His gaze is a physical caress and his stare lingers along your body. You can practically feel his touch on the curves of your hips. Slowly, he looks back up to meet your eye, something like a challenge on his face. 

You assess him, raising a brow and shrugging. “I’m gonna dance.” Something has possessed you or there’s a very talented telepath manipulating you right now. In a rare display of confidence you lean over the table, breasts pushed out towards him. “Wanna join me?” You ask, breath barely above a whisper. 

He scoffs and goes back to glaring at the table. Whatever confidence you had settles coldly in the bottom of your gut. “Not my thing, kid,” he gripes, every bit the crotchety old man. 

You roll your eyes, playing off the sting of rejection as an annoyance. “Of course, you’re not. You’re not having fun unless everyone else is miserable,” you snap. His eyes shoot up to meet yours, something like shock playing on his face. 

You don’t let him respond, already turning on your heel and walking off. As much as you like Logan, sometimes this attitude of his becomes tiring. What’s wrong with wanting to have fun for a night?

You’re not usually a huge fan of clubs. But when you’re out with your friends, you’re not going to actively ruin their night. As rude as that was, it’s right. He’s the “cool” kid in high school who thought everything was lame and never wanted to enjoy anything. 

So, what? You like to get a little drunk and sloppy sometimes, maybe if he ever tried it he might be less miserable. You head towards the bar, spotting Ororo’s hair easily through the crowd. You slide behind her, slipping your arm over her shoulder, “Hey pretty,” you whisper in her ear, laughing as she jumps. 

She turns and glares at you, swatting at your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.”

“Ooh, save it for later.” She rolls her eyes and passes you a shot. You take it with a smile, wincing at the burn of the tequila. “You wanna dance?” You have to shout to be heard over the music but you know she hears you when her eyes widen in surprise. 

She glances behind you and you don’t have to look to know Logan is glaring daggers at your back. You can feel him and it's pissing you off. “What happened?” You know she can tell something is up, you’re never this outgoing when you go out. But you don’t want to talk about finally coming to terms with the fact that you and Logan aren’t going to work out. 

Instead, you hold your hand out and wink. “Wanna dance or not?” She laughs a little, slipping her palm into yours and letting you drag her out onto the dance floor. It’s been a while since you’ve actually been sober dancing. You usually like to be near blackout drunk, but you just don’t have the energy for that tonight. 

Ororo is a little tipsier than you, clearly having been drinking while she was waiting at the bar. Her inhibitions are looser and she’s giggling as you move your hips against hers. Neither of you is dancing to impress, you’re messily moving around each other to the beat of the music. You don’t pay attention to the people around you, just having fun by yourselves. 

Ororo takes your hand, spinning you a little and pulling you back into her arms. You laugh, swaying your hips to the same rhythm she is, chests pressed tightly together while you smile at each other. 

She only lasts a few songs before she pulls back. “I need a drink,” she yells before stumbling back towards the bar. You feel yourself deflate, not sure what to do with yourself now that your favorite dancing partner has ditched you. 

You look through the mass of grinding bodies and try and spot your table. You can’t see much through the brightly colored lights spinning all around you. Everything’s a little disorienting and the shots you’ve had aren’t helping. 

Someone’s hand slips around your waist, “Your friend left you all alone?” Normally, you’d push whoever it was off and tell them to back off. But he’s got an attractive voice and you can feel how fit he is against your back. 

“You gonna keep me company?” You tease, voice a low purr as you push back against him. Your hands drift down to his arms, pulling them a little tighter around your waist. He chuckles, the noise reverberating through your back. 

You barely even get a chance to dance before your back is cold and you can feel his arms forcibly ripped off you. It doesn’t take much digging to find the culprit. Logan is behind you, hand fisted in the guy’s collar, “Why don’t you back off, bub?” He shoves him back and you roll your eyes as the guy scrambles off. 

“What the hell was that?” You demand arms crossed as you glare at Logan. 

He turns around and you’re surprised at the intensity of his glare. Something about it has you heated for an entirely different reason. He’s staring down at you like he’s gonna pounce on you. Your heart races, thighs clenching the longer he’s glowering at you. 

He shouldn’t be allowed to be so attractive when he’s pissed off. He reaches forward, grabbing your bicep and jerking you into his chest. He leans down until his lips are brushing against your ear. “You wanna dance, let’s dance, kid.”

“What-”

He cuts you off, flipping you around and pulling your back flush against him. You can feel just how much your little show with Storm got him going. You truly weren’t doing anything too alluring, but it seems to be enough for him. 

When you don’t move his hands drop to your hips and he grinds them down against him. “Logan,” you gasp his name out, caught off guard by how brazen he’s being in the middle of the club. There are people around you doing much worse but you’ve never known him to be this bold before. 

“You trying to make me jealous?” It’s hard to pay attention to what he’s saying, to focus on anything at all when his hand is drifting steadily down your body. The tips of his fingers just barely brush the skin of your thigh while his thumb lets the hem of your dress curl up. 

He flips you around, taking his hands off of you and instead tilting your chin up to face him. “I said,” he repeats in a condescending tone, “were you trying to make me jealous?” He doesn’t sound like he’s taking you seriously. Even if that was your intention, he thinks it’s just your petty way of lashing out at him for not dancing. 

You narrow your eyes at him and swat his hands off of you. “No. I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was trying to have some fun since you’re clearly not interested at all.”

That insufferable smirk of his doesn’t go away for a minute. If anything, he’s more incensed by your anger. “Who said I wasn’t interested?” Your lips part, another dumb little noise about to slip out when he dips down and stops you. 

He’s not trying to be subtle at all, gripping your dress and tugging you up against him while your lips lock. His tongue dips briefly into your mouth, savoring the taste of tequila on your gums before he pulls back. 

“I’m interested in you, kid, just not this shitty little club.” Your mouth is gaping and you feel like a fool, standing there and just staring at him. Your brain is completely scrambled, bits and pieces forming together to scream that he kissed you. Too many things are happening at once. The music is making the floor beneath you vibrate, liquor is warming you from the inside out and tilting you closer to him. And he kissed you. Your lips are still tingling from it. 

He chuckles a little under his breath, keeping you moving steadily against him. You’re simply something to be puppeteered by your desire for him. No thoughts linger inside your brain except his name. “You’re interested in me?” You repeat dumbly.

He leans down, tilting his lips closer towards your ear. “You can’t feel how much I want you?” One of your thighs is practically draped over his leg and he’s grinding his hips against you. The only thing you can feel is him. The smell of his cologne overpowers all the bodies surrounding you both, his voice drones out the loud music around you. You’re completely consumed by him. 

“Logan,” your tone is scandalized, you can’t believe he’s bold enough to have you nearly half-naked on his lap right now. Your butt is one wrong move away from being the club’s newest attraction. Yet, despite every protest lingering on your tongue, you can’t do anything except kiss him again. 

You don’t know if the moment is all one vivid wet dream your brain has conjured up at three am and you don’t feel like finding out. You want to enjoy being risky for once. You always play everything so safely. You don’t confess your feelings to Logan so you aren’t rejected. You never break the rules, you never act out. Just once, you want to do something bad and enjoy it. 

Your arms twine around his neck and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss further. You feel his reaction more than you hear it. A low grumble in his chest that has you practically vibrating with want. He pulls away from you first and it takes a moment for your eyes to flutter back open. 

When you finally do meet his gaze again, he’s got nothing but a smoldering desire in his eyes that makes you want to melt. He’s staring you down like you’re prey to be chased and consumed. “Can’t do this here,” he mutters. 

You’re almost shocked that he’s the first one to cut this off. You knew it was going to happen, you can’t exactly fuck in the middle of the dance floor. As much as you might want to. But you thought you would be the one to chicken out. 

He grabs your hand and shoves through the throng of grinding bodies. You grab the back of his shirt, stumbling after him and trying to stay close. “As much as I’d like to make that poor son of a bitch watch me fuck you, we need a little more privacy.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about the man you’d danced with earlier. If you could even qualify that as dancing. He’d barely put his hand on your waist before Logan had appeared out of nowhere.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and you glare at his back. How had he even gotten to you so quickly? He must have been watching you like a creep the whole time. You almost want to laugh at the thought. But you’re distracted by him nudging you through a door and locking it behind you. 

You glance around, spotting three sinks and some cracked mirrors. Toilet stalls linger to your right and your nose wrinkles in disgust. You turn around to complain but he’s already stalking toward you. Whatever sanitary complaints were lingering in the back of your throat are thrown out the sealed bathroom window. 

He buries his hands in your hair, ruining the meticulously placed style. You arch into his hold, opening your mouth for him to explore and gasping as his hand drops to your hips. He tugs you closer, ripping your dress up and yanking your underwear down in one smooth move. 

You barely have a second to process half of what’s happening before he’s got you bent over the sink. It’s all happening so fast, so many different desires of yours surging to the surface in one dingy club bathroom. 

You’re slick with months of fantasies and sleepless nights where not even your vibrator could curb your desire for him. You hear his belt clink behind you and your back arches like a cat in heat. You practically present yourself to him, so desperate to feel him that you don’t care how much of a slut you’re being. 

You know, if this was anyone else, you’d slap them for even suggesting the bathroom as the first place you have sex. But you’d have let Logan take you in the alley behind the club. You don’t care where you are, just so long as it's with him. And you know that desire runs a bit deeper than just a surface-level crush. 

He doesn’t give you much warning as he thrusts into you. The breath is practically punched out of you as he fills you. Everything about it feels right. You’re so full of him you feel like you could explode. You know it’s going to take a pathetically short time for you to come. It’s just too much, too fast, you’re so overwhelmed by him. 

“Oh god, Logan,” the porcelain creaks under your palms before you feel it splintering off into your skin. You can’t pay attention to it, though, jaw agape, capable of nothing more than slutty moans of his name. 

He’s relentless behind you, thrusting so hard inside you that it feels like a punishment. He fists his hand in your hair and forces you to look in the mirror. “Come on, want you to see how wrecked you are. What a fucking slut you’re being for me, letting me fuck you like this in this bar.”

Your mascara is completely ruined, streaked down your face with your lipstick smeared across your chin. You look like a fucking mess and you couldn’t care less. You feel yourself fluttering around him the tighter his grip on you is. His hand slips from your hair, latching around your neck and tugging you into his chest. 

He grips your chin and keeps your eyes on where the two of you are joined in the mirror. It only makes you clench tighter around him, watching as he moves in and out of you. You can see just how much of an effect you're having on him and it’s the biggest ego boost you’ve ever had in your life. 

You’ve reduced him to a mess in a dirty club bathroom, so desperate for you he couldn’t even wait to take you home. He tilts his hips, hitting the spot inside you that has your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head.

You whisper his name in warning, letting go of the sink to clutch tightly at his wrist. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you secured against him. His hips start to stutter, losing some of their rhythm the tighter you are around him. The feeling builds in your fingers, tingles down to the tips of your toes, and explodes in a nearly blinding pleasure. His hips are still against you, warmth filling you a moment later. 

You would slump forward into the sink if it weren’t for his protective hold around your stomach. He keeps you tight against his chest for a minute, waiting for you to catch your bearings again. It takes an embarrassingly long time for the feeling in your legs to come back. You’ve never had such an intense experience like that. 

You don’t know if it's from the thrill of possibly getting caught or just because you were with him. You’ve longed and lusted after Logan for so long, and finally having the real thing is a bit of shock. Especially when he exceeded your fantasies, you didn’t even know that was possible.

He props you against the sink, tugging your dress down and pulling your underwear back up. You watch him with dulled interest, still reeling from what you’ve just done. You’ve never been so bold before, it almost feels liberating to just say ‘fuck it’ and do what you want. 

He pulls his own pants back up, fixing his belt and grabbing a wet paper towel for you. He’s silent as he wipes the mascara of your cheeks and you give him a questioning look. “You want the others to know what happened?”

You scoff and glance away from him, looking towards the door of the bathroom. “I’m sure they already know. Weren’t exactly subtle,” you tell him with a small smile. 

He smirks, tossing the towel away and walking back towards you. He keeps his arms on either side of you, bracketing you against the sink and grinning down at you. “No, we weren’t, were we?”

You shake your head silently, lips curled up in amusement. Your eyes briefly dart to his lips before meeting his eyes once more. He catches the look with a sly smile, dipping his head down and giving you a brief kiss. 

It’s short and sweet, more loving than the passionate, rip-my-clothes-off kisses from before. It feels like the type of kiss a married couple would share in the early morning when they only want to remind the other they love each other. Your proximity and the look he’s giving you feel more intimate than anything that just happened. 

“You really meant it?” You muse, voice barely above a whisper as you smile at him. 

“Meant what?” He mutters. 

“You like me,” you tease, entangling your hand with his and tugging him even closer to you. 

He gives you a confused look, glancing at the sink behind you and then back at your disheveled form. “Did I not make that clear enough, kid?”

You shake your head, “No, I think I might need another reminder,” you tell him. It takes a moment for your words to click for him. You can see when it does, he gives you a small smile and shakes his head with an aggrieved sigh like you’re bugging him. 

“Really making me work for it, huh?” You nod your head playfully, dragging him down towards you and bringing him into another kiss. You can deal with the line forming outside in a minute. You can push off your nosy friends’ questions for another day. Right now, it’s just you and him, finally doing what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte 

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡

[weasleyreidstyles]

on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

[flwrstqr]

enhypen having a crush on you

pairings: idol!enhypen x fem idol!reader | genre: fluff | wc: 1200+ | prompt: ENHYPEN members when they have a crush on you as an idol | warnings: not proofread | LIBRARY FOR MORE...

이희승 (lhs)

this man has the fattest crush on you ever. he loves your music, your beauty, your personality, and more (the list can go on). when his manager told him you would be doing a challenge with him for your comeback, he was like 😮. he was so nervous, practicing your challenge 24/7 in the dorms, in the gym, in the car, and at music bank. when you finally meet, he eats up the challenge (as usual). you give him a signed album of yours as a gift, and let me tell you, this man was so excited about it. but as usual, he kept his face with just a smile. other than that, heeseung was astonished by how beautiful and sweet you are both on camera and in real life. when he comes home, of course, he hangs up your signed album on the wall.

박종성 (pjy)

jay fell in love with you mainly for your music and talent but later on, he starts to love your beauty + personality as well. so a long time ago, he watched a video of you doing a cover of a beabadoobee song with a guitar and then thats when hes like 🫢. he was so in love with your voice, like he was hypnotized. and then unexpectedly months later, he gets told he's gonna do a cover with you. like bro is so flabbergasted from that news, he can't think straight. he would just be like 🧍‍♂️for like a couple minutes after his manager told him. then when you guys start recording the live version, he messes up so badly at first take cause he was so nervous to be around you. you tell him that he's doing great which causes him to get butterflies on how sweet you were. then you guys finally get a good take!! after the whole recording, you exchange numbers with him.

심재윤 (sjy)

so first of all, you and jake are called to be like really "similar". both of you guys had a golden retriever type of personality, similar mbtis, and act quite similar. so obviously when you guys were called like twins or similar, thats when jake fell in love with you. when he saw a news article about this, he would like search you up and look more about you. like he would be like "hmm let me see if this girl is worth my personality". then he would fall in love. he loved your personality and your looks and everything about you, right away. as more and more articles rise about you and jake, hybe thought it would be a great idea to use that popularity as an advantage to put those 2 in a music bank interview together. when you guys are in the interview together, before the camera rolled you guys were just awkwardly looking around the room. and then eunchae and chaemin did their little intro and you + other member and jake + other member comes into the scene. after the whole interview, he would like kind of be forced by jungwon to say hi to you (which went a little too awkward). but then you said a sweet hi back which gave him the most biggest butterflies in his stomach. after that, he would be so proud on saying just 1 word to you. like he would have the most biggest smile in the car, replaying the scene.

박성훈(psh)

you were a famous ex-ice skater (like sunghoon). fun fact, sunghoon and you competed when you guys were ice skaters. so many fans shipped you two, calling you guys the ice prince and the ice princess. which like before you were even an idol, sunghoon admired you so much. he would love the way you skated and how pretty you were. he was really whipped for you. but after you two became idols, you guys met at music bank. the conversation would be a bit awkward even though he met you before + you guys were ex skaters together. but as the awkward person sunghoon was, he just was like talking a bit quietly (mainly cause he was nervous). after the small talk, you guys exchanged your numbers and became friends. a couple of weeks later, you guys go on a small cafe hang out. as expected fans caught this on camera and started a rumor that you guys were dating. but inside sunghoon was so happy. he was waiting for this day to happen. hybe didn't deny any rumors cause i mean they were friends technically not dating but hybe was like "im gonna ship them too cus their cute" so they said nothing. which sparked more rumors and now you and sunghoon are #1 trending on twt.

김선우 (ksn)

so his story is kind of different, he was your predebut stan. you came from a survival show too (under HYBE) so he watched your whole survival show cause he was bored. that's when he met you (watched on the show), and he was so impressed by your talent and skill. he would vote you personally on his phone like every single week. finally after you debuted, he was cheering. and let me tell you, this man is like #1 fan of your group. he knows every song + every single choreography + the whole fan chant. and then that's when you invited all HYBE groups to your group's upcoming concert in Seoul. so obviously, sunoo goes. and he has your lightstick already and he is screaming. of course some fans were impressed how well he knew the group and some fans saying he's probably a huge stan (which he is). then he would go permitted to go backstage where he meets you. you greet him and fun fact, your personalities unexpectedly match. you guys take a photo together. and then you post it on your insta, thanking him for coming. after that, you guys were practically best friends.

양정원 (yjw)

you were a MC at a music show, and jungwon had a big crush on you. he would be so nervous around you every time he had an interview at the music show that you were MC of. when you guys did challenges together, he would be even more nervous. not until he was invited to be a substitute MC partner with you at one of the music shows. he would be so honored, like he would not hesitate and say yes. when it's the day, he messes up one of the lines but as a professional, he hides it up. he just felt too tensed and nervous around his lohl. not to mention, your guys' chemistry is insane. a lot of fans after loved this MC and begged HYBE to keep it (which HYBE thought of). after the whole interviews and challenges, you guys exchange numbers and became friends.

西村力 (nsr)

known for your dancing, you were given the title "fourth gen dance queen," and ni-ki, also known for his dancing, was given the title "fourth gen dance prodigy". of course, as expected, the two were put together in a room to do a dance cover together. when you guys first met, you were so awkward. he would be like 😀 this the whole entire practice session. after that, you guys grew less and less awkward. that's when ni-ki starts realizing he likes you. he starts to admire you and when his hyungs are looking, he would watch your videos of dancing, singing, and rapping. he was truly in love with you when you guys recorded the dance cover. the way you guys teased eachother and talked was so cute. at the end, you guys were like best friends in love.

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi hello good day! May I order an extra spicy mille-feuille with a side of mocha coffee for John Price please?

bakery menu

want to order your own dessert? the bakery is still open! always accepting prompts especially from call of duty and formula one! get kinky! get sexy! order up!

mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + mocha coffee (breeding kink) served by capt. john price!

cw: smut/pwp, breeding kink, rough sex, wife!reader, husband!price, age gap (20s/40s), doggy style

price had a pretty wife! price had a pretty wife! johnny said in a sing-song voice when price returned to base after a "sabbatical", the other men knew what was up the moment he took off his gloves and there was a shiny gold band on his left ring finger.

captain jonathan price of task force 141 had bagged himself a missus!

while johnny's comments were juvinile, it was all in good fun. price never talked about you a lot on base. off base, the boys of 141 had met you and eaten your cooking. but, price kept you close to his chest.

he didn't want anything to happen to you.

when johnny gave him a shove of congratulations, price narrowed his eyes at the younger man, "i am still your captain. don't forget that mactavish."

"of course sir!" johnny laughed as he scratched his jaw, "just 'appy for ya!"

"so what's the plan now?" kyle asked as he gave his captain a firm handshake. in all fairness all three men were curious. you had the house, the ring, what was next for the price's?

price leaned back a little in his chair and shrugged, "well, we're tryin' for a kid when i get back. she's worried by the time i finally retire all her eggs will have dried up!" then gave a hearty laugh, "feels good bein' married to my wife. she a good woman!"

-

price was anxious to go home the second he left home for the next mission for the task force. so the day he got to return to his wife, he was all smiles as he took his belongings back home.

his cock was also painfully hard. he hadn't had the chance to relieve himself in a few days, so his cock was aching for a release. and no better place to put it than in his pretty wife.

he pulled up to the house that you two had been living in before you got married. he got his belongings and headed to the front door. when he knocked on the door, he heard the yapping of your dog.

"pumpkin! stop! down!" he heard your voice and smiled. when the door finally opened, he was instantly met with your arms around him. he held you as best as he could.

"hello, love." he smiled.

you kissed him off the lips and took his boonie hat off. you put it on your head before you giggled and took his hand. you brought him inside and price got a full view of what you were wearing.

the tank top was too tight and the sleeping shorts were too short. he made a face and said, "you've been wearin' that while i'm gone?"

you looked at him and said, "yeah? and the ring too!" then burst into laughter, "i'm joking, honey. i put this on for you. i was excited to see my husband."

price knew from the moment he met you, that he could never say no to you. he just loved you so much, it was almost an ache when he was apart from you.

he knew very well that you were leading him upstairs to the bedroom. he gave pumpkin, your german shepherd a pet and a promise they'll watch coronation street when he was done with her "mama."

price waved to the dog who was sitting there confused what her mama and papa were doing. he closed the door and you were on the bed, the tank top and shorts were off. leaving you in a cute mismatched pair of bra and panties.

you looked so adorable. it made price's cock twitch in his pants. such a pretty little wife. a wife he wanted to dick down and breed until you were nice and round with his children.

oh, he hoped you weren't stopping at one price baby. he was thinking at least three, maybe five if he can stick a pair of twins into you. (irish twins would just have to do if that didn't work! price was a man of many plans!)

he got out of his clothes, his hairy body made you drool. along with the strength in his muscles. you swallowed when he invaded your space and took off your under garments. it was like opening a present.

"my beautiful wife." he said. he took you and got you on your elbows and knees, even getting your pillow to put under your head. he took in the sight of you, back arched for him. ready to accept all he'll give you. he rubbed your ass “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

you whimpered against the pillow and felt your husband behind you. you held onto the covers under your head and sighed contently. your pussy was wet, he could clearly see that.

usually he had a cup of tea when he got home, but this was just as good. if not better. he knelt behind you and stroked his cock a few times at the sight of you.

his tip was leaky and his balls felt heavy. such a pretty sight, a submissive little wife (it was the only time you were actually submissive. price knew he married a firecracker!). he rubbed the slick tip up against your slit.

"pretty girl." he purred, then slowly sank into your sweet pussy. his hands on your hips as he pushed in. he heard a sweet moan and watched your back arch more.

"john. please." you panted as you held onto the covers.

"i got ya, love. always got ya." he started his pace, his thrusts were hard but steady. sex was rough, but it made it all feel so good in your bones. it felt like two parts of the same whole.

you were perfect for one another, even when he was breeding your sweet little pussy. he thrust against you, watching your ass jiggle at the force of his movements.

he felt the sweat dip down his back as he moved against you, his heart raced as he felt snug in his wife's pussy. you were just perfect, the most amazing little thing he had ever laid his eyes on. a gift from the heavens for him.

his sweet woman.

"john. please, i love you so much. i can't wait to start a family with you. you're perfect, i love you. you've made me the happiest i could be!" you whined into the pillow. you held onto it under your head.

"i love when you say my name, love. sounds so right on your tongue." he laughed as if he didn't have the most common name in the world. but the way it rolled off your tongue while he was balls deep inside of you made him feel good.

you whined in between your giggle as his soft words. even if his thrusts were hard. he melted you to your core and made you hot all over. it was erotic and it made you sweat.

the two of you continued to move together, his calloused fingers dug into the meat of your hips, enough to leave bruises.

"such a pretty girl."

the sex became harder, like a carnal need for the two of you to reach climax. for him to breed you, he pressed his chest against your back and wrapped both of those strong arms around your middle.

you whined and he panted heavily in your ear. he ached all over for you. his cock bullied into you and his breath was ragged.

"john."

"my girl. my wife." he purred and it sent you over the edge. like fire in your veins.

you clutched onto the bed under you, your back arched and you climaxed. you felt it take the air out of your lungs as he continued to batter your pussy. all in the name of growing your family.

your core throb as his continued movements. you panted heavily and let him get close to his own orgasm. his forearms clenched around you as he

he finished inside of you, and dropped his arms from around you waist. he slowed down and then pulled out. he took you into his arms and kissed at your sweaty neck.

"mmm, my good wife." he said with love in his voice. his cock was still painfully hard. one round wasn't going to make sure his little missus got knocked up! he rubbed his slick cock against your back and said, "perfect for me. we're gonna make a big family, love."

you smiled while still panting and held onto him tightly. you could feel your husband's love as he spooned you. he kissed your neck tenderly and you said, "get me some water and we can go again."

-

you rubbed your achy middle when you felt your son shift against your kidneys. you then poked your belly, "you calm down there." currently he was known as john jr. but you were convincing your amazing, lovely, handsome husband that there were more names than just john.

for now, he was known as peanut. you checked the noodles for the pasta dinner while price was chopping up the mushrooms for the sauce. his sleeves were rolled and those strong arms were on display.

you made a face,

you looked at pumpkin who was seated by your feet, waiting for her chance to have just one noodle. you chuckled and looked at price while you bent down a little to feed the german shepherd one of the penne noodles before you went back to the noodles

"i saw that." price said with a chuckle even if he back was turned to you. he was smiling however. he wouldn't expect anything different from you. when he finished with the mushrooms, he slung a bulky arm around your middle and kissed your cheek.

you turned your head to look at him and giggled, "i love you."

he kissed you on the lips then said, "i love you more. now and forever."

[steddieas-shegoes]

we share that really

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt ‘band politics’

rated t | 905 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, reunion tour, future fic, steddie dads, everyone has a family and is happy

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Their label said it was too soon to do a reunion tour. They were only in their early 40s and had only been officially “broken up” for ten years.

But they were all in the right place: married, children who were old enough to come on tour but still young enough to be excited about it, and writing music that meant more to them than anything they’d done before.

Rumors had swirled for years after they announced their break up. None of them saw it as a breakup, more an early retirement that let them focus on building their lives. Fans and media alike hadn’t stopped coming up with other reasons for it: Gareth had been in love with Eddie for years and finally said something which caused friction, Jeff’s wife had threatened to divorce him if he didn’t take time off, Frankie had a drinking problem that was spreading like a viral disease.

None of it was even close to true.

The one and only reason for all of them was that they wanted to focus on their families for a while.

They stayed in touch, almost more than when they were on tour together. Jeff and Gareth lived in the same neighborhood, and Frankie bought an RV so he could come visit as often as he wanted. Eddie had traveled for a very extended honeymoon with Steve for nearly a year before finally settling an hour away, halfway between his favorite people and Steve’s favorite person.

They still played together at least once a month, a full set and any new stuff someone brought with them.

So when they all agreed it was time to come back and record a new album and do a tour, it wasn’t really a reunion so much as an excuse to be even closer for a while.

The label was thrilled, willing to give everyone their own tour bus so their families could come with them for the US part of the tour.

One thing none of them were prepared for was the media following the announcement.

“Is it true that you only just reconciled after years of legal battles about rights to songs?” A journalist from Rolling Stone asked.

Gareth snorted. “Not even a little, dude. We’ve been best friends this entire time.”

“So there was never any issue with Eddie being the most famous?”

Everyone looked over at Eddie, who was making faces at his youngest daughter at the side of the stage. Jeff leaned into his mic and gestured over to him.

“None of us have ever had a problem with him being the face of the band. We’re here to make music and perform, not fight over who gets to be in the center of pictures,” he said. “Plus, none of us would wanna deal with what he deals with on a daily basis. He’s not that interesting, I promise.”

Everyone laughed as Eddie turned back to the crowd with a smile. “I’m super boring. Just ask my kids.”

"So you don't mind that he gets creative control?" Another reporter asked.

They all shared looks with each other before Eddie leaned forward into his microphone to answer.

"I don't have creative control. We all share it. We all share everything. That's the point of a band like ours. Sometimes I know what sounds best for a guitar solo, sometimes Jeff does. Sometimes Gareth writes a chorus that people will sing along to, sometimes Frankie does. We've never had any of that lead person bullshit no matter what the media wants to show," Eddie drummed once on the table. "Are there any questions about the upcoming album and tour or is everyone here gonna keep asking about shit that isn't true?"

"Language!" Steve yelled from the side of the room.

Everyone laughed and Eddie waved him off.

They got more questions about the album and the tour and it finally seemed like everyone was done asking about band politics until the very end.

"So will Eddie still be the lead guy for the reunion?" Someone from the back asked.

Eddie banged his head against the table.

"Alright, thanks everyone! We'll see you on tour!" Gareth yelled as he pulled Eddie's arm so they could all exit the stage.

"They want us to hate each other so bad," Frankie shook his head.

"Look at this face," Gareth said as he grabbed Eddie's jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pouted out. "Who could hate this face?"

"Shit!" A small voice exclaimed from behind them.

Eddie turned to see his youngest daughter smiling up at him and Steve standing next to her with his hands on his hips.

"You're right, sweetie. Daddy's in deep shit," Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "And he is so sorry for breaking the no bad words rule today. He really is."

"Our fearless leader appears to be absolutely fucked," Jeff said as he started to walk towards his wife and kids.

Gareth trailed behind him in search of his own family.

Frankie punched Eddie's shoulder. "Good luck, big guy."

"Everyone hates me, call the media and tell them they were right," Eddie pouts.

Steve rolls his eyes and picks up their daughter, walking away.

Eddie turns to his twins. "Well, you guys don't care if I say shit."

"You said worse while getting ready this morning."

"And I'll say worse again! Let's get out of here."

[explicit-tae]

ik it would be very out of character but i’d LOVE to see ungodly hour’s jk react to oc admitting she likes (or loves 🫣) him!! knowing him he’d cry

thank you for your amazing work !!!! ly<3

honestly let me just write about it

Ungodly Hour

Word Count: 3.413

Warning: dirty talking, oral sex (f), alcohol intake, intoxicated/unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, overstimulation, riding, love confessions,

“Okay,” Jungkook enters the living room hastily as you arrive, a gift bag in your hand. “I finally finished it.”

“You know you didn’t have to make me wait until you were done.” you tell Jungkook as you sit on the couch. “I’ve had the gift for weeks now.”

“We couldn’t exchange gifts until mine was complete.” Jungkook says.

Jungkook had insisted on waiting to exchange gifts. You knew he was making you something - he kept it hidden in an extra bedroom that he locked to assure you didn’t peek. He also refused to look at whatever gift you got him and prompted that you take it out the house so he himself would be tempted. 

“Well,” you hold out the gift bag - it’s medium sized and a sparkly blue. “Merry Christmas.”

Jungkook notes that you’re nervous as he takes the bag and he isn’t sure why. He would be happy with whatever you gave him - even if he was surprised initially that you told him you got him a gift. He would often think about what it was.

Jungkook opens the gift bag and takes out the rectangular box. He sees the bottom first - it’s a solid yellow color. He flips it around to inspect it, the rest of the sides being black. His eyes capture the name on the top of the box. His eyes widened. 

“Y/N…?”

Now Jungkook understands why you’re nervous. His eyes flicker to you in disbelief. “This camera is expensive!” he gasps. “How did you know-”

“I saw it on your wishlist.” you say, licking your lips. “When you let me borrow your laptop, you left a few tabs open.”

You weren’t going to admit that you were snooping for answers. Jungkook seemingly had everything there was to get and buying a gift for him was becoming difficult. 

Jungkook opens the box gently, his eyes softening at the camera. “You must’ve spent a lot on it…” he says, trailing off. He knows the exact price and knowing that you spent thousands on a gift for him pulls at his heart strings. “Thank you.”

You give Jungkook a smile. “I can finally quit my job now that I’ve spent a few checks on a gift.” you say, joking with Jungkook to lighten the mood. 

“You can!” Jungkook smiles back with a nod.

“Just kidding.” you sing-song. “Don’t be so gullible.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and snorts. He places the camera beside him. “Always teasing me with a good time.” he murmurs. “Now for yours.”

Jungkook had wrapped the canvas neatly. It’s a decent size, you noticed, maybe 11 inches all around. Your heart is beating with anticipation as you unwrap it.

Jungkook awaits your reaction, his own nerves hiking. “Do you…like it?” he murmurs. You haven’t said anything and instead have been analyzing the painting silently, expression unreadable.

The painting is full of life, emotion. The scenery is what you initially noted, a mountain of flowers that seemingly went on for miles by the way Jungkook had painted it. The flowers are colorful, different shades of yellow, orange and pink. The sky holds bright gray clouds, covering the sun that appears to be setting. What captures your attention fully are the hands. Both pairs of hands are connected by the pinky with one wrist sporting a gold watch and the other a bracelet while the arms are painted to appear out of the canvas frame.

“This is us.” you say aloud, glancing up at Jungkook. It was a picture you and he had taken a few weeks back. You recall telling Jungkook that it was one of your favorite pictures of the two of you together that didn’t showcase faces. 

Jungkook nods. “It is.” he agrees. “You said it was your favorite picture so I painted it.”

Your throat tightens at his words.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook, you think, because this was entirely too much for you to handle. Your mother didn’t raise a weak woman who felt like she was seconds away from crying tears because of how happy she felt.

You blame it on your period that must be nearing - even if you never cry on your period. 

“Thank you.” you murmur to Jungkook, glancing away shyly to avoid his gaze. “I love it.” you say sincerely, and the admission causes Jungkook to smile.

“You’re d-drunk.” Jungkook snorted before full on laughing as you stumbled through his bedroom door.

“Fuck you.” you retort, plopping yourself down onto Jungkook’s large bed. “So are you.” you slur back.

Jungkook doesn’t deny it.

This is what happens when you drink with friends - more importantly, Jimin. It was nothing new, Jimin always insisted on going into the new year buzzed - this time, they all just went a little overboard. Luckily, Jungkook had agreed for the party to be at his apartment so he could just walk down the hall to his bedroom.

Of course, Jungkook would soon come to regret it because that meant that he would have to clean the mess they made in the morning - but you were with him, so that was a plus.

“Not as drunk as you.” Jungkook closes the door behind him, along with the loud music and laughter of everyone just down the hall in his living room. “Told you to not challenge Jimin.”

“Fuck Jimin…” you murmur to yourself, more so because Jungkook was right.

However, you wouldn’t say you challenged Jimin - he was the one who came to you with a whole cup of alcohol declaring that you were, in his words, too much of a coward to drink.

It was a complete set up, Jungkook knows this, but the only thing he could do was assure you had water and a lot of greasy food ready for when you were going to need it - and luckily he was there to do so. You’re sure you would’ve been passed out long ago.

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, an attempt to get a look at your lying figure. You and he had matched tonight - an idea that was yours. You wore a long sleeved-black dress with a deep v cut that stopped mid thigh while he wore a compressed black shirt (by your request ) and ripped jeans. 

“Do you need to throw up?” Jungkook asks, stumbling  closer to you when he hears a low moan-like whine. “I told you not to drink so-“

“Shut up,” you sit up and look directly at Jungkook. “Can I sit on your face?” 

Jungkook stops in his tracks, his doe eyes widening slightly. Yes is what he wants to say - he loves the act of pleasuring you. However, he’s unsure if he should be doing anything with you in your intoxicated state. 

“You’re drunk-“

“We’re drunk.” you correct, eyes narrowing at him - and also focusing on him all of the same because the room was still spinning. 

“True.” Jungkook murmurs to himself, trailing off. “Still, I don’t want to take advantage-“

“Save the theatrics, Kookie.” you’re already tugging your underwear off, the lacy material falling right by his bed. “Unless you…”

You don’t finish your sentence and Jungkook titls hisnhead. “What?”

“…unless you suddenly don’t like me anymore.” you whisper, and slowly, your eyes widen as if you had figured out the biggest secret. No other world conspiracy was important - not the Bermuda triangle, not whoever the fuck Jack the Ripper is or whether if Atlantis was ever real. No, not even your favorite cold cases could be as important as this new revelation of Jeon Jungkook not liking you anymore. 

“Now you’re extremely drunk .” Jungkook cackles. “Of course I like you!”

It brings Jungkookk back to when you were convincing him that you liked him, now it was the other way around. His heart swells with your drunken ramblings and overall cute appearance. 

“You don’t.” You cross your arms over your chest. “You refuse to have me sit on your face.” you say, and Jungkook realizes that he truly spoils you like everyone claims he does - you never got told no to mainly anything. 

“So who gets to sit on your face?” you ask with narrow eyes. “I bet-“

“Don’t say that girl's name.” Jungkook cuts you off before you can get started. “You know you’re my girl, Y/N.”

“So you hate me.” you deadpan, saying the words matter-of -factly. “All of a sudden you aren’t obsessed-“

“I am!” Jungkook interrupts, raising his voice. He couldn’t believe that this was a conversation that needed to be had and if he remembered this sober, it’s something he was definitely going to tease you about. 

“Hm.” you uncross your arms and stand to your feet. “I'm going to go party with Jimin.” 

Jungkook steps in front of you. “You aren’t wearing any underwear.” he states. “That and you’re already had enough to drink-“

“If you aren’t going to fuck me,” you wave your hand in his face to stop his speech. “then I’m going to go out there and drink with Jimin.”

If Jimin knew that he was the person that would be used against him it would cause ultimate chaos in the groupchat and in his friend group. 

Jungkook licks his lips. He doesn’t have time to entertain his and your friends any longer. He can only imagine how it would look if he chased after you because you wanted to be drunk and petty. The room is already spinning for him as it is for you and he knows that it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

“You’re such a bitch…” Jungkook murmurs, tone low. It’s a tone that you’re all too familiar with - and you know that you had Jungkook where you wanted him. “Get on the bed.”

You do as you’re told, laying on Jungkook’s bed and open your legs, dress hiking up entirely. 

Jungkook drops to his knees and hooks his hands beneath your thighs. You yelp when he snatches you closer to him. His lips place themselves onto your inner thigh and he presses a kiss. “I spoil you too much.”

Jungkook kisses closer and closer to your heat and he does so to tease you. “You looked so good tonight.” He couldn’t help but cave, wanting to give you whatever you wanted of him. 

Fingernails dig into your skin as Jungkook speaks against your skin. 

“You did, too.” you hitch your breath when you feel Jungkook's lips directly against your clit. 

Jungkook kisses it gently. “Thank you, baby. So needy.”

Your back arches when you feel it, wet tongue sliding directly up your clit. He dips it between your folds, holding you directly still so he can pleasure you like you desperately wanted him to. 

Eyes flickering up, Jungkook grunts. So beautiful, he always thinks of you. You couldn’t help but grow spoiled because he never told you no for anything. However, it wasn’t something he could help - you don’t ask for much to begin with.

The room continues to spin, but you no longer care. Your body erupts with arousal and it clouds your being entirely. You should’ve never drunk as much as you did, but there was no taking back the past. Besides, you cannot remember being filled with lust when you would drink prior - you’re unsure why you appear so insatiable.

“Feels so good, Kookie.” you moan, hips buckling against the rhythm of his tongue. The top half of the dress constricts your body entirely and you cannot wait until you can get out of it. “So, so good.”

Jungkook's eyes are as dark as can be and he’s positive he is a man starved right now. The alcohol runs through his system and causes his movement to be sloppy, but capable. His tongue completely savors your arousal, suckling on your clit to dipping between your folds and now, plunging it inside of you entirely.

“You must want me to fuck you.” Jungkook disclosed. “Your pussy’s clenching around nothing.”

How correct Jungkook was and you’re far from sober, so there was no snarky remark for you to retort with. You were beyond your regular self - you weren’t going to deny anything because you truly, desperately wanted Jungkook.

Your sober self would surely be screaming at you when your intoxication wore off.

Jungkook would lean back a bit every few minutes, his lips and chin fully coated in you. His tongue would still be flicking against your swollen clit and he’s truly doing this as an act to tease you further. He likes when your breath - that you’d be holding - would release when he gave you a bit of a teasing break, all before he devoured you once more.

“Kookie,” you moan Jungkook’s name so lovingly - it’s hard not to want to be between your legs for hours. His hand is bruising the skin of your thigh to hold you against his tongue. “wanna cum.”

Jungkook’s eyes stare into yours, a silent telepathic moment that tells you that he wasn’t stopping you from cumming. But he is also not a fool when it comes to you or your body and soon, you feel your pussy - so greedy to be stuffed and full - stretched out with his fingers.

Jungkook loves your whimpering and moaning - more so when you don’t hide them from his ears. There’s a party right outside his door where people are all huddling to celebrate the new year, and here the two of you were forgetting about them entirely. 

Jungkook plunges his fingers deep inside of you. He hits the familiar sweet spot he knows so well, your thighs quivering in the process. His tongue licks circles around your clit, fingerings thrusting rhythmically. Your moans bounces off the walls and louder than the muffled music in the background.

Jungkook doesn’t mind when your hands grip his hair tightly because he just knows that you’re going through it - and he has no intention of stopping until you’re cumming on his tongue. It’s close, he notes, the way your walls are clenching around his fingers greedily and your cries grow louder and louder in contrast to the way your fingers grips into his hair.

Jungkook allows you to ride against your own high, laying his tongue flat against your clit and allowing you to grind against his tongue, fingers plunging deep inside of you. Your high comes hard, body twitching and Jungkook allows it all to happen, determined to make sure you are satisfied completely before he stops.

You feel dizzy when your high slowly comes down, your forehead lined with sweat and your body completely flushed. Your body molds itself against Jungkook’s soft sheets, your breathing slowing down.

“Where are you going…?” you ask Jungkook when you no longer feel his presence before you. Your eyes flutter open. 

“Nowhere.” Jungkook responds sincerely. “We should get you out of this dress for bed-”

“Bed?” your senses peak and you jolt upright, eyes narrowed once more. “I want to ride you first.”

Jungkook snorts and stumbles back a bit at your sudden action. “You’ve already came so hard, baby. Are you sure-”

You aren’t listening to Jungkook in the slightest. You’re tugging the dress off of you entirely and getting naked right before his eyes. 

Jungkook is but a man and there isn’t much convincing he needs - especially not when you’re tugging him towards you needily. You connect your lips to his while pushing him against the bed. Jungkook loves how needy you are - how much you express that you want him. Of course, he knows that you do any other time - but this time it’s different; getting to witness just how much you want him is a feeling he never knew he craved.

Your fingernails dig into Jungkook’s clothed shoulders as you slowly feel him inside of you. You push him backwards so that he’s laying on the bed, your hips rising and falling.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, hands firmly on your hips. You’re going so fast, fully determined to cum once more - and Jungkook couldn’t be upset. Your face displays just how good you felt in this moment. “your pussy feels so good, baby.”

Your pussy clenches around Jungkook as if responding to his words. By the time the pair of you were done, you were going to be bruised entirely with Jungkook’s hand marks. 

Jungkook finds it hard to look at you - not when you looked so completely fucked out and beautiful. He’s unsure where your stamina appeared - maybe you were just that fucked out and drunk; that you didn’t care that you were overstimulating yourself (and him). 

Jungkook clenches his eyes shut to get the image of you out of his head, but all it does is follow him in his thoughts. Your naked figure using him to pleasure yourself, your bouncing breast to your creaming pussy dripping all over him and making a complete mess.

Jungkook is so hot - so beautiful himself. He’s hissing to himself with clenched eyes, experiencing pure bliss just as you were. His forehead is covered in sweat and a few strands of hair are sticking to it. 

Jungkook feels a hand upon his cheek and his eyes open. They're so dark and full of lust - similar to your own. Your eyes connect to his and Jungkook swallows, adam’s apple bobbing.

“Drunk Y/N is so needy.” Jungkook jokes, voice deep and raspy. “Drunk actions are sober intentions.”

Jungkook begins to thrust upwards, matching your rhythm. His thrusts are brutal, fully determined to satiate your hunger for him. His eyes never leave yours, the pair of you stuck in an intimate, lust-filled moment.

“I-I’m gonna cum again!” you mewl, breaking eye-contact first to shut them tight. The familiar sensation bubbles into you again and Jungkook only fucks into you harder, pounding with all his might; how the both of you could be drunk and full of stamina is beyond him.

Your walls are squeezing around Jungkook and within seconds, your juices squirt around Jungkook entirely, fully coating his abdomen. “I-I-” Your body is twitching, your head pushed back when Jungkook hears your words. “I love you.”

Jungkook is still for a moment, completely silent. He’s contemplating if he heard you correctly and before he can speak, you repeat yourself. “I love you.” it’s low and a bit slurred, but Jungkook hears it entirely.

“You’re drunk.” Jungkook laughs it off, cheeks flushed and heart beating out his chest. He doesn’t want to call you a liar - you wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. However, you’re drunk and maybe you meant to say you loved the way he was fucking you -

“Shut up,” you say, walls tightening on Jungkook’s cock. “I do love you.”

You yelp when you feel your back hit the soft mattress, all without Jungkook removing himself from inside of you. The room continues to spin for you two, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. 

“You’re going to forget you said that.” Jungkook begins to thrust, holding you close in his embrace. “Gonna deny it until the end of time.”

“I love you.” you repeat and Jungkook’s pounding only increases. Skin slapping echoes off the wall and the two of you are so entranced in the moment that neither of you notice the music dying down outside the room. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Jungkook whimpers with a shake of his head. His thoughts are consumed by your words - the love confession. 

Jungkook could never get tired of hearing it and at this moment, you don’t get tired of saying it. You repeat it over and over again as Jungkook continues to fuck inside of you. You’re creaming his cock, a white ring forming around the shaft and Jungkook couldn’t get enough of you.

I love you.

I love you.

You love him, Jungkook’s thrilled at the revelation. His head drops back as his body tenses up, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Say it again, baby.” he pleads with a choked whimper. He needed to hear you say it again, as selfish as it was - he’s unsure how long it’d be before he could hear it again.

“Fuck,” your pussy is seeping with arousal and staining his sheets, your clit swollen and pulsing. “I love you, Kookie.”“Oh, shit…I love you, too, baby.” Jungkook continues to stretch your pussy completely until he’s shooting hot cum directly inside of you, a hand directly on your stomach as he does so. He’s panting, the both of you covered in sweat and bodily fluids.

[kitten4sannie]

HOT TO GO!

pairing: boyfriend! hongjoong x fem! reader

genre: smut

summary: poor hongjoong always ends up fighting demons when he’s up too late in the studio. he has no choice but to facetime you in hopes that you’ll help solve his dilemma.

w.c: 1.5k

warnings: soft dom but slightly subby! hongjoong, sub with some dom tendencies! reader, phone/facetime sex, teasing, pet names, dirty talk, some instruction giving, tit play/sucking requested by joong (they match each other’s freak okay), mutual masturbation, brief breeding kink

a/n: oh captain my captain~~ oomfs let me know about this wonderful prompt and i simply couldn’t say no 😵‍💫💕 there’s something about a nasty facetime call between two people that are extremely desperate for each other that drives me insaneeeee GOD. enjoy lovelies <3

song rec: cyber sex by doja cat

“Come on, let this be the one,” Hongjoong sighed to himself, listening intently to the track he was in the process of crafting. After hours and hours spent hunched over his monitor, something still wasn’t right. “Fuck, man…”

He rubbed the pads of his thumbs into the bridge of his nose once he removed his reading glasses, pinching it slightly. He glanced at the bottom of the monitor with his bloodshot eyes, noting that the clock had just struck 12, before looking down at his phone screen, tapping it gently, a breathtaking photo of you popping up and almost making him forget where he even was. He couldn’t believe he had to be away from you for so long, stuck inside his studio instead of being being stuck between your trembling thighs, wishing he could listen to the lovely sounds you produced for him rather than the artificial ones he made with his keyboard.

The longer he thought about what you were possibly doing in bed without him, the more he began to squirm in his plush computer chair, grabbing at the crotch of his baggy sweatpants. Maybe if he could just release some tension, he’d finally figure out how to finish the song. And maybe, just maybe, his baby wouldn’t be opposed to helping him out a bit. 

Hongjoong propped his phone up against his monitor and hit the call icon next to your name, biting into his chapped bottom lip, feeling more and more like a pervert the longer he listened to the dial tone drone on, figuring you were probably just trying to get a good night’s rest. And, here he was, trying to get his nut off. “Goddamn it,” he mumbled to himself, resting his head in his hand just as his phone made a familiar chirping sound. It was then that your sleepy voice rang out through the phone speaker.

“Hey, how’s my baby doing?” You smiled at the sight of your slightly disheveled boyfriend on your bright phone screen, kicking off your warm covers. “Are you making sick beats?” 

“The sickest,” Hongjoong replied softly, his lips curling up into a feline-like smile, his tired eyes sparkling at the sight of you. “I’m good now that I’m seeing your pretty face. I missed you today.” 

“I missed you too, Joongie.” You rolled onto your side in your regretfully empty bed, resting your phone against the edge of your pillow, one of your loose tank top straps sliding down your shoulder. “Still in the studio, huh?” You pouted at your boyfriend, batting your eyelashes. “Why aren’t you at home yet? In bed with me?” 

Hongjoong gulped, unconsciously wetting his lips with his tongue, trying not to fixate on the way your tits were squished together, your tank top barely concealing what was hidden underneath. “I wish I was in bed with you right now…so bad…I, actually, couldn’t stop thinking about you before I called. I couldn’t concentrate on my music.” 

You giggled softly, knowing him well enough to know why he was having a hard time keeping eye contact with you, pressing your tits together just a little more, watching your boyfriend’s mouth open slightly. “Oh, so it’s my fault you couldn’t concentrate, huh? Should I take responsibility, Joongie?” 

Hongjoong squeezed his ringed fingers into one of his thighs, biting back the groan he wanted to let out. His baby was always such a tease. It pained him that he couldn’t be there with you physically to tease you back in the way he wanted, knowing he would have you flushed, soaked, and begging for him to be inside you. For now, he would have to make the most of this late night facetime call. 

“You should, babygirl. You’re always so naughty for me when I’m home, always making me think dirty things when I’m in the studio. Just look at what you’ve done to me,” Hongjoong answered huskily, slowly leaning back against his computer chair, allowing you to see the way his stiff cock was pressing into the thin material of his joggers. He squeezed around the base of it, jerking himself off in an agonizingly slow manner, knowing it would drive you insane. “Mm, make it up to Joongie, yeah? Take your tits out.” 

As you obediently tugged your top down and allowed your tits to spill out, much to Hongjoong’s satisfaction, he tugged his leaking cock free from its confines, causing you to begin to drool almost as if on command, having to swallow it all down to keep it from spilling out, wishing your boyfriend was on the bed next to you so that his heavy cock could plug up your throat. For now, you would have to settle for watching him touch himself on your phone screen. “Now what, Joongie?” you asked, bringing your free hand up to your tits to grope and squeeze at them. 

“S-suck on them…” he requested perversely, a bead of sweat dripping along his temple. 

Propping your phone against one of your plushies, you brought both of your hands to the undersides of your tits, slowly bringing them up near your mouth. “Joongie’s a little pervert, huh? Wanting to watch his baby suck on her own tits like this….” 

“I-i am…wanna see you be naughty for me…” Hongjoong blushed heavily, pulling at the strings of his hoodie in an act to conceal himself, his dilated eyes still focused solely on you, his hand squeezed tight around the base of his cock, feeling it throb persistently. 

Humming, you brought one of them to your mouth, idly licking around and over your nipple until it hardened against your tongue, sucking it into your warm mouth and moaning, before giving your other tit the same treatment, occasionally looking up at your boyfriend with hazy, half-closed eyes, wishing your wetness was leaking out around his moving cock, instead of soaking into your panties. “Baby…stop for a second…” you whispered, squeezing your thighs together. 

“Yes, princess,” Hongjoong obeyed breathily, taking his hand off of his length and instead grabbing at his thigh, his stiff cock twitching upwards like it had a mind of its own, sticky pre-cum pooling from his tip and dripping down the side. It looked like he was going to bust at any given second. 

Licking your lips at Hongjoong’s pitiful state, you sat up on the bed and faced your phone, opening your slick covered thighs, pulling your panties to the side and spreading yourself open to show your boyfriend the way your pretty pink hole fluttered around nothing.  “Can you please fuck me? I’m so empty, I wanna cry…” 

“Oh my godddd, baby,” Hongjoong groaned, watching closely as you rubbed your fingers over your cunt, able to hear just how incredibly wet you were for him, eventually tugging his hood off of his head and running his fingers through his hair, gripping it for a second to keep himself from tweaking. “I wish I could fuck you dumb right now…You have no idea how bad I wanna fill you up…” 

“Guess I’ll have to get the job done myself until you get home, huh?” you sighed playfully, just as you easily slipped two fingers inside yourself up to the knuckles, adding a third because you could, before fucking them in and out of you, the obscenely wet sounds your cunt made each time sending Hongjoong into a deeper state of need. “J-joongie, please cum inside me…I need it…”

Letting out a whimper, Hongjoong resumed his desperate act of self pleasure, quickly collecting his abundant pre-cum to slick up his twitching cock each time his closed fist moved near the shiny, red tip. “Gonna cum, baby, gonna cum so hard for you…” 

Keeping your eyes locked on your boyfriend’s half-lidded ones, you quickened your pace, your fingers beginning to cramp, curling them up just enough to pound them into your g-spot, causing your gasps to turn into whiny moans, a few tears starting to spill from your eyes, similar to the arousal that was spilling out of your pulsing cunt. “I’m cumming, Joongie, fuck– Fill me up, please, please, please…!” 

Hongjoong threw himself back into his chair, emitting a few soundless moans, before he began to let out one long groan, desperately bucking up into his closed fist, until a stream of milky, white liquid shot out.  “Fuck, I’m gonna knock you up, princess….There’s so much…” he sighed out, tossing his head back, milking his aching cock with a shaky hand, a few beads of cum spilling out onto his skin. 

The both of you grew quiet as you came down from your highs, simply panting and trying to catch your breath, still gazing at one another through your phone screens. 

You picked up your phone and brought it closer to your face, batting your lashes at him once again, whispering, “You better finish up that song and get your ass home, Joong. As much as I love watching you make a mess of yourself, that wasn’t nearly enough for me.” 

After practically melting into his chair, Hongjoong sat up and nodded his head obediently, biting his lip at the implication that the both of you would be going at it all night. He pushed some of his sweaty hair back just to let it fall into his now narrowing eyes, making sure you were looking at him when he guaranteed, “I’ll be sure to ruin you later, princess. Wait up for me, yeah?”   

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

tags: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cosmiczen @choerryge @arusio @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @purplechannie @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @chanst1ddies @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @bls-luv-me @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @eastleighsblog @singularity777 @san-realblkwife @kawennote09 @feuille-et-pain @slut4hwa @owjohny @hijeongguk @lilramennoodle @leo-seonghwa @staytinydegenerate @greenymar @8tinytings @baguette-atiny @lvnderhazes @knucklesdeepmingi @soobiverse @jeongwangjessmina @ja3hwa @actuallyalien @aggiebackstage @doom-fics @koalakoala8 @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[lnfours]

Heyyy congrats on the milestone🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Can you please do prompt 6 and 9 from list 2 where lan picks drunk reader up from a night out and just kinda takes care of her

Thank you💜

thank u anon! also the thought of this warmed my heart in a way i can’t describe ☹️ alsooooo best friend!lando bc.. yeah!!!!!

prompt 6: “hey, you’re shivering…” followed by their hand gently tugging your body closer to theirs while they rest their chin on top of your head.

prompt 9: being extremely gentle when you’re close to them.

join the 12k and annual celebration!

“where’re you at?” lando’s voice sounded through the speakers of your phone. however, you didn’t catch the sound of the jingle of keys in the background, or the sound of his front door closing.

“mm,” you hummed, turning around on the sidewalk to look at the bar behind you, “harry’s?”

he chuckled softly on the other end of the phone, car door closing as he hopped into the drivers seat, “you don’t sound so sure.”

“‘m not,” you slurred, “whatever bar has the really overly talkative dj. can’t believe he decided to get on the mic during the only good song he played all night. can you believe that?”

he smiled on the other end, putting the pieces together on where you were, “well, what song was it?”

you hiccuped quietly, but he caught it on his end, “best song ever by one direction!”

“that asshole,” lando said, typing in the address for the bar you were at, “listen, i’ll be there in ten minutes, alright? you stay put. don’t go anywhere with anyone. got it?”

you fake saluted, even though he couldn’t see you, “yes sir,”

“good, okay, i’ll see you soon.”

“see you soon,” you smiled, hanging up the phone before sitting down on the curb in front of the bar. after sitting there for a few minutes, your friends had finally walked out of the bar.

“we’re heading back to abby’s!” your friend, jasmine, smiled, “you coming?”

“no,” you shook your head, “my ride’s almost here.”

“did you call an uber?”

“something like that,” you smiled, “don’t worry, i’ll be fine.”

“what do you mean ‘something like that’?” the blonde, abby, asked. her question was answered a few seconds later when a car pulled up in front of your group. the mclaren being a dead giveaway of who you called.

the girls teased you, a cluster of ‘aww’s and ‘how cute’s coming from them before you flipped them off playfully. lando rounded the back of the car, clad in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that was a sign that he had been planning on going to bed before you called.

“evening ladies,” he smiled at the girls behind you before looking down at you, “ready, princess?”

you nodded, sticking your hands out to him. he helped you up off the curb, noticing your shivering state. the nighttime breeze and the revealing dress you were wearing making you cold.

“hey, you’re shivering,” he said, pulling you into a hug and leaning his head on yours in efforts to warm you up, “why didn’t you bring a jacket? you know it gets chilly at night in the fall,”

you hummed, basking in his warmth and the smell of him. he smelled clean, like he had just gotten out the shower, with a hint of the scent of his laundry detergent. his cologne from the day before still lingering on his skin. he smelled like home.

“accidentally left it on my bed,” you mumbled into his chest, his head resting on top of yours, “wasn’t cold til i came out here.”

he chuckled, “probably helped sober you up a bit,” he said, pulling away from the hug and leaning down to brush a stray hair from your face, “hungry?”

you nodded and he smiled, “okay, let’s get you in the car.”

you let him lead you to the passenger side door. the both of you bidding your group a goodbye as they all watched with knowing smiles and smirks.

once he got you buckled, he closed the door and made his way to his own side. he pushed the heat up for your side of the car, wanting you to get warmth back into your body.

“what’dya want for food?” he asked, pulling away from the curb before looking over at you.

“really want pancakes,” you said.

“you want pancakes at,” he paused to read the time on the display of his car, “eleven o’clock at night.”

you nodded, looking over at him and god he couldn’t say no to that face, “please?”

“okay, pancakes it is.”

you smiled, absentmindedly reaching for his hand on the center console, your cold hands wanting the warmth from his body back, “your hands are warm,”

he smiled, letting you hold his hand in yours, despite the fact that they felt like icicles, “because i actually dress according to the weather, thank you.”

“says the man who wears hoodies in the middle of summer,” you retorted, “no room to talk.”

he laughed softly, pulling into the parking spot in front of his house, “got me there, i suppose.”

he managed to get you in the house easily, you sitting at the kitchen counter and watching him rummage through the cupboards to find the ingredients to make pancakes. you couldn’t help but stare at him in the dim light, your heart clenching in your chest as you watched him.

he was making you pancakes. at eleven at night. after picking you up from the bar. what about him wasn’t there to love?

your feet were moving before you could think about it, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. he smiled as you leaned your forehead on his shoulder, his freehand coming down and placing it over yours.

“tired?”

you hummed in response.

“once you eat we can go to bed,” he said, his voice soft as he poured the batter into the pan, “promise.”

“can we cuddle?” you asked, picking your head up and smiling at him as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“whatever you want,” he smiled back.

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃Seventeen and spotting their S/O during a concert❃

A/N: sooo like a lot of you I will be going to Lollapalooza in Berlin in September to see Seventeen. I am very excited to get the chance to see them live after having been a carat for such an incredibly long time. Anyway, hopefully, I will see some of you there! Let’s have a great time together and be extra loud for the boys!

To celebrate Seventeen’s acknowledgement of the European continent, here is a small prompt about them spotting their S/O during their concert. This prompt might be a little short as I am slowly getting back into writing and creating 13 different reactions takes a lot of time so bear with me as I find my footing again!

 Scoups/Seungcheol:

❀ Coups will be all smiles the moment he spots you in the crowd. You had kept it secret from him that you would be attending, and now it finally makes sense to him why you had been so weird when he asked you what you were going to be doing tonight whilst he was gone.

❀ He tries not to draw too much attention to you being there, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. However, he is having a difficult time not glancing in your direction and subconsciously wanders near to where you are sitting whenever they are not dancing.

❀ The moment he sees you are cold, he makes sure to hand over his hoodie to you. For good measure, he donates his bucket hat as well; what if your ears get cold? You know what, he is going to ask the staff to hand you some hot packs, just in case.

❀ He goes hard on the sexy parts of the songs, giving it his all. He wants to impress you; you better bring some holy water.

Jeonghan

❀ At first, you might assume that Jeonghan is completely unaware that you are in the crowd, watching him perform. There is nothing to indicate that he has noticed you as he continues to perform as he normally would, cool on the outside.

❀ However, in actuality, Jeonghan spotted you almost immediately and is absolutely thrilled to see you; he is just more subtle with it than some of the other members. Throughout the concert, he tries to communicate his excitement mainly through small gestures, only noticeable to those who know him well. For instance, he will walk past your spot, giving you a cheeky wink or be a bit more energetic with the members.  

❀ He also starts teasing you by making obscure inside jokes and references to funny stories during talking segments, subtly mentioning some of your embarrassing moments he witnessed.

❀ He will try to convince Seungkwan to force you to sing the Aju Nice high note for his own enjoyment, laughing when you fail.

Joshua

❀ Joshua always felt apprehensive about inviting you to his concerts, not because he didn't want you there but because he didn't want to pressure you into attending. So when you decide to surprise him by attending without telling him, he turns all mushy.

❀ He sends you small, soft smiles throughout the concert. The smiling doesn’t cease during the performances either; Joshua keeps smiling even during songs where smiling doesn't really fit the concept, as he is supposed to be all sexy and mysterious.

❀ During the vocal ballads, he seeks you out in the crowd again. Throughout the song, he makes eye contact with you, expressing his love for you through the lyrics of the song.

❀ When he is asked to sing a song he recently has been listening to during one of the talking segments, he will make sure to sing a snippet of your favourite song.  

Jun

❀ Jun is so focused during the concert that he doesn't initially notice you in the crowd. The other members have to point it out to him; Seungkwan gently nudges him during one of the talking segments, bringing your presence to his awareness.

❀ Rather than getting smiley or more energetic, Jun, instead, gets a bit shy when he makes eye contact with you. He suddenly regrets all the weird stuff his members made him do during the talking segments of the concert.

❀ Once he eases up, though, his happiness at seeing you outweighs his shyness. The members notice he is extra energized during the concert, continuously bouncing around the stage during the Aju Nice encore.

❀ Somewhere during the concert, DK and Hoshi convince him to wave in your direction. Thus, you get the cutest, most bashful tiny wave, followed by him hiding behind a laughing Mingyu.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ Okay, where the other members would probably keep their relationships private for as long as possible, Hoshi probably would not be able to keep your relationship secret for long. This man is the king of spoilers, and if fans weren't aware of him being in a relationship before the concert, they for sure know about it after.

❀ He is another member who initially doesn't notice that you are there until another member points it out. Woozi didn't even intend to bring it to Hoshi's awareness; he had merely noted that you had seemed to enjoy their performance of Hot, making Hoshi realize you had been there all along.

❀ His energy explodes the moment he spots you in the crowd. Everything is cranked to the max; he is performing at 200% and is running across the stage as if his life depends on it. Hoshi wants to make you laugh, regularly checking whether his unhinged joke or skit landed by glancing in your direction.

❀ Throughout the concert, he sends exaggerated gestures your way. He continuously is horanghae-ing in your direction and blowing kisses, not bothered in the slightest that technically he should be keeping your relationship on the down low.

Wonwoo

❀ Chances are that this man is too blind to spot you in the crowd. Wonwoo has admitted that he never wears contact lenses on stage and, thus, cannot see anything or anyone in front of him. Consequently, if it hadn't been for Mingyu pointing you out to him, Wonwoo would never have known you had attended the concert.

❀ As a result, he momentarily puts in contact lenses just so that he can see your smile. However, rather than feeling energized by your presence, he is another member who gets painfully shy upon spotting you.

❀ Whenever his eyes meet yours, he freezes for a second, giving you a tiny smile and the tiniest nod before quickly looking away. He has been having trouble focusing on anything but you; his eyes keep seeking you out whenever they have a talking segment, not listening to a single word his members are saying.

❀ Wonwoo, at some point, seriously considers removing his contact lenses, especially when Mingyu notices why his friend is getting so flustered and distracted, teasing him about it.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ Woozi has the best poker face, for the most part. Although you can tell by the small smile that graces his face throughout the performances that he has noticed you, he mostly seems unaffected by your presence.

❀ The other members, however, do not let him get off all that easily. Throughout the concert, they tease him, bringing up inside jokes between the two of you or teasingly commending him on his well-written romantic lyrics. His lyrics are so ingenious, wherever did he get the inspiration from?

❀ Due to all the teasing comments about him being a romantic guy and making romantic songs, he gets a bit shy when singing his ballads. Most of his love songs were written about you, and he can't help but avoid your gaze as he feels the burning, knowing stares of his fellow vocal unit members. Woozi feels a bit too embarrassed at saying his poetic love confessions out loud in such a public space.

❀ Still, his shyness does not keep him from wandering to the area where you are sitting, checking whether you are having a good time and ensuring that you know he appreciates you attending the concert by giving you a small smile and wave.

DK/Seokmin

❀ DK is so oblivious to you being there; it isn't that he hasn't seen you, but he hasn't noticed it is actually you. He even pointed you out to Minghao, remarking that he had found your body double. Of course, Minghao scolded him for not being able to recognize his own partner.

❀ When it finally dawns on him that you took the time to attend their concert, he starts to tear up. One of his speeches leaves you sobbing, too. DK is so incredibly sincere, tearfully thanking everyone who has come to support him and remarking that without their encouragements, he wouldn’t have been able to perform as well as he did. Although he is deliberately keeping his speech vague, you know he is talking about you.

❀ Nevertheless, DK is not the most subtle about his excitement about you being there. He will regularly enthusiastically wave in your direction. Ultimately, Coups has to step in as it is becoming rather suspicious that DK seems to continuously be playfully interacting with only a select group of Carats. From then on, DK has to follow a simple rule: one interaction with you equals two waves to Carats on the other side of the stadium.

❀ As he wants to commemorate the first time you attended his concert, he will save a piece of confetti for you as a memento.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu has been begging you for ages to attend one of his concerts. Unfortunately, your schedule never lined up with the concert dates; even worse, you couldn't cancel your already-made plans, much to your shared disappointment. Thus, when the stars aligned and you finally had the time to go, Mingyu was absolutely over the moon.

❀ Mingyu is noticeably more energetic and giggly throughout the concert. He keeps glancing in your direction, breaking out in a massive smile whenever your eyes meet. Whenever he is able to walk around the stage, he ends up in front of you, giving you a pout when he notices you watching another member. Poor Coups has a field day reminding Mingyu not to make his affection for you so apparent to the fans.

❀ He is on a whole different level during the sexy songs; his shirt accidentally keeps getting drenched, and an overenthusiastic DK keeps trying to lift it 'just because', knowing you would appreciate it.

❀ Mingyu has told every single member that you are there, at least twice. They have tried to hush him, but in his excitement, he keeps nudging them and pointing over at you. He is lucky the microphones haven’t picked up his yapping.

The8/Minghao

❀ He knew you were coming to the concert and had been trying to dissuade you from doing so. It simply didn't make sense to him why you wanted to attend. Why waste that much money on tickets when he could invite you to the dance practices or give you a mini concert at home for free?

❀ On the inside, he is incredibly happy that you chose to attend the concert. Minghao briefly mentions it in passing to Jun, unable to hide the soft smile that keeps appearing whenever he does as much as think about you being there.

❀ He is very giggly throughout the concert. To both Carats' and Seventeen's surprise, Minghao keeps laughing at Hoshi's unhinged jokes, even forgetting about his anti-horanghae agenda.

❀ Fans keep thinking he meditated that day because he somehow is very patient with his members' crazy and embarrassing behaviour. In reality, he is too distracted looking at you to actively notice half of the stuff his members are pulling during the talking segments of the concert.

❀ Minghao absolutely refuses to join in on their idiocy, however. He does not want to do anything embarrassing in front of you, even if it would make you laugh.

Seungkwan

❀ It is noticeable to everyone around him that he is so incredibly happy that you were able to attend his concert. Mind you, you have attended his concerts before, but every time you do, Seungkwan treats it like it is the first time you are watching him perform. He has brought it up to every single staff member, excitedly telling them this is going to be the best concert yet because you are there to support him.

❀ He is pulling more shenanigans than usual. His sole goal during the concert is to make you laugh until you cry, and thus, he has pulled out all the stops, imitating every celebrity under the sun. Their concert almost feels like a Going Seventeen episode with Seungkwan as the MC.

❀ During the concert, Seungkwan is flaunting his dance and singing skills. He is adding a riff here and there and putting even more emotion behind the words he is singing. If possible, he will convince the members to let him have his Sexy Seungkwan moment.

❀ At some point during the concert, he will 100% go up to you, just to make you do something crazy. I hope you practised your Aju Nice high note and warmed up for your dance solo.

Vernon

❀ Vernon keeps quiet about you being at the concert; he spotted you almost immediately but will not mention it to any of the members. Seungkwan is downright offended when Vernon mentions it after the concert has ended, scolding him that he should have told them you were there. Vernon wants you to enjoy the concert without all the stuff he knows the members would pull once they realize you are in attendance.

❀ During the concert, you feel like you are on The Office. Whenever one of the members does something stupid or embarrassing, Vernon will make direct eye contact with you, pulling a meme face to silently communicate his tortured feelings at having to witness it.  

❀ Vernon isn't one to go over to your area and give you a wave or a smile, wanting you to enjoy a normal concert-going experience. At most, he will briefly meet your eyes during a meaningful line.

❀ He is not paying any attention to his members during talking segments, zoning out to blatantly stare at you. When they scold him backstage, he 1000% uses you as his excuse.

Dino/Chan

❀ You hadn't told Dino that you would be attending their upcoming concert, mostly because you knew that if you did, his perfectionism would get the better of him. Dino would practice deep into the night, wanting to give you the best performance imaginable, and, thus, not telling him, was your way of preventing your boyfriend from overworking himself.

❀ Still, the moment he notices you in the crowd, he goes on a mission to prove himself. Gone is the cute maknae; he has cranked up his stage presence to 5000% and will not accept a single mistake.

❀ Throughout the concert, Dino keeps glancing in your direction to gauge your reaction whenever he has executed a difficult or sexy dance move.

❀ Although he loves making you laugh, Dino feels torn between making a fool out of himself or being the cool, sexy guy. Still, after some encouragement from his members, he will join them in their skits, bringing out his famous characters. Seeing your laughter at his ridiculousness boosts his confidence tenfold.

❀ Despite his members' pushiness, he is way too shy to actually go over to where you are sitting or wave at you. Instead, he jealously stares at you from afar as the other members interact with you.

Masterlist