#how will it fit that's what your imagination is for

[theetherealbloom]

Whole Package, Babe, I Like The Way You Fit

Summary: Holiday beach trip with Pedro and friends.

Or, that one new Pedro shirtless pic…

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Nudity, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Beach Trip, Light Blood, Scratch, Ocean, Swimming, Swimwear, Shirtless Pedro, Light SMUT, Spicy, Sweet, Implied SMUT, Banter, Idk Spanish so the terms might be wrong but I'm trying my best

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: The mf decided to give us shirtless Pedro and suddenly I have the will to live again LMAO. Weirdly enough, I am also at the beach while writing this so it’s kinda a funny coincidence… Imagine if we were at the same beach, that would be so funny (He can never know my existence I might die.)

No one ask me how I knew what hotel they were staying at. I scare myself too dw.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Juno by Sabrina Carpenter

| Main Masterlist |

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — DAY

The warm tropical breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean as you stepped onto the soft, powdery sand of the secluded beach Pedro’s friends had chosen for the Christmas getaway. The sun kissed your skin, palm trees swayed lazily overhead, and the gentle rhythm of waves provided the perfect soundtrack for a holiday escape.  

The group—Lauren Alexander, Brandan Campbell, Omar Apollo, and Pedro’s ever-charismatic agent, Franklin Latt—had already claimed a prime spot near the water. Lounge chairs were lined up under brightly colored umbrellas, a massive cooler sat brimming with ice and drinks, and Omar was enthusiastically attempting to set up a speaker while humming the latest tune stuck in his head.  

Pedro lagged a few steps behind you, carrying your beach bag and his, though his attention wasn’t on the task. It was on you.  

When you shrugged off your airy cover-up, revealing a stunning red bikini that hugged your curves just right, Pedro froze mid-step. His sunglasses couldn’t hide the way his jaw tightened or how his eyes darkened as they roamed over you.  

“Everything okay there?” you teased, tilting your head as you caught him staring.  

Pedro blinked, visibly gathering himself. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” He cleared his throat, but his gaze didn’t waver. “More than fine.”  

You smirked, adjusting the straps of your bikini for good measure. “You’re staring.”  

“Can you blame me?” he shot back, taking a step closer. His voice dipped, low and husky. “You look... breathtaking.”  

A flush crept up your neck, but you refused to let him win so easily. “Not too bad yourself,” you quipped, lightly poking his chest. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of his tan skin and the gold chain that rested against his collarbone.  

Pedro chuckled, the sound warm and intimate. “If I’d known you’d be wearing this, I’d have hired a bodyguard to keep everyone else from looking.”  

“Oh, please,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the grin tugging at your lips. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”  

He leaned in, his hand brushing against your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. “Stop being so cute, or I might never let you leave my sight,” he murmured.  

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you teased, your voice playful but your heart racing.  

“Both,” he said, his grin widening as he pulled back to admire you once more.  

From nearby, Omar let out a loud whistle. “Pedro, are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna help us with this speaker? Some of us want to vibe to music!”  

Pedro groaned, turning reluctantly toward the group but throwing an arm around your shoulders as he led you over. “Fine, but only because she’s coming with me,” he called out, earning a round of laughter.  

As you settled into the setup, the sun beamed overhead, and the carefree energy of the group was infectious. Pedro stayed close, his arm brushing yours as you helped Lauren unpack snacks, and his eyes never strayed far from you.  

At one point, Franklin handed you a coconut with a straw and a cheeky smile. “Best way to stay hydrated,” he said, winking.  

“Cheers,” Pedro said, clinking his coconut against yours. He took a sip before leaning closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But if you spill even a drop, I’m licking it off you.”  

Your cheeks burned as you nearly choked on your drink. “Pedro!” you hissed, swatting at him.  

He grinned, unapologetic. “What? I’m just being practical.”  

The day unfolded in easy laughter and warmth, with the sun high overhead and the turquoise ocean sparkling like a field of diamonds. Pedro carried you on his back through the shallows, his hands gripping your thighs as you pretended to be his commanding officer.  

“Faster, soldier!” you commanded, leaning forward and tugging gently at his ears as if steering him.  

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” he called back, mock-serious but laughing as he jogged through the water, sending small waves splashing around you both. “Anything else, ma’am? Should I do some push-ups in the sand too?”  

You grinned wickedly. “Push-ups? I’d like to see you try—with me on your back.”  

Pedro stopped abruptly, twisting his head to glance at you with a raised brow. “Oh, you think I can’t?”  

“I know you can’t,” you teased, leaning down to press your cheek against his.  

He smirked, suddenly spinning in place. “You’re asking for it now.”  

Before you could protest, he dropped into the water with a dramatic splash, sending you tumbling off his back and into the cool embrace of the ocean.  

“Pedro!” you shrieked, surfacing with a gasp and pushing your wet hair out of your face.  

He was already laughing, standing a few feet away with his hands on his hips, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead. “That’s what you get for doubting my strength!”  

“Oh, you’re so dead!” you shouted, lunging toward him.  

Pedro yelped playfully, backpedaling but not fast enough. You caught his arm, laughing as you pulled him down into the water with you. The two of you wrestled like kids, splashing and laughing so hard your stomach hurt.  

“Truce! Truce!” he called out, holding up his hands in surrender as you pelted him with another wave of water.  

“Do you admit defeat?” you demanded, a triumphant grin on your face.  

“Never!” he declared, darting forward to grab your waist. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly, spinning you around in the water.  

“Pedro!” you shrieked, laughing and trying to wriggle free.  

“You wanted a soldier,” he said, his voice full of mischief, “and now you’ve got one!”  

You finally stopped struggling, letting your arms drape around his shoulders as he held you close. The laughter faded into something softer, the two of you catching your breath as you stood chest-deep in the water.  

His hands slid down to your hips, steadying you as he gazed at you with a look that made your heart flutter. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.  

The way he said it, like it was a simple truth he’d always believed, made your cheeks warm despite the cool water. “You’re just saying that because I’m soaked and ridiculous-looking,” you replied, biting back a smile.  

“No,” he said, leaning in so his forehead pressed against yours. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”  

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant at first, like he was savoring the moment. The kiss deepened quickly, his arms pulling you closer until there was no space between you.  

When you pulled back for air, Pedro’s eyes were dark, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. “You’ve got this effect on me,” he admitted, his voice husky.  

“Oh yeah?” you teased, though your voice wavered with the same breathless energy.  

“Yeah,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands sliding up your back. “And I never want it to go away.”  

For a while, the rest of the world melted away. You stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the ocean rocking gently around you. He kissed you like he was memorizing every detail, every taste, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips, feeling completely and utterly adored.  

At one point, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “If this is what it feels like to surrender, I’m never fighting again.”  

You laughed, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “I think I like you defeated.”  

“And I think I like you here, in my arms,” he replied softly, his lips brushing against your temple.  

The sound of your friends laughing and splashing in the distance barely registered. For now, it was just you and Pedro, lost in a world of sunlit kisses and salty skin, the ocean your only witness.  

The group gathered in a loose circle, each person holding a large green coconut decorated with colorful straws and tiny paper umbrellas. The warm, golden light of the late afternoon sun bathed everything in a soft glow, making the moment feel like a scene out of a postcard. Omar crouched to capture the perfect angle with his camera while Lauren struck a dramatic pose, tilting her head back and raising her coconut like it was a chalice of the gods.  

“Lauren, you’re doing the most,” Franklin said, shaking his head but smiling as he adjusted his sunglasses.  

“Darling, I am the most,” Lauren shot back with a wink, drawing laughs from everyone.  

Pedro, standing just behind you, pulled you snugly against his side, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. “C’mon, let’s show them how it’s done,” he murmured in your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.  

Franklin, standing in front with his phone, held it up. “Okay, lovebirds, your turn. Smile for the camera!”  

You turned your face toward Pedro’s at the exact same moment he turned toward you, and the laughter bubbled up before either of you could stop it. Your foreheads bumped lightly, and you both dissolved into giggles, the kind of uncontainable joy that made your chest feel light.  

“Oh, my god,” Lauren groaned theatrically, pointing at the two of you. “Are they even real? Look at them, they’re in their own damn rom-com!”  

“Y’all are embarrassing,” Omar chimed in, snapping pictures anyway. “But keep doing whatever that is because it’s disgustingly cute.”  

Pedro’s grin widened as he tilted his head toward you, his nose brushing against yours. “You’re ridiculous,” you said through your laughter, feeling your cheeks warm under the attention.  

“And you’re perfect,” Pedro replied, his voice low but playful, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smirk.  

Franklin groaned loudly, still holding up his phone. “For the love of all things holy, just kiss her already! We’re trying to make memories here, not watch a slow-burn romance unfold in real-time!”  

Pedro raised an eyebrow, glancing at the group before looking back at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “What do you think, Hermosa? Should we give them what they want?”  

You laughed, pretending to ponder. “Hmm… maybe. But only if you make it a good one.”  

“Challenge accepted,” Pedro whispered, and then his lips were on yours, soft but sure. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, the kind that made everything around you fade into the background.  

“Oh my god, they’re actually doing it,” Lauren shrieked, clapping her hands together like a giddy child.  

“Finally!” Omar exclaimed, snapping several pictures in rapid succession. “This is going on the Christmas card.”  

“Make sure you get my good side!” Pedro joked, pulling back just enough to shoot Omar a wink, his arm still secure around your waist.  

“I don’t think you have a bad side,” you teased, your eyes meeting Pedro’s.  

“Ugh, stop!” Franklin groaned, clutching his chest dramatically. “This is too much. I need a drink—and not out of a coconut. I’m going straight for the tequila.”  

Everyone burst into laughter, the lighthearted teasing filling the air as the moment was immortalized with photos, laughter, and a shared sense of joy. Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your temple as the group continued to banter.  

“They’re just jealous,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with affection.  

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the warmth in his eyes. “Maybe. But I’m not sharing, so they can stay jealous.”  

Pedro chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because neither am I.”  

The heat of the day softened into a golden, languid warmth as the two of you found refuge under the shade of a broad umbrella. The beach stretched endlessly before you, the waves lazily licking at the shore. Pedro reclined in a beach chair, his book propped open on his lap. The faint breeze tousled his hair, a few stray strands falling over his forehead, and the way he absentmindedly pushed them back sent a flutter through your chest.  

You leaned against his side, your legs stretched out on the chair beside him, the perfect picture of ease. With one hand, you held your favorite romance novel, its dog-eared pages evidence of how many times you'd read it. With the other, you traced patterns along the inked lines of his tattoos. Your fingertips moved slowly, savoring the ridges of muscle and warmth beneath his skin, as if committing every part of him to memory.  

Pedro’s free hand slid into yours, threading your fingers together with a natural intimacy that still made your heart skip a beat. He didn’t look up from his book as he murmured, “Everything feels right when you’re with me.”  

The sincerity in his tone made you pause, your eyes lifting from the words on the page. A small smile tugged at your lips as you squeezed his hand gently. “I know the feeling,” you replied, your voice soft.  

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when you’re entirely at ease with someone. The distant laughter of your friends mingled with the rhythmic crashing of waves, creating a serene soundtrack to your stolen moment.  

Pedro finally set his book down, slipping a receipt in as a placeholder. His gaze shifted to you, lingering in a way that made your cheeks heat even before he said a word.  

“You know,” he began, his voice warm and teasing, “you’re kind of amazing.”  

You tilted your head, meeting his eyes with a playful arch of your brow. “Kind of?”  

Pedro chuckled, his smile widening. “Okay, more than kind of. Very. Incredibly. Like, the kind of amazing that makes me wonder what I ever did to deserve you.”  

You closed your book, setting it on the small table between your chairs. Turning slightly, you rested your chin on his shoulder, your fingers still entwined with his. “Pedro, where’s all this coming from?”  

He shrugged, but his eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. “Just thinking. Watching you. It hits me sometimes how lucky I am. How lucky I feel to be the one sitting here with you.”  

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “You’re the one everyone loves. The kind, talented, ridiculously handsome Pedro Pascal. If anything, I’m the lucky one.”  

Pedro leaned closer, his free hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re wrong about that. Don’t get me wrong—I like myself just fine,” he teased, earning a laugh from you. “But you? You’re everything. Smart, funny, compassionate. And don’t even get me started on how beautiful you are.”  

Your cheeks flushed, and you tried to deflect with a teasing grin. “Oh, so it’s just my looks, huh?”  

“Not even close,” Pedro said, his voice dropping to a softer, deeper tone. “It’s the way you talk about your favorite books like they’re old friends. The way you laugh with your whole body. The way you care about everyone—how you make every room brighter just by being in it.”  

“Pedro…” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion.  

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger,” he added, his grin returning. “Omar can’t go ten minutes without asking if you need something, and Lauren keeps calling you her ‘new favorite person.’”  

You laughed, brushing at your cheeks as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you. “Stop. You’re going to make me cry.”  

Pedro’s expression softened further, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if to catch a tear before it could fall. “If I do, they’d better be happy tears. Because, cariño, I love you more than I ever thought was possible.”  

Your breath hitched, and you leaned into his touch. “I love you too. So much.”  

For a moment, the world around you faded into the background. Pedro leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and tender, like a promise. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“Promise me you’ll always stay this close,” he said, his tone carrying a weight you couldn’t quite place.  

You smiled, your hands cupping his face. “I promise. Always.”  

Pedro’s heart swelled at your words, and though he didn’t say it out loud, a plan began to take shape in his mind. He pictured the perfect ring, the perfect moment, the perfect way to ask you to spend forever with him.  

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.  

You didn’t need to say anything else. The way you melted into his arms, the way your fingers found his once again, said everything. For now, this was enough. But in his heart, Pedro knew it wouldn’t be long before he made good on the promise his soul had already made: to love you, always.

The late afternoon sun bathed the beach in golden light as you wandered back into the water. The waves lapped gently at your legs, warm and inviting. Lost in the tranquil rhythm of the ocean, you didn’t notice the jagged rock just below the surface until it grazed your shin. You winced, feeling the sharp sting before brushing it off as nothing.  

You emerged from the water, the salty breeze brushing against your skin. Pedro, lounging nearby with a half-finished coconut drink, immediately sat up. His eyes darted to your leg, catching the small but noticeable trail of red trickling down your shin.  

“Are you bleeding?” His voice carried that signature mix of concern and urgency that only Pedro could make sound so endearing.  

You glanced down, surprised to see the cut. “Oh.”  

“Oh?” Pedro’s tone was incredulous as he practically leapt from his chair, already reaching for the towel draped over the back. “That’s all you have to say? Oh?”  

“It’s just a scratch, Pedro,” you said with a small laugh, trying to wave him off. “I’m fine.”  

But Pedro was having none of it. He crouched in front of you, his warm hands circling your calf to keep your leg still. The towel dabbed gently at the cut, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re not allowed to get hurt on my watch,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.  

“It’s barely a paper cut,” you teased, watching the way his features softened even as he fussed over you.  

“Doesn’t matter.” His voice was firm, though his touch remained impossibly gentle. “What if it gets infected? What if—”  

You laughed, cutting him off. “Pedro, it’s not like I got bitten by a shark.”  

He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and adoration. “Don’t joke about that. I’d fight a shark for you, you know.”  

The sincerity in his voice, paired with the completely ridiculous statement, made you laugh even harder. “Oh, I’m sure you would,” you said, brushing your fingers through his damp curls.  

“Don’t test me,” he quipped, finally satisfied that the cut was clean. He reached for the small first-aid kit Franklin had insisted on bringing, pulling out a bandage. “Hold still.”  

“Seriously?” you asked, your amusement growing.  

“Seriously,” he said, shooting you a look that dared you to challenge him. He peeled the adhesive back and smoothed the bandage over your shin with a precision that would make a surgeon proud.  

“There,” he said, sitting back on his heels and surveying his work with a nod. “Good as new.”  

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head but smiling all the same.  

“And you’re reckless,” he shot back, standing up and pulling you into his arms. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and this is what happens.”  

You leaned into him, your hands resting against his chest. “I think you’re overreacting. It’s a scratch, Pedro.”  

“It’s your scratch,” he said, his voice softening. His fingers tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours. “That means it matters to me.”  

Your heart did a little flip at his words, and you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “You know how you’re like—”  

“Absolutely embarrassingly in love with you?” he cut in, a smirk tugging at his lips.  

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Yeah, that.”  

Pedro leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I am, you know,” he said, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Completely, hopelessly, embarrassingly in love with you.”  

Your teasing melted away as you cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over the scruff of his jaw. “Good. Because I’m absolutely embarrassingly in love with you too.”  

His smile grew, and he kissed you softly, as if sealing a promise. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now, no more rock fights, okay? You’ve got to take it easy on me.”  

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll do my best. But no promises if a shark shows up.”  

Pedro groaned dramatically, lifting you off your feet as he carried you back to the lounge chairs. “If a shark shows up, I’ll negotiate with it. Tell it I’m already your protector and it can’t have the job.”  

You giggled, nuzzling against his neck. “Sounds like a good plan. My hero.”  

He set you down with exaggerated care, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “Always,” he said simply.  

And as the two of you sat there, the ocean stretching endlessly before you, you felt it again—that perfect, undeniable feeling of being home.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — SUNSET

The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange, pink, and deep indigo, casting a magical glow over the beach. The group sat in a loose circle, their laughter and conversation mingling with the soft crash of the waves and the mellow strumming of a guitar Omar had picked up. The mood was serene, the kind of calm that felt like it could stretch forever.  

Pedro sat behind you on the sand, his strong arms wrapped securely around your waist as you leaned back against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath against your neck. His warmth enveloped you, a perfect contrast to the cool ocean breeze.  

“You cold, cariño?” Pedro murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.  

“Not even a little,” you replied, turning your head to catch his eyes. They sparkled, reflecting the fiery colors of the horizon.  

His fingers traced slow, idle circles against your stomach. “Good. Can’t have you shivering out here, not when I’ve got two perfectly good arms to keep you warm.”  

“You’re too good at this,” you teased, smiling as you reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.  

“Good at what?” he asked, his tone playful, though his eyes held that familiar, unspoken intensity that always made your heart skip a beat.  

“At making me feel like the luckiest person in the world,” you said softly.  

Pedro’s lips curved into a slow smile, and he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your temple. “That’s funny,” he murmured, “because that’s exactly how I feel about you.”  

The golden light of the sunset cast a halo around his face, and you couldn’t help but reach up, cupping his cheek as you brought his forehead to yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say things like that.”  

“You’d better not,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, though there was an edge of vulnerability beneath it. “Because I’m not planning on stopping.”  

“I’ll love you forever,” Pedro whispered, his lips ghosting against your ear as the first stars began to peek through the darkening sky.  

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze fully, the world around you falling away. “You promise?”  

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. “I promise,” he said, his voice steady and filled with so much certainty it made your chest ache in the best way.  

His lips found yours in a kiss that was soft and lingering, filled with a sweetness that felt endless. When he pulled back, he pressed another kiss to your forehead before tucking you closer to him.  

The night deepened, and the group eventually wandered back to the cozy beachfront hotel. Pedro’s hand never left yours as you made your way to your shared room, the two of you moving in quiet, comfortable synchronicity.  

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the glow of a single bedside lamp casting a warm, intimate light over the space. The sound of the waves was faint through the open balcony doors, and the scent of salt air mingled with the faintly floral perfume you’d spritzed on earlier.  

Pedro closed the door behind you and turned to face you, his expression soft but unmistakably intent. “You know,” he said, stepping closer, “I meant it. Every word I said out there.”  

You tilted your head, giving him a playful look. “Even the part where you said you’d never get tired of me stealing the covers?”  

“Especially that part,” he said with a grin, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Though I might need extra cuddles as compensation.”  

You laughed softly, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. “I think that can be arranged.”  

His grin faded, replaced by something deeper, more serious, as his eyes searched yours. “I love you,” he said, the words simple but carrying the weight of everything he felt. “So much that sometimes it scares me.”  

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you too. And you don’t have to be scared, Pedro. You’ve got me.”  

His lips claimed yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, his hands splaying across your back as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, his lips parting to taste yours, and you felt the warmth of him everywhere.  

He backed you gently toward the bed, his movements unhurried, as if savoring every moment. The backs of your knees hit the edge, and you sank onto the soft mattress, pulling him down with you.  

Pedro’s hands roamed, his touch reverent as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down the column of your neck. “Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and husky.  

“You’re perfect,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly to bring his lips back to yours.  

His breath hitched at your words, and you felt the weight of his love in every kiss, every touch. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other, lost in a moment that felt infinite.  

Pedro pulled back briefly, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers laced with yours. “You’re my everything,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your heart full to bursting.  

And as the night stretched on, the love between you grew even deeper, wrapping around you both like a warm, unbreakable cocoon.

[acid-ixx]

I feel like they are the type of mf to stalk you in game bruh.

Like imagine Tim playing dress to impress just to vote you a 5 star no matter if your fits are trash lol. (Hell all of them might do it)

Or maybe your playing some sort of RPG game, and you said to your in game friends about how you wanted a skin and BOOM you immediately got it first try when you gacha lol. (Tim)

— masterlist !

as much as i love writing yandere angst, i always border on the softer spectrum of it, so when it comes to interpreting your life post-kidnapping: i'll say that the family is a bit more lenient (as if it's enough to make you feel a semblance of freedom) to you when it comes to pastimes like gaming as long as you're always being monitored, especially in online games...

that translates to you being stalked at every opportunity every time you use your bugged phone...

they're always breathing down your neck, so you think you have privacy even when playing alone? when heaven forbid the surrounding cameras all over your room, all set-up by tim and his invasive ass, just so he could have constant surveillance over every movement or hobby of yours?

there's eyes on you all the time, but you'd never expect that it's to the point that they'll join all the games you play if it means spending some "bonding" time with you whenever you push them away from physically being in the same room as you.

so if it means playing lousy obbies in roblox, or even "girly" games like dress to impress, for hours, then they'll join you without moment's hesitation. you'll be shocked at just how well tim and damian style their clothes, but nobody's beating steph and cass at their game. and despite you feeling down in the dumps at the times you feel inferior towards them and their expertise, or just how well each of them communicating with each other, and you, feeling out of place everytime.

it's an undeniable fact that it's you always winning and ranking first place.

they'll always lower themselves, or won't even try so you'd always be in the spotlight even if you ask them to play fairly.

oh, by the way, never ask any one of them to duo with you. they automatically see it as you crowning one of them as your favorite— you don't want to see another fight ensue just because you voted one of their fits better than the other.

you could be shit at the obbies, constantly missing your jumps and close to snapping your device in half— then suddenly you have the game passes to skip certain levels. suddenly, you have an entire cheer team waiting with baited breaths every time you finish a jump, only to cheer and celebrate once you finish a particularly hard level.

oh, you're in a shitty dress to impress server with unfair voting? don't worry, barbara's faster behind the scenes, finding pro servers for you to join in. the entire family's already at your beck and call (even if you've never asked them in the first place) every time you mouth a complaint, each statement of yours taken more seriously than the missions they have every night as vigilantes.

and once bruce catches the news that you want robux just to buy the VIP and custom makeup game pass for dress to impress, or literally any games? god, he's like your mr. salt to you, his sweet veruca, willing to buy the entire game, hell, even the gaming companies you play on.

just, you know, if you don't want them showing their affection directly, then they'll do so by servicing you through the games you play.

any game currency is immediately bought by bruce, all transferred to your account, no matter how expensive it is because he sees it's what makes you happy, watching you burn off all the money on your avatar's design, or certain gacha characters you're fond of, with your eyes staring at the screen in awe with no worries about becoming broke.

it just makes him want to... hold you like you're a little kid spoiled by their father who loves them so much, who should've loved them from the start.

your siblings have an unspoken competition on who could grind on your account the most while you're afk, just so they could see your meek smile plastered on your adorable face seeing that you have the proper resources on your inventory.

you know, it makes them feel useful to you. it makes dick feel like the dependable older brother who's the first one you approach whenever you need him to play for you whilst you go to the bathroom. tim even learns every game mechanic in parkour games so he could assist you during the moments you struggle.

as cute as you are on his computer screen in one of the cameras surveying your room, pouting as you look at the screen at another failed level, tim wants to be as every bit your favorite, the guy you see as the geeky nerd in the family so he'll be the only one you approach to help you out (you don't even have to ask him, his eyes are always on you).

jason's good at point and shoot games, he gives you oddly realistic tips too so you could aim right at players and eventually secure your spot. it makes him huff with joy whenever you win competitive games 'cause you always jump and cheer, forgetting the boundaries you've set with personal space, just to thank him with a hug and your rare grins that feeds the greedy parts of him only wanting to see your smile all for himself.

so, really, everything's fine with them, as long as it doesn't disrupt your quality time with your family in real time and you don't hurt yourself over losing that they're happy you're enjoying. as long as you're not pushing them away and not-so eagerly accepting their online presence, then maybe you could find an actual routine to enjoy every time you open your phone to play a game.

maybe you'll learn to smile or laugh with them too when you're all in the same room playing together.

maybe, just maybe.

[dreamingmappist]

For next year I got another regular weekly/monthly planner (mostly coz it’s free from work) that I would put bullet point tasks in and a blank notebook that’s not really going to be a bullet journal but does have tracker spreads (period, some money stuff, reading and watching logs).

Having One notebook for everything can be good if you’re the type who feels scattered. But I am enjoying having multiple notebooks and journal spaces with different purposes. (Including things like nature journaling, commonplace diary, media log, drawing from life)

Having a dedicated productivity system is good if you need a structure in your life—I imagine it works very well for freelancers or business owners. But I also kind of stopped looking at productivity as something to aspire to. I want to get my tasks done and then do more creative things as a hobby. You could say I’m scaling back on my ambitions and you would be right. I’d like to focus on being present, trying new things, getting healthy, loving people and having fun. Some of these are quantifiable. But when we quantify some human behaviour it kind of has us focusing on numbers instead of quality of life.

My point being that the og bullet journal method is definitely worth looking into but it won’t necessarily be what works for you. With or without the pretty. Also I respect the people who took this bare bones system and demonstrated how it can fit in their very different lives. You can still learn things from either version of it. A little mindfulness, a little organizational skills.

Still reeling from the realization that bullet journaling was essentially created to be a disability aid and got legit fuckin gentrified

[hazzashouse]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[xenteaart]

the hard way

pairing: vampire!chris x to be vampire!reader genre/warnings: dark romance, mean chris, angst? kinda dead dove, mentions of death, blood and a lil gore (not too graphic tho imo), it's okay in the end??? and they're in love plot: reader is getting turned into a vampire and it's not as cool as she imagined author’s note: obvsly heavily inspired by railway and that SPITTING SCENE. idk it's prolly gonna flop but i wanted to picture that process and a not so hot side of it

“no.” “why not?!” “because i told you so a million times already. we’re not discussing this.” chris spits out and furrows, growing more agitated with each passing second.

“what, you don’t want me to be equal to you?” you ponder desperately while your mind searches for any, any reason at all as to why chris won’t turn you. it’s been getting to you for the last couple of months, and you’re sure you’ve gone through every possible explanation your troubled brain could come up with: he doesn’t love you. he doesn’t wanna spend eternity with you. or maybe it’s a power thing. or, or, or...? this endless cycle of worry and uncertainty has been keeping you on edge for way too long to think clearly now. “gosh, it has nothing to do with equality,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “what is it then?” “drop it.” you snap. “we’ll have to find out the hard way, then.”

you grab the nearest kitchen knife, and it turns out to be the one you use for cutting meat, a chef’s knife as they call it. how fitting. chris barely has enough time to catch up with your madness infused impulse, and when he turns his gaze back to you, the knife is already deep in your guts.

you thought it was gonna be romantic or somewhat dramatic at least. something from the movies where he sinks his vampire teeth into your neck, and just like magic — your eyes flash bright red, announcing the beginning of a new life.

“you dumb bitch,” he exhales shakily and somehow manages to catch you in time because the sharp pain in your stomach makes you lose your balance instantly. you’re still bitter and angry in the heat of the argument and you expect him to be the same way, but when you glance up, chris looks nothing but panicked. “that’s a new look on him,” you think, and it confuses you.

chris growls and sinks to his knees, carefully holding you and trying to move as fast as possible. what you don’t know is that turning can only be done in around thirty seconds since fatal injury. that might explain the rushing and chris’s pure bambi eyes panic but your consciousness is already starting to drift away to hold onto that train of thought.

chris bites into his wrist with unmasked fury, tearing and ripping his own veins even though using a knife would have been much cleaner. probably less painful, too. “swallow. now! come on, don’t you fall asleep on me now, focus!” he grabs your face and presses hard on the jaw joints, making you open your mouth like a puppet doll.

the sickly metallic taste of your own blood at the back of your throat from the internal bleeding mixes up with chris’s thick blood that he generously spits into your mouth, and you want to throw up. your head feels dizzy as your eyelids are getting heavier, your hearing suddenly fails completely as if someone turned the volume down from ten to zero. limbs are falling weak, and the pins and needles in them are so, so far from pleasant.

the thing about turning is... you actually have to die first. be fully, completely gone to be able to come back changed and corrupted, turned to the extent of your DNA having been violently rewritten. that you did not think through enough. the muscles in your throat contract almost on reflex, swallowing and gagging on the gooey salty substance, making your chest heave while coughing strangles you further. the tingles and nausea are so overwhelming and all consuming you actually catch yourself thinking dying would be a relief now. and then it follows as you wished.

you doze off for god knows how long but, by the looks of it, it can’t have been more than a few minutes because as you regain consciousness, chris is still looming over you, his own blood fresh on his lips. he’s blurry, though, everything is.

“come on, suck on me. c’mon, baby, there we go,” he coos as he brings his wrist to your lips, forcefully pressing it into your mouth and leaving you with little to no choice. the phrasing, unlike usual, doesn’t sound dirty or hot now, more like a life-saving command while you’re still so out it. it feels good, though, chris’s blood.

it doesn’t taste so metallic and gross anymore, and the texture feels almost soothing on your dry throat, like hot honey milk on a friday evening. suck, gulp, suck, gulp, suck, it almost lulls you back into serenity, some primal instinct of being attached to your only life line, finding comfort in someone’s warmth and touch and taste.

you wonder how much you’ve drunk already and whether chris will have anything left but you’re so, so thirsty you can’t even bring yourself to care.

what finally makes you stop is the sudden sharp ache in your gums. it feels so piercing the aftershocks are almost reaching your brain and eye sockets, and as you feel your old teeth fall out, a pair of longer fangs cuts through and settles into the upper teeth row. hot tears are stinging your eyes and you whine like a wounded deer, still unable to speak properly. it’s all too much, and you start to regret what you’ve done, and maybe, just maybe that’s why chris so passionately refused to put you through it. this kind of hunger and the animalistic, blood thirst driven rage were never something he wanted to inflict upon you.

your entire body is shaking but it’s not really a fearful tremor, more like restlessness, a new sort of “itch” somewhere deep, deep inside that you’ve never experienced before, the feeling so intense and soul wrenching you simply can’t disobey it. it makes you want to jump up and run.

“don’t worry, i’ll teach you how to handle it.” chris cups your face after taking off his leather gloves so you can feel the comfort of his actual skin. the touch is calming, but barely enough compared to that growing desire and need to satisfy the itch. “you stupid crazy cunt, why do you never listen,” he whispers into your forehead, his lips lightly brushing over your cold sweat covered skin, as he holds you closer, squeezing you against his chest in a protective manner, though the real danger to yourself is now planted within you.

[whore4mattsturniolo]

𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 ♡︎ 𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒌

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: you get bored and mess with chris while he's on stream

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: SMUTTTTTT, blowjobs, praising, degrading, slapping, semi public sex(?), almost getting caught, reader is obsessed with chris' hands

𝒂/𝒏: my first time ever writing and posting smut !! not all the way proofread cuz i get shy😣 this might not be the best but i definitely had fun writing it so i hope yall enjoy

Chris had been streaming for God knows how long, the only thing illuminating his dark bedroom was the bright screen of his monitor. It was at least 2 in the morning, and you were starting to get bored. Very bored.

There was something about how aggressive Chris got when he gamed. The way his jaw clenched whenever something he got frustrated, the way he cursed and swore, the way he muttered under his breath. It was one of the most attractive parts of him, especially because of how rarely it happened.

As the game continued, you felt a familiar feeling in your stomach, paired with a pooling in between your thighs. You were desperate for any attention, and Chris refused to give it to you.

"What the fuck you doing?" Chris shouted at a random player, his fingers rapidly pressing the buttons of his controller. "Fucking stupid," he cussed under his breath.

Your imagination began to run wild, thinking of what his long, slender fingers could be doing instead as you squeezed your legs together. You were obsessed with him, your body begging for the smallest bit of his attention.

He kept playing the game, kept ignoring you, and your desperation continued to grow. No matter how much you squirmed around, or scrolled aimlessly through your phone, the growing wet spot in your panties was becoming too much. The feeling wouldn't go away.

"Baby," you whined from your spot on the bed, scooting to the edge. But Chris kept ignoring you, his eyes not leaving his monitor, his attention not leaving the stupid video game.

You bite your lip, trying to find a way to get his attention, before a lightbulb goes off in your head.

You get off the bed, crawling on the floor towards Chris' desk, careful not to be seen by the thousands of watchful eyes of the Twitch stream. The cold, wooden floor cools your body down, as you look up at Chris.

He was beautiful. His blue eyes glued to the screen in front of him, his brown hair messy and disheveled under his headphones. His black shirt fit him perfectly, the short sleeves barely covering his biceps. Your eyes trailed down his body, focusing on his gray sweatpants, staring at the visible print of his cock.

You tap his leg, finally breaking his attention from the game. His eyes meet yours, seeing you on your knees by his chair.

"What are you doin' down there, kid?" He asks, looking back up at his monitor.

"I need you so bad baby," you whine. "It's been hours. M'goin' crazy over here."

"Be right back chat," Chris says as him, Matt, and Nick wait in the Fortnite lobby. He mutes his mic, ripping off his headset.

"Y'serious right now? I'm on stream and you're doin' this shit." He grunts.

"Please?" You pout, looking down at his print once again. "I'll be good. Just wanna taste you. You won't have to do anything."

Chris scoffs in disbelief. "Such a fuckin' slut. Beggin' me to suck my cock while I'm on stream. You're beggin' to get caught aren't ya?"

His words only turn you on further, as you nod, looking up with wide eyes.

He sighs, "Get under the desk. Don't make a fuckin' sound. Got it?"

You smile, biting your lip in excitement as you shift under the desk. Clearly Chris was excited about this too, his dick becoming more visible under his sweats. Even through pants, he was still huge, and you felt your mouth watering at the sight.

"Fuckin' Christ," he mutters, putting his headphones back on. "Chat, I'm back. Are we ready?" he continues the game, ignoring the sight of you pulling his sweats down.

Here he is, fully exposed, cock standing upright. His tip is red and angry with beads of precum leaking down his shaft. You look up at him again, spitting your hand before as you began to pump him slowly.

The intoxicating sight was enough to draw a moan from Chris' lips, barely covering the sound with a cough.

"Chris, you alright?" Nick asks through the headset, laughing along with Matt at the violent sound.

"M'good, man," Chris attempts to compose himself. "Water went down the wrong fuckin' pipe."

His breath hitches as he feels your hand on his dick, growing flushed as he continues to play. He knew the next noise he made would be a groan, so he kept quiet.

A shiver runs down Chris' spine as you continue to tease him, taking advantage of the fact that he had to stay quiet.

Taking your hand off his dick, you gathered spit from your mouth, continuing to pump his length with quickness. The sight garnered another groan from Chris.

You smirked, rubbing your thumb over his sensitive, throbbing tip, dripping with precum and saliva, his body involuntarily shivering. Getting too cocky, you were met with a light slap to the cheek, Chris looking down at you warningly.

You knew what he wanted, and you were eager to give it to him. You take him into your mouth, feeling each vein as his cock made its way down your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, you move your head up and down at a medium pace, swirling your tongue around his shaft

"Fuck!" Chris grunted, fumbling to turn the music up in an attempt to drown out his moans.

His gameplay was worsening, his hands shaking as he gripped the controller tightly. His knuckles were turning white while he ignored the sinful view under him.

You bob your head up and down quickly, saliva dripping down your chin as tears pricked your eyes. Chris suddenly bucked his hips up into your mouth, making you gag.

"Chris, what the fuck is that sound?" Nick's voice rang in Chris' ears through his headset.

"Uh, I dunno. I didn't hear anything," Chris lies, looking down into his lap into your wide, tear-filled eyes.

"I'll be back, chat," He turns his camera off. "Drank a shit ton of water today."

Going on mute once again, he slaps your cheek, harder this time. "Fuckin' slut," he spits, gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail. "Didn't I tell you—fuck—not to make a fuckin' sound?" He sets his own pace, pushing your head down on his achingly hard cock. "Tryna get us fuckin' caught," he says through breathless moans, bucking his hips into your mouth.

"Look at you," he smiles, admiring your red cheeks and puffy eyes, wiping the tear stains on your cheek. "Takin' me so well. Such a good fuckin' girl f'me," he pushes your head down further, your nose grazing his stomach. "That's it—shiit...Just like that...All the way down. Thaaat's a good girl." he finally pulls your head back as you gasp for air. "Shh, s'alright," he pushes you back down. "You can take it...takin' me like a champ."

The obscene sounds of slurping and gagging fills the room behind the loud music and gameplay. Chris has long forgotten about the livestream, his vision going blurry as he throws his head back in his chair, his hands not letting go of their tight grip in your hair while he fucks your face.

"Fuckin' God," Groans leave his parted lips as he continues to thrust his cock down your throat. "Gonna fill up this pretty mouth. You gonna let me do that?" He coos, holding your head up to look at him. "You gonna let me cum down your throat mama?"

You nod frantically, as Chris pushes your head back onto his cock. Your hands make their way around his shaft, stroking him up and down in rotating motions as his cock starts to twitch in your mouth.

"Fuck baby...shiit—" his hips thrust upwards, ropes of warm, sticky cum shooting down your throat. "Swallow it. Swallow that shit—fuck—that's it. Just like that.

Chris comes down from his high, his breath slowing down as his hands let go of your hair. "Open up, let me see."

You stick your tongue out, showing the white, sticky fluid splattered all over your throat and tongue, before swallowing.

"Good shit," he slaps your cheek again playfully. "Good job, princess," you smile at his words, moving from under his desk to back on the bed, as he throws his headset back on, tucking his dick back in his pants.

"I'm back, chat," he smirks, his brothers, and the chat, blissfully unaware of the sinful events that happened just moments prior.

send requests for other fics/drabbles <3 !!

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: @yourmother29 the love of my life 💕

[sapphirecrook]

A good TTRPG system is like a vehicle. Or a tool. And like a good tool, it has a purpose, and things get weird if you start using it outside of that.

You don't do the Tour de France on an omafiets. You don't use a screwdriver on a Torx bolt. You don't drive a Nissan Leaf offroad up a mountain. You don't make your desk chair out of straight, flat shapes.

I mean, you CAN, but forcing tools benefits nobody. Most people can handle maybe 5%~10% of forcing. When they gotta. But do it more, and it starts to annoy. It stresses the tools. It damages the thing they're making. You strip the screw of its fit, the tool of its shape, the chair of its structure. Everyone loses.

Of course, people who never played a Not-D&D cannot imagine that it's D&D that's bothering them. After all, all they know is hammers. They might know something is wrong, but blame themselves or something. That's why people tell them to play a Not-D&D. Because until they've used a wrench to tighten a bolt, or learned how an socket wrench is GOAT, they won't know how fucking ASS it is to turn a bolt with a goddamn hammer. Turns out, they love fastening them... with a proper tool that doesn't make them pull their hair out.

That was my experience, at least, and it probably saved me from quitting forever.

Gonna give another shoutout to Slugblasters, man is it nice that my players don't need constant fucking reminders and if they do I can just rattle of the 2-5 short rules and... oh, we're done, they know everything. Don't even need to look at their sheets to see their modifiers. No stupid math. Just "what's your highest die" and done.

Like, for real, I'm not running a video game or dungeon thing here, I wanna run some fun hoohaa foolery kickflips, and D&D ain't none of that.

Running D&D in 2024 is like, the player community collectively convinced each other that dungeon crawls, resource management and attrition are bad, so now everyone runs games where characters can expect to get into one or two fights a day and characters are never stretched for resources, and most Reddit threads about D&D are GMs asking for help challenging their groups because of said ignoring of the resource management aspect and getting told that a good GM could make it work so obviously they must be a bad GM.

[ancnymcnzjy]

Dating or Not Dating?

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x f. reader

Genre: Fake dating, best friends to lovers, fluff, subtle angst, romance

Warning: Explicit language, smut

Synopsis: You don’t answer your friend’s call because you’re hanging out with Lee Heeseung, your guy best friend, whom you haven’t seen since you were nine.

Too occupied with the video game you're playing and since your guy best friend is using your phone anyway, you ask him to text your friend for you.

He sends a message saying, "She can’t talk right now. What’s up?" which makes her freak out and ask lots of questions.

Your lack of response leads her to interrogate your other friends—now they think you're dating someone.

Taking advantage of your friends’ confusion, you wonder: What’s the worst that could happen if you randomly soft-launch your guy best friend to get a reaction out of them?

Word Count: 2,545

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ ˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆⭒˚｡

You suddenly became the topic of discussion among your friends in the days following you posted a picture of Heeseung on your Instagram story.

They didn’t necessarily believe that you suddenly had a boyfriend, since you’re always open with them about what's going on in your life.

It also seemed unlikely that you would start dating someone without first telling your friends how much you like them.

However, your friends bought it, using your recent absence due to illness as an excuse and a canvas for their imagination.

You kept quiet, hiding your amusement as they speculated and came up with absurd conclusions for your recent absence.

They also started examining the picture you posted, trying to figure out who it was.

Suddenly, you were glad Heeseung turned away just as you took the picture. Although his side profile was visible, your friends wouldn’t have a clue who he was since you became friends with them a year after he already moved away.

As school ended, your friends began leaving the campus.

They asked if you'd like to come to the mall, but you declined, saying you had somewhere else to be.

On any normal occasion, you’d head straight to your car.

Today, however, you stayed at the entrance of your university, leaving your friends puzzled.

Soon, it dawns upon them that you’re getting picked up.

You wave goodbye to them as you head over to Heeseung’s car that’s just pulling up.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their shocked expressions as you get in Heeseung’s car.

Wanting to get more reactions out of them, you give Heeseung a peck on the cheek before buckling yourself in.

As Heeseung drives off, you glance back at your friends, who are now exchanging looks and trying to make sense of what they’d just witnessed.

•••

Back at your place, you and Heeseung spend the rest of the day hanging out in your bedroom.

While Heeseung plays video games on your PC, you're contemplating how this whole fake dating idea will play out.

"Hee, do you think our idea will work?" you ask, beginning to doubt your spontaneous plan of soft-launching him on your socials before revealing to your friends who your boyfriend is.

"I don't see why not. Your friends already believe you have a boyfriend—especially now that they saw a glimpse of us together earlier in my car.

The worst-case scenario is we stop, and you tell them the truth, saying it was a joke all along."

With truth in his words, you remain quiet, choosing to silently ponder the outcome of this whole thing.

Not liking your state of overthinking, you distract yourself by watching him get his third kill in his game.

Your eyes wander to his wide eyes, twinkling with concentration. His bottom lip is tucked beneath his teeth, and his hands skillfully click the keys on your keyboard.

The way the computer screen illuminates his figure stirs something in you.

On any other occasion, his matching pajama pants with you and the random shirt he's wearing would have you laughing and teasing him about how silly he looks. But the way they perfectly fit his body has you hitching your breath and swallowing your nervousness.

As if sensing your stare, Heeseung looks at you when his game ends.

He removes the headphones from his head and makes his way to you.

Before you can move to make space for him on your bed, he quickly shifts and hovers above you, holding himself just above your lying figure with his arms.

Him playfully trapping you beneath his arms is common, yet the way he cages you in this time feels different.

You look up at Heeseung, who stares down at you with adoration.

"What's wrong, Hee?" you ask, curiosity etched into your furrowed brows.

He's quiet as he observes every delicate detail on your face.

You stare up at him as his eyes trail from your eyes and down to your lips.

You let out a surprise gasp when he suddenly kisses you, and let out more similar noises when you feel him press his body against yours.

You feel the bulge in his pants become more prominent, and you subconsciously start moving your hips to meet his light thrusts against your core.

While your hand is tangled up in his hair, his own hand is against your cheek keeping it steady so he can slide his tongue into your mouth.

As you let him explore your mouth, a little voice in your head reminds you that friends don't kiss. Friends don’t shove their tongue down each other’s throats, and friends especially don’t have their hands exploring one another’s body as if their life depended on it.

So ever since you and Heeseung agreed to fake date, have you been able to call one another just friends?

Heeseung pulls away from the kiss first.

His eyes mirror your lustful gaze as his eyes trail down to your chest. 

At the sight of your erect nipples poking through your shirt, his eyes darken and a smug smile is plastered across his lips.

He makes direct eye contact with you while lowering his head down to kiss each of your breasts, savouring the soft feeling he’s met with. 

He eyes the hem of your shirt and bunches it up in his hand. 

“Sit up for me quickly, angel,” Heeseung asks you while kissing your cheek. 

You do as he says, lifting your arms up as well to let him take your shirt off.

Not liking how you’re the only one exposed, you ask him to take his own shirt off as well. 

Catching Heeseung by surprise, you latch your legs around his waist and flip the both of you around so he's laying down and you’re straddling him from the top.

You peck his lips before showering his neck and collar bone with feather light kisses. 

Your hand gets busy exploring every inch of his exposed skin. 

When you reach his chest and abdomen, you drag your fringes across them teasingly. 

Heeseung shudders at your touch, instantly gripping your wrists in warning of the game you’re playing. 

Growing up together, you’ve come to learn all his sensitive spots. When you were younger, you exploited that knowledge to tickle him when he wasn’t expecting it; now, you use it to get the reactions you so badly want from him.

You smile teasingly at him while your fingers move lower until they reach the band of his sweatpants.

Slowly, you pull it down along with his boxers, making his hardened dick spring out onto his stomach.

With your fingertip, you trace the prominent veins along his length and swipe over his red, sensitive tip that’s already spilling precum. 

You smile to yourself, knowing you're the cause of his uneven breathing and trembling body—both the result of anticipation.

While kissing up his body once more, you notice the silver necklace dangling around his neck. 

You pull on the angel charm that’s attached to bring his lips to yours. At the same time, you wrap your fingers around his length. 

He’s already wet from precum, but he’s not as slick as you want him to be. 

You pull your lips away from Heeseung, a string of saliva following you as you hover your face above his. 

“Sit up and spit on your dick for me, baby.” You ask Heeseung sweetly while stopping your strokes along his length.

He does what you ask, though biting his lip and leaning his head back in amusement immediately afterward, since it's not quite registering in his brain that you, his best friend, could ever say such words.

You’ve been shy since you were young—you spoke shyly, too. But now that you're both older, it’s clear that some things have changed.

Heeseung watches how his precum and spit smear all over his length as you move your hand up and down. 

He lets out a subtle groan when you lower your head, kissing his tip teasingly before licking down his length to reach the base of his dick. 

You take him in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly while using your hand to jerk off the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth. 

He fits your mouth perfectly. Each thrust has his dick hitting the back of your throat, where Heeseung praises you with compliments that have you moaning around his dick as a result of making him feel good.

You look up to see his chest heaving desperately. Wanting to make him feel even better, you go to pick up your pace when Heeseung suddenly stops you. 

“Come up here, pretty,” he says out of breath. 

He watches as you release him from your mouth, then holds out his hand to help you move up to his lap. 

You lift yourself up so Heeseung can remove your shorts and underwear. 

You place one hand on his shoulder for stability, and the other around his length to line it up with your entrance. 

You glide his tip along your pussy, grinding your hips simultaneously to cover his dick in your arousal. 

Slowly you slip his tip inside and move yourself down until his dick is halfway in. His thickness and length has you stopping abruptly to get used to his size. 

While you tilt your head back in pleasure, Heeseung’s breath hitches as he gets accustomed to your tightness. 

You bring your other hand to his shoulder just as Heeseung squeezes your plush thighs to stop him himself from cuming too quickly. 

Once you’ve lowered yourself completely on his length, Heeseung’s hand moves up to feel the prominent bulge on your stomach. 

He looks into your eyes and asks smugly, “Am I too big for you, angel?” 

You nod, closing your eyes and biting your lip to contain the lustful moans daring to spill from your lips. 

He laughs softly at your reaction before kissing down your neck to the swell of your breasts.

His tongue circles around one of your nipples while his hand fumbles with the other. 

Heeseung picks up on your approaching release, moving his hand from your breast to your clit.

You let out a surprised moan at the same time that your thighs jerk from his sudden movements. 

“I’m close, baby,” you tell Heeseung. 

Your eyes roll back when you feel him thrust his hips up to meet your bounces. 

“Me too, angel,” Heeseung replies before kissing you on the lips. 

He grips your hips tightly, keeping you steady as he thrusts faster to reach your desired orgasms.

His grip on your thighs leave red pleasurable marks that have you biting your lip and digging your nails into his skin. 

At the sounds of your headboard banging against the wall and your skin slapping together, you’re brought over the edge simultaneously.

You let out an obscene moan as Heeseung fills your pussy to the hilt with his cum. 

After bouncing on his dick one last time, you lie your body against his.

You and Heeseung lie in silence, both catching your breath and coming down from your high.

Heeseung gently massages the skin he marked while also pressing soft kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“Wait here for a second," Heeseung whispers softly in your ear, lifting you off him and onto the bed so he can stand.

He walks over to your ensuite bathroom and turns on the faucet in your bathtub. You watch as he waits for the tub to fill up with water before adding your favourite bath products.

Heeseung walks over to you and lifts you into his arms. He carries you to the bathroom and gently places you in the bathtub. Afterward, he climbs in with you.

You sit still, allowing him to smother soap all over you–letting his original plan of cleaning you both up work for a bit. 

Once he feels your ass grinding against him and your hand slowly trailing down to his length, all of his previous plans vanish as he responds to your smutty motions just beneath the water’s surface. 

•••

You wake up the next morning on top of Heeseung’s sleeping figure.

Your arms are loosely wrapped around his shoulders, his hands gripping your waist, and your legs are intertwined with his.

Looking up slightly to see Heeseung’s face, you can’t help but trace the outlines of his features.

You drag your finger from his soft, wavy black hair to the outline of his ear, then down his jaw and chin. Your eyes shift to his lips, and you can’t help but touch them softly, too.

Heeseung stirs awake from your movements, and his eyes slowly flutter open.

He tenses, his brows furrowing for a second, wondering who is touching him. He only relaxes when he sees that it’s you. 

“Morning, pretty,” Heeseung says, his voice raspy. He smiles at you before grasping your hand and pulling it from his face to place it on the pillow beside him.

With the same hand, he gently holds your face and gives you a soft kiss on your lips.

You return it, but with urgency, propping yourself to sit upright afterward. 

“What's wrong?” Heeseung asks, concern filling his voice at your sudden change in mood.

Your back straightens, and your eyes wander around the room—a nervous habit you have that Heeseung knows all too well about.

He brings his hand to your exposed leg, running his thumb back and forth on your thigh encouragingly.

“About last night...that was a mistake. Friends don’t have sex—hell, best friends don’t either! We also can't blame it on the fact that we're dating because our relationship is fake.” You explain to him.

Silence meets you, and you keep your head down, staring at his hand, too nervous to look up at him.

While your mind races with the worst possible outcomes, Heeseung interrupts your train of thought by holding your chin and making you face him.

“Look at me, angel.”

Your eyes flicker to his, meeting his solemn stare.

"You're right, we took things a bit too far considering this is just a fake relationship.

But what if I don’t want it to be fake? I enjoyed our intimate moment, and surely, so did you." Your flushed cheeks give him an answer, making him smile fondly at you.

With his voice soft and his face much closer to yours, he admits,

"I’ve spent so long hiding the fact that I like you. You gave me the opportunity to be your boyfriend these past couple of weeks—even if it’s been fake—and I took it!

I cherished you, took you on dates, gave you gifts, and showed you off to my friends and family just like a real boyfriend would." He pauses, his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

"I want to call it quits on our little game. I no longer want to be your boyfriend just for the sake of our fake dating agreement, but rather your boyfriend in an actual relationship, so I can officially call you mine."

"So what do you say? Are you in?" Heeseung asks, staring intently at you.

When he sees a smile slowly grow on your lips, he lets out a smile of his own.

"I’m in."

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[amourquinn]

( short fic ) 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.1k

genre : fluff warnings : small panic attack

summary : as fireworks ignite a wave of fear in you, quinn’s steady presence and comforting embrace remind you that with him, you’re safe

「 author’s note 」 this was a request from an anonymous, i hope you like it <3

the crisp evening air of vancouver carried a sense of calm, the kind that only came after a busy day when the city began to wind down, the streets lit with a soft golden glow. you and quinn had decided to visit a local event downtown, a small gathering of boutiques, street vendors, and artisan stalls. it was the kind of event that made you feel connected to the city—a reminder that beauty could be found in the little things.

the event was held along a quieter street lined with charming boutiques. you had wandered for hours, exploring the various stalls that offered everything from handmade jewelry to delicious-smelling soaps and warm drinks. you and quinn had enjoyed the evening, taking your time to browse, laugh, and chat with the vendors.

at one booth, you had spotted a beautifully knitted scarf, hanging from a wooden rack. it was a deep burgundy color, soft and inviting, with intricate patterns woven through it. your fingers had brushed against the wool, marveling at how warm it looked, and for a moment, you imagined wrapping it around your neck on a chilly winter evening.

“that’s nice, huh?” quinn said, standing beside you. his voice was soft, almost as if he were testing the waters, waiting for your response.

you nodded, smiling at the scarf. “yeah, it’s really pretty. i could use a new one for the winter.”

quinn raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting to the price tag for a moment before he looked back at you. “you deserve something nice,” he said casually, though there was a hint of something more in his voice—something thoughtful, almost protective.

you laughed, shaking your head. “it’s a little too fancy for me,” you replied, still tracing the pattern on the scarf. “i don’t need something so expensive.”

but quinn didn’t seem to hear you. he was already digging through his wallet, his expression focused and determined. “i think it’s exactly what you need. just let me get it for you.”

before you could protest, he had already paid the vendor, who wrapped the scarf in tissue paper with a smile.

“quinn, you really didn’t have to,” you said, a warm flush creeping up your neck as he handed you the neatly wrapped package.

he shrugged, his grin never fading. “i know, but i wanted to. you deserve it.”

you opened the package slowly, revealing the soft, burgundy scarf. it felt even more luxurious in your hands, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers over the delicate knit. “it’s perfect,” you whispered, glancing up at him. his eyes were soft, watching you with a gentle look that made your heart skip a beat.

“put it on,” he encouraged, his voice warm and playful.

you smiled and draped the scarf around your neck. it felt like a hug—soft, cozy, and comforting against your skin. “it’s really warm,” you said, adjusting it so it fit just right.

quinn reached out, his hands brushing against the ends of the scarf. “it looks great on you,” he said, his eyes scanning your face with a tenderness that made you feel both seen and cared for.

you chuckled softly, your heart swelling with affection. “i guess i’ll have to wear it all the time now, huh?”

“absolutely,” he replied with a smile. “i’ll be disappointed if i don’t see it every time i see you.”

the playful tone in his voice made you laugh, but there was something else behind it—a sincerity that made your chest tighten. quinn’s gestures, whether big or small, always made you feel valued. you could see it in the way he looked at you, how he listened to you, and how he made even the simplest moments feel special.

⋆˙⟡

as the night continued, you and quinn wandered through the boutiques, talking about anything and everything. the scarf kept you warm, a small but constant reminder of his thoughtfulness. when you passed a vendor selling hot chocolate, quinn insisted on buying you both a cup, the warmth of the drink contrasting against the chilly air.

you were standing near the square, admiring the lights strung between the trees, when you heard a low rumble in the distance. the sound made your heart skip a beat, a familiar unease creeping into your chest.

“what’s that?” quinn asked, looking up toward the sky.

before you could answer, the first firework exploded overhead, bursting into a cascade of shimmering gold. the crowd around you gasped in delight, but all you could feel was the sharp pang of fear in your chest.

fireworks. you hated fireworks. the sudden, loud noises, the unexpected flashes of light—they had always unsettled you, stirring up a fear you couldn’t quite explain.

quinn noticed immediately. “hey, are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer to you.

you nodded quickly, though your breath was uneven, your hands clenched into fists. “i just… i don’t like fireworks,” you admitted. “they scare me.”

without hesitation, quinn stepped in front of you, shielding you from the sight of the fireworks. his hands gently rested on your shoulders as he spoke softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “it’s okay. i’ve got you. look at me.”

you tried to focus on him, his familiar face grounding you amidst the chaos. another firework burst overhead, the loud crack echoing through the square, and you flinched. quinn immediately pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“i’m right here,” he murmured, his voice close to your ear. “you’re safe. just focus on me.”

you buried your face in his chest, his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing helping to calm the storm inside you. he rubbed small circles on your back, his touch soothing, his presence a constant reminder that you weren’t alone.

“it’s just noise,” he whispered. “it can’t hurt you. i won’t let anything hurt you.”

gradually, the tension in your body began to ease. the fireworks continued, but they felt distant now, their sharpness dulled by the comfort of quinn’s embrace. he stayed with you until the last firework faded, holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

when the square quieted, you finally looked up at him. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion.

quinn smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “you don’t have to thank me. i’ll always be here for you.”

and as he led you away from the square, his hand firmly holding yours, it was a reminder of his care, his unwavering presence, and the quiet strength he always gave you when you needed it most.

© amourquinn

[jayniks]

SEX NOTE (s.jy)

Your friend is jealous that, thanks to the book that HE gave you, you no longer pay attention to him, so he writes to you in that notebook in a fit of jealousy.

WC . 4,0k

PAIRING . childhoodfriend!jake x afab!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), jealousy, Jay showing up, rudeness, Jay bothering you at first, awkwardness, Jake butting into your room.

SMUT WARNINGS . oral sex (f receiving), lots of kisses, assjob(idk if it's called that), manhandling, spanking, voyeurism (kinda), creampie.

< go back . next chapter >

Maybe it was a mistake coming home early, after all, no one wants to watch their childhood friend get fucked, specifically not jerk off to it either. Well, Jake is a nobody. He froze as he watched you get fucked from behind, though you two seemed pretty busy since you didn’t see or hear him come in. Jake would be lying if he said he didn’t just keep watching and spy on you.

The tent in his pants grew with every second he spent looking at you. Yeah, maybe you weren't moaning HIS name but something similar, so his imagination did the rest thinking you were saying it. He brought his hand inside his pants to 'caress' himself, thus releasing some tension that was coming from there. His palm ran up and down, applying pressure in certain places, feeling bigger with each squeeze. God, what a pervert.

Jake's heart raced as he unzipped his pants, the soft fabric rustling against his fingers, stirring up his lust, but also his guilt. He couldn't help but feel guilty for spying on and nearly pleasuring himself with his childhood friend and roommate. "This is wrong," he thought, "but damn it feels so good."

He leaned back on the doorknob just enough to peek out and see the scene I described in my previous post (lol, self-promotion??? Yeah) while he unzipped his pants quietly enough to not be heard, although I don't think anyone was going to hear him with how loud your moans were.

Well, I won't digress any further, Jake guided his thumb and index finger delicately from the base to the tip to wrap them around where it started. He proceeded to wrap the rest of his hand around what was left of the shaft to begin his downward and upward movements on his member, almost in rhythm with Jay's thrusts. His imagination was in charge of making his movements resemble those of your partner to fantasize that it was HIM who was fucking you.

Jake's breathing came in ragged gasps with each rhythmic stroke, matching the erotic sounds from the next room. His mind raced, imagining every position his friend was in would be him doing it, fueling the fire of desire burning within him. "I'm being selfish," he thought, guilt eating away at him as he continued to pleasure himself, though the guilt wasn't enough to keep his hand away from his cock. With each movement Jake felt himself getting closer to his release, he could feel the tension in his balls, a sensation that spread throughout his groin like wildfire. With a sharp inhale and biting down on his fist, a hot stream erupted from the tip of his twitching member. His body shuddered, feeling weak and spent as he finally calmed down.

After that, Jake's chest heaved as he caught his breath. He felt a mix of relief and embarrassment, his gaze fixed on the door to the next room. 'Holy shit's' echoed in his mind, his hand still wrapped around his exhausted member. I think the post-nut clarity hit him hard enough that he ran out grabbing things off the floor and leaving the apartment.

Shitty book, this was all his fault. Well, technically it was his fault, he had given the book to his friend after finding it on the floor, he could have kept it himself and been the one to stick it up to whoever crossed his mind, but he preferred to give it to his best friend... oh, that sounds like jealousy. Although Jake obviously wasn't jealous, no no. If he was jealous, would he have a problem with using the notebook he found himself? Perhaps—

Ding!

This gave him an idea, it was like for the first time in a long time he was thinking with his cock and his brain at the same time. He went back to his shared apartment and sat on the couch waiting for his friend in silence, after all, it was his right as the 'owner' of the notebook.

It didn't take you long to go downstairs to get a glass of water, although of course, it took you a while to get down the stairs without staggering. When you turned around you saw Jake sitting on the couch with a playful look on his face, you were about to ask why he was there when he spoke first — "I bought the wrong ticket, at the end it was for next week, although I arrived a little tired, what about you?", smiling with a mischief unknown to you. You couldn't help but frown at his answer. Something in his tone made you hesitate, but your body was too sore to think clearly. The throbbing pain in your gut and the small temblors in your legs made anything, even a conversation with Jake, seem like a monumental task.

“Are you sure it was a mistake?” you asked hoarsely, surprising yourself with how you said it, so you brought a hand to your forehead to pretend your state was due to something more. He shrugged, smiling with the same carefree expression as always while fiddling with the hem of his jacket. “Well, let’s just say I wanted to spend some time with you too. Is that wrong?”

It took a few seconds for your mind to process his words. Something in his tone, in his smile, made you feel a pang of unease, but the pain in your muscles clouded any attempt at analysis. — "Jake, I'm not in the mood for jokes. I feel horrible, I feel like I'm overwhelmed." He let out a small laugh and stood up from the chair with an almost rehearsed movement. — "You know what would help you? Going out for some fresh air. A short walk. I swear it feels like magic for your overwhelm."

You leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “I don’t even have the strength to go down the stairs, much less go outside.” Jake approached with slow, almost calculated steps. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and although the gesture seemed friendly, there was something in his gaze that you couldn’t decipher. “Trust me, okay? Just a few minutes outside, and I promise that when you come back you’ll feel better. Besides, I can prepare something in the meantime.”

The convincing tone in his voice, mixed with your exhaustion, made you let your guard down a bit. Maybe you did need some fresh air, or at least a few minutes away from the world you had created in your room. With a heavy sigh and no energy left to argue, you accepted his proposal. Jake helped you put on a light jacket, making sure to arrange it carefully on your shoulders.

— "Just a few minutes," you promised, as you slipped on your shoes, swaying slightly. He held your arm with unexpected gentleness, smiling a smile that seemed sincere. — "Exactly, don't strain yourself too much. I'll be here waiting when you get back." You saw him open the door with an almost theatrical gesture, bowing slightly as if you were a queen crossing a threshold. Despite the pain in and out your body, you let out a soft laugh. Jake stood in the doorway, watching you disappear down the street with a relaxed expression... until you were far enough away.

He closed the door with a soft click, and all the kindness on his face vanished. His eyes took on a calculating gleam, and his lips curved into a half-smile. Wasting no time, he ran for the stairs, taking them two steps at a time until he reached your room. When he opened the door, he was met with the chaos you’d expect after fucking. The bed was unmade, with the sheets hanging almost to the floor, as if someone had fought a battle, only instead of blood it was other fluids. A nightstand was cluttered with napkins, string, and candy wrappers. The desk on the other side was just as chaotic: a crumpled pile of papers, a carelessly closed laptop, and a couple of uncapped pens rolling off the edge.

On the shelf, between books and small stuffed animals, there were albums and boxes that looked like they had been put up in a hurry. Some posters of your favorite singers adorned the walls, slightly crooked, as if they had been put up a long time ago and no one had bothered to adjust them. On the floor, clothes lay in piles; some items still looked clean, but others clearly needed to be torn off in a hurry. Oh freaky you.

Jake moved quickly, checking every corner. He started with the desk, picking up papers and moving the laptop carefully. Nothing. He frowned and moved to the nightstand, opening drawers and rummaging impatiently. Nope, also nothing. Finally, his eyes landed on the bed. “Sure, the usual one,” he muttered to himself, pulling back the sheets and searching through the folds. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found what he was looking for: the black notebook. The Sex Note. He held it in his hands, looking at it like it was a newly won trophy. His fingers slid across the cover, caressing the letters etched into it.

— “So here it was…” — he sighed, letting a grim smile cross his face. His eyes shone with a mix of triumph and darkness. The kind expression he had shown you before vanished completely, replaced by something much more sinister. He opened the notebook slowly, flipping through the first few pages as a barely contained laugh escaped his throat. His mind was already beginning to make plans, he coul keep the notebook permanently- IS THAT THE NAME OF HIS FAVOURITE SINGER? — "Damn, Heeseung? I guess you really wanted your 'y/n' moment," he whispered to himself, closing the notebook with a thud and staring at the door, as if he could see you there, vulnerable and defenseless. He knew that tonight would be the start of something much bigger... probably.

You returned home after a long walk, feeling much better. The fresh air had cleared your mind and soothed your headache, though you still felt slightly dizzy. As you opened the door, the warm aroma of food enveloped you like a comforting welcome. Jake was in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan. Hearing you enter, he looked up and gave you a smile that seemed too perfect, almost as if he had been rehearsing it. — "You’re just in time. I thought some hot food would do you good.” You blinked, surprised by the gesture. “You cooking? Since when are you so considerate?”

He chuckled softly, serving the contents of the pan onto two plates. “Don’t get used to it. I’m just being a good friend.” You sat down at the table as he placed a plate of rice and stir-fried chicken in front of you, accompanied by hot tea. Even though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you decided to eat, silently thanking him for the effort he had made.

Silence filled the room, interrupted only by the sound of silverware and the news on the television. A female voice said in a serious tone, “Singer Lee Heeseung, known for his outstanding career, has reported feeling unwell over the past few days. Close sources say the artist also mentioned experiencing a strange episode of memory loss, stating, “It’s like I forgot an entire day.”

Your fingers paused on your fork, and you felt a strange pang of nervousness in your chest. You looked at the screen, but it didn’t show any more details. The news quickly changed to another topic, but you couldn’t get that information out of your head. Jake, on the other hand, continued eating calmly. Well, at least until you heard him laugh. It was a low, almost restrained sound, as if he was trying not to let it out completely. You looked up at him, frowning. “What are you laughing at?” you asked, puzzled.

He lowered his fork, still covering his mouth as if to hold back his laughter, though he couldn't quite hide the malice in his expression. — "Nothing, nothing..." —he answered at first, but his tone only made you feel more uneasy. You set the fork down on the table with a soft thud, looking directly at him. Finally, he looked up at you, and though his smile was still on his face, his eyes had a gleam that you couldn't interpret.

— "You'll understand in a few hours." His answer left you silent. A feeling of unease ran through you like a chill, but Jake simply resumed his food, as if he hadn't just said something that left you with more questions than answers.

The awkwardness lingered as they finished eating in silence. Jake, acting surprisingly helpful, stood up first and began clearing away the plates. “Leave it, I’ll wash them,” he said with a carefree smile, taking everything over to the sink. You hesitated for a moment, but eventually relented. “Okay, thanks…” you mumbled, still distracted by what had just happened at the table.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was busy, you decided to quickly go up to your room. Your head was still reeling from the feeling that something wasn't right. When you opened the door, a shock ran through you from head to toe: the mess was even worse than when you had left it. Clothes that had previously been piled up in a corner were now thrown all over the floor; the papers on your desk were more jumbled than ever, some had even fallen to the floor; and the sheets on your bed were wrinkled in a way you didn't remember leaving them.

Someone had been there.

Your heart began to pound as your eyes darted around the room. That’s when you remembered: the notebook. You ran to the bed, frantically searching through the sheets and pillows. Then you moved to the desk, throwing papers to the floor in search of the one item that couldn’t be missing. Panic grew with every corner you searched without success. When you stopped, out of breath, your gaze drifted to the wall next to your desk. There, stuck in a disturbing order, were two post-its. You frowned as you moved closer to read them.

The first one said in large, clear letters:

"You're fucked."

The second, just below, added:

"Literally."

You froze for a moment. Those had Jay’s signature on them. No like, he had literally put his signature in the corner of the 2nd note. You shook your head, trying to calm yourself, and reached out to rip the post-its off the wall, but a sound behind you stopped you. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Jake’s voice, soft and controlled, echoed from the doorway. You turned immediately, feeling the air grow thicker. Jake was there, leaning against the door frame with an expression that was a mix of amusement and something darker. In his hands, he held the black notebook.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Is this what you were so worried about?” he asked calmly, lifting the notebook just a little for emphasis. His smile was unsettling, almost mocking, and his eyes seemed to watch you with an intensity that made you feel naked. You didn’t know what to answer. You just stood there, paralyzed, as Jake slowly entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Jake tossed the notebook towards you in a casual motion, as if it were any ordinary notebook. The black object landed on the mattress right in front of you, and though you wanted to remain calm, your hands shook slightly as you reached for it. “Read it,” he ordered, his tone firm, but with a hint of mischievous amusement. You frowned, your gaze alternating between him and the notebook. Reluctantly, you opened it, your eyes scanning the words written in impeccably neat handwriting:

"Exactly at 21:28, (____) will be in her room, nervous about hearing news about heeseung, and then start feeling inexplicably hot".

You paused, feeling your face begin to heat up. You forced yourself to look at Jake, who now had a grin so wide that his eyes seemed to sparkle with pure mischief.

— "What does this mean?" you asked, your voice coming out more breathy than you would have liked. Jake shrugged, taking a couple of steps towards you as he shoved his hands into his pockets. — "It means exactly what you read," he replied matter-of-factly. "You just have to wait, right?" His tone was light, but there was something in his expression that made you feel like you were being part of a game whose true terms you didn't know.

Just like how it was described, your body temperature began to rise, especially in the middle of your thighs. You tried to cover it up by sitting up on the bed, but your best friend sat down next to you. He leaned in just slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he was stripping away every thought you were trying to hide. “Are you going to keep pretending you don’t know what’s going on?” he murmured, his voice deep and almost hypnotic. The distance between you both seemed to shrink with every word, and even though you wanted to move, something kept you anchored in place.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked in a whisper, air escaping your lips as your eyes locked with his. “Using the notebook I found, what else?” he replied with an eerie calm, his words accompanied by a smile that seemed to hold more secrets than you were prepared to hear. His hand slid gently down your cheek, and though you wanted to pull away, you found yourself unable to move, trapped by the intensity of his gaze. Your breathing became ragged, and before you could even process what you were doing, your fingers closed around his, guiding him in a movement that lit a dangerous spark in his eyes.

The change in his expression was almost imperceptible, but when his lips found yours, they did so with a softness that took you by surprise. The kiss was slow, almost reverent, but every movement of his mouth against yours carried an unspoken promise, one that you felt in every fiber of your being.

A soft sigh escaped you as his hands found your waist, laying you down with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity you felt growing in the air. When his lips left yours, a momentary chill took over you, but it was replaced by the heat of his kisses descending down your neck, each one leaving an invisible mark that seemed to burn into your skin. The brush of his face against the fabric of your shirt made your breathing stop for an instant. Everything about him seemed calculated, but also inevitable, as if each of his movements were written in advance... oh right, he wrote them.

Even though his kisses felt like heaven and you loved feeling like a delicate doll, there was a part of you that was calling out to him, that was crying out for him. You leaned on his shoulders and applied a little pressure to get him to move down, eliciting a playful giggle from him, granting your request. He kissed the band of your panties before pulling them back with his mouth, a gesture that made you giggle softly and then caress his cheek, a laugh that turned into a breathy sigh when his tongue came into contact with your clit. You threw your head back as his head moved closer to your core, kissing and sucking on everything he could.

You felt his gaze even though you couldn't keep your eyes open for long. Jake felt this as approval to stick two of his fingers inside you while he sucked on your clit, making you scream even louder than you already were. Your sounds and movements only made Jake smile more, who couldn't hide it, nor could he hide the sighs of satisfaction he let out every time he swallowed a bit of your essence, which made him look like a prisoner enjoying his last meal.

It didn't take you long to reach your climax with all the effort your friend was putting into it, and boy was it a powerful orgasm, because you tried to push him away complaining that "it was too much", but he buried himself further into your cunt until you couldn't take it anymore and you released, wetting his face and almost drowning him a bit in the process, despite him insisting that he didn't want to pull away.

You sigh deeply, your breathing still ragged from the intense orgasm you just had. You gently caress Jake’s cheeks, looking into his eyes with a mix of satisfaction and desire. “That didn’t seem scripted,” you whisper with a mischievous smile on your lips. Pulling him close, you kiss him passionately, savoring your own taste in his mouth. Jake kisses you back with the same intensity, pulling you closer to his body, making your tongues dance together as if they already knew each other.

His hands begin to explore your body eagerly, caressing every curve and corner. He stops especially at your ass, squeezing and massaging your buttocks with desire, he gently pinches your skin feeling the silky texture of your flesh. "You are fucking delicious" — Jake says as he breaks away from the kiss, a mischievous smile on his lips, — "I love your ass, it's perfect," he growls in a hoarse voice of desire. "I want to see it closer" — he sighs as his hands guide your body until you are forced to get on all fours for him, exposing your ass in all its splendor. "You are a goddess, (___), I could admire this ass forever" - Jake murmurs, giving you a soft spank that echoes in the room.

You smirk as you move back a little to rub your ass against his clothed erection, biting your lip when you hear his ragged breathing as his hands caress your waist. Jake wastes no time in freeing himself from his imprisonment called “clothes”, throwing his top away and kicking the pants and boxers off somewhere in the mess of your room.

He gives his member a few pumps before sliding it between your wet lips. “Are you afraid to put it in?” you say in a mocking tone accompanied by a giggle that is soon cut off by a thrust. God, you felt every vein on his member at the same time as the sponginess of his tip. Nothing but needy moans and the occasional babble that you didn’t even understand came out of your mouth.

"What happened?" — Jake asked, although more than a question it was a mockery, — "come on, mock me again" he almost spat as he gave slow but deep thrusts. "Is that what you want Jakey? For me to m-mock you?" — You laughed softly, answering him with what little of your mind you had left just to tease him. You began to move your hips a little to feel more friction, which was a serious mistake since it made Jake hit the exact angle that made you scream and left your legs shaking. "There? You like it there? Shit, you're squeezing me so good, you're doing it so well" — he pants as he tries to keep the rhythm that allows him to hit your spot. What a gentleman.

You tried to tell him you were close but all you could do was mumble 'i'm's, though Jake understood, lowering one of his hands from your hip to your clit where he drew slow circles on it, a complete contrast to the thrusts he was giving you. It wasn't long before you were soaking his member with your release.

It wasn't long before your friend followed suit and spilled inside you, giving a few extra thrusts to make sure he had emptied himself.

You both stayed in that position, trying to control your breathing to calm down a bit.

The silence was broken when Jake sighed — "So, round 2?"

Taglist:

@nshmrarki @cha0thicpisces @seokseokjinkim @rikisave @strxwbloody @nyfwyeonjun @enhalusional @kgneptun @fleurixzs @simpjay @jakeswifez @lxsunshine @zvxba

Enha Taglist only:

@lilyuwon @myywonie @ratedjaeyoon

©: made by jayniks on tumblr, do not copy or adapt my works on any platform without my consent.

This chapter is dedicated to my irl friend that helped writing the smut scene

[1980shorrorfilm]

has it hit you?

click!!!

pairing…sam carpenter x gn!reader

in which…an argument causes sam to push you away; which she regrets when you end up under the mistletoe with someone else.

before you read…angst with comfort. alcohol usage. mentions of sex.

“whatever sam said, she didn’t mean— you know she gets like that sometimes!”

tara follows you around the frat house that was lazily decked out with flashy christmas decor, like a child being led by her parent. fitting, considering she’s taking your fight with sam to the heart. 

it was sudden, so sudden yet something you should’ve been entirely prepared for. 

you made the mistake of taking a step in a direction she’s repeated several times she didn’t want to go down. emotional intimacy. a hint at a relationship. dinner with your family for the holidays. 

you had invited her and tara, having believed you were close enough with them to do so, but specifically sam. the woman you’ve spent most of your nights with, wrapped in her arms, skin to skin. 

it wasn’t just sex with her. when she was vulnerable enough, she’d trust you with some of her lighter secrets, still unable to tell you everything that goes on her mind. 

you were okay with that, though, always so patient with her. that’s why you accepted what you two were…nothing and everything at the same time.

not dating, no, she wouldn’t say that. she wouldn’t call you her partner. she wouldn’t even call you her best friend. you were just…you. someone she liked enough to occupy her time with, and she assumed that’s all she was to you.

not someone to bring home to your parents, sam did not think she had the title. she thought she didn’t want it, imagining the judgmental faces from your beloved family members, as if you brought home a mistake. 

a mistake. that’s what she called your whatever-ship.

something that should’ve never happened, she told you. you’re too clingy, she said. just leave me the fuck alone, she begged.

you listened. you always listen to sam. 

leading you to a frat party, being followed by her little sister, a constant reminder of what you’re trying to escape. 

“maybe we should go home— she’s probably waiting for you,” tara tries again, watching you grab a beer from the fridge. you sigh her name, not wanting to scold her, but really tired of hearing about sam. tara gets the hint, and the obvious annoyance in your tone, deciding to back off. for now.

your mind can ease somewhat without having tara’s shadow, actually talking to your friends while the alcohol works its way into your system. 

you find yourself playing beer pong against some faces you occasionally see in class, laughing at just how bad you were— then remembering how good sam is. her aim is amazing, sam knows the right angles and how delicate or hard the pressure should be. you learned that a long time ago, though. 

why are you thinking about her? when you’re just her mistake?

you shake your head, bringing the red solo cup to your lips and downing the alcohol while the opposite team celebrates their win. your partner, a tall blonde who leaned in very close to you the entire time, now trying to hold a regular conversation. 

“aren’t you seeing that carpenter chick?” they had asked, and your head snapped toward them, brows knitting at the comment. you hadn’t known your association with her seemed to others what you also had viewed it as. romantic. 

it’s slightly comforting, knowing it wasn’t entirely in your head, the way samantha tried telling you it was. maybe she was lying more to herself, than you, or so that’s what you hope for. 

“nope,” you tell them, “not seeing anyone.”

the bitterness of your words goes unnoticed, and is taken as an invitation; which it sorta is. you came here to forget her, to make yourself feel better. and if that’s with some blonde that lost beer pong with you, you’re okay with that. you think.

you’re honestly not doing a lot of thinking right now. you’re fake laughing at their stupid jokes. you’re repeating ‘right,’ at their never-ending stories. 

you’re being reminded why you picked sam over everyone else. this is draining, a chore to pretend to be interested. there was no pretending with her. her. her. 

holy fuck, you need another drink. 

you excuse yourself, but they follow, still talking to you. they cut themselves off, an enthusiastic ‘hey,’ as their palm on your wrist halts you in the doorway. 

“wh—”

they point up, and you glance. mistletoe. you see it more in movies than in reality, you’re almost amazed by the sight of the small green and red shrubs. to be beneath it with the love of your life— to be beneath it with sam. 

sam isn’t here.

but you are, and so is the blonde.

because why the fuck not, you close the space between you two, a peck on their lips that goes as quickly as it came. but it lasts long enough for her to see it.

the heat rushes to her cheeks, tara not telling her you were occupied with someone else in the urgent message she had sent her. just the fact that you were drinking, and she’s taking your recklessness as confirmation. 

sam ignores the stares as she pushes past the drunken partygoers, remembering exactly why she didn’t come to shit like this. if she wanted to feel judged she would’ve searched her name online, a habit you’ve tried to stop her from doing.

“y/n.”

her voice cuts through the music and chatter, your eyes falling on her in the doorway of the kitchen. you’re leaning against the counter, the blonde in front of you, looking between you two. sam is only looking at them. 

“can you leave us?” it comes out as a demand when she says it, and they don’t protest, both of you now alone when they scurry away.

you gulp at whatever she has to say to you, probably to get scolded for having fun without her. with someone else. despite her harsh words making it seem like that’s what she wanted from you; to find someone else and stop bothering her. 

you laugh dryly to yourself at the thought.

“what was that?”

“what was what?” 

sam exhales through her nose, trying to be patient in a moment she absolutely did not want to be. she will show you some grace due to being buzzed and not entirely there, but that doesn’t change how she feels.

bitter. annoyed. mad, very mad, at you. 

“so we have one argument and that’s it?” she begins to walk toward you, making you feel extremely small the closer she got, and the louder her voice became.

you dare to bite back, “thought that’s what you wanted.”

“why would i want that?”

“because you fucking said so, sam,” you tell her, the woman not realizing the weight of the things she had said until this moment. 

sure, they weren’t the kindest words that had left her mouth, but they were spoken out of fear rather than honesty. unfortunately, you’re not a mind reader, and you have feelings that sam has obliterated. 

“i don’t…” she trails off, a roar from the crowd in the next room causing her to squeeze her eyes in annoyance. “let’s go home. talk there,” sam tells you, hand gently grabbing at yours, but you pull away. 

“you can go home.”

“y/n.”

“im staying, sam. don’t wait up for me,” you push past her, to the fridge you had originally come into the kitchen for. to your luck, there’s one more beer, but it leaves your hands as soon as you grab it. 

sam walks away with the drink, practically shoving it into someone’s welcoming hands, a tight-lipped smile on her face that drops when she faces you again. “guess i am too, then.”

the audacity.

making you feel like shit, pushing you away, then pulling you back in when you find happiness without her. even if it’s stupid decisions like kissing strangers and drinking until your head hurts. it’s a better feeling than being told you’re not wanted by the woman you love the most. 

“fuck you, sam.”

with that, you storm out of the room, out of the house entirely, the freezing december air hitting you at once. you hug yourself, your ugly holiday sweater not providing you the warmth that the frat home had, and drag your feet to the sidewalk. 

you hear her behind you before she makes her presence known. 

“where are you going?” 

“why? gonna follow me?”

once more, her hand finds your arm, a firm grip holding you in place, and a hard stare that goes through you. it causes your attitude retreat, and your confidence to die completely. 

“if you want to be mad at me, fine, but i’m not leaving you alone like this.”

you remain still, eyes falling to your feet because holding her gaze is too overwhelming. she sees through you, gets to you easily like she is now, and why you’re accepting defeat. 

“fine, whatever. let’s go.”

she lets out of a sigh of relief, thankful this wasn’t going to be another argument. she’s too drained for that. her grip on you softens, along with her eyes that scan your face momentarily, like she was taking you in for the first time tonight. red eyes and a cute frown on your face that she wishes she wasn’t the reasoning for.

sam leads you to her car, making sure tara is okay before she leaves, the ride is quiet and uncomfortable. she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing at you, your head facing the window, watching the snow begin to fall.

you look at peace, probably the most calm you’ve been since the fight. since she wiped the smile off of your face, replacing your joyful eyes with eyes of pain. her heart begins to hurt.

at a red light, she peels off her jacket, handing it to you without saying anything. you don’t put it on, but you use it as a blanket, inhaling the scent of the cinnamon and sandalwood perfume she drowns herself in. a comforting scent that makes you feel warmer than the jacket itself. 

when you arrive at her place, you’re still clinging to the piece of clothing, sitting on the couch while she makes sure all the locks on the door are secure. you’re mindlessly watching whatever channel on the tv she previously had on, hearing her shuffle in the kitchen.

it’s a few minutes later that she enters the room with two mugs, placing one in your hands. you smell the hot chocolate before she informs you that’s what it is, thanking her before sipping on the sweet drink. 

she sits beside you, leaning forward to grab the remote and mute the television. damn it. 

“can we talk?”

“go ahead,” you mumble, but sam is not as bothered by your subtle attitude. she gets it. she may have acted like it was unwarranted earlier, but you’ve made it very clear she had hurt you. and she deserves the absolute worst for that. 

“what i said to you…i didn’t mean any of it. i was upset— and that’s not an excuse, i know,” she begins, brown eyes trained on her drink, “i just…haven’t loved anyone like this since…”

sam goes quiet, unable to finish that sentence, before speaking again, “and it’s a lot…you’re a lot for me— not in a bad way —it’s just new. and i’m scared im gonna fuck up. i mean i already did.”

she dryly laughs at herself, at the thought of shutting you out to avoid getting hurt and ending up in a much worse position. how she had someone so caring and beyond understanding, and made them feel bad about it. a villain simply for loving her as much as you do— but you’re not one, and you never will be to her.

even now, you have nothing unkind to say to her. you have no desire to even talk about the argument that had taken place. your patience runs deep with samantha, your sympathy outweighing your frustrations.

sam is hurting even more than you, trauma that you couldn’t even begin to understand, insecurities that taint her mindset and your relationship. it’s a problem, you both know this, and you’re still valid for being upset with the words she had spoken due to her own personal complications. words that aren’t true or reflect you at all.

sam will do better for you.

there’s a beat of silence, not nearly as uncomfortable the ride here. the tension is somewhat fleeting, replaced with something else, vulnerability when you both need it.

“so…” you begin, “you love me?”

her head snaps to you, shocked you’re even asking, and that you’re not addressing anything she had said. she doesn’t mind it, though, and answers you.

“so fucking much.”

your cheeks go red at her words, how she means it. sam loves you hard. it is the only reason why you had a fight in the first place.

sam understands it now.

in that part of her brain that is kind to her, in the part that allows her to be in love with you, freely, deeply, openly, like she deserves, ignoring the cruel self-deprecating voices in the back of her mind. 

you end the night with your head on her chest, listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat as you fall asleep cuddled into her body.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Christmas Quickie

poly!141 x fem!reader

cw: unprotected PiV, semi-public sex, oral (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering

abrupt ending

MDNI

You love visiting the MacTavish property, nestled up between Caringorms and the Highlands. Mrs. MacTavish Pat Mum was always cooking something, so the sweet smell of sugar, herbs, or spices permeated the air.

The first time up, you were shocked at how accepting she and the others were of Johnny's relationships. Most people you knew didn't fully know the extent of your love life. Explaining polyamory seemed to require a PhD and the patience of a saint, so you usually didn't bother. You weren't close to your dad or brother and your mom passed before you'd met the 141. Any time a friend asked, you brushed off your closeness with the men as friendship only. Sure some of your friends joked about a threesome with Johnny and Kyle (young and fit and pretty) or the appeal of an older man (John), but they'd never imagine all five of together.

But apparently these very Catholic Scots not only knew but didn't mind Johnny being intimately involved with his task force.

However, there was acceptance and then there was having a quickie with each of your lovers on Christmas day.

It starts during your shower. Cold air behind you is the only warning you have before a large hand covers your mouth to quiet your moans. You feel the size of the man behind you and know that bulk can only be Simon. He slides his large cock in and breathes against the side of your neck, panting, "Happy Christmas." He pushes you against the tile wall and snaps his hips in quick succession. The hand not over your mouth paws at your breasts before slipping down to your clit. You feel a finger press at the little bundle of nerves as he says, "Gotta be quick, lovie. Mum's making a fry-up. Can't keep her waiting."

The idea of getting off in time to make breakfast is just taboo enough to spur your orgasm. Your pussy walls clamp down on Simon, and you hear him grunt as he pistons into you twice more before momentarily dropping his weight against you and pinning you to the wall. You feel him kiss down your neck as he pulls out, cum dripping down your legs and washing away with the water.

When you enter the main bedroom to dress, you see John pushed up against the wall beside the door, Kyle on his knees. John's head is thrown back, and he's biting down hard on his fist. He has a Henley on but nothing else. You can tell one of Kyle's hands is wrapped around the base of John's cock, and his other hand snakes behind John's thigh, probably knuckle deep in John's ass, pressing on his prostate.

You quickly pull clothes on and hurry out the door, ready to make excuses to Mum MacTavish about why John and Kyle are delayed.

You find her in the kitchen, putting a full spread out. You take a seat beside Johnny and across from Simon whom you notice has a purplish bruise peaking out from the collar of his hoodie. It wasn't there last night, and you suspect the lover next to you got a little bite before breakfast.

Mum and Mr. MacTavish Gordon Da, along with Johnny's sister Amelia who, like you, is staying at the house over the holidays, are sat at the table as first John then Kyle make their way in. Mum asks how the trip up was while Da questions you all on what unclass information you can share about your work. Amelia fills you in on the family gossip in preparation for everyone being at the house later. As you eat, Mum makes a comment about making sure the fire in the large hearth in the family room stays burning nicely all day. You don't see the face he makes, but you see Kyle's eyes widen as Johnny casually says, "Gaz an' I'll deal with the wood."

You see a flash in Simon's eye, and John briefly stiffens beside you. You know Johnny has something planned, and your job will be to help distract the rest of the MacTavish clan to not notice a longer than average trip to the wood pile while Johnny and Kyle have some private time.

There's a lull between cleaning up breakfast and getting into full-blown dinner preparations, so Da suggests watching footie. You are sat next to John, curled against the arm rest of the smaller loveseat.

As Da and Simon take up places on other furniture, even Ma and Amelia join for a little. Your feet are tucked under John's leg, a large blanket draped over your lap; you're chilled despite the roaring fire. The blanket serves as the perfect cover for John's wandering hand.

During a penalty which has Da on his feet, roaring at the screen, you feel a large hand slip below the waistband of your joggers. You hear the bitch in John's breath when he realizes you're not wearing knickers. He quickly slides two fingers into your slick hole and you try to breathe normally. Again, the taboo of getting off with the MacTavishs in the room heightens your arousal. All it takes is a few strong pumps of his hand and a harsh thumb against your clit has you seeing stars right as Mum calls your name.

"Sorry," you stammer, "mind was stuck on something."

She tells you it's time to start dinner, so John quickly pulls his hand out of you, wiping your cum off on the inside of your trousers. You carefully stand up and join Amelia and Kyle, who came back with an armload of wood and a misbuttoned shirt, in the kitchen. Mum puts you all to work, and when she finds herself low on nutmeg, John offers to head to the shops, tapping Simon shoulder to have him tag along. You look at Kyle and smirk, knowing John and Simon will spend a few minutes in the back of the truck before they're back with what Mum needs.

Mum sets you and Amelia to the baking: biscuits, shortbread, and trifle. When you're done, you're covered in flour and whipped cream and need another shower. Kyle slipped out of the kitchen while you were finishing, so he's in the room when you get there.

"Look good enough to eat, darling," he says, guiding you to the bed. You're flat on your back and stripped naked in moments, and before you can pull a sentence together, Kyle's mouth is on you, sucking hickies onto your thighs for the others to find later. His long tongue runs up your slit, collecting the wetness there. He moans as he swallows your slick. "God you taste good." He latches onto your clit and shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt. You know you're both supposed to be getting ready for the rest of the family coming over, so Kyle starts humming, knowing how quickly it sets you off even without multiple orgasms. Soon enough, you're clenching around his fingers and the lewd sounds of slurping reach your ears as he cleans you up.

You speed shower to get the last of the flour out of your hair. You come into the room to find a lovely dress, one you know you didn't pack, with the MacTavish tartan colours across the skirt. You smile. A surprise gift from Johnny you know will have the family talking.

Heads turn when you come into the room. Mum tears up, and Da nods in approval. Amelia simply rolls her eyes and turns to Johnny, "Really? Like we didn't know she's yours? You need to wrap her in your colours to claim her?"

Johnny reaches his hand to you and pulls you close. He whispers, "Ye look good, bon. Meet me in the hall bath in 10." Then he wanders off, greeting his sister Fiona and her family at the door. Simon offers to hang their coats, and Kyle follows with the coats from Auntie Isla's family. You know the coat closet is big enough to fit you and Kyle, and you hope it isn't too tight a fit for him and Simon.

Slightly more than ten minutes later, you make an excuse to slip out of the room. Johnny comes in a minute after you and locks the door. He grips your waist, thrusting his tongue into your mouth as he hikes your skirt up to rail you against the door. He fucks you hard and fast, circling your clit with a finger as he ruts into you, panting "mine, mine, mine" into your ear. It doesn't take long until you're both coming.

When you join everyone else, it's in time to help Mum put dishes on the table. The meal passes with lively chatter. John and Johnny carry load after load of dishes to the kitchen, telling everyone they'll clean up. You, Simon, and Kyle urge the family into the family room where all the presents are waiting to be opened.

As the night winds down, you finally find yourself alone in the company of all your lovers. Everyone's too tired, and afraid of waking Mum, to try anything, so you fall into bed in a naked tangle of limbs.

[aventurineswife]

May I please request Aven playing with his twin babies??? (I always imagine him having boy and girl twins)

Like, imagine their tiny hands trying to grab his expensive trinkets and use them as teething toys (idk what they're called LOL) 💖💖

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart”

Summary: Aventurine finds himself caught in the simplest yet most precious game of them all: fatherhood. As he watches his twin babies playfully fight for his trinkets, he is overcome by a rare sense of joy and love and forgets his usual guarded ways. The twins bring out this part of him, an element of play which he has kept hidden for so long, reminding him that the gamble may not always be about wealth or power but about love and family and sometimes just the little things in life.

Tags: Dad!Aventurine, Family, Parenthood, Humor, Mischief, Love, Emotional Vulnerability, Joy.

A/N: searched it up and it's called teething toys (for babies), so you're correct! Don't worry :3

Aventurine had always been a man of risk—whether it was navigating the volatile corridors of power or placing a bet on an impossible con. But today, the stakes were far more personal, and far more precious.

He sat on a plush velvet armchair in the lavish sitting room of his estate, his usually composed features softened by a rare, unguarded smile. His children—his twin babies—played at his feet. The boy with his bright eyes and unruly hair laughed as he reached out for the small trinket that rested on the low table in front of his father. The girl, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously, was already doing her best to grab at the same piece of jewelry, her chubby fingers curling around the delicate gold chain.

They get him with a teasing, affectionate smile, the careful mask slipping in their presence. Aventurine thought himself a strategist: one reads the room and predicts the next move. This game of life has changed, though, when it comes to these two; his heart runs in an uncharted course.

"Ah, no, no," he crooned softly, reaching down to pull the gold necklace from their jaws, "That's not for you to chew on."

The boy whimpered softly, his huge eyes looking up at his father, while the girl beamed up at him as if plotting her next move. It was as if they were already working together—hard not to laugh at this. He had a feeling of something between alarm and endearment at the mischievous streak that mirrored his own.

"You two are already scheming," he said to himself, shaking his head. His eyes remained on their small hands, still reaching for anything they could grab. The girl grabbed the chip coin, clutching it in her chubby little fist. Aventurine's heart fluttered at how such small hands could hold such weight in his life.

"You know," he started, settling back in the chair as he absently fidgeted with his bracelet, "your parent would have a fit if they saw you two playing with my trinkets. They're far too expensive for you to be using them as teething toys."

But the two of them did not give up. The boy, not wanting to lose, managed to tug at a delicate gold ring on his father's wrist with a surprising strength in those baby fingers.

With a theatrical sigh, Aventurine carefully took off the ring, his voice playful yet firm. "If you keep this up, you'll ruin my reputation as the greatest gambler in the universe," he teased. "People will hear about the time I lost my ring to a toddler."

The twins giggled in perfect synchrony, their little voices harmonizing in the most innocent way yet having in their expressions mischief written. Perfect, the gamble paid off in the most wonderful of ways—though Aventurine would never admit how much a gamble fatherhood was truly.

As the boy squirmed closer now to pull at his father's choker, Aventurine couldn't resist. His usual wariness was forgotten in the glow of the moment, and he let them have their play. For the universe held no treasures to rival the joy he felt in their company.

"You little thieves," Aventurine laughed, hoisting the girl up onto his lap, her face breaking out into a grin that was at once his charm and her parent's warmth. The boy crawled up to his side, reaching for his father's face, as if trying to claim him entirely.

Aventurine’s heart fluttered again—this time, he didn’t even try to stop it. He was theirs, every last bit of him. And for once, he didn’t need to calculate the cost of that connection.

For this gamble, there was no risk at all.

[cs-fox]

ok so i read your hybrid 141 blurb (loveed !) but i also had the idea of a vampire bat hybrid reader! something less normal and friendly often unsettling to look at (bat ears, fangs, wings, maybe they get cold easily and stare a lot) how would the hybrid 141 interact with someone like that? (maybe they don't need to drink blood all the time but they need to consume some every now and then to maintain strength)

hi !!! aight aight vampire bat! reader

- the 141 aren’t too perturbed when they get the information. They already had an avian, a werewolf, a shapeshifter for God’s sake - they thought they could handle anything.

- then you actually turn up. Even Ghost is unsettled; you don’t emerge from the doorway’s shadows until you see fit, unnerving dark eyes piercing out of the darkness.

- your eyes aren’t searching like Ghost’s, nor deep like Price’s, but instead draining, like looking at a black hole, Soap got exhausted just making eye contact.

- when you finally leave the shadows, their eyes all flew to your huge batlike wings, webbed with purplish veins and rimmed with matted fur.

‘Welcome, uh - ’

‘Y/N.’ when you spoke, your lips revealed sharp, delicate pearly white teeth.

Soap swallowed thickly.

Your presence was unsettling to a werewolf. He was naturally wary of most avian creatures, and despite being a nocturnal creature, your form still had his tail flicking uneasily or jamming itself between his legs.

Kyle was a little friendlier, but still ruffled his feathers when your eyes did that scary thing - pupils shrinking and locking into their target with what looked like (at least to the avian) predatory abandon.

Price seemed to guess your intimidating nature was just a lack of social experience, but you still sent chills down his spine nevertheless.

Simon, however - he actually seemed to like you. You were naturally drawn to the shadows that spilled off his form, and luckily for him, his blood replenishing rate was much faster than a normal human’s.

[ fox: I read somewhere that vampire bats are extremely friendly ! so I imagine reader would be quite awkward and naturally intimidating, but still eager to socialise, and enjoys being more of a follower than a leader in a friendship if you get what I mean. and I also thought about some silly little drabble about simon actually being a vampire bat and reader being a fruit bat so here u go xox ]

Simon was used to a diet of bitter things - blood, black tea, raw meat. It was just one of those things you got used to. Just another thing he had to live with.

He’d also never considered his species’ friendlier counterpart - the fruit bat - to turn up in his bitter life.

Suddenly the mess hall was stocked with sweet tropical fruits; what was once a rare treat a regular occurrence. Suddenly he found himself watching a lychee’s nectar dribble down your chin before a pink tongue peeked out from between your lips and swiped it away.

God - he’d never thought something could be so sweet. And he’d never wanted anything so badly.

[ fox: ty anon !!!!! this was so fun <3 reminder to u all asks like these make my day so don’t be scared, I don’t bite <3 ]

[fanbasetwo]

anton who's hired by your mother as a family doctor and has a spicy crush on you 🫦

Ꮺ . , MEDICINES FOR THE YOUNG , L.CY !

sena’s note ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 made this a drabble instead so that I could focus on other asks, thank you for requesting anon <3

You had recently decided to visit your hometown—a quiet place by the coast. The air was cool and refreshing, but even as you settled back in, you found yourself longing to leave again.

When you arrived, you weren’t expecting much company. That changed when you met Anton—or Chanyoung, as your mother called him. He was staying at your house because your mom had hired him as the family doctor. And while you greeted him politely, something about him felt off.

Anton was only a couple of years older than you, with an easy charm that seemed to win over your family in no time. Your mother especially adored him, maybe even more than she did you. No matter how much you insisted that your family didn’t need a live-in doctor, your mom wouldn’t hear it. Anton had already claimed his place in her heart.

At first, you just brushed it off. But after spending a couple of weeks around him, you started noticing things. The way his presence made your heart race, how you’d catch yourself glancing his way when he wasn’t looking. He was annoyingly attractive—lean, toned, with muscles that were hard to ignore, especially when water glistened on his skin after he worked out.

You hated to admit it, but he was magnetic. And while you resented how easily he fit into your family, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from wandering.

What you didn’t realize was that Anton noticed everything. The way your voice softened sometimes when you spoke to him, or how you’d come up with excuses to be near him. He’d never cross a line—always keeping his touches casual, fleeting, and respectful—but there was an unspoken tension neither of you could deny.

“Anton? Are you in there?” you called, knocking on his door harder than necessary. Your irritation was obvious, though you weren’t sure if it was directed at him or yourself.

You knocked again, your voice sharper this time. “Lee Chanyoung! Mom’s calling you for dinner! Get your ass out here already.”

As your voice echoed through the hallway, Anton sat behind the door, frozen for a moment. There was a flicker of guilt in his chest, but he couldn't deny the heat your words stirred in him. You had no idea the effect you had on him, and he was determined to keep it that way. For now.

Unbeknownst to you, Anton struggled to stifle a guttural moan that rumbled deep in his chest. His hand pumped furiously up and down his rock-hard, throbbing cock, the swollen shaft twitching with need. Beads of pre-cum leaked from the flushed, angry red tip, staining the front of his black pants a telltale white.

He couldn't help but close his eyes and imagine you. The way you moved, the sound of your voice—it all set his body on fire, consumed by a lust he could barely contain. As a gentleman, he knew he shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't want you with such desperate, aching hunger. But fuck, he did.

Struggling to maintain control, he watch as his own hand worked faster, tighter, squeezing his shaft with a firm and tight grip. His hips bucked into his fist, seeking more friction, more pleasure. The wet spot on his pants grew, spreading like a map of his growing arousal.

Each word that fell from your lips was like a match to gasoline, igniting a blaze of desire in his cock. He didn't want you to leave, not now, not ever. The thought of you departing in just a week filled him with a desperate ache, a longing he couldn't put into words. And yet he knew, he'd have to let go.

God, how he wished he could tell you, could confess the depths of his craving. But he knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that revealing his true feelings would only lead to ruin. He couldn't taint his reputation, his carefully crafted profession and image, for a silly little crush. So the poor guy would have to just digest it all with his own medicine to soothe his young desires.

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[detectivestucks2]

Geto as an Affair Partner

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Geto Suguru x F!Reader

Affair Partner Suguru who has always had a crush on you but respected your relationship and kept his feelings to himself.

Affair Partner Suguru who was your friend but didn’t expect you to vent about the truth of your marriage to him that fateful day.

Affair Partner Suguru who overheard your phone calls with your husband and hated how he talked to you. 

Affair Partner Suguru who witnessed how your husband injured you during his ‘pranks’.

Affair Partner Suguru who assured you that you weren’t crazy when your husband gaslit you or called you dramatic.

Affair Partner Suguru who got mad with you when your husband burdened you with his share of the responsibilities.

Affair Partner Suguru who came over to hang out but helped you clean your house when your husband left a mess first, before sitting down to watch TV.

Affair Partner Suguru who helped you install the ceiling fan when your husband refused to learn how.

Affair Partner Suguru who told you to start showering before your husband comes home cause he doesn’t like the idea of your husband seeing you naked.

Affair Partner Suguru who felt jealous at the idea of your husband coming home to you when it should be him.

Affair Partner Suguru who stole a kiss and then another.

Affair Partner Suguru who removed your clothes and kissed the parts of your body your husband called saggy and fat.

Affair Partner Suguru who latched onto the peaks of your chest and suckled till he tastes your tangy discharge.

Affair Partner Suguru who spread your legs and ate what didn’t belong to him.

Affair Partner Suguru who bent you into every position imaginable, before taking you from behind, finally fulfilling years worth of fantasies. 

Affair Partner Suguru who secretly recorded you because he didn’t know if you’d let him do this to you ever again.

Affair Partner Suguru who reminded you what passion felt like and finally gave you an orgasm you didn’t have to give to yourself.

Affair Partner Suguru who you betrayed your husband for and didn’t feel the slightest tinge of guilt or remorse.

Affair Partner Suguru who you thought about all the time.

Affair Partner Suguru who inspired you to shop for kinky toys to use at your next rendezvous. 

Affair Partner Suguru who had you wear a remote control vibrator to work one day.

Affair Partner Suguru who made you feel safe in his arms.

Affair Partner Suguru who caused your stomach to churn with guilt when your husband tried to touch you cause it felt too much like cheating.

Affair Partner Suguru who never pressured you to leave your husband because he knew the divorce was inevitable.

Affair Partner Suguru who was there to protect you when it was time to expose the truth to your husband.

Affair Partner Suguru who has been by your side every day since your separation.

Affair Partner Suguru who can't wait for your divorce to be finalized so he can take you on a proper date.

Affair Partner Suguru who you waited till after your divorce to finally say the words ‘I love you’ to when he admits he loves you back. 

Affair Partner Suguru who is no longer your affair partner but instead is the best boyfriend you have ever had.

a/n: had some inspiration and felt like writing this. I'm still working on my series but I chose to read the mangas before publishing the next chapter to see if my imagination fits with the actual events. And yes, I do intend on writing for jjk villains other than Sukuna. More Geto stories are in our future. 😉