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wikiangela · 4 months ago

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you know when you know (I think I do)

rating: G words: 1.4k

[read on Ao3]

___

“So, you and Buck.” Eddie finally gets on the topic he was clearly inching towards the whole evening. Tommy’s lips involuntarily turn up into a smile.

“Yeah. What about us?” He asks, still turned towards the TV, then takes a sip of his beer.

“You guys are, uh, together. Dating.” Eddie fiddles with the label on his beer bottle, sounding a little hesitant and awkward.

“Have been for weeks now.” Tommy nods, smile widening at the mere thought of Evan. He leans his head back against the back of the couch, then turns more towards Eddie. “Any particular reason you’re bringing it up now?”

“Uh, not really. I mean, I’m so happy for you guys, and, uh, it’s none of my business, I just-” He takes a deep breath. Tommy waits, curious about what his friend might have to say. “Listen, Tommy, I don’t wanna be one of these friends who’s all ‘if you hurt him, I’ll kill you’, that’s not me.” Eddie starts, cringing at the words. “Besides, he’s a grown man who’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”

“True.” Tommy nods. He can already see where Eddie’s going with it. Tommy finds it sweet how much people in Evan’s life love him and care for him, and are protective of him, but not to a weird or unhealthy degree. He can appreciate that.

“But he’s my best friend.” Eddie continues. “And I just worry.”

“Okay?” Tommy prompts when Eddie falls silent, a frown on his face, like he’s considering his next words.

“He’s been through a lot. In general, but also relationship-wise. I’ve seen only part of it, but I’ve heard it all. And I just- I don’t want him to get hurt again.”

“I’m not planning to hurt him, Eddie.” Tommy says softly. It’s obvious, and he knows what Eddie meant, but he wants to voice it anyway. He would never, ever, in a million years, do anything that could even remotely hurt his Evan. And if he did so unknowingly, he doesn’t think he’d forgive himself. Evan is such a ray of sunshine, he’s so good and sweet, and genuine, and Tommy would do anything just to keep that radiant smile on his face.

“I know that.” Eddie shakes his head briefly. “People rarely do. It’s just that, Buck always gives a thousand percent of himself into everything.” A fond smile appears on his face, and Tommy is once again witness to the amazing bond those two have. This kind of friendship is so rare, they’re both so lucky to have each other – and Tommy is lucky to be let into it, even just a little bit. “Once he’s in, he’s in. And, Tommy,” Eddie looks him in the eyes, “Buck is definitely in, all the way, no turning back. He’s falling for you so hard and so fast, and letting all his guards down. Because that’s Buck, that’s what he does. And I just don’t want him to get too deep before you’re ready, before you’re both ready, and I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I get it.” Tommy nods once, because of course he sees where Eddie’s coming from. “But you have nothing to worry about, Eddie. With Evan…” His lips curl into a smile around the word. “I’m already so far gone.” He shakes his head a little. “I know it’s soon, but I’m really falling for him.” He says quietly, but surely. He’s not used to this, talking about his feelings, about dating, about a person he’s seeing, especially not with someone he’s only known for such a short time. But he and Eddie became fast friends, and he’s Evan’s best friend, and Tommy feels safe enough to say it. He’s also honest and straightforward, and he likes to say it how it is, and this is how it is. He’s falling – or, to be honest, has fallen already – very fast and very hard for Evan Buckley, and he doesn’t feel the need to hide it. Evan is it for him. And he’s going to tell him that soon.

“Good.” Eddie says, tone serious, but a soft smile is forming on his lips. “He’s very lovable. You’d be an idiot to not fall for him.”

“I know.” Tommy grins. From the moment they met, he knew there’s something about Evan, something that pulled him in, got his attention right away. They laughed about it later, after they officially started dating and talked about that whole situation, how Evan put so much effort into trying to get his attention, but he had it anyway, from the start. Tommy was just more subtle about it, and he couldn’t figure out if Evan was flirting that day he gave him the Harbor tour or not. Seems like even Evan didn’t know. He’s so adorable, and kind, and bright and happy like sunshine personified. How was Tommy supposed to take one look at him and not develop a crush, that only seems to keep intensifying the more he gets to know him?

“And, for the record, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. We’re friends, too. Unless you break my best friend’s heart, that is.” He adds, his tone a little teasing, before his smile changes into something fond and genuine. “I’m really happy you guys found each other, truly. I’ve never seen him like this.” He chuckles quietly, shakes his head. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but I can already tell you two just make sense. So, take good care of my best friend, Kinard.”

“Of course. I plan on it.” Tommy says, meaning it from the bottom of his heart.

“Just, not too much PDA when I’m hanging out with you guys, yeah?” He grimaces. “I don’t wanna feel like I’m third-wheeling a boys' night.” He laughs, and so does Tommy.

“Well, I’m not really a big PDA guy anyway.” He shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But who knows, I can’t really keep my hands to myself around Evan.”

“And it’s time to change the subject,” he shakes his head furiously, “I don’t wanna hear more than I have to. Buck already tells me way too much.” Eddie says quickly, and Tommy laughs again.

But the subject changes, and their attention is mostly back on the game playing on the TV. They spend the rest of the evening like this, watching sports, drinking beer and chatting. That’s how Evan finds them when he lets himself into Tommy’s house later, since he left the door unlocked.

He walks into the room, says hi to Eddie, then unceremoniously plops down in Tommy’s lap, giving him a long, sweet kiss, smiling into it. Tommy’s free hand circles around his waist, the other still holding his beer.

“Hello to you, too, Evan, how was your day?” Tommy chuckles when they pull away, his nose rubbing against Evan’s. He was spending the day with Jee-Yun, giving Maddie and Howie the day to themselves.

“It was good, we went to the playground, and then to help Bobby and Athena with unpacking, and then had coffee at Hen’s.” Evan grins, his face still so close to Tommy’s he almost looks blurry. “But I missed you so much.” He presses another kiss to Tommy’s lips, which Tommy obviously reciprocates. When he pulls away and glances at Eddie, expecting him to have an amused but annoyed look on his face, or maybe a faux-disgust, but what he finds instead is the fondest, proudest look he’s seen from him, as he looks straight ahead at the TV, giving them a semblance of privacy. Eddie looks just genuinely so happy for his best friend, for both of them. It warms Tommy’s heart. Eddie glances at them, and their eyes meet, and he just rolls his eyes fondly, but is still smiling.

“Okay, baby, I missed you, too, but let’s leave that for later or Eddie won’t want to hang out with us anymore.” Tommy says, and Evan pulls away further, chuckling.

“Eh, we always have each other.” He teases and shrugs, and Eddie scoffs loudly.

“You know I can’t watch basketball with you. Or do Muay Thai.” Tommy raises his eyebrow, giving Evan a knowing look. He can barely watch any sports with Evan, actually, because he never really gets into it, and whenever he gets bored, somehow they end up making out through the whole thing. Evan’s really good at distracting Tommy from just about anything.

“Oh, that’s all you need me for?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Fine, then I’ll just leave you two-” he starts getting up, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Sit down and drink your beer.” Buck laughs, as he climbs off Tommy’s lap and pulls out a phone out of his pocket. Eddie sits back down, laughing as well. “I’m gonna order pizza for dinner. Any preferences?”

[read also on Ao3]

#wikiangela writes #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #eddie & tommy #bucktommy fic #bucktommy #911 fic #platonic buck and eddie #my writing #evan buckley #fluff #911 fanfic #bucktommy fanfic #evan x tommy #buck x tommy #tevan #kinley #dailykinley #platonic buddie

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xxepherr · 1 month ago

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.ೃ࿐ELECTION DAY

summary — in which austin accidentally lets it slip that hasan’s faceless (yet public) girlfriend is the woman they’re currently watching analyse the maps on CNN.

pairings — hasan piker x politicalcorrespondent!girlfriend!reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 1893

note — i personally would have “6’4 jacked boyfriend” as his contact name so that whenever weird men try to hit on me they see that but thats just me (and this reader insert ofc) (also this is nothing special just me rambling tbh — what’s to say this political!reader doesn’t become a mini series)

THE DAY WAS HERE. election day. not only was it the day your boyfriend had spent hours upon hours preparing for for weeks, but you, too. you were a political journalist and correspondent currently working the map for CNN during the weeks in the lead up to the election.

it was a big day for you. four years ago you were streaming your own map coverage to fifteen thousand people on twitch, accessing your sources across multiple states to provide statements on what was going on nationwide. being asked a couple months ago to run the maps in front of millions was certainly a step up, but it gave you control to speak objectively without bias unlike most of the other news anchors and correspondents that were pushing right-wing sentiment over any other coverage.

you hadn’t seen hasan in a few weeks now unless you counted facetimes and tuning into his streams. you’d get texts while he was streaming and the occasional kaya video ( because apparently she’d been whining with your leave ). it wasn’t the same, but you were both incredibly career-driven people, so being hours apart by plane wasn’t as daunting as it probably should’ve been.

“you’re gonna be late to stream,” you laughed softly, fiddling with the cap of the bottle of water someone had gotten you. endless tabs were open on your laptop in front of you, following aspects of every state because there was still hours to go before the polls closed, so you were only needed in short segments for now to go over 2020 and 2016 county votes in particular states at a time.

“you’re right,” hasan’s voice was slightly staticky through the phone. “i might have to focus on kornacki or fox news so that i don’t spend too long staring at you.”

“aw,” you let go of your phone, holding it between your ear and shoulder to screw the cap back on the bottle. one of the directors caught your attention across the room, holding up his hand to say that she had five minutes before they were back on air again. “i’m back on in a few . . . i’ll have your stream open on my laptop, though!”

“good luck today,” hasan said softly as he started his stream, leaving it on his opening scene while his mic was muted. people were already flooding in by the thousands. “i’ll talk to you in, what, twelve hours? i love you.”

“twelve hours,” you hummed in agreement, “i love you more,” you sighed softly, noticing that the twitch tab was reloading to take her to his ‘starting soon’ overlay. “good luck.” you ended the phone call first, quickly putting it back on do not disturb and placing it over on the table that was full of analytical notes. the board that now had the map of the united states of america was lit up again, an empty canvas waiting for you to load up the old votes to load up projected blue and red areas.

TOO MANY HOURS TO count and three hundred thousand viewers into the election, hasan was still going strong. despite the pull to watching CNN more than he probably should, he managed to force himself to switch between fox news to laugh at republican propaganda and msnbc. though, he would one hundred percent lying if he said he didn’t have CNN up on his second monitor.

things were steadily climbing, and josh ( ettingermentum ) was back after mike from PA left the call. josh, who had been raging on ( no seriously, no one had really heard him be that loud all day ) about how the democrats fucked up was finally broken up when austin joined the call, the atmosphere shifting.

christmas sign in full view and a cold slab of a slice of pizza being shoved into his mouth, austin’s discussion on if he was being sent to prison if the republicans dominated was dwindled until josh left the call to analyse the polls for twitter.

“ugh, can we watch something else?” austin asked, barely swallowing his mouthful of pizza first. “all i’ve done is watch fox today.”

“yeah,” hasan chucked humourlessly, clicking around mindlessly between tabs as he tried to find msnbc’s coverage. because the tabs were so small thanks to the fifty million twitter tabs he had open, he almost groaned in frustration when he accidentally clicked on the CNN tab.

the tab where you were conveniently fiddling with the data of state of pennsylvania. it was already a dangerous game having you on screen when the chat knew what the silhouettes of you looked like — photos from behind of you walking with hasan, photos of your eyes after he tried to do your makeup, mirror fit checks with your face covered by the phone . . . chat only needed to be railroaded enough to work it out.

just as he was about to switch tabs again, austin opened his mouth. “oh, man, i miss her,” there was a shift in his tone, more than just him speaking without thinking. familiarity shone through. from the way he casually uttered your nickname to the sigh, it was probably worse than railroading. it was the train forgetting to slam the brakes on worthy.

hasan wisely kept his mouth shut as he switched to fox news — anything was better than CNN currently — and his eyes slowly zeroed in on the chat. question marks upon question marks until it eventually morphed into ‘holy shit she looks familiar’ and ‘girlfriend reveal????’ to ‘omg face reveal’ and his breathing faltered.

someone switched the chat to emote only mode in the few moments he was silent for, austin thankfully following suit. glancing at his second monitor, you were still doing your thing, this time discussing the iowa flip from blue to red, completely oblivious.

“austin,” hasan finally said, tone flat. there was no use making a big fuss out of denying it — that would just make it more obvious.

austin chuckled nervously, awkwardly. “uh . . . sorry, hasan. i didn’t think about it . . . awkward.”

“clearly,” he grumbled, digging his fingers into his hair for a moment as he thought. the election was put on hold in his mind for a moment as he switched the screen to the full facecam. he wasn’t going to directly deny or confirm anything, so instead he said, “take what you will from what austin said. in saying that, don’t go harass her, clearly she was faceless for a reason. anyway,” hasan cleared his throat, “moving on, back to the election . . .” and he swiftly moved on like nothing ever happened ( while the mods were timing out anyone who asked about it for an entire week ).

“PENNSYLVANIA AND NEVADA ARE expected to be the closest as of currently,” you gestured to the map that demonstrated the slight wave from the blue shift. “we’re looking at about half a percent, but election night is full of surprises so . . . we’ll continue to keep an eye on that for now.” the directors in the back signalled that the camera was no longer live, and you nodded and took a deep breath. the polls weren’t looking as good as everyone had expected it would look for the democrats.

finally off the air for a much needed break, you wandered back over to your little table off to the side. notes were piling up, but upon noticing the spam of notifications flashing across your phone. weird, you thought, your notifications usually not showing up unless it came from verified accounts across all social media platforms . . . until you noticed that it was coming from your private instagram and twitter account. super weird.

and then the text from hasan.

6’4 SUPER JACKED BOYFRIEND: uhhh so austin accidentally told 300k people we’re dating

6’4 SUPER JACKED BOYFRIEND: call me when ur done? so sorry

oh. on one hand the first part was exciting. three hundred thousand? it was a new viewership record for him. on the other? that means a shit ton of people knew the secret you guys had spent almost two years safeguarding. you’d wanted to keep your face out of everything because you had your own career and didn’t want his to intertwine with it. a healthy work-life balance was keeping that shit separate, but it was only really time until people found out anyway. it wasn’t the best kept secret, anyway.

still, you weren’t mad. you sent off a quick text saying ‘it’s alr’ with a smiley face emoji and shut your phone off completely, shoving it off to the side and turning your laptop back on. you’d be back in california tomorrow, anyway, it could be dealt with then.

THE AIRPORT WASN’T AS secretive anymore. tired after only getting a couple hours of sleep because you got back to your hotel at some god awful hour this morning, it was an instant relief to see hasan waiting for you, dresses comfortably to not draw too much attention to himself — which was difficult because he was fucking huge.

either way, you had no energy to do anything but collapse into his waiting arms, letting him engulf you until you were suffocating. “this is nice,” you mumbled. “sorry i didn’t call, was so tired.”

“you’re fine,” he promised, pulling you back slightly to look at him. “i missed you,” he slipped his hand into yours, and he took your suitcase with his other hand. it was nice to be able to publicly be in his presence without worrying, so much so that you leant into his arm, tiredness dragging your feet.

“missed you more,” you said honestly, but there was more on your mind than just small talk. “where’s austin? motherfucker’s been blowing up my phone.”

hasan chuckled, “if i hear him apologise one more time i’m gonna commit a hate crime.” he then shook his head, “he wanted to stay at the house but i told him to come ‘round tomorrow . . . want you to myself first.”

you knew what that was code for, so you shook your head with a silent laugh. “let me sleep first, god.”

and sleep you did. the house was silent thankfully so you were content tucked up in hasan’s arms, stealing him from clocking in with his twitch chat for ten hours in a fit of selfishness that you were entitled too.

“austin might’ve saved our relationship,” you teased, trailing your fingers up his arm that was tightly wrapped around you, both on the verge of falling into dreamland. “now we can go out on proper dates again.”

“you can tell him yourself,” hasan’s arms tightened around her a little bit more, so full of warmth that the blanket was starting to render useless. “when he knocks our door down tomorrow morning.”

“aw, come on,” you tapped his arm a little harder, fighting the urge to gnaw on his forearm. “you love him.”

“i love you, he’s just my side piece,” he kissed the side of your neck tenderly, “night, baby.”

“g’night,” you mumbled back with a soft smile, the world drifting away for just that little bit longer until tomorrow rolled around. you could deal with your very public relationship then.

#hasanabi x reader #hasan piker x reader #hasanabi fic #hoping this doesn’t land in the laps of hasan antis #xeph writes about hasan

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remotewatch · 4 months ago

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nothing but a sentence 🩸

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1.8k wc

summary: period sex with jack for anon ‼️ hope you enjoy lovely 🤍

cw: period sex, period head, certified boyfriend material jack, domestic bliss, whereee did all this fluff come from, sacrilege if you squint, messy eating, unprotected sex (VOTE IF YOU WANNA RECREATE ETC ETC), shoutout to my darling editor Sabrina @mystardustmelodyyy for saving this from limbo 🙏

minors dni get off my lawn

At this point in the relationship, Jack manages your period more than you do. You tend to forget that it requires actually going out and purchasing supplies unless he calls you from the pharmacy to complain.

“Why would they stop carrying ultras? That’s so fucked up! And the boxes are getting smaller, it’s sick what they’re doing to you guys!” It’s too easy to picture him waltzing around with three cases of san pellegrino under one arm and an overflowing snack basket in the other, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder while he yaps about pink taxes.

“Do you want canned or fresh lychee? Never mind, I’ll get both.” he decides before you can respond. “Did you want anything else?”

“I want to sleep,” you mumble. You were currently being throttled on two fronts by nauseating cramps and a vicious migraine, leaving no energy left to manage his shopping list. It was hard enough just to reach and grab the ibuprofen without alerting your uterus that you had moved, yet he’s still talking as you doze off:

“We’ve got edibles and melatonin in the cabinet, but I’ll get some mag glycinate, and are you SURE you don’t need…”

“Dealer’s choice, I trust your judgement,” you murmur. “When will you be home?”

“Alright, fair enough. I’ll be back around 6.”

“See you then. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He finds you wrapped in two heating pads, face pressed into the couch, full water glass in the same spot he left it on the coffee table.

“I feel like I just died,” you groan, rubbing your eyes and tentatively stretching your legs.

“Come on, you gotta hydrate,” Jack rustles through the grocery bags looking for a loose water bottle with a sport cap before pressing it against your mouth. He frowns and doesn’t take it out when you try to move away.

“At least half a glass, come on. I’m following orders here.” He’s very gentle not to flood your mouth and make you cough, but you can see his eyes flicker down to watch your lips wrap around the cap (he’s only human, after all).

“Thank you,” you croak when he finally sets it down, voice slightly less raspy than before.

“Do you want a tea? I’m making you a tea.”

He’s off rustling through the kitchen for the ginger lemon amid the boxes of just ginger or just lemon, but despite his best efforts, the noise is killing you. Every shut drawer sounds like a door slamming with this headache, and Jack sounds like he’s still speaking into your ear even though he’s mainly talking to himself.

“And I’ll get started on dinner-what would you like? I’ll figure something out, don’t worry. Oh, also! I got those vaseline body balm rollers you like.”

Your eyes shoot wide open and light up as he trots over to hand you your treat.

“Oh my god, and you found the cocoa butter kind! You’re the best!”

The rich, nutty scent of the balm floods the room when you unscrew the top and gives you a second wind. This and a shower will fix you for sure, just as soon as you can make your way to the bathroom.

Jack fills in the blanks as soon as you look back up at him apprehensively and start with the vague gesturing and “would you mind…”

“Of course not. There’s no need for you be walking right now, that would be crazy!” If you weren’t in so much pain, you’d be swooning at the way he effortlessly scoops you up and walks over to set you down on the glossy teak shower stool (a million percent worthwhile at times like this).

“Do you want any more help in there?” It sounds like a joke, but you know he’d wash you in a heartbeat if you asked. You can’t help matching his smile.

“I think I’ve got it handled.”

“I’ll put dinner on, then.”

When you emerge, your headache has all but subsided, and while you’re still pretty out of it, the heat has done wonders for your cramps and stiffness. You can’t be bothered to do anything but throw on a pair of thinx and flop down onto the bed, slathering on more of your new balm just to keep smelling it.

Jack knocks at the open bedroom door with your tea and a fresh glass of water.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were baking in here,” he teases as sets them on the nightstand. “Dinner is on in 30 by the way.”

The idea of leaving your bed right now sounds about as appealing as getting all your teeth pulled, but you’d never dream of eating on the scrumptious new Matouk linens; the utter disrespect!

“Can you just put me back to sleep instead?”

“Sure, of course. You want a gummy or-“

“Jack!”

“Right, got it!” And he’s skittering off to grab a vibe and towel while you untangle yourself from heating pad cords.

Jack is nearly skipping coming back from the hallway closet with a fistful of toys before rolling you as little as possible to tuck the towel under your lower half. As soon as he’s back within reach, you grab a handful of his hair and drag him down to kneel next to you. He nods at the pile of silicone on the nightstand as he playfully snaps at your elastic: “Are we feeling manual or automatic?”, but you’re already bucking your hips up to shove the underwear down your thighs and wincing at the sudden movement.

“You ok?” He drops the playful tone immediately and furrows his brow in concern. You throw your arm out to grab a toy at random, landing on a satisfier. Perfect.

“Ask me again in ten minutes,” you sigh dramatically to lighten the mood, but you’re still not feeling great.

“Roger that,” Jack bites back a smug grin -as if he’s ever needed all ten- and crawls gingerly into bed to snake one arm under your waist and accept the toy with the other.

It has to be some sort of sick joke how you’re this unbelievably sensitive when you still feel so shitty. Every single nerve ending in your clit is humming in tandem with the pulses of the satisfier; the delicious sensations ricochet up and down your body enough that even your eye sockets feel tingly.

He’s entirely absorbed in making you cum and tuned into every move you make, still glancing up now and then to check for any hint of discomfort. As much as he’s committed to pleasing you, he can’t conceal the blush creeping up his neck and down from his temples, nor his ragged breathing. There’s barely enough time to acclimate and enjoy it before you feel yourself getting drawn right over the edge.

“You’ve got it-don’t fucking move-so good to me, Jack, fuck-thank you,”

You screw your eyes shut on pure instinct while your orgasm rolls through; one of your hands fumbles for purchase in his curls as he mouths sloppily over your breasts. When you manage to take another peek at him, his eyes are all crinkled up like he’s smiling while his mouth remains focused on the task at hand. A little tug on his hair and he’s cheerily licking his way down your abdomen, really letting his tongue drag so he has more time to grind against your thigh. You can already feel the wet spot forming on his boxer briefs, such a romantic!

“Having fun down there?” you purr. Jack jerks his head up, revealing a red splotch on the point of his chin.

“God, yes. Can I lick you? Please?” You’d think he’s the one who’d just came from how breathy he sounds. You cross your ankles between his shoulder blades and readjust your grip on his hair.

“Always.”

For once, Jack shows some restraint eating you. It’s all broad, slow licks in time with your heartbeat; he falls right into a natural rhythm that reminds you of crashing waves. His fingers lace together across your stomach like he’s praying, and each adoring exhale only adds to the effect. Every time he dives back in after catching his breath, a new drip flows out hot and coppery to coat him from the nose down. It’s such a perfect mess; the harsh-edged, gleaming paint job stretching ear to ear and the little smear between his eyebrows make him look like he’s been baptized in your blood.

It’s a wonder he can even hear your faint whispers of “Jack, just-just fuck me, please,” over how shamelessly he’s dragging his face through you, but he’s always been something of a miracle worker.

There’s a long, indulgent slurp like a bathtub finishing draining that makes your thoughts blur around the edges before he allows you to pull him off you and slide your feet languidly under his shorts. You’re way too sleepy to be of much help, but he’s happy to shove the waistband low enough to tuck under his balls and half wipe his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls back up to you.

The blood pools sluggishly towards the high points of Jack’s face, and a drop splatters onto your cheek before he can stop it. Without hesitation, he swoops down to lap it up and kiss a fainter mark in its place. Barely audible, you somehow remember to pant a reminder into his ear.

“You just gotta be careful right now, my cervix is like-”

“-right up front, I remember. I gotcha, no worries,” he presses another sticky kiss to your temple as he pushes halfway in, abs clenching to keep from slipping too deep. He’s delightful as always, but each thrust is winding your nerves tighter, making your clit ache just as much as the rest of you. Fumbling once again at the nightstand, you find another vibe designed to rest snugly between you two so he’s got both hands free to rest his chin on, just rocking away while he watches you drift off. When he hits at just the right angle, you back bows up hard enough to audibly crack in relief. Those waves of relaxation mixing with the constant rumbling from the toy overwhelm you once again, dissolving what’s left of your discomfort and tugging you towards unconsciousness.

Jack can’t hold himself back when he feels you practically sucking him back in on every outstroke, and a brazen whine bursts from his throat as he pulls out, freeing a gush of pink tinged cum. It only feels natural to lean up to kiss him and lap the residual streaks from around his lips.

“Feel better?” he sighs against you, grinning so wide the drier patches on his dimples crack and start to flake off onto the towel.

“So much better,” your words slur together, and the rest of your thoughts scatter once your heads falls back onto the pillow

“You want a hot washcloth?”

“Mmmm,” It takes you a second to piece the simple sentence together; you’re still blinking away the residual stars from your vision.

“In ten minutes?”

#jack schlossberg #jack schlossberg x reader #freak nasty #get a running start put ya javelin in it!!!#anon you pushed a gross button in my head I’m real sorry if it’s too nasty #but also not that sorry #paint his face 2025 #this fic is #branded

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disaster-writer · 6 months ago

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Poison (Part 1/4)

Pairing: Alpha!Bokuto Koutarou x Beta!Reader

Summary: You loved love, but it wasn’t made for you… but maybe a certain Alpha could change your mind

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: MSBY Black Jackals time period

AU: Omegaverse

“I don’t care about your presentation. It shouldn’t matter whether or not you’re a Beta and I’m an Alpha— I love you for you and not because of my biology—“

”Fucking liar,” you grumbled glaring holes into your tv, “You only love her cause it’s in the fucking script,” you grumbled once more, shoving the Valentine’s chocolate you had bought for yourself into your mouth.

”Hmmm… and you say this is your favorite movie because….?”

Your eyes snapped to your laptop, wide open and displaying your younger sister.

Truthfully you were sure every single person in the world would find you to be quite the pathetic display right now. In the midst of February, crying about fake love stories while stuffing your face with heart shaped chocolates, and talking to your sister that had to make time out of her busy school schedule just to hang out with you over FaceTime. Not to mention your hair was a wreck and you looked like you had been awake for days.

But at the age of 24 you stopped caring about the optics long ago… plus no one was ever here to pity you anyway.

”Because it’s a beautiful fucking love story about a Beta finding true love,” another chocolate down the hatch.

”Isn’t the actress an Omega in real life?” She snorted.

”Yeah and you can tell no Betas worked on this film cause they got so much shit wrong. Like how would she be able to tell he was pissed off in that one scene by his scent? We can’t smell that shit,” you ranted, throwing a piece of chocolate at the tv. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your cat walking up and sniffing the chocolate before batting it away. “They also make her too submissive.”

She hummed absentmindedly, filling in one of the answers in her homework, ”Well what do you expect? You guys only make up like, what— 2 percent of the population?”

”Maybe if you Omegas and Alphas didn’t fuck like bunnies, we wouldn’t be dying out.”

”Hey!” Your sister yelped, looking up from her homework, “Mom told you not to say stuff like that anymore!”

You grumbled something to yourself, sinking further down against the foot of your bed and into the carpet, “Sorry.”

“God I can’t wait for February to be over,” she muttered going back to her homework.

”At least I don’t bother you with this year round now. If I’m destined to die alone I can take one month out of the year to be insufferable.”

”Oh sis, you need some serious help.”

”That’s what the chocolates are for,” you say through a mouthful, “Ah! Don’t eat that Mochi!”

From your sister’s perspective she sees you suddenly leap out of frame giving her a view of the dance pole you had installed in your room— a secret you made sure both your sisters would take to the grave just so your parents wouldn’t find out. And just behind that she could faintly make out the shelves upon shelves of anime figurines you collected in the dim light of your room that was only illuminated by the TV and your laptop. You returned seconds later with a cat in your arms.

She sweat dropped. She loves you with her entire heart but holy shit, you were becoming the stereotypical sad cat lady day by day.

”Tell me again why you can’t just go out with one of the million volleyball players you manage? Or what about the other guys on the other teams? I thought you said most of them don’t have mates?” She asked, putting her pencil down and finally giving you her undivided attention. “I’ve seen some of the pictures of the guys on your team too, they’re all hot.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the foot of your bed, ”There’s so much wrong with that question I don’t even know where to start.”

”Enlighten me then,” she deadpanned.

”Okay, one, they’re like the most stereotypical Alphas you’ll ever meet— like the Alphas of Alphas, which means a Beta is probably the last person they’d ever date. Two, most of them are unmated for good reason, they’re professional athletes, they don’t have time for that. And three, they’re my co-workers, it’s not professional!” You exclaimed, throwing a fist in the air and causing Mochi to meow and squirm out of your hold.

She narrowed her eyes at your dramatics. “Is that all?” She asked sarcastically.

”There’s probably more— ah shit the movie’s over,” you said, noticing the credits beginning to roll.

”Thank God,” your little omega sister muttered, “It’s time for you to go to bed anyway.”

”Sleep is for the weak,” you grumbled, a pocky stick hanging out the corner of your mouth while searching for a new movie.

”Huh-uh sure it is. It’s 2am and don’t you have to get up at 6?”

”5. I’m going on a run to burn off all the chocolate.”

”You could just not eat it.”

”Funny.”

She rolled her eyes, “Anyway, Ne-Chan is going to your place tomorrow right?”

”Oh yeah, that’s right,” you muttered, forgetting about your older sister’s stay.

”Thank God, she can help you through tomorrows episode instead of me.”

”Bitch.”

She started closing her textbook, ”Ok I’m gonna—“

”Y’know tomorrow will be the first time I’m seeing any of you in like a year.”

”That’s cause you never visit.”

”Well you guys could come visit me too y’know?” You scoffed, picking at your cuticle.

”Nuh uh don’t pull that, we’re all here and you’re the one that wanted to run off and isolate herself after you started making bank as a manager.”

”Yeah whatever,” you grumbled.

”I’m gonna go to bed now,” she hummed, “And you should too.”

You only grunted in response.

”Love ya, talk to you later,” she waved.

”Love you—“ she hung up, “…too,” you ended with a sigh.

You took a second, staring at the blank screen and remembering just how lonely you felt now that you were by yourself before going back to scrolling through the movies once again.

* * * *

You jolted awake to the sound of your alarm that following morning.

You turned over, registered that it was 5am, turned off the alarm, and turned back around.

What were you thinking? A 5am run? The sun wasn’t even up yet. You weren’t like the weirdos you managed on the team. You’d much rather stick to your usual workout routine.

You fell back asleep.

You would actually wake up two hours later at 7am to go to work. The guys had a 8 am practice but you couldn’t spend the practice time with them anyway as you’d be locked away in your office all day. After their last tournament they had an influx of sponsors come in and now you had your hands absolutely full with that.

However, now with the sunlight filtering in through your curtains, you forced yourself awake and to get ready for the day.

You sat up, your bed head looking worse than it did when you fell asleep. Quickly glancing around the room with bleary eyes you saw the mess you had made. Wrappers, boxes, used tissues scattered everywhere, with your tv still on.

You sighed before forcing yourself to your feet, stirring your sleeping cat on your bed. You quickly gathered the garbage together and threw it out followed by turning off the tv.

You passed by your calendar, February 8th, only six more days until Valentine’s Day.

Your shoulders slumped as you dragged your feet over to your closet.

Truly you weren’t this desperate and pathetic all the time, it’s just this month that always seemed to get to you.

Old habits die hard, you supposed.

Ever since you were a child you dreamed about growing up and getting married, you dreamed about falling in love and experiencing the type of love that completely electrified you and made your head dizzy, you dreamt about being held by a man that was completely crazy about you.

Maybe it was a bit naïve, but it’s what you always wanted.

But then you had to go and present as a Beta.

You were the only Beta born to a completely traditional family. Your father was an alpha, your mother an omega, your two older brothers were both alphas, your older sister was an omega, and your younger sister was also an omega.

Turns out your great grandmother was a fucking Beta and that’s where the gene came from.

You also had no issue with being a Beta, the problem lied with the fact that Betas were so rare nowadays they were impossible to find, and other Betas would have been your dating pool. But now you were stuck feeling undesirable by both Alphas and Omegas who only wanted to mate with each other.

You slammed your closet open, a bit rougher than you intended and pulled out a pair of black slacks, a white button up, and your blazer.

It wasn’t your typical dress attire everyday but your schedule was full of zoom meetings today with both sponsors and magazines. Any other day you would have been assisting the team during practice and dressed in one of your track suits.

You quickly stripped and dressed yourself for the day.

Now it also wasn’t as if you didn’t try within the field of love. You fought tooth and nail to experience any kind of romantic relationship but a girl could only take her confessions being rejected by Alpha after Omega after Alpha so many times. Not to mention being ditched on blind dates. For you the cumulative number that was your breaking point was thirty times.

You loved love.

But it wasn’t made for you.

After dressing, using the bathroom, brushing your teeth, and putting on your makeup and putting your hair in a tight bun, you headed to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee in a to go cup before heading out the door to start your day.

The game plan for the day was to greet the team before hiding away in your office for the rest of the day. You’d meet with the CEO of Bouncing Ball on zoom followed by another sponsor you couldn’t remember but you were pretty sure it was some energy drink company. Then you’d start getting the schedule in order for the match against the Adler’s later this week. Following that you’d meet with two Sports magazines back to back to set up some interviews— speaking of interviews you also—

“Fuck,” you hissed on the train ride softly, immediately going through your bag for your agenda. The passenger next to you threw you an annoyed glance but you paid them no mind. “The press conference.”

You quickly wrote down in your agenda, that contained both your work and personal life schedules on one calendar, a reminder about that press conference that’s coming up. Then you quickly put it in your phone calendar as well.

Interviews and press conferences were a nightmare for you, between Hinata, Atsumu, and Bokuto you had your hands completely full with making sure they were in the right place at the right time because somehow they never were unless you had them all on tight leashes.

Yeah maybe you didn’t have someone to love or love you back the way you wanted but you did have your career. And as much as they liked to drive you up a wall you did enjoy your job and your coworkers. On top of that you were still able to make a pretty decent life for yourself as you were completely independent and self sufficient, in fact you were able to send checks to help support your family now. Your apartment was basically an expensive suite that always looked immaculate due to the fact you were even able to afford a maid.

The train stopped and you got off. Now with some caffeine in your system there was more of a pep in your step. You knew that once you stepped a foot into the building you’d momentarily forget all your woes and instead act like the professional that you were as you threw yourself into your work. Your sister would be coming over later in the day and you had your Pilates class that night so you certainly had a full day ahead.

You headed straight for the gymnasium, stalking past your own office as you put a smile on your face.

Pushing the door open you headed straight towards the bench where Coach Samson and Meian were currently talking. You waved to Atsumu, Hinata, and Sakusa who were currently starting their warm ups, you assumed the rest to still be in the locker room.

You could immediately hear the squeaking of their sneakers on the flooring, the smell of salon-pas invading your nose. The ceiling was so much higher than the one of your old high school and the lights much brighter as well.

”Good morning Samson-san, Meian-san,” you nodded towards them with a smile.

Samson returned your warm smile with one of his own, “Good morning (Y/N), you seem cheerful as always,”

”What’s not to be cheerful about?” You shrugged, “Anyways I went over your schedule yesterday, looks like you’ve got a full day of practice huh?”

”Yeah,” Meian answered, “It’s the Adlers, some of the guys are getting worked up about the upcoming match so we figured more practice wouldn’t hurt. God knows they’re gonna over practice anyway.”

”That is true,” you snorted.

”And you?” Samson asked, “You’re all dressed up again, stuck in more meetings?”

”That I am. Got some meetings with one of our sponsors and some new ones. Then I need to set up interviews with VolleyballWorld Mag and Sports Monthly— oh and we have that press conference on the 25th coming up but I’ll give you more details when that gets closer.”

Meian whistled lowly, “I’m glad I only have to do the playing, I’d lose my mind if I had your job.”

”Oh it’s not that difficult—“

”I thought we talked about not selling yourself short (Y/N),” Samson interrupted, “You’re the only manager I’ve dealt with that hasn’t lost a single sponsorship for this team. Not only that but you handle these knuckle headed Alphas so well I think they’d fall apart without you.”

You laughed at his comment and grinned, “I do appreciate the sentiment so thank you,” you nodded, “Now I only wanted to stop by and say hello, I have to prepare for the meetings now so I’ll head out. I’ll be in my office all day if you need anything.” You began turning around, waving at the two, “Good luck with practice today—“

”(Y/N)-CHAAAAAN!!”

Your shoulders immediately tensed, your eyes widening, “Oh fuck—“

Suddenly you had the air knocked out of you as you were quite literally swept off your feet by a much larger force, now being rocked side to side in the Alphas embrace as he squeezed you against his chest.

”Bokuto-san,” you managed to wheeze out, “I thought we discussed this?”

You could instantly feel him deflate, “We did…”

”And what did we say?”

”No hugging Miss Manager.”

”And why?”

”Because it’s unprofessional.”

You waited a beat for him to react but he didn’t, “That means put me down Bokuto-san.”

A second later you were back on your feet.

You huffed, straightening out your blazer and ignoring the dejected look on Bokuto’s face. After working with him for so long it was quite easy at this point. You patted his arm.

”Thank you. Always a pleasure Bokuto-san, good luck with practice—“

”You’re not staying!?” He suddenly exclaimed.

“You do realize her job isn’t just handing out towels and water bottles right?” Meian asked.

”Yeah but… Beta-chan hasn’t been to practice in ages!”

”That’s because you guys keep doing so well. The more sponsors you get the busier I become. Now you really should get to practice, it’s almost 9 now.” You said, checking your watch, “And don’t worry, I’ll be attending practice again before you know it.”

You were just about to turn and leave before Bokuto stopped you again.

“Wait! I have something for you!”

You watched in slight annoyance as Bokuto ran off to his bag and shuffled through it. Seconds later he was pulling out a black fabric and a Tupperware and then running back to you.

At this point the entirety of the team was watching whatever shit Bokuto was onto now.

”I found your jacket!” He pushed the fabric towards you.

”Oh?” You accepted it, quite surprised, “I dunno how you found one of my things again but thank you… actually I dunno how I keep losing it,” you muttered under your breath.

”And this is for you!” He exclaimed once again, handing you the container in his hand.

”Huh… Another bento?” You asked peculiarly as you looked through the container before you sighed, “I thought we talked about this as well Bokuto-san? You can’t be giving me gifts all the time it’s not—”

”Professional! I know! But I didn’t make them for you this time! I made it for me and these are left overs!”

You sweat dropped at his explanation, “Bokuto-san that’s the same thing. I can’t accept this.” Suddenly Bokuto deflated, like he always did when you declined his gifts.

You then glanced behind him at Meian who just nodded his head towards Bokuto.

You sighed.

”Alright fine,” instantly he perked up, as you took the container, “But I’m telling you you can’t keep doing this. Now go practice, I’ll try to stop by later if I can.”

With that you were spinning around on your heel, heading out of the gymnasium with your sweater and the Tupperware in hand.

Behind you Bokuto stood proudly with his hands on his hips as if he accomplished something just now.

The rest of the team stared at the scene with quite exhausted faces. This kind of show was so typical now, it came as no surprise.

“How many days does that make now?” Atsumu scoffed, leaning back into his stretch once again.

“Fuck if I know anymore,” Sakusa grumbled back.

”HEY HEY HEYYY!”

“At least he’s in a good mood!” Hinata chirped as Bokuto ran at full speed towards them.

”Did’ya see that!? She accepted my gift!—“

”Bokuto!” Samson suddenly snapped, “Stop talking and start stretching!”

”Right!” He held a thumbs up at his coach, causing the older man to roll his eyes, before joining his teammates on the ground to stretch as well.

”She also hesitated before accepting it and told ya to stop again,” Atsumu said.

”Yeah but I think I’m making progress,” Bokuto grinned happily, “She’ll be my mate in no time!”

”It’s been nearly a year Bokuto,” Sakusa muttered.

”And how was that any different from what usually happens anyway?” Inunaki called out to them after overhearing the conversation.

”Because! That makes the 52nd time she’s accepted one of my gifts and only the 49th time she’s rejected it! And she didn’t give me penalties for hugging her this time.”

”Only?” Sakusa sweat dropped, honestly he envied how blissfully stupid Bokuto could be at times.

”If she hasn’t done anythin’ about ya courtin’ her then she doesn’t know yer courtin’ her!” Atsumu snapped in frustration, “Ignore yer stupid instincts for once and ask her out already!” Clearly he was the most annoyed with watching this show drag on for this long already. Yeah, maybe it was funny in the beginning but now Bokuto’s stupid Alpha behavior and your own obliviousness as a Beta was becoming painful to watch.

”Maybe Bokuto’s right!” Hinata butted in, “She seems to be a lot more accepting of his hugs now!”

”That’s cause she’s used to it,” Inunaki snickered. “Also whatever happened to the idea that Bokuto is also probably not her type?”

”Whaddya mean not her type? I’m everyone’s type!”

”Yeah I’m sure she likes you for your modesty,” Sakusa muttered sarcastically under his breath.

”Why wouldn’t I be her type?” Bokuto asked, seriously looking like he was trying to rack his brain for the answer.

”Well because, she’s so…” Inunaki trailed off, “Professional. And you’re…”

”You don’t think I’m professional enough for (Y/N)-chan?”

As if on cue, everyone snorted as if he just told a joke.

”You too Hinata?”

”I mean… (Y/N)-chan she’s… very…”

”Any day now,” Sakusa grumbled.

”Serious! That’s the word! She’s very serious about her job while you’re a lot more fun!”

Bokuto frowned as if he was offended, “You don’t think (Y/N)-chan is fun?”

”And you do?” Inunaki asked surprised. “None of us know anything about her. She doesn’t even go to the celebratory dinners or team bondings— we’ve never even seen her in her casual clothes.”

“That’s a good point,” Atsumu agreed, “She’s not on any social media either and she only ever talks to any of us when it has to do with volleyball— she’s like a fuckin’ NPC. Ya know nothin’ about the Beta, how’d she even manage to get ya wrapped around her finger like this?”

Bokuto stared at the gym floor and had that look in his eyes that his teammates knew too well at this point, “You’re wrong about her—“ he looked up at his teammates, “There’s more than that to Miss Manager! I know it— it’s like in her scent! And when I find out you’ll all see you were wrong!”

”So dramatic,” Sakusa said, “You keep saying this shit but she still doesn’t even know you’re interested in her.”

”Yeah, cause he won’t just fuckin’ ask her out!” Atsumu exclaimed.

”You say that now but just wait until she realizes what I did with her jacket!”

Atsumu looked at Bokuto in horror, “The fuck did ya do with her jacket?”

“I washed it with my laundry, scented it, and slept with it in my bed for a week!” He exclaimed proudly, Atsumu’s innuendo completely going over his head, “Now she’s bound to know I’ve been scenting her!”

The others, even Hinata, stared at Bokuto dumbfounded as they watched him close his eyes with a stupid grin on his face, clearly visualizing what he thought would be the moment you realized he scented you.

”I don’t know how many more times we have to say this to you,” Sakusa said, “But Beta noses don’t work that way. If anything she’s just gonna think her jacket smells like a man, I doubt she’s familiar with your specific scent at all considering she’s always around us when she does see you.”

Bokuto deflated.

”Ya know what will get her to finally notice ya?” Atsumu asked.

Bokuto perked up again.

”If ya just asked her out already!”

* * * *

You stalked into your office, the door slamming shut behind you.

You dropped the container Bokuto gave you onto your desk, placed the coffee cup down, draped your jacket behind your chair, dropped your bag onto the ground, and finally you sank into your seat with a sigh.

A smell wafted around your nose and you immediately knew it was your jacket as you sunk deeper into your seat.

It smelled like a fucking man.

”Seriously? Was it rolling around in the locker room or something?” You grumbled to yourself.

You still had an hour before your meeting with the CEO for Bouncing Ball.

Now you could go over some notes and brush up on anything you’ve might’ve forgotten but Kenma Kozume was probably the most laid back sponsor you’ve ever dealt with and you knew your extensive knowledge about his company and all your business dealings wasn’t as impressive as it was to most other CEO’s.

And also, you didn’t want to study anyway.

You glared daggers at the container which held the lunch Bokuto made. You already made your own lunch for the day so maybe you’d give to your sister when you got home.

You glared harder at the container. “Left overs my ass,” you grumbled. There looked to be three servings of food in there.

You didn’t know why Bokuto was so persistent when it came to giving you food but if he was this generous with you then you knew he was going to make some lucky Omega out there very happy.

“Lucky bitch,” you muttered just thinking about this metaphorical Omega. “… I wonder what Mochi is doing now?”

Before you knew it ten o’clock had rolled around and you found yourself entering the waiting room for your meeting with Kenma.

And just as you had expected, you weren’t accepted until a half hour later.

”Sorry I’m late,” Kenma muttered, clearly looking at whatever was on his computer screen than the zoom meeting. “I lost track of my stream.”

”No worries,” you hummed, “I was able to get some other work done in the meantime.”

”I’m gonna keep this brief,” more words that didn’t surprise you, “I wanted to talk to you about giving MSBY more money.”

You blinked in shock, back straightening up as you processed his words, “You want to give more, but you already give—“

”I know how much,” he hummed, “But I want to give more.”

”Oh well— thank you. Let me just grab my books and I’ll adjust a few things,” you said, immediately reaching for one of your binders that was placed neatly in your bottom drawer. “How much do you—“

”Double.”

Your jaw fell open briefly, but you quickly regained your composure, “Alright well— that’s- that’s great news. Amazing even. That’ll help pay for the repairs in the gym and then some. Thank you Kenma.”

”You’re welcome,” he hummed absentmindedly, “Tell Shouyou I said ‘Hi,’”

”Of course, as always,” you nodded, “Should I tell Bokuto you said hi as well?”

You could see a slight smirk on Kenma’s lips, “No.”

“Very well,” you snickered. Kenma didn’t seem like the type but you had come to realize he liked fucking with people sometimes.

”Feel free to tell Samson you negotiated for this deal.”

”I would if I could but everyone knows you don’t give anything to anyone unless you want to.”

He shrugged, “I suppose.”

”So was that the only matter you wanted to discuss for today?”

”Yeah. You have that meeting down with my advertisement team for the fifteenth right?”

You glanced down at your large desk calendar which as opposed to your agenda in your bag and your phone calendar only had your work schedule.

“Yup, right here. Will you be in attendance?”

”No, I trust you when it comes to dealing with them.”

You snickered once more, “Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?”

Kenma glared sourly at his screen, “You would think but some of those guys are becoming more and more incompetent with each day.”

”Well then I’ll be looking forward to that meeting,” you joked, “But if that’s all, I’ll leave you be. And good luck with tonight’s stream.”

”Thanks. Don’t lead Bokuto on too much today—“

”Huh?—“

”Goodbye.”

He hung up.

”Fucking CEO’s,” you muttered under your breath.

* * * *

The day had progressed quite smoothly. You had managed to get everything with the sponsors clarified and confirmed. You scheduled all the interviews that needed scheduling and on top of that you were even able to smooth over some of the details concerning the press conference at the end of the month.

Practice had ended hours ago now, you knew because Bokuto tried sticking his nose in your business as usual before Meian forced him to go home so you could work.

But now you were finally finished and packing up for the day. You shoved everything you needed into your bag, even your blazer since you’d much rather wear your jacket in this weather. You inspected it further and it had looked clean, it just very obviously smelled like the volleyball players. You’d just throw it in the wash when you did laundry later that week.

You then shoved the bento in your bag as well before taking off for the night.

Your sister was already at your place. She had texted you around noon and had let herself in with the key you hid outside for her.

So really, you should have expected the impact when you were suddenly pinned to the ground the moment you stepped into your apartment.

”(Y/N)!!!” Your older sister had screeched above your face as your bag and its contents went flying across the room. The door was still wide open, letting the sunlight and cold air filter in over the two of you.

”You bitch!” You yelped back, before quickly flipping the two of you over so you had her pinned instead. She struggled under you but you had always been stronger than her. “You’re too old to still be greeting me like this!”

”I’m 26! Stop acting like I’m on my death bed!” She yelped, still struggling.

“Why haven’t you visited sooner! It’s been a year you whore!”

”Why haven’t you visited us back home! Sending checks every month to mom and dad doesn’t count as visiting!”

You glared at her.

Her hair was longer now and she of course still looked as beautiful as ever.

You loved her dearly but growing up in her shadow, the most popular and beautiful Omega girl in your high school with a scent that had literally pushed multiple Alphas into ruts and even made one pass out once… well it was difficult.

You remember a cruel joke about you back in high school about how your sister was the one that got confessed to by all the Alphas and how you were always the one that had to do the confessing.

But you haven’t internalized this at all.

Of course not.

Her hair fanned out behind her, her skin was bright and glowy, her canines which were sharper than most (and also made her look like a cute little kitten according to most Alphas) poked out from behind her giant smile.

But her face suddenly screwed up in surprise as all the joy disappeared from her features which were now overshadowed by a seriousness you weren’t used to seeing her wear.

”You smell like Alpha.”

You blinked at her owlishly. “Yeah I was at work all day dummy.”

”No, no.” She suddenly sat up, pushing you back to sit up as well. She leaned in and took a deep whiff of your jacket, “You like, reek of Alpha.”

”I kinda lost this jacket a week ago and I’m convinced it was rolling around in the gym,” you offered as some explanation to the smell.

”No you idiot,” she flicked your forehead, making you wince, “You smell like one singular Alpha— are you hiding something from me?” She suddenly accused.

You scoffed, a sudden heat crawling up your neck and face as you stood up abruptly, shut the door, and kicked your heels off.

”I have no idea what the hell you’re insinuating,” you grumbled, walking over to your bag and shoving everything back in, besides the bento which you left out to put in the kitchen.

Throwing your bag on your couch, you stalked into the kitchen with your sister hot on your heels causing her skirt to sway behind her.

”Are you seeing someone?”

You stopped short, and abruptly spun on your heel to face her to which she almost crashed into you. “That’s— that’s a completely r-ridiculous question!” You spluttered, face now on fire. “And if I was, you know I’d never keep it to myself!”

Your sister tapped her chin and looked up in thought, contemplating your statement, “Hmmm… that is true…. But I’m telling you little sis, you seriously stink of Alpha right now. Like so much it’s kind of ridiculous.”

”And I’m telling you it’s just cause it got lost in the gym—“

”Oh please, I’m not buying that. You know my sense of smell is much sharper than yours so you should just listen to me.”

You clenched your jaw and ignored your thundering heartbeat resonating in your ears, “Like… so… what exactly does it smell like then?” You tried to question nonchalantly, crossing your arms and busying your fingers with a strand of hair. The thought that some Alpha scented you, that someone was interested in you was flustering you in a way no romance movie ever could.

She grinned knowingly, “Well whoever it is, they’re strong as hell— I must say that that’s probably one of the strongest scents I’ve smelled, like Ushiwaka levels strong—“

“I told you to never say that name again,” you suddenly snapped to which she just waved off.

“Will you please get over that, you’re twenty fucking four now.” You clenched your jaw and pursed your lips, silently seething at your sister. “Anyways, whoever it is must have a big personality too, like I feel like his scent is giving your jacket more presence than both of ours put together— oooh what’s that!” She suddenly pointed at the bento box.

She always did have the attention span of a flee… especially when it came to food.

You looked down at the meal, “Oh, someone at work gave it to me today. You can have it if you want.” You then turned and opened your refrigerator to put it away.

”Hold up,” she grabbed your shoulder and forced you to face her again, “Someone at work? As in one of the million Alphas you work with?”

“Why do you and little sis both think I work with a million Alphas?” You rolled your eyes.

”Answer the question.”

”Yeah. It was one of them. So what? He said they were leftovers.”

”(Y/N),” she said your name seriously.

”What…?”

”That Alpha that gave you that. He’s courting you.”

You were pretty sure you stopped breathing at those words. You could practically hear the fax machine noises as you tried to comprehend the meaning of that statement.

”Bokuto-san… courting?” No. “Stop being stupid,” you hissed, slamming the refrigerator shut and stomping past her now.

He was just overly friendly with everyone. And someone like Bokuto with his big and shining personality, the kind of Alpha that made Omegas swoon when even getting a hint of whatever scent he had that your Beta nose couldn’t pick up (you’ve even witnessed it). Someone that strong and powerful would want an Omega. You’ve even heard from his teammates that he purely ran on instinct— why would his instinct tell him to court a Beta.

”I don’t know who this Bokuto is but I’m telling you he’s courting you.”

”He isn’t,” you hissed with finality. Your sister immediately straightened up. It was an underhanded trick but you realized long ago that Omegas would even listen to Betas with the right tone. “Drop the subject because you’re starting to piss me off. Alphas like him don’t like people like me alright? Now I’m going to get changed, we’re gonna watch movies together, and then I’m gonna drag your ass to take my Pilates class with me. Understood?”

There was a sour look on her face but she nodded, “… yeah, alright.” You walked upstairs, ignoring her when you overheard her muttering, “I don’t see why I need to take your dumb class with you though…”

* * * *

Part 2

#haikyuu #Bokuto #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #alpha!bokuto #alpha!bokuto koutarou #alpha!bokuto x reader #alpha bokuto #alpha bokuto koutarou #alpha bokuto koutarou x reader #omegaverse #haikyuu omegaverse

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madddays · 2 years ago

Text

camera shy

pairing: yoongi x reader (f) summary: after his last Oakland show, you carve out a little alone time with your husband, away from the stage lights and the cameras and the million people who always seem to be around rating/genre: explicit // fluff + smut + slice of life-ish (it’s a tour fic!) + an attempt at humour warnings: smut -- oral + fingering (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex (they’re married it’s fine), terribly thought-out plot note: hello!!! i haven’t written anything in this format in a long time (poetry is my medium of choice) so pls be gentle!! also this is set in what is the “current timeline” but is of course fictional and i took every creative liberty i could :) also there was supposed to be a little bit at the end that i cut out bc reader was getting a little too cuckoo but that’s where the title came from and i couldn’t think of another. okay. anyway.

Being on tour is exhausting.

You’re not sure you have the right to complain – you’re not the one performing high-energy shows in sold out arenas every night. But you are lifting your share of your husband’s emotional weight as he does his solo tour. His first solo tour, as is stressed to you.

And you’re dodging cameras left and right. While it was impossible for you to stay out of the picture completely — the team at HYBE had convinced you that there was no need to hide your presence — being an idol’s wife didn’t really make you the most… sympathetic character.

So you try to keep the complaining to a minimum.

“If I have to duck out of one more cameraman’s way today…” you grumble under your breath. Sejin laughs.

“There’s only so long they can spend in your room,” he placates. “And tomorrow you’ll have use of the business centre again.”

You harrumph. Fucking businesspeople using the business centre for their business shit. Hunkering down over your laptop again, you attempt once more to read over the article you needed to finish editing tonight. You’re finally making a little headway, getting into the groove, and then —

“That’s it!” you snap in English, frantically trying to catch the open water bottle that almost spilled all over your computer. The culprit, a man looking through the lens of his giant stupid camera on his giant stupid tripod, glances at you with a bored expression.

“Whoops,” he says lightly, wheeling the contraption slightly to the left of where he’d bumped the desk. “Should probably keep that closed.”

You see red. Just as you’re about to toss this man and his equipment out the 50th story window, your husband appears.

“Jagiya,” Yoongi murmurs to you, placing a grounding hand at the side of your face. You instantly relax about fifty percent. “I’m sorry, just the rest of the afternoon.”

You look up at him, at his soft pleading face. He’s turned away from the filming crew, hiding both his expression and yours. You relax the rest of the way, resting in his palm, a little guilt creeping in.

It’s not his fault. Obviously, everything was going to be filmed — a BTS member’s first solo tour. There was going to be a documentary, and like it or not, you were going to be in it. As marginally as possible, everyone had insisted, but you couldn’t afford to look bad. Unfortunate that the filming crew was full of a bunch of dicks who didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t the star. “No,” you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this as much as I do, probably more. I’ll try to be good.”

At this, Yoongi smiles, shoulders jerking with a laugh. “I’m not asking for a miracle,” he teases. “Just a little patience.” You roll your eyes. You can behave.

Just then, the same nimrod shoots a look at you, almost goading, as Sejin picks up your laptop and its accessories so the Christopher Nolan wannabe can put some more douchebag equipment where it just was. You look Yoongi straight in the eyes, dead serious. “If that man crosses me one more time, I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to film it with his stupid fucking camera.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

Most people expect you to be ecstatic about the proximity to free tickets that being married to Yoongi brings. And you love watching him perform. Up on the stage, in his element. He’s never more radiant than when he’s singing and rapping, leaning in close to the edge of the stage so he can look into the fans’ eyes — gloss, a fitting name for the shining star you see giving his all.

And the confidence is incredibly sexy. So you have a competency kink, sue you.

But god is it tiring being there. Even in the nosebleeds, or in the VIP box. You can’t exactly abandon Yoongi afterwards, so you have to make your way discreetly backstage with the security team, and then you wait through the undressing and the debriefing and the security checks and the filming. Sometimes the media circus. Only then can you sneak into a car with him and head back to the hotel.

So you stay behind tonight. It’s the last day of the American leg, and you’ve already seen a few spectacular shows. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. Which includes deadlines.

You were able to come with Yoongi for this leg of the tour because you’d promised your boss an exclusive — first dibs on Agust D’s experience touring in the U.S. While you wouldn’t be allowed to take part in the spread (a very clear conflict of interest, no bueno) you’re excited for it. The potential of the photoshoot alone is making your head spin.

But part of the deal was also to keep working. The list of articles your Senior Editor ass has to go over is slowly dwindling, this feature on Korea’s impact on global fashion getting to the finish line.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the now blessedly empty hotel room. Email with the finished article sent, you roll your chair to look straight into the little camera that’s trained on the desk Yoongi’s claimed and flip it the bird.

Job done and borderline invasive filming (it’s only on when Yoongi decides to get some working shots for them, but still) disrespected, there’s not much left to do but wait.

When the third time cycling through all your social media apps doesn’t provide any groundbreaking entertainment, you decide to call down to reception for some reading material. It’s not technically work if you’re just reading a dozen trashy ‘Who Wore It Best?’ segments. “Anne Hathaway, hwaiting!” you mutter to yourself.

--------------- xxx ---------------

A couple hours later, you’re still thoroughly immersed in your magazines and your music, completely missing the cacophony in the hallway. The knock on your door startles you so thoroughly you hit your head against the headboard.

“Unnie, are you okay?” asks Ari, one of the stylists. “I was coming to call you to eat!”

“Oh, you’re all back! One sec!” You scramble off the bed, excited to see the aftermath of the show. You barely remember to put on a pair of pants before rushing out the door, Ari’s surprised face greeting you. “Thanks, Ari-yah,” you grin, locking arms with her. “How was the show?”

“It was great! Oppa is always good, but tonight he was especially energetic.” Her face screws up a little. “He ripped another one of the jackets, though.”

An inconvenience to her, but you don’t share the irritation. Yoongi’s broad shoulders busting his clothes, yum. “Oh,” you say anyway, your sympathy unconvincing, “that’s annoying.” Ari snorts.

“Sure. At least it’s new costumes for the next leg. We’ll refit them.”

You practically vibrate with excitement at that. “I haven’t seen them yet! I’m sure you all did an awesome job!”

She blushes. “I think it’ll be good! They’re not totally finalized yet, but I’ll send you a ton of pictures.” Her eye drops in a wink, making you giggle delightedly.

Dinner is a buffet in one of the conference rooms of your beloved business centre. One of the security team members escorts you down with a group of the staff, but most people had gone down earlier, apparently very hungry. Yoongi among them. As you approach the doors, you hear someone complaining to him that they should’ve done this at a restaurant and where is his sense of celebration.

“Come on,” you hear him grumble. “It’s not like the entire tour is over. We can all go out tomorrow.”

You snort. “And then tomorrow you’ll say ‘tomorrow never comes’.” If it were happening to someone else, you’d never let them live down how quickly their husband’s head snapped towards them, but you make an exception because yours is so cute.

Despite his enthusiastic surprise, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Great, now I have to come up with a new excuse. Thanks for that,” he rolls his eyes, but immediately swaps the empty plate you grab with the one he was filling up for himself, no room to argue. Your giddy mood sours a little when you catch sight of the filming crew again.

Yoongi holds your hand over his bouncing knee and the two of you sneak food off and onto each other’s plates. The mood is bright and light, despite everyone’s obvious exhaustion (at least three people by your count are in danger of falling asleep into their food). You expect to see an extended shot of the staff and crew laughing and eating, a flushed Yoongi being plied with praise and encouragement, under some sort of pensive voiceover.

And you’re right, because right after he’s done eating they whisk Yoongi away to do what is sure to be a thorough recount of his adventure in the States. You’re a little jealous that they get to hear all about it before you do. Fuckers.

As the room starts to clear out, you bid everyone a good night and trudge back up to your room, planning to crawl into bed and wait for your husband.

But when you open the door, he’s already there. Your immediate thought is that the air conditioning is up too high for him to leave his hair damp like that. Your second thought is how pretty he looks — sharp eyes focused on his legal pad, sinful hand flying across the page trying to get down whatever lyrics are thundering through his brain, cheeks flushed and pouty mouth puckered. He must’ve gone straight from the shower to his desk.

After a few moments he must sense your eyes on him, because his writing falters and he turns to you, a soft smile breaking out across his face. Your heart flutters.

“Hey!” he says happily, pulling out his earbuds. “I was waiting for you.”

“Clearly,” you laugh, moving to perch on the table in front of him. He pulls your feet into his lap, putting his papers aside. You resist the urge to sneak a peek, instead asking “did I interrupt something?”

“No,” he assures you. “I got everything important down. You were right on time.” His fingers are drumming on your thigh like there’s still something on his mind, but you’re feeling greedy tonight, so you let it slide.

“Apparently, I was late.” His hair is cold when you ruffle it. “Let me dry your hair. You still have schedules to make it to, can’t get sick.”

Under the gentle whirr of the expensive hair dryer and your hands in his soft locks, you coax out some of the details of the night from him. Stuff those production company jerks would never get to hear, wouldn’t think to ask about. How he was so glad to never have to wear one of his costumes ever again. The way he didn’t even feel the heat of the stage lights, the thing that drenched him in sweat (aside from the jumping and running around) was nerves. You laugh when he tells you about the girl in the pit who danced so hard the veil of her wedding dress outfit ended up on one of the lights. Your heart swells, swells, swells.

There’s still a restlessness about him when you’re done. You suggest he goes back to his desk but he shakes his head. “Let’s go to bed.” The first time in ages you can do so without the weight of anticipation and stress over him – hopefully it will settle whatever is making him twitchy.

There’s a spark of arousal in your belly when you feel his eyes on your backside as you change into your pyjamas. A breath stutters out of your mouth when you meet his sleepy gaze, getting a soft smirk in response. “Come here,” he says softly. “I missed you.”

In your eagerness to get to him, you collide with the bed a little too fast. “Oof,” you huff, making him laugh. He sits up to haul you into his side, another surprised noise leaving your mouth.

“Dummy,” he teases. “Not even safe in a cushy hotel room.” You kick at his shin.

“Quit giving me bedroom eyes then.” You see his eyes sparkle and mouth start to open and smack a hand over it. “Yes, we are in a bedroom, ha ha, you are very funny.”

He moves your hand away, unimpressed. “It is a funny joke,” he grumbles. Truly funny thing is, if he’d said it, you would’ve laughed. You’re down horrendously and he knows it, although you do your best to keep his ego in check at least some of the time.

Giggling anyway, you let him press you closer to his chest. You especially love him like this, warm and soft and silly and all to yourself.

Yoongi turns over onto his good shoulder to face you, tipping your chin up. His gaze flits across your face, tender and deep, like he can see everything you’re thinking. You hope he can. You think he does. “I love you,” he murmurs, and he kisses you.

Your eyes flutter closed, relishing in this closeness. The way his mouth moves over yours, slow and deliberate.

This isn’t a kiss just because, or goodnight or I’ll be right back, this is a kiss because I want to be touching you. I want to breathe you in. I want to forget everything but you.

You let out a sigh. Yoongi hums against you, a rumble you feel in his chest, and slides his tongue to meet yours. He shifts some more so he’s over you, braced on his forearm. It’s urgent now, but the way he licks into your mouth is languid, a creeping heat.

He knows just how you like it, just how to drive you wild. Where you push and pull and grasp at him, he slows you, pins you down, makes you feel every second like it’s an hour.

When he pulls away, panting slightly, you realize – it’s been a long time. The last time the two of you had had a chance to get horizontal (or otherwise) had been the week you left Korea. More than a month ago. No wonder you’re so desperate for him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back in, feeling his smug little grin against your mouth.

He grabs at your hip with his other hand, and just that contact, his hand deliberate against the bare skin between your shirt and pyjama shorts, is enough to have you gasping.

He pulls away again with a low chuckle. “I’ve been neglecting you, my love,” he noses against your jaw. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver.

“You’ve been such a good wife,” he continues, sitting back on his heels, raking his gaze over you. His tone is soft but his eyes are so, so hungry. You reach for him, desperate to be back under his body, but he just smiles, closed mouth and innocent. “Shh, let your husband take care of you.”

He climbs back over you, settles his weight on you like he knows you like and hovers an inch from your face. His hair, longer again, hangs in his eyes, but you can see the mischievous shine in them. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Yoongi,” you whine. His smile grows even bigger, but before you can crush your lips to his he leans down and kisses you, slow and searing again.

“I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, mouthing down your neck. You know he’s going to leave marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s been so long since you’ve felt properly like his. “Smell so sweet,” he sighs, opening the top button of your sleep shirt and burying his face between your tits. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You moan, sensitive from his touch. “You’re –” he nips at you, drawing more breathy noises from your mouth. “You’re unusually talkative tonight.”

He smiles up at you. “You like it,” he says simply. And you do. You want him to keep telling you how you look and feel to him, what he’s going to do to you.

You start to fall apart under his mouth, his hands, his words. Soon your shirt is gone, tits shiny with his saliva. “Your fucking tongue,” you grab his hair, hold him in place, and his groan against your skin makes your sensitive nipples shoot fireworks into your brain. He presses your tits together tighter, sucking them noisily in turn as you grind up against his hardening cock.

“Taste fucking perfect,” his voice is so deep. Your pussy is already clenching, desperate for him.

Yoongi helps you out of your pyjama shorts, wanting you completely bare to him. “Need to see you, jagi.” He settles between your legs, settled over his shoulders. His warm mouth over your cunt has you spreading them wider, eager.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbles approvingly, expecting the ensuing flood from your pussy. He uses two of his long, callused fingers to spread it all over, sliding almost coincidentally over your clit. Your hips cant towards his hand, wanting more than anything to have them inside you – fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Yoongi, please,” you choke. It’s getting nearly unbearable, this desperation. You’re so wet, so sensitive, your entrance clenching around nothing.

“Pretty, pretty,” he says in a soft rasp, talking to himself. He gets comfortable between your legs and you can see his sharp, dark eyes zero in on your cunt, tongue wetting his lips like someone’s set a meal in front of him. You suppose you have.

“Ahhh-hhhh,” you moan, the first broad sweep of his tongue over your folds like electricity. Like he’d just set a firecracker off inside of you – buzzing and sparking from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Eyes squeezed shut, a broken noise comes out of your mouth.

He keeps going, lapping at your pussy in an even rhythm and making low sounds of appreciation. It’s so, so wet you’re sure he must be drooling, and the thought is enough to have you clenching your legs together. “Careful, baby,” he says against your skin, but the vibrations of his voice are just fuel to the fire. “Watch me.”

You lean up shakily on your elbows, and the sight of him is nearly enough to knock you back down again. The mop of dark hair between your legs, working away as though you’re barely there, like he’s just using this to get himself off – except his eyes, watching you under the harsh slant of his eyebrows – shit shit it’s almost too much already.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you plead breathily, not even sure what you’re asking for. He’s already giving you everything you want. The close of his pouted lips around your clit has you jerking, the fiery crackle in your nerves making everything hazy except the places he’s touching you – big hands clamped around your thighs, face buried in your cunt, fingers pressed into the meat of your ass. He’d taken off the rest of his rings, but you can feel his wedding band pinching your skin slightly. Your matching one catches the light as you twist your hand into the sheets. “I need – I nee –” you break off, keening when he rubs a finger over your hole.

“Don’t worry, love,” he slides a digit in, feeling the way you clench around it desperately. “I know what my girl needs.” On the next stroke, he slides in a second finger, groaning when you clamp down on him. You collapse back onto the pillows, hips kicking up despite the way he’s pressing you into the mattress

You’d teased him mercilessly, way back when the two of you had started dating. “Tongue technology, huh? Do you have any songs where you’re not bragging about how good you eat pussy?” He’d only smiled, smug and amused, like he knew something you didn’t.

Boy, did you find out. Again, and again, and again. The way he flicks his tongue over your clit, a fast, even tempo that has you curling your toes. Combined with how fast he’s pumping those long fingers in you, the squelching sounds absolutely obscene.

“Another?” he asks, voice almost disinterested, betrayed only by how hoarse and low it’s become. You nod frantically, knowing you’re close.

When he adds his ring finger, you know you’re done for. There’s a searing heat all down your body — your belly’s tight, your feet digging into Yoongi’s back with how tightly you have them tensed. Your face is flushed and sweaty and you can barely hear your own breathy whining through the rushing in your ears. It’s building, the wet slick of his tongue joining his fingers as your legs start to tremble around him, threatening to squeeze his neck, your hands finding their way into his hair to bring him with you when your back arches off the bed, and when he sucks your clit back between his lips —

“That’s it, fuck, baby,” he growls against you. He pumps you through your orgasm, almost struggling to get deep because of the way you’re gripped tight around them. Lets the gush of come slick his tongue further, shaking his head side to side as you ride out your aftershocks. You grind against his face, stuttering as the oversensitivity kicks in, whining when it becomes too much.

“N’more,” you slur, gasping when Yoongi eases out of you. He sits back on his heels again, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny from the way you’ve drenched him.

He seems content to let it sit as he meets your eyes, popping his used fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back and groaning at the taste. “Pussy monster,” you sigh deliriously.

He laughs, having sucked his fingers clean. Pushing yourself up to lean back against the headboard, you try to get your bearings. Your legs are shaking a little and between them is still sensitive, but away from Yoongi the cold air of the hotel room makes your nipples tighten and you want more.

Your husband focuses his attention back on you. Your legs, open just enough so he can see the mess he’s made of you, and the way your skin is flushed, from your face all the way down to your chest. You shiver.

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks in a low growl. He pulls his shirt off and wipes his face with it, giving you an uninterrupted moment to ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and toned stomach. The tattoo on his pec. The dusting of hair leading from his belly button down, down, down…

“Warm me up,” you say coquettishly, spreading your legs further.

“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent. Even after all these years, you have the exact same effect on him as the first time. It’s evident in the bulge in his pyjama pants that you eye hungrily. He wraps a hand around each of your ankles, pushing them up to bend your knees, crawling up so he can settle against you and lock your legs around his waist.

You let out a pathetic little sound at the feeling of him against your cunt. You’re still leaking, juices sticking to the insides of your thighs and probably leaving a patch on his pants. “Baby,” you whine. He leans down to kiss you and the grind of his cock against you has you gasping. “Need it,” you whisper into his mouth. “How do you want me?”

Yoongi kisses you one more time, chaste, and shakes his head. “How does my sweet girl want it?”

You flush even warmer. “Like this,” you say shyly. Yoongi smiles at you, fucked out and endeared.

Your hands find their way to his sweaty skin like magnets. Shaky fingertips tracing from his hips up over the flat of his stomach, hard muscles twitching as he sighs under your touch. When you reach his chest, you look up at him from under your lashes – he’s already looking back at you, pretty mouth agape. “The abs are new. I like them.” Then you scratch your blunt nails down them, feeling the muscles jump under your hands.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning into you. You gasp at the twitch of his cock, the head rubbing your clit. “You’re in for it now.”

“Then fucking give it to me.”

He kisses you again, and he’s just so predictable. Despite his big talk and the way he’s pinning your hips down hard, he takes his time, opening you up to him. Your husband kisses like he drinks – slow and savoury, loves the taste of you, the way you make him feel dazed and light. Letting out little satisfied noises in response to the way you kiss him back, the way you let him have his way with you. If it were up to him, he’d work you up like this for hours. Drinking you in.

Unfortunately for him, you’re worked up enough. He’s grinding into you in tiny movements but the sensitivity from your prior orgasm, the insistent press of his cock between your lips, and the knowledge that you haven’t had him inside you in probably the longest stretch of time since you’d met is driving you insane.

“Take off your fucking pants, Yoongi,” you snap against his mouth, pulling at his waistband. He just laughs. “If you don’t fuck me right now –”

He keeps laughing, breathless and fond, but tips away from you enough to get his pyjama bottoms off and kicked away and hell yeah.

He runs his fingers through your folds and you gasp. Your hips cant up towards his hand but it’s gone immediately, and the sight of him jacking his cock with your wetness makes you whimper.

“So wet,” he murmurs, guiding the head to your pussy. The previous teasing mirth has vanished and there’s only the dark, focused look as he presses forward and – “Fuck.”

“Yoongi!” you cry out. His fingers hadn’t done nearly a good enough job of stretching you. The burn of him as he pushes into you makes your eyes roll back as you feel him pepper kisses over your cheek, down your neck to your collarbone. “Oh –”

“I must be out of my fucking mind,” he grunts, bottoming out. You choke on a sob. His big hand kneads your tit and it feels so fucking good you think you’re going to lose your mind. “How did I go without this for so long?”

He pulls out almost all the way then thrusts back in hard. “Y-Yoon – “ you whine breathily, barely able to make a sound at this point.

“My gorgeous wife, in this bed every night, so needy. This perfect pussy — shit.” He sucks the other nipple into his mouth, buried in you so deep you can’t think of anything but the way he’s filling you so good. The way you hadn’t realized you’d needed.

You’re blubbering at this point, beyond words, as Yoongi chases his orgasm inside you. Kissing every part of you he can reach as the sound of his skin against yours fills the room, playing with your tits the way that drives you wild. You come again with a shout, tears streaming down your face.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing the tears away. He’s still going, deeper now instead of fast. “Can you give me one more, love?”

You’re dizzy with pleasure and overstimulation, but he loves to come with your pussy squeezing him. “Yeah,” you pant. A kiss, slow and deep, as he pushes back in.

Your legs are wrapped so tightly around his waist he can barely pull all the way back out. All you can do is hold on as he takes what he wants from you.

“Shit, shit,” Yoongi groans, hips stuttering. He’s close. “Love you, pretty girl, so fucking good to me,” his voice low and raspy and warm right next to your ear. “Do I make you feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to get out and you can feel his cock throb inside you, rubbing your g-spot and it’s enough. Your vision goes white and you see stars as your entire body tenses up and you tremble all over when it suddenly releases. “Yoongi!”

“Fuuuck,” he grunts. “Squeeze me just like that,” and he’s coming too.

You lay there, panting under Yoongi as he softens inside you. The sweat makes you stick together where you’re touching, and anywhere outside your bed it would make you push him away. But you’re content to lie under him, soft, laboured breaths puffing next to your ear.

“Should’ve used a condom,” you say hoarsely. There’s going to be a mess when he pulls out, you can already feel it.

“Fucking raw used to be so hot,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. “Now it’s a chore.”

Your snort turns into a gasp as he pulls out. Reaching for his discarded shirt, he cleans up as much of his come as he can. You watch him, eyes zeroed in on the mess, licking his lips.

“Reel it in.” You boop his nose and he scrunches it. “I really cannot go another round. You’re gonna have to drag me to the bathroom.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

And he kind of does. On a good day, he could definitely carry you. But after three weeks of touring and a semi-vigorous round of sex, he hitches you onto his back in some semblance of a piggyback. You actually could probably walk, but you know the mood Yoongi’s in.

He lets you pee, then comes to clean you up the rest of the way. Both of you wrapped in fluffy robes, he washes the sweat and tears off your face gently, brushes through your hair with his fingers. Puts up with your halfhearted whining about expensive skincare as he pats it carefully back onto your face.

By the time you’ve dragged yourselves back to bed, the California King large enough that you don’t worry about the mess you’ve made on the other side, all the tension has drained from his body. The frantic energy of performing in a foreign country alone for the first time, melted away.

He’s soft and sleepy when he hitches your leg over his hip, pulls your head onto his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles. You don’t have to ask him what he means.

You laugh softly. “Silly,” you say, drifting off.

#yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #min yoongi imagine

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lisenberry · 7 months ago

Note

Thinking about soap accidentally impregnating reader and how they’re both terrified but he’s secretly excited and just finding out he has a breeding kink

I haven't written for Soap yet, but I can already tell this ask has changed life. Thank you!

As you can guess, there's smut, pregnancy, and breeding kink. Oh my!

NSFW/MDNI

“Oh, shit, Johnny.” Your moan turned into a whine as he hammered the gate of your cervix like a battering ram. The pleasure-pain pressure of being rearranged had your thoughts reeling and your strength drained.

Slack-limbed and useless but for the sloppy wetness of your pussy, and the incoherent drabble of sounds seeping from your mouth.

If the first orgasm he wrung from you with his fingers to your clit hadn’t knocked you senseless, the third one that he’d bullied from your g-spot with his cock alone had sent you to the afterlife.

The lights were on, but no one was home.

“Just a wee bit more, mo chridhe.” He always shifted into Gaelic when he was ready to come. Mumbled sweet endearments as he reverted to some primal version of himself. My love, my heart, my darling. “Ya feel so perfect against me all bare like this. I don’t want it to end.”

You had been seeing each other for a few months. Nothing exclusive yet, but you’d gotten to know him enough to chance a fuck without the safety of a condom. The thought of feeling every vein, every bump, and the slow drag of his bare skin had made you crazy. It was worth a round of antibiotics to feel him come all hot and messy, and fill you up with his completion.

He was leaving on a mission the next day, and you didn’t want to say goodbye not knowing what he felt like without the cool, unnatural glide of latex between you.

He’d gone wild when you told him, stripping you down before you even finished saying, “It’s okay, I’m on birth control.”

You had no idea that he’d edge himself to the brink and draw it out for what seemed like hours. You’d long since been able to clench around him, to give any resistance at all to his mindless barrage.

“You still with me, hen?” There was a wicked smile on his lips as he slowed to a stop, tugging himself out fully, teetering just as he was about to finish.

For a split second you were afraid he was pulling out. That he wasn’t going to give you what you needed.

“No! Please,” you screeched like a baby bird in protest, and found the strength to hook your legs around his waist. Your fingers dug into his shoulders to bring him back down to you.

“Ah, I’m only teasing you, pet. Look at you, so beautiful. So needy. So patient. So good.” Words and phrases broken by his panting breaths as he hitched himself back in. “I’ll give you what you want.”

His big, blue, earnest eyes found yours, as you brought him into focus. Insatiable with lust.

You thought he’d renew his attack on that deepest, tenderest part of you, but he found your g-spot again instead. Your mind was gone, but your body had enough for one more, and he stole a final fiery blast from your haggard, overwrought nerves.

And he kept his promise, of course, filling you generously with his own burning release.

It was almost three months later, when he’d returned from the job in South America, that you built up the nerve to take a test. To prove once and for all what you’d suspected all along.

“My birth control is supposed to be 99.9999 percent effective. How did this happen?” You wanted to cry, as a pit of anxiety settled into your stomach at the news.

“My wee swimmers are one in a million, I guess.” He crooked a lopsided grin as he nervously scratched the back of his head.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

He was a genius at chemistry and physics, but he must’ve been busy daydreaming about blowing something up during reproductive biology. You were pretty sure it was more about your hormones not cooperating than his super virile sperm.

You didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble as the smirk spread wider with pride across his face. When Johnny put his mind to something, it was bound to be an adventure.

Was his fearlessness and good humor a trait he’d pass on to his bairns? You'd find out soon enough.

“Well, the damage’s been done, eh? Can’t knock you up twice. Not yet, anyway.” His eyes darkened as he reached for the waist of your pants and pulled you across his lap. “Seems we’ve been given a gift. Might as well earn it.”

#call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #cod smut #johnny soap mactavish x reader

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redishsunflowers · 28 days ago

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this is all my personal opinion as a somewhat new arcane enjoyer.

act 3 of arcane really ruined it all for me. one of the things that makes me love shows so much is when they make me just feel so so much. and arcane did this so well, especially in s1. act 1 and 2 of s2 also did this very well, tho not even close to as well as s1 in my opinion.

i felt sad about isha's death, but i don't really care about jinx's. this isn't bc i cared more abt isha than jinx, a million percent no, this is bc it didnt feel liek there was any weight to it. we saw a very small clip of vi sobbing then, boom, she's almost fine???? her humming powder's lullaby isn't enough, i need to see her grieve. jinx literally completely gave up because of isha's death. vi wasn't even close to being in the same position as jinx but that was still her sister. her sister whom she tried so hard to protect and get back and finally got her back. it just didn't feel real. and on top of that, everyone thinks she's not actually dead. i wish they showed the "proof" of that later or something because i needed that grieving period from vi.

i felt so strongly about jayvik and their whole dynamic snd ending this season. in act 2 i felt that the writing for caitvi wasn't as good as it was in s1 and act 1 but then it just pissed me off at the end. i kinda liked the fact that they were in a cell when they had sex lol but i feel like it was weird timing and also could be a weird setting. but what rlly got me was the fact they don't fucking talk. they dont talk it out. one of the bjggest reasons i love jayvik is because of their lines too eachother. theyre so devestating and beautiful and thats what we got with caitvi before act 2. i was hoping they would talk about alllll the problems they were having because they were having a lot but, either they didn't or we just didn't see it. the resolution to jayvik was so satisfying because we got to know all of their closing thoughts and emotions. we didn't get to see cait apologizing or vi talking abt jinx and it just felt so emotionless.

im really sad they got rid of all the political stuff. i feel like the first step to doing that was putting vi in an enforcer outfit but with that i thought theyd explore into it and the trauma around it even more. but they didnt at all. they put more of the oppressed into the oppressors outfits and called it "fighting against a greater evil" i think thats a fine thing to happen but not if you throw away the whole conversation about politics you were having beforehand. i felt enger towards the piltover people and council just because they were a part of the oppressive regime. after s1 i felt like they tried to act like those ppl were never in the wrong. they swept it all under the rug.

it really just felt like there wasn't a clear conclusion. what happened to zaun and piltover? the scene of sevika sitting at the table isn't enough (don't get me started on sevika I MISS HER). what happened to the firelights?? everyone says ekko lost everything but like do we know what happened to the tree or to the firelights??? i wanted to see the progress the two cities made and how PILTOVER compensated for their actions.

thats it ig, im rlly trying to be happy abt the ending and to do that i have to think abt jayvik bc theyre the only perfect ending in my eyes and i miss caitvi i miss them

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane act 3 #arcane ending #caitvi #jayvik #timebomb #ekko #jayce #viktor #caitlyn kiramman #vi #zaun #piltover

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soapflavoredtea · 6 months ago

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Dogwatch | Denji

Pairing: Denji x Black Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Denji sees a black person for the first time

Content/Warnings: Denji being an absolute idiot, Not beta read so some typos

"[Name], could you be a dear and cover my shift?"

There they were. The words you had been waiting–anticipating even, to come out of your coworker's mouth the moment she strode in.

"Hard pass."

Your coworker tightly grasped her hands into a prayer as she gave you puppy eyes. A tactic that would’ve been a million percent more effective had it not been for the small fact that she was a grown woman approaching her thirties. "This'll be the last time, I promise!"

"That's what you said last time, Hanami."

“I actually mean it this time!”

She had also said that last time.

Shrugging on your thin jacket you rolled your eyes at her woman before heading towards the door. It was a quarter until ten on a Sunday. You had school first thing in the morning, and to say that you were a little behind on work would be the understatement of the century.

Hanami quickly moved in front of you, arms spread wide with zero intention of letting you leave. "Please [Name], my feet are extra swollen today and--and the doctor told me it isn't good for me to be working late shifts like this. Me and the baby need rest!”

Usually, you posed zero complaints to the prospect of covering her shifts. Doing so always gave you somewhat of a valid excuse for turning in assignments late and the additional pay was never something to complain about. Also because she was pregnant. That too was very important.

But today, you couldn't find any reason to say yes. Even if for some reason you did agree, you wouldn't be getting home until at least 5:30 in the morning. Leaving you with an hour, if lucky two, to sleep and another to get ready before you had to start booking it to your homeroom.

Yeah, definitely a hard pass.

Sidestepping her with ease, you resumed your way to the door, pushing it open to be met with the nice feeling of the late summer breeze against your face. The familiar chime of the convenience store rang through your ears leaving you deaf to her continued pleas.

"I'll talk with the boss about that raise you always wanted!"

At her words, you slammed the brake in your steps. Hanami and the boss had always been close. Perhaps a little too close. (Because for all you knew, the baby was probably his.) But at the end of the day, a raise was a raise and you were never one to stick your nose where it had no business being.

"I'm listening."

Her eyes widened in surprise at your sudden change in attitude. "Yeah...yeah! Tomorrow I'll make sure to talk about it with him and–uh we can go from there."

And though reluctant, in the end, you decided to do it.

______

Working the night shift was a lot less adrenaline-inducing than you had initially thought, and after two hours of working it, you could quickly tell it was going to be nothing like the many horror stories you'd spent your nights reading.

No attempted robbery. No mass murderer. No spooky paranormal experience. Nothing,

A small, small fucked up part of you was wishing for something to happen so you could guilt Hanami into never throwing another shift on you again.

For a brief moment, you thought the moment was coming when a creepy man. He had an odd, faraway look in his eyes and kept staggering around the store. Mumbling to nobody in particular but himself. However, after closer inspection, it was very apparent he was just a tired guy trying to go home and not some random pervert.

As much as you were grateful for it, the lack of shoppers left you with nothing else to do but drown in your boredom. You silently cursed yourself for not bringing any of your schoolwork. You'd rather be doing that than rearrange soup cans again.

The store’s bell, for the second time that evening, finally rang again. You shot up to straighten your posture so fast it was a miracle you didn’t pull anything. Looking to the door you saw a familiar top knot and a not-so-familiar messy head of blond. The former's look of surprise was evident on his face as he, and who you could only assume was his comrade, made their way to the counter.

"Since when have you worked the night shift?" Aki asked.

"Since today, or tonight or…this morning, I guess.” You were tired. Oh so very tired.

"Tell them to move you back. It isn't safe for kids your age to be working this late."

A devil hunter trying to lecture you about safety? You almost laughed at the irony.

You gave him a swift, half-assed salute, "Will do. So the usual?"

He responded with a curt nod.

Grabbing the small pack of cigarettes you moved it up to the scanner ready to recite the price listed on the screen before he interrupted you.

"Actually, add another pack, please."

"Long day?"

His dark blue eyes narrowed at his partner, "You have no idea."

“That makes two of us then,” you replied, repeating the action of scanning once more before telling him the total.

As the young adult fished down into his pocket you finally got a chance to look at the boy who accompanied him, and at that, your brows furrowed in worry.

You knew what Aki's job was and the many risks that came with it. Over the past three months of working here, he had come in with quite several recruits before they eventually stopped coming. And by the way, the look in his eyes became more diminished–well it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

The boy who accompanied him was the same age as you, if not a bit older. Kids had no business being anywhere near an industry like that but you knew it was out of your control and for that you pitied him.

Or you would have if not for his staring problem.

His head was tilted with eyes that were boring into your soul. You recognized the look on his face easily. It was the same one you would have when you’d be in the middle of taking a test and seeing a question you knew for a fact was never taught. Even if the teacher claimed up and down that it was on the study guide. None of this was cute or flattering. Just deeply, deeply unsettling.

In an attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt, you glanced behind you. Because surely with an expression like that he had to be looking at something else. But just as you suspected there was nothing. You briefly brought your hand up to your chin to make sure there wasn’t any drool on your chin that you had unknowingly let slip. But again, nothing.

"Aki,” you started, “would your friend want anything?"

He looked offended at the statement but let out a sigh turning around to speak with the boy, whose face was still contorted in deep thought. "Oi, Devil, do you want anything?"

"Why..." he pondered for a moment, "why is yer skin like that?"

"Like what?" you responded warily as you slid the cigarettes across the counter.

"So dark."

The packs of nicotine hitting the ground was the only sound that filled the store, safe from the flickering lights.

Aki's face was completely mortified.

Yours’s in utter astonishment.

While the teenage boy just stood there. His eyes darted between the two of you before shrugging his shoulders and turning to the magazine section.

He hadn't even got one step in before Aki was dragging him out by the collar, throwing a large wad of cash onto the counter before doing so.

That night you'd been left with the biggest tip of your life. And the afternoon following, as promised, you received the raise.

#x black reader #x black!reader #black reader #black! reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #csm x reader #csm x you #denji x reader #denji x you #denji x black reader

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lowkeyrobin · 3 months ago

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MORGIE LE FAY ; dating headcanons

summary ; dating hcs w my boy morgie 🗣🗣

warnings ; language, mentions of throwing up

word count ; 463

masterlist

he's such a sweetheart

he's always accommodating to you / your needs

and he's always checking in on boundaries

if you need space, he's giving you space

he isn't really bad or evil, he's trying to fit in and you obv saw right through it when you met

once you got together you assured him he didn't need to put on an act around you

and lowkey ur intimidated by uliana too so he's not alone on that

you both just wanna fit in and have friends but you also don't wanna lose ur friendships w the others so... rock in a hard place yk

you're always there for each other tho, yall r tighter than tied laces

he's so in love dude

he loves just thinking about you

he'll ramble on and on about something you do or little things you say

he remembers everything you tell him when you pass by and he remembers all your interests, likes and dislikes

he was honestly way too scared to ask you out himself so you asked him out

he was so excited and almost threw up because of how happy he was to see his feelings were reciprocated

it's just one of his little things (hc tbh)

you may share rings and necklaces and shirts and whatnot but contrary to popular belief, his love language is physical touch

he loves cuddling sm

and he loves when you play with his hair

like he finally feels all the warmth he's been missing at home

since his mother's a pos you kinda fill the void in his heart that needed filling

he needed someone to just love him unconditionally and listen to him and you're even better than just that

he's a hundred percent a fan of kehlani, joey valance & brae, depeche mode, and sneaker pimps

his favs r definitely people are people, 6 underground, next 2 u, ok, and the baddest

though as a character, I feel sueco, kaia jette, david kushner & sawyer hill fit him

he's a raging musi-holic

well over 1k+ mins on airbuds

he's got the wired earbuds n everything idk when he takes them off

he's the type to either find a song and repeat it 200 times or make a playlist based on a certain vibe or whatever and it'll be the only playlist he listens to for a week

he's got a pretty wide variety tho

he loves seeing you smile and laugh

he'd literally do anything to see it more

you often have dance parties in your dorms on the weekends

he makes a million playlists based on you

"y/n" "y/ns smile" "why do they make me so happy" "them after looking at me like THAT???" etc

honestly his love language is music atp wtf

#lowkeyrobin #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader #morgie x reader #morgie le fay x reader #morgie le fay #descendants x reader #descendants x gn reader #descendants rise of red x reader #rise of red x reader #peder lindell x reader #dating headcanons

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chai-lemonade · 7 months ago

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Small rant because I am PISSED at Collegeboard.

I’m transgender and was finally able to get my name changed (not legally, simply as a note in my records and my birth name made invisible to others) in my email and school system; which is connected to Collegeboard as I take numerous AP classes and the PSAT (and eventually an important SAT.) I received about 5 different emails congratulating me for being BrAvE eNoUgH to add a preferred name to their system, all of which used my deadname to congratulate me. On Changing My Name. It felt ironic, so I just laughed it off.

Than the problems began.

I take my PSAT a few months ago, and when scores come out, I’m unable to access it. Period. I went back and forth over the course of 20 emails, giving over my information and communicating just to be told at the end that it was never an issue they could help me with and that it was a “login issue” and that was somehow my fault. That maybe I was just misremembering my password despite the fact that I could get into my account.

I called, and was told the same thing. I was eventually able to get my guidance counselor to physically print out my scores because that was the best she could do for me (still couldn’t access them through my account!) I scored within the top ten percent in my state and have a 3.9 GPA, which qualified me for a recognition program that gives out important scholarships (which I need any I can get or else I’m not able to go to even an in-state part-time college) as a First Generation College student.

I got an email notifying me of this, and when I clicked the link, I was immediately blocked through my account from the page, saying i was never invited to confirm my eligibility. I try again, same thing. I meet the requirements, but it won’t even show me the page. Once again, I realize that making two minuscule changes that shouldn’t have affected anything have blocked me from ANOTHER important thing for college. It has been a year since I changed my name and I am still unable to access anything through Collegeboard and have received zero help for the numerous times I’ve reached out.

While it’s not explicit transphobia, it is still a BLARING issue of bias programming; for a company that set aside the time to make code to send an email when you change your name, I absolutely should not be experiencing such major issues that are continually blocking me from important opportunities due to changing my preferred name in the system. I don’t know who else this has happened to, but I don’t think I’m the only one.

Sort out your bugs and stop forcing trans kids to jump through a million hoops to access basic features on your website and still be excluded from important opportunities before sending out your automated emails for pride.

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merxcywritesthings · 16 days ago

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𝑆𝑎𝑙 𝐹𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

Characters: Sal Fisher

TW: None, this is all fluff :)

a/n: My first ever written piece for Tumblr! I’m very excited to publish this for you all to read. The rest of the gang will be coming soon, don’t worry! With that being said, enjoy!

𝐒𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫:

♡ My favorite baby blue boy 💙

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩:

♡ You two met when you moved into Addison Apartments!

♡ You and your family had moved in the apartment that was beside Todd. Your family had encouraged you to go around a meet your neighbors since you had already finished unpacking, and lucky for you, you just happened to run into the blue haired boy with pigtails talking to a kid with glasses, who you presumed to be his friend.

♡ Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, you figured you would introduce yourself to them later. Little did you know you caught the attention of the pigtailed boy as you walked past them, kind of had the look he gave towards Ashley in the second chapter!

♡ Asks Larry or Chug if they had met you and asks a million questions about you also.

♡ He goes out of his way to find more information about you, that cool book you just read about? He will finish the entire book or series that night. Just saw this cool movie? He’s watching it as soon as he gets home from school. This band you recently got into? He’s buying all their albums. He wants to learn everything about you.

♡ Finally, he goes up to apartment door—thankfully you answer and not one of your parents—and introduces himself and soon he finds himself enthralled by you.

♡ Now you two are officially attached at the hip, going where the other goes.

♡ Larry can see Sal growing more and more fond of you each day that passes. Even poking at Sal to make a move already.

♡ Sal finally works up the courage to ask you out that night and asks you at school if you wanted to hang out at his apartment later, and of course you agree.

♡ Freaks out. Tremendously. Is running around the apartment like crazy making sure everything is tidy and neat before you arrive. Even has Larry come up to help him.

♡ Larry tries to calm down Sal, telling Sal that he just needs to breathe and stop worrying because she likes you for who you are and isn’t going to judge you.

♡ That isn’t to say you aren’t freaking out about this too, you have only ever hung out with Sal at school, the treehouse, Larry’s room or Todd’s room.

♡ Panicking, you call Ashley and she tells you the same thing Larry said to Sal.

“Just breathe, Reader; Sal cares for you in his own quiet way, I’ve seen the look in his eyes whenever you’re near. The way he remembers the things that matter to you, it’s obvious that he loves you. You just need to tell him.”

♡ Those words brought you comfort, and little did Sal know you planned on doing the same thing he was doing.

♡ Soon, the time arrives for you to head over to Sal’s place to hang out.

♡ You two are having so much fun, playing with his Gearboy, Messing with Gizmo, watching horror movies, etc.

♡ You even got to meet Sal’s dad, who tells you to call him Henry instead of Mr. Fisher—he jokingly told you that Mr. Fisher is name you would use to call an old person and he isn’t ready for that title yet.

♡ Then the time comes where he feels confident enough to ask you to be his.

♡ When he does ask you out, I picture you guys having a Luz and Amity moment from the Owl House—when Luz tries to ask out Amity but she’s beat Luz to it first.

𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩:

♡ He 100 percent trusts you—after all you did ask him to date you—but it takes him a while to take his prosthetic off around you, like months.

♡ Once he feels more comfortable with you, the mask is always off.

Side note: Sal loves it when you take in consideration of his skincare, I headcanon that Sal has very sensitive skin after the incident and can only use certain brands of soap to wash his face with. One time you found a brand that wouldn’t aggravate his skin and offered to help him wash his face with it, he started to cry.

♡ Sal would try and be the best boyfriend he could be: never forgetting anniversaries, reminding you of your schedule, helping you with homework, etc.

♡ Would absolutely teach you how to play guitar in your guys spare time.

♡ Writes little songs for you on and sometimes plays them for you.

♡ I feel like Sal’s type of love is physical touch—since he was deprived of it at a young age—quality time, acts of service and words of affirmation.

♡ Sal will go out of his way to get you little gifts or trinkets (whether bought or found somewhere random), he always makes sure to take mental notes whenever you mention you want something from a certain store.

“Hey I found this flower, and it reminded me of us.”

♡ Loves prolonged hugs and cuddle sessions with you, like I said earlier, I picture Sal being touched deprived so any chance he could take you to either his room or the nearest sofa with Gizmo laying near you guys, it is like heaven for him.

♡ Would let you paint his nails, do his hair, or even put makeup on him. He loves being your personal model, it makes him feel pretty.

♡ Sal is not really big on looks—for obvious reasons—he just wants someone who will accept for who he is.

♡ Sal is obsessed with wearing your clothes. Sal is a short king and if you and him are the exact same size or your taller than him, you best BELIEVE he will be walking around Addison Apartments with some form of your clothing on.

♡ If you were something of his though? Game over.

♡ One time you went into Sal’s room thinking he was in there, only to find him gone and his sweater lying neatly on his bed. Surely he wouldn’t get mad over you wearing his black sweater for a little bit, right? Once Sal returned back to his room after trying to find ghosts around the building, he found you sprawled out on his bed , wearing his sweater, with Gizmo in your lap, purring. This boy’s face became completely flushed under his mask and couldn’t even bring himself to look at you for the remainder of the day.

♡ Dates are more lowkey between you two. Staying home and playing video games or movie nights are two of his favorites.

♡ Please kiss him all over, prosthetic or not. He adores it. 💙

♡ Calls you Bluebell, Love, Princess/Prince, Sunshine, Sweetheart, Dear, Beloved.

♡ Would absolutely cook for you if you ask him too. For me, I feel Sal’s mom used to be the main cook of the household, reading recipes she would find from cookbooks. After her passing, Sal secretly took one of her cookbooks and stashed it away in his room in New Jersey and still has it even as an adult.

♡ Whenever you guys are public, he makes it known you are taken—not in a jealous kind of way, more like showing public affection.

♡ Locks pinkies with you.

♡ Loves just wrapping his arms around you and laying his head on your shoulder. It brings him comfort.

♡ Reads you like a book, even though he’s not great with his emotions, he can tell whenever yours have changed.

♡ Has matching bracelets with you, that he never takes off, unless he’s showering.

♡ Absolutely sees a future with you.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜��𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠! <3

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑦: 𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠-𝑛-𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

#sally face x reader

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runabout-river · 1 year ago

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It has happened now, a JJK artist on Twitter is in critical condition after being shelled by the Israeli Army in Gaza while sheltering inside a school. Reportedly, she lost an eye.

The screenshot is from a friend who barely manages to keep in contact with Noury with a family member's phone. This of course is Israel's tactic to cut communication from Gaza. The world isn't supposed to see the genocide and at least the amount of reports and eye witness accounts have dropped since because most people simply can't communicate their suffering to the world anymore.

This is the picture Noury drew before Israel decided to finally cleanse the Gaza Strip like it always wanted thanks to an exaggerated death count of a provoked military response, undisclosed shelling by the IOF of their own citizens and lies of 40 beheaded babies.

The caption of this piece of art reads "Please don't take my sunshine away," a response to chapter 236 and Gojo Satoru's apparent death.

Think back to that time. A favorite character of yours dies in a manga and you either draw or look at drawings of him to deal with that. Then a war starts that had been brewing for 75 years because Jewish Extremists and Supremacist with the backing from the war hungry US want you dead.

You know what I thought this entire time? That it's statistically unlikely that the one JJK artist from Gaza that I follow will be a victim in this war. There are 2.2 million people in Gaza but there's only one Noury, so what's the chance that something is going to happen to her?

What an absurd thought that turned out to be. I've been writing and raging on Tumblr about the genocide again and again and I know the severity of it, I know the numbers. I've seen the pictures and videos of dead children with their faces, not their heads, turned over like the pages of a book.

But most of that, the sheer enormity and the scale of it, was still abstract in my mind. Now, outside of the dry and clinical fact of it, the human element made me realize in my heart and mind that this is a genocide.

1 person among 2.2 million getting harmed isn't a statistical probability of 0.00001 percent. It's 100% because everyone is the target. Every Palestinian in Gaza is targeted with deprivation, hunger, thirst, illnesses and bombs. That is ethnic cleansing. That is the threat of genocide.

And the US, the UK and the EU, they're all complicit in this genocide and because I'm from Germany I'm also explicitly saying that Olaf Scholz, Marco Buschmann and Nancy Faeser are also complicit in this new holocaust.

Hopefully Noury will recover and hopefully she and her family and everyone else in Gaza will be able to go back to their homes. Homes btw, that per international law, Israel is supposed to replace or compensate for after destroying them.

Of course you don't need to compensate for anything if no one is there anymore, either because they're dead or they moved to another country involuntaryily.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #free palestine #israel #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #genocide #germany #deutschland

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ticklishthoughts1 · 9 months ago

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Whatcha Readin?

I have quite a couple friends who happen to scroll through my blog mighty often….So, if you happen to be one of them, well, this is for you ^w^

Shit-Forgot my phone charger on the counter. As I’m walking over to grab it, something catches my eye. Now, I have naturally light steps, so I tend to enter and exit rooms in silence. Of course you didn’t notice me, so absorbed in…Wait…was that my blog? I peer a bit closer. It is! I’m certain those are my words filling the page right now. My words you’re smiling at….well, I don’t know how to feel. Happy, for one thing, that someone I care about enjoys my silly little ramblings. Flattered is certainly up there. But among all else-I find my ler mood has 1 million percent skyrocketed, into an almost hyper state, simply from the knowledge you red my hyper focuses. The charger goes forgotten as I hop over the couch, sitting next to you, and smirking before I even do anything. “Whatcha readin, doll?”. Of course, you try to hide the Contents-who wouldnt? It’s a flustering situation. But, I already saw it. Cats out of the bag, cutie, no hiding it now!~ Adorable really. I lean in slightly, tilting my head in a quizzical manner. “I wonder what kind of story could possibly make you smile like that?” I smirk as your face flushes “or turn that color? Must be good…You should let me read it.” Of course you say no to this, and I whine playfully, poking at your sides. The way you say “no!” As if you don’t love this is insane to me, by the way. One poke turns into a torrent of them, and I slowly bowl you over on the couch, straddling your waist as I wreck your upper body. As I watch you squirm around under my fingers, I keep thinking about the fact that you were reading my stories, and it’s so cute I just tickle faster! I need to hear that laugh more, it’s like a drug. That smile is the best pain relief. Fast slow, mean and nice, I continue to tickle your upperbody, pinching along your hips, drinking at your belly and tapping your sides, shaking my hands around your ribs and darting them into your armpits. Whispering “Kitchy Kitchy coooo!~” and “Tickle tickle tic-kle~” in the teasiest voice I know. Simply making you the giggliest little lovely thing ever! Eventually of course, you FINALLY cave and I get to read….and when I do, I feign surprise, and then, quick, pin your hands above you with one of my own, the other hands finds my story list, and I show it to you, my smirk lighting up again, and my eyes glinting with every intention of the most ticklish re-enactment.

“Choose your favorite one”

#ler mood #sfw tickle community #tickle thoughts #you know who you are

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notsoattractivearenti · 1 year ago

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Wedding Night (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 1.3K

Warnings: cursing

A/N: don't be fooled by the title cuz it has no smut 🤭 this is pure fluff! and again this was not proofread lol. hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

You and Christian just tied the knot, and now the celebration has come to end. The clock showed 12 AM, which means it was time for the bride and groom to leave the dance floor and move to the bridal suite.

As you two left the venue, everyone kept saying “have fun” as they assumed you were about to do the “wedding night” tradition – but tonight, it was not the case.

You had been awake since 4 AM and occupied since – getting your makeup and hair done, putting your wedding dress on then changing it to another dress for the reception and afterparty, doing photo sessions, you name it – so at the end of the biggest and best day of your life, you couldn’t help but feel exhausted. You were at your happiest, of course, but you still needed rest. Christian understood this, therefore he was more than okay to go straight to bed and sleep.

“Baby, it doesn’t have to be tonight… Because we don’t have to celebrate our first night as a married couple with sex. If you’re tired, then we can just go to sleep.”

You were in awe of how understanding your husband is. That’s one of the billion reasons why you were one hundred percent sure you wanted to marry him.

“Plus… You know you can do me whenever you want to, right?” He winked and gave you a cheeky smile.

—

When the elevator doors opened, he lifted you up and carried you "bridal style" to your room. You laughed the entire time and he was laughing along with you – too hard he almost dropped you a few times. You opened the door and as you both entered your room – still carried by Christian – your head accidentally hit the door jamb.

“Ouch!” You slightly yelled as you immediately touched your head.

“Oh fuck, baby, I’m sorry!” He apologized and kissed your head.

He then asked in genuine concern. “Does that really hurt?”

“I’m okay love, it was just a reflex.” You assured him.

Relieved, he closed the door with his foot and playfully tossed you into the bed. He then jumped into the bed and laid down next to you, still laughing with each other. Not long after, his lips found their way into yours. Your eyes were closed, feeling his soft lips gently moving against yours and it got you nearly breathless – it was filled with passion and affection. When your lips parted, you saw him looking deeply into your eyes with a smile on his face – admiring how beautiful his forever bride is. Him staring so deep made you blushing and all giddy, you had to ask him to stop.

“Honey… Stop it!” You blurted as you playfully pushed his face away.

“What, am I not allowed to adore my wife now?” He teased you.

When he said that, you had literal chills. At the moment, the fact that you both are married still felt surreal. Oh my God… I’m Christian’s wife!

“Wait, baby, say that again!” You excitedly tried to make him say “my wife” again.

“What, am I not-”

“Not the whole thing, dummy.” You jokingly cut him off. “I meant the last part.”

“Umm… ‘Now’?” He pretended to be clueless just to mess with you.

“Good lord.” You rolled your eyes.

He laughed then gave you a little peck on the lips.

“I love you, my wife.”

—

You were still in your wedding dress and lazily got off the bed to change. Not only that, the makeup on your face felt pretty heavy and you thought there were too many bobby pins on your head – you just couldn’t wait to take them off.

He helped you take off your wedding dress then get you your comfy pajamas. He also grabbed the makeup remover and a pack of facial cottons from your bag and put them above the counter in the bathroom like you asked him to. You were whining about having to remove your makeup and take off millions of bobby pins of your hair when all you wanted was just to finally rest.

He heard you from the other room and thought it was really cute. He couldn’t stop laughing at your whining while he changed his clothes. He then tried to make fun of you.

“Oh, is my poor baby having a rough moment now? There’s people that are dying, Y/N.” He said sarcastically.

You laughed at his comment, you got the reference he used.

“Hey, how dare you! Don’t be such a Kourtney!” You playfully shouted in response.

—

Now also in his pajamas, Christian went to the bathroom to help you. When he came in, you were just done cleaning your face and about to move onto your hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, kissed your cheeks, and rested his chin on one of your shoulders.

“Wow, how lucky am I that I get to spend my life with the most beautiful person on earth?” He softly said into your ears.

“Oh, stop it…” You blushed.

Since the first time you two know each other, he loves to shower you with compliments. You thought it would only last at the beginning, but overtime you learned that it is one of his most prominent ways of showing his love. No one has ever complimented you the way Christian does, therefore at first you came off a little awkward as you didn’t really know how to handle compliments. But now you've gotten used to it and he has never failed to make you blush every time.

He then offered to help you remove the bobby pins off your hair, and since there were a lot of them, you happily accepted his help. He thought you were exaggerating about how many bobby pins on your hair, but when he saw them closely he was genuinely surprised.

“Holy shit! This is a lot! How could you feel comfortable having these on your head all day? Geez, I could never!” He shook his head.

“Who said I was comfortable?” You chuckled.

He carefully removed the pins one by one. A few times you flinched and when he saw that, he stopped for a bit to make sure you were okay.

“Oops, sorry, did I hurt you Y/N?”

“That’s okay baby, it was just a little pull.” You assured him.

After a while, you both finally took all the pins off your hair, and you sighed in relief. But even though you had removed those, your hair still felt kind of stiff because of the hairspray used. Afterwards, you decided to take a long shower.

—

When you came out of the bathroom, you saw Christian just finished making the bed. Your heart completely melted by his gesture. You knew it was a bare minimum but you always appreciate everything he does for you no matter how little or huge it is – and vice versa.

You came up to him and gave him a passionate kiss. After you broke the kiss, he was stunned for a second and bit his lip.

“Hey… what was that for?” He asked.

“To thank you for helping me clean up. And make the bed. And because I'm truly grateful I married the most wonderful man in the world.” You said before you leaned in for another kiss.

“And I you.” He said softly with a big smile on his face.

As you gazed into each other’s eyes, a yawn spontaneously left your mouth. Your eyes started to feel very heavy and you didn’t think you could hold them open for too long. He noticed how sleepy you were, therefore he put you to bed.

“Too bad I can’t even stay up to open the gifts, huh?” You murmured.

“Don’t worry baby, first thing in the morning.” He replied.

You and Christian were spooning under the cover. Before he slept. he gently kissed your shoulder, your cheek, your ear and the top of your head. You couldn’t help but giggled, and he followed. Then he whispered into your ear.

“Goodnight, my wife.”

“Goodnight, my husband.”

That night, both of you went to sleep beaming as the new Mr. and Mrs. Pulisic.

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x fem!reader #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic fluff #footballer fic #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines #footballer x you #footballer fluff

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