#i seriously don’t know how i got into them but i suspect this is why

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Why so much on right now?

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

NOV 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 - Classic old school Thai BL. Of course I love it. Naïve sunshine freshman vs strict older protective boy (who already likes him but refuses to show it). Is he grumpy or just gay and tired of all of these women? We don’t know. We don’t care. We just want to see them fake a relationship. And that’s what we’re getting. I love it. I also love the friendship group, and that the younger brother is in it and he has some of the same magic BL-hottie superpowers as his older brother. It’s great.

Love Sick 2024 (Sun iQIYI) ep 10 of 15 - Phun actually turns into dangerous babygirl when he is flirting, who knew? (Dangerous Babygirl is a new archetype I have just invented by the way. Yes, I am pleased with myself.) Noh, who is a nice boy, doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does Jeed, since this new babygirl superpower gives Phun a damn near perfect “back off bitch” face.

The arm drape public claiming, it gets me every time. Has done since SOTUS. Nong Mick is hero-level in this version, hands-down my favorite character this time around (and a non-entity last time). I love him so much I can’t stand it. I haven’t updated my 1:1 comparison yet this week, didn’t have time to rewatch 2014, but I will later tonight.  I'm chronicling my experience with 2024 as compared to 2014 here. 

Kidnap (Fri Gaga) ep 12 end - What an absolutely excellent final episode. Smiley kisses! 

Conclusion 

A cute if patently absurd little show about a stuntman who is somehow convinced to kidnap a rich kid except they fall in love. It takes itself a little more seriously than it deserves for such a silly plot and some crappy stunts and contradictory content, but it was a pleasantly romantic experience all around, and I enjoyed myself. Extra credit for Q in that perfect blue color throughout. No complaints, a solid BL. 8/10 

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 1 of 12 - Jojo directs FirstKhao & JoongDunk in an action romcom about assassin brothers (Khao & Joong) who meet a tattoo artist (First) and a cocky mechanic (Dunk). I'm highly amused that Joong plays the older brother to Khao and that we have a take on the Taming of the ShrewBL. This has all GMMTV's best chemistry in one BL and some fresh concepts that I've only seen tackled in m/m romance novels (check out Amy Lane's Racing for the Sun, thank me later). My only quibble is Jojo, I like his style but his characters can get unreliably messy so…... this gonna be interesting.

Buckle up buttercups I got thoughts:

Frankly, I haven’t decided if this is good or so bad and so camp that it’s good? The latter I suspect. Either way, I’m enjoying it very much, but I had very little doubt that I would. This falls into so many of my wheelhouses. Not just the premise but the casting and the approach and the script. They pretty much knocked it out of the park with the first episode: one night stand + safe sex + linguistic negotiation = I’m in! During the opening sequence I spent the entire time worried about how many fingerprints Bison was leaving everywhere. And then I realized this show is going to require DEMAND we turn our brains entirely off.

We are in KinnPorshce / The Sign territory people. Take emergency precautions! Do not engage brain meats!

Kiss Me Kate only gay and hitmen? Frankly, it sells itself. The music is extremely stupid though. (Brain, stop it!) I gotta say that FirstKhao are good because…… FirstKhao. But JoongDunk are absolutely perfectly cast. Like: couldn’t be a better pair in these roles. Dunk, in particular, is slaying. I did not have Dunk as Petruchio down on my “best casting choice of all time” BL bingo card, but apparently there he is. Awesome. 

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 8 of 16 - I’m warming up to the second couple a little bit. I actually don’t mind a bully romance the way some do. But this isn’t quite hitting the notes that I want from one. Still, I found this week more engaging than last week. 

Secret Love (? YT?) 1-12 of 81 eps - They dropped 12 eps at once randomly on YT totaling about 20 min. So of course, I watched it. Because I have no self-control and STEPBROTHERS! Adopted into a rich family, boy falls in love with heir. But when he is made the heir instead, everything goes wrong. Now enemies the two boys reunite and sparks! I hate this format but dammit I love this utter dross. It’s very early Chinese BL feeling but from Thailand. I don’t care. It’s so stupidly great. This is my kind of BL.

Caged Again (Fri Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - There is something sweetly innocent and earnest about this show. It reminds me of Takara and Amagi or even Light On Me but less stiff - this one is quintessentially quirky and casually Thai about it. It’s interesting that this has an 18+ rating, which means it’s either gonna go very violent or sexy or both. Right now I can’t imagine that, it doesn’t suit. But I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes. Junior with his Mean Girl crop top moment is the goddess of the week though. Fierce queen penguin.

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT?) ep 4 of 24 - I love the side couple so damn much. How are they so adorable? Still not wild about the mains, and not likely to get there anytime soon. That said, I did like seeing the “sleeping in your boyfriend‘s class while he gives you his jacket” trope drop. We haven’t had that one for a really long time. My Engineer maybe?

Every You Every Me (Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - I did find this installment kind of boring. I just don’t like actors as main characters. Much as I’m enjoying this show and I think the actors are doing a good job, I really do wish it was more like what we had been sold on: Connected reborn characters fated to be together over and over again. Not this weird little mishmash of whatever. I’m now annoyed by a format I was initially charmed by. 

Jack & Joker (Mon IQIYI) ep 10-11 of 12 - still on hold until it ends or I can cope with the pain.  I just can’t go into darkness right now.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Tues Gaga) ep 3 of 11 - SNIFF TEST! But done by Japan so it’s that much better and more kinky. The way H looks at M pretty much defines naked lust. “I got extra beat up so you’d take pity on me and then I admitted it to you” is so damn warped I can’t even with this boy. This feral kid is gonna drive me feral. The power and the control and the execution of this show is just spectacular. I keep thinking about it after its done and telling people IRL about it. (I rarely talk BL IRL.) It’s classy. I do love it when Japan does classy BL for us. 

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 6 of 13 - so completely and utterly adorable. The learning sign language thing! I loved it so much.

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 of 12 eps - Possibly one of the best confessions of the year I have to say. Also a wonderful character growth arc for our lawyer. Exactly as one might hope. The plot twist was slightly predictable but still adds a delicious note of tension to our final episodes.

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China Sun iQIYI) eps 7-8 of 12 - You don’t want me but you won’t let anybody else have me either. The song of the repressed seme. I did like the irrational jealousy moment and a few other bits, of course the crying kiss. You know I love a crying kiss. Even if it’s a somewhat censored one. But this is also leaning a little bit darker than I want at the moment. This being China, I anticipate the darkness and doom getting worse not better.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 9 of ? - The incredible migrating lip injury continues. Could we please get on with the BL aspect of this show? I’m getting frustrated as well as slightly bored at this juncture. Pacing darlings. Pacing.

Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Still not sure. I think I like this better than the original, but I’m confused. I did make disgusted scoff noises and say “oh dear” a couple of times. Which makes me sound like a World War II grandpa (only the housemate's cat noticed), but is also classic me when profoundly disappointed by a piece of media. That’s said, the sex scene was pretty good. In the end, I wasn’t as frustrated by this version of these characters, but they didn’t have as many highs or lows as the original. So first half probably works out about the same in my all-purpose rating system. The true proof in the pudding is going to be couple number 2 tho......

It's airing but......

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Weds YT) ?? eps - Criminals who meet in prison fall in love. I did find it on YouTube, but I did not find any English subs for it. The first episode seems to be only six minutes long. It is very pulp. But it is intriguing. So I hope it gets some sort of international or something at some point. for now I’ll put it to the wayside.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - I DNF'd at ep 7, I couldn't make it. I am weak. Life is hard enough right now, this show is making it harder. It’s not what I want from my entertainment.

Bad to Bed (Taiwan Sat YT) 10 eps - This is a little too low production value even for me + just very very odd. DNF

In Case You Missed it

Love for Loves Sake got some kind of special on 11/9. Not sure what, why, or where. Only the rumor that it...... is. I'll believe it when I see it...... literally. Let me know if you found it.

The Bangkok Podcast covered Marriage Equality in Thailand: More Complex Than it Seems. They missed some of the point and all of the queer perspective. But it's a local lawyer talking about it and how it was implemented, which is quite interesting.

Dominant Yakuza and Wimpy Corporate Slave AKA Ore-sama Yakuza to Hetare Shachiku: Kuni wo Koeta Jingi Naki Dekiai, Japan YT. A 30 min slice of ridiculousness. This mini walked out the back of one of my 1999 yaoi (you know those little shorts they always had along with the main story?) and randomly got cut together by some helpful malcontent, tumbled into my YT feed like a Taiwanese prat fall, and I couldn't be happier.

This is the Cliff's notes of a story that could have been amazing, but I adored it anyway. Basically what it says on the tin: office cutie from Taiwan working in Japan runs across hot AF mafia hit man beating up lesser thugs. Falls instantly in love, turns out so does the yakuza. They end up together for...... reasons? (one is cute and the other is cool?) That's it. It's dumb and I loved it. 7/10 because it really isn't good, but it lives on in a very warped corner of my shriveled old heart.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Still to come:

11/28 Spare Me Your Mercy (Thai Thurs iQIYI) 8 eps on OneD (no word on inter) - Increased rates of deaths in terminal patients has a police captain investigating the palliative care doctor with whom he's fallen in love. Their relationship deepens but the mystery persists, driven by mistrust. Adapted from the novel "Euthanasia" by Sammon (Triage, Manner of Death) stars some old guard BL actors: Tor Thanapob from Hormones as the doctor and (fuck me YES) Jaylerr from Great Men Academy and goddamn Grean Fictions as the captain!

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

We stan a smitten seme who's too reserved for his own good. Sunshine is gonna have this boy wrapped around his little finger in no time. (Well in 12 eps, but we know what we like!) Your Sky

King behavior.

Dangerous Babygirl behavior.

Both Love Sick 2024.

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[darcyspirits]

my father: what got you into the kennedys?

the real answer: i’m neurodivergent, the kennedys are a family with a lot of interesting information and that makes them prime candidates for being my special interest. plus i think jack and bobby were hot—

the answer i gave: oh, i don’t know. i just like history.

[moonstruckme]

okay i absolutely NEED james with an emo/goth gf!!! it’s giving black cat reader 🤭🤭🤭 only write if you want of course ♥️♥️

Thank you for requesting lovely! I fear this ended up being more black cat than goth because I didn't really go into describing reader's aesthetic but I hope this is the attitude you were looking for <3

cw: mention of alcohol (but reader isn't explicitly drinking)

James Potter x black cat!reader ♡ 718 words

James doesn’t think you’re glaring at him, but you’re definitely glaring. 

“How’s your drink, angel?” he asks, leaning across your small table with a smile. 

You suck your teeth. “It’s good.” 

James reaches over the table for your hand. You give it to him, thundercloud expression not so much as flickering, but when he squeezes your fingers you squeeze back. 

He lowers his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“How can you think over their racket?” The question bursts out of you like this is something you’ve been waiting to talk about. James follows the beam of your glare, turning in his seat to look at the gaggle of men sitting in the corner booth of the restaurant. They’re laughing, rambunctious, one of them having procured a deck of cards which they seem to be playing some kind of disorganized game with. Two have begun arm wrestling.

“They’re yelling so loud it’s bouncing off the walls,” you seethe. “It’s so obnoxious. I can barely hear you without you shouting.” 

James makes a face as he turns back around, feeling a tad oblivious. He’d just thought this was a louder sort of restaurant, but he sees now that the other patrons are leaning close to each other over their tables, talking as quietly as they can manage just like you. The noise is created only by that one group. 

“I think they’ve had a few.” He gives a sheepish shrug, nodding to the empty pints collecting in one corner of their table. However they might be acting, James feels awful for anyone who ends up on the other end of your wrath. “You know how it is when you get like that and sort of forget where you are.” 

“No, not really.” You start tapping an irritated finger on the table. “They could at least try to be considerate. And there’s a bar just across the street, why not go there?” 

James gives you an amused look. “Hey,” he says, leaning across the table and coaxing you in for a kiss. You relent to it, but you don’t look much improved afterwards. “It’s all in good fun, yeah? We shouldn’t let their good time ruin our good time.” 

He suspects you’re a bit peeved with him for not taking your side, but you try to overcome it. “Yeah,” you agree. You lean over to take a sip from your straw, still obviously fuming. 

And James decides something simply must be done. 

“Alright.” He gives your hand a quick squeeze, pushing back his chair as he stands. “Back in a second, lovie.” 

He can feel your eyes following as he goes over to the rowdy table and introduces himself. Every now and then as he talks to the guys, he’ll glance over to find your stare still on him, narrowed with curiosity. James has to admit, the pleasure of having your attention has never quite worn off. He sends you a wink when nobody else is looking. 

After a few minutes, the men slip out from their booth and James parts with them with a series of clapping handshakes. You watch in awe as they go out the door, your gaze moving back to your boyfriend when he sits across from you. 

“How did you do that?” you ask. 

James grins smugly. “I just got a bit chummy with them and then told them about the bar across the street. They have a pool table over there, and if you make it before eight pints are half off.” 

Your lips part slightly. It’s as close to jaw-dropping surprise as you ever get. “You seriously got them to leave by making friends with them.” 

He shrugs. “I guess. We didn’t really have time to get to know each other all that well.” 

You regard him thoughtfully for a moment, then lean across the table to kiss his cheek. James’ smile leaps up on his face. His stomach feels swarmed by butterflies far more boisterous than that table had ever been. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

James is smiling so hard it’s hurting his cheeks. “You feel better now?” 

You roll your eyes, but he spies a twitch in the corner of your lips. “Yeah, I feel better.” 

“Good.” He pecks you on your cheek in turn. You appear dangerously close to pleased. “Then you’re welcome, lovie.”

[melancholyhigh]

RECKLESS.

ft. rookie!leon x lieutenant!reader

synopsis. after leon was careless on a mission, you ask him to pay you a visit to your office.

content. 3.0k words. smut. age gap, power imbalance, delulu leon, subby leon, masturbation, praise kink, office sex, handjob, blowjob, edging, dacryphilia.

note. mb guys, i'll post dilf leon a little later. sub leon is my favourite leon.

masterlist. i love feedback! :3

Tough love. That’s what Leon liked to call it when you’re scolding him. He’s got sympathetic looks from his coworkers each time you drag him away to chastise him, but he doesn’t take it to heart — you want the best for him.

They always say how he ‘gets it worse,’ and they don’t understand how he takes it. But it’s different when you reprimand him in comparison to his colleagues. You pull him aside to lecture him, never in the presence of others. It’s so much more intimate. Unlike his fellow officers, where you nearly publicly humiliate them, he gets special treatment.

Leon likes to think he’s your favourite. He knows he’s your favourite.

When he was the newest recruit, he thought nothing of your ways. You probably did it to all the rookies, but after a few weeks in, he realised you only ever did it to him. 

At first, you thought Leon was just like the others. He was inexperienced and expected much more than this field could accomplish. 

You were strict, that was much. The older officers knew of your demeanour when they had first been there. You weren’t cruel to rookies. They’re new officers. It’s their first time at the department, and you’ve been here longer than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t be too harsh on them, but you weren’t the gentle parenting kind either.

Something about Leon ticked you off, though. You didn’t know what exactly did. When he messed up, you had to tell him off, and, at first, it was worse than what you’d usually say to the other recruits. You felt that he should’ve known better. You weren’t ever this particular with rookies, and you’re shocked that Leon hasn’t even transferred yet. You felt guilty to the point you apologised to him.

So when you pull him aside from the others, they expect you to be worse than you usually are, sparing Leon from the embarrassment, and to an extent, you are. In reality, you’re softer to him. Even if it’s not noticeable — you can tell. You do it so your reputation stays intact. You’re mortified by how gentle you are to him, contradicting your usual attitude towards the other older officers. It’s obvious enough that Chris notices. 

Even though you are rough to Leon, sometimes you’re not as intimidating. Other times when he’s been playing the ass, you’re worse than usual.

When he forgets his papers, you’re easy on him. He’s hard-working, people forget. A slap on the wrist. If anyone else forgets them? You’re on their ass immediately. It’s part of the job. How can one be so forgetful?

You try to reason with yourself that Leon’s more responsible than the others. And you’re not wrong. But you feel uneasy knowing there is an underlying reason why you treat him differently.

He acts thoughtless during patrols? You’re oddly silent, more silent than usual, and it scares the entire department. They usually chalk it up to a patrol gone seriously awry, and it’s not entirely wrong to assume that. But you’re less of a threat when shit blows up in your face to uncontrollable forces rather than when things do not go as smoothly because of an avoidable mishap.

You’re residing in your office right now. If you were to face Kennedy right now, you’d do something you’d regret. He almost botched the arrest. You and a few officers patrolled an area known for its high crime rate where a recent robbery occurred at a nearby convenience store, and you and your team were investigating the area. 

During a conversation with the store’s owners, your squad found the suspect armed with a handgun. As you’re about to take action, just your luck, when Leon S. Kennedy handled the situation. He disobeyed your orders, whether verbally or not, when he dealt with the thief. You were appalled because he knew better than that. Maybe it was adrenaline or stupidity, but the situation could’ve gone south.

Back at the department, you ventured to your office, ignoring Kennedy in the guise of paperwork. You tried to do paperwork, but the image of Leon with a bullet wound, unable to be the officer he used to be or even dead, continues to flash in your mind. 

Was it normal to have such a sense of despair at the thought of losing a coworker? Not to this extent. For Christ's sake, he had a bulletproof vest on. Why were you even thinking about that? You never thought about your other colleagues in such a manner. 

Did you find him attractive? Of course, you had eyes — he was as cute as a button. Not that you’d admit that. Did you like Kennedy more than you lead on? Well, shit. You’re starting to overthink everything. You knew how fond he was of you, like a puppy, following you and obeying your every command. You probably liked that too much.

Sighing, you lean back on the soft cushioning of your office chair, the leather squeaking under your weight. You had to do something about this revelation, don’t you?

–-

Leon has been anticipating visiting your office once again. He’s disappointed with the silent treatment he’s been receiving from you lately. You had brushed him off initially, giving him a stern, “Don’t pull that shit again, Kennedy,” before dismissing him entirely. 

He wasn’t reckless on purpose to hear you reprimanding him. Not that he likes it or anything, but he prefers you being angry to blatantly disregarding him. He wished you’d do something. Punish him for all he cares.

Leon furiously clicks his pen, unable to focus on his papers. He wishes you’d pay attention to him. He reminisces on the time you shared at the bar. It seems to be on his mind more often lately. 

After a tough case, some officers decided to head to a bar and invited him to tag along. He was relatively new, so he took the opportunity while he could. The others relentlessly begged for you to join them — to loosen up. You weren’t keen on the idea at first but you eventually gave in. You clearly adored your squad, and it wasn’t as subtle as you thought.

Leon tried not to get too drunk. He did not want to embarrass himself in front of others, limiting his alcohol intake. You seem not too fond of getting drunk, bourbon in your hand, watered down by the ice. 

You were sat next to him, making quips and chuckling at inside jokes that the older cops say. He felt excluded, quietly sipping on his drink as he listened quietly. After another round, they started to filter out, leaving essentially you and him alone. There were others, but they were too intoxicated, waiting for their spouse to pick them up.

The buzz picks up its pace the longer he’s in the bar. He’s minding his business, and you’re with him. He takes a peek at you. You’re sat there with a look of contemplation. After a few moments, your voice slices through the noise that fills the packed room.

“Hey, Leon,” you said, turning to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. It was the only time he heard you call him by his first name, granted he only saw you at the department. He had looked at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry for being too hard on you. I know it’s probably a lot, but I do it ‘cause I care, ya know? I’ll ease up on ya.”

His cold lieutenant, who he hadn’t heard speak an entire sentence since you joined them for drinks, was talking to him, not just that, apologising to him. Your palm on his shoulder feels warm, giving him a reassuring squeeze before you drop your hand.

“It’s fine. You’re just doin’ your job, Lt.” His face gets redder at the prospect of you caring about him. God, you were so close, a rare smile blooming on your pretty lips. He’s quivering like a leaf and hopes you think it’s the alcohol. 

“I’m gonna head home. Need a drive?” You had finished your drink, standing up and putting on your jacket.

He shook his head, “No, I’ll be okay.”

He regrets not accepting the offer. He ended up taking a cab home, wondering how it’d play out if he had agreed to let you carry him home instead.

The same night, at home, he remembers your hand on his shoulder and the words you had said to him. He felt fuzzy, and he was sure he was mostly sober. He needed a cold shower, leading him to think not-so-professional thoughts about you, arousal blocking his senses.

Up against the cool bathroom wall, he tugs on his aching dick, wishing it was your hand instead, teasing him. He thought about what you’d do to him, making him cry as you whispered how much of a good boy he was, just like you’d tell him he did a good job after a tough assignment.

He came, his fingers coated in his sticky seeds, grimacing at the sight. He had taken an extra cold shower, pondering if he regretted climaxing to the thought of his boss.

He didn’t.

–-

Leon groans in annoyance, scratching off another word he spelt wrong. He wonders if you still remember the night at the bar. It wasn’t anything remarkable, but it solidified the burning fact that you actively care for him.

Leaning back on his chair, he decides to take a quick break. However, it was cut short as you entered the room. Your eyes are on him, and he immediately begins to work on his papers. He didn’t need another reason for you to disregard him.

“Kennedy, meet me in my office. Now,” you say. Your voice is cold, and you’re glaring at him. The officers in the room are giving him a look filled with pity. He doesn’t care, preferring your attention over their sympathy. It’s the longest sentence you’ve said to him since you reached the department.

As you walk to your office, Leon follows like an obedient puppy. He hears the gossip of his coworkers behind him once they think he’s out of shot. He ignores their words and trails behind you, anticipation filling his system as well as another emotion that only you can make him feel.

Once in your office, Leon closes the door behind him with shaky hands. He’s trying his best not to smile, biting his lip. You didn’t forget about him.

“Lock the door,” you sighed. Your command confuses Leon, but he obliges, twisting the lock on the door. You’re leaning up against your wooden desk, arms crossed. You refused to look at him, but your acknowledgement of him was enough. He’ll take what he can get.

“Come closer,” you beckon, your voice low as you look at him. He nervously walks closer to you, almost tripping over his own feet. He prays you didn’t see that. Leon coughs awkwardly, a few inches away from you, leaving enough room for Jesus.

“You know why I brought you in here, officer?” You questioned, voice laced with authority. Leon is stunned at your response. Usually, you get it over within a few minutes, leaving him to finish his papers with a dazed smile, not entertaining pointless questions.

“U– uh, because I disobeyed your orders?” Staring at the floor, he doesn’t want to see your reaction. He really fucked up this time if you’re dragging it out like this.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. Humming softly, you reply, ��Yes. You’re a smart boy, Leon. Shouldn’t you know better?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry, lieutenant,” he answers quickly, straightening his posture. Fuck, you’re calling him by his first name all of a sudden.

“I should punish you,” You mention, catching him off guard. He stares at you with doe eyes, pink lips parted as if he didn’t hear you correctly. The sentence wasn’t inherently wrong, but the tone you said made his body heat up.

You grab his belt, softly tugging him closer to you. He stumbles, pressing himself against your warm body, lips brushing against yours. He’s stunned, unable to form a coherent thought, watching you grin at the sight of him.

“I think you’d like that too much,” you chuckle, admiring how wrecked Leon was. You didn’t even get to the fun part yet. You bump noses together as you get nearer to his face.

“Is this okay, darlin’?”

“God, yes, please.”

You capture his lips softly with your own, and he whimpers quietly. Your lips move in sync with his. It’s slow and soft, and you’re testing the waters with him. If he knew he’d be making out with you in your office, he’d buy some mints. His hands move to grip your waist, squeezing eagerly to get more of you.

You break away, heavily breathing as you try to catch your breath. Leon’s chest flushed to yours, and his lips slick with your combined spit. He subtly grinds his bulge against your thigh, eyes snapped shut. The kiss was so much better than he imagined. He still can’t fathom that this is real, that you’re real.

“Can I touch you, pretty boy?” you ask, fidgeting with his belt buckle. His head reels. You think he’s pretty? He’s heard others say it but thought nothing of it. It’s different when it comes to you. 

He nods mindlessly, “Yeah, t– touch me.”

Slowly, you unbuckle his pants, watching it fall to the ground. He’s in his boxers, precum darkening the light-coloured fabric. You run your fingers along his prominent erection through the cloth. A soft moan escapes Leon as you tease the tip.

He watches with hooded eyes as you trail your hand from his tummy to the waistline of his boxers, tugging them down. His cock is fully erect, flushed pink to the head and dribbling precum down his shaft. Wrapping your digits around his throbbing dick, you slowly stroke him, kissing his neck and nipping the sensitive flesh.

You use the excess precum dribbling down his cock as a lubricant, picking up your pace. Leon’s desperate moans fill the room, as well as the lewd noise of you jerking his aching cock. Your other hand wraps around his taut waist, bringing him closer to you. You whisper filthy words and praises into his ear, your pace on his member insistent. 

When he’s about to climax, you stop your movement, cruelly laughing as Leon whines at the loss of your touch. He desperately bucks his hips into your enclosed hands, but it’s not enough. He looks at you with glossy eyes and fluttering lashes. 

“This a punishment, darling. You’re not going t’cum that easily,” you tease, slowly stroking his shaft once more, thumbing the sensitive head of his cock. Leon furrows his brows, frustrated. Leon knew he could’ve avoided this if he was good for you, but then again, would have you been giving him a handjob if he wasn’t so bad.

You continue to bring him close to completion, only to take it away at the last second. He doesn’t know how many times you’ve ruined his chances of coming undone, but he knows you’re cruel. Tears streamed down his face, leaving a red, irritated trail behind on his skin.

“Oh, you look so pretty when you cry, darlin’.” you coo, his cock still in your fist as you continue to stroke him after ruining another orgasm. He throws his head back, and you’re nuzzling into the junction of his neck, leaving bite marks on the flushed skin.

“Please, please, let me cum. I– I'll be your good boy,” he hiccups, rutting his hips into your palm. 

“Mhm, okay, baby. I think you deserve it.”

You take your hand off his needy dick and give him a sloppy kiss on his lips. He observes you through watery eyes as you get on your knees in front of him, your hands gripping the back of his thighs. Fuck, he couldn’t believe it. His lieutenant was on their knees for him, about to make him cum with their mouth.

He whimpers when you drag your tongue along the shaft, tracing the veins that lead to the base. You moan softly at the taste, kissing the tip before taking him entirely into your mouth. He couldn't help but buck into your warm mouth. 

He wasn’t going to last long, he was already so sensitive from you jerking him off. His ruined orgasms only add to it. He props himself on your mahogany desk, the wood digging into his back. Eyes rolling to the back of his head when you hallow your cheeks and take more of him down your throat.

“Ugh, Fuck,” he cries when you moan around his dick, his eyes squeeze shut. A wet gag leaves you as the spongy tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and your grip on the back of his thighs tightens, leaving indents in the soft flesh. 

“‘M so close,” he whines, thrusting feverishly into your mouth, the desk shaking with each move. Drool slips past your lips as you stare up at him through your lashes clumped together by tears, silently permitting him to climax, his tummy clenching at the sight. To see you in such a manner, you, who’s always professional, on your knees in front of him, choking on this swollen cock. It’s something that’s only ever occurred in his wildest dreams.

He whimpers loudly, hand clasping over his mouth to hide his embarrassing moans as he finishes down your throat. You pull away from his softening cock, coughing, wiping the spit and cum accumulated on your face. You stand up on wobbly knees, gripping Leon’s bicep to balance yourself.

Once Leon gathers himself, he kisses you, filled with passion, his arms encircling your waist, moaning into your mouth. He’s giddy, peppering kisses all over your cheeks and puffy lips. You really do like him, don’t you? You just gave him the orgasm of his lifetime in your office. It’d only be fair to help you out, too.

“Can I return the favour, Lt.?”

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 9

TITLE: Don't bite the hand that feeds you

PAIRING: Seungmin x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Featuring Seungmin as your lecturer's student assistant who runs your tutorials and possesses just as harsh a personality as he fucks.

TAGS: Mean tutor Seungmin, oral sex (f!reader receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, swearing.

KINK: Freelance

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @queenmea604

A/N: this is for all the Seungmin stans out there x

There isn’t any way to work around a more stubborn person. People that you’ve met before don’t even come close to the level of arrogance that this person carries with them. That person being one of your tutors for a class at Uni, Seungmin. For some reason, he always has the time of day to help other people but has an issue with your supposed incompetence in completing a task when it comes to you. 

Seungmin never checks your work, never goes over your answers, discusses your ideas or anything like that. He has a very prickly attitude yet only those needles are only for you. You see the sigh he lets out whenever you need to approach him to clarify something he went over during the tutorial. You see the crease between his eyebrows as the annoyance grows when you ask if he can read a draft of yours before you submit it. 

He never does that with other students. Seungmin is happy to help them, makes conversation with them before class, and always seems to have time for them. 

The difference in his behaviour towards you definitely placed an unnecessary burden on your shoulders. But you’re not one to budge. Whether his intentions are malicious or not, you’re not exactly an easy one to crack, which is why you continued to supposedly ‘bother’ him. 

“Hey,” you approach him after one of his tutorials, hoping you used a good enough manner to not light a fire under his seat. “Would you be able to check this for me?”

Seungmin furrows his eyebrows - not a good sign, and averts his eyes from the whiteboard to look at your paper, “I can’t help you with that.”

“And why is that?” You question. “You had no trouble looking at everyone else’s. How’s mine any different?”

“Judging from your grades, I’d suspect there would be a lot of differences,” he responds.

“I’ll take that as a compliment since I’m one of the top in the class thank you,” you scoff. 

“And one of the top most arrogant too,” Seungmin fires back. “If you haven’t got anything relevant to show me, I suggest you leave. The next tutorial group starts in twenty minutes.” 

Your face contorts slightly, “well since this isn’t relevant enough for you, is it possible for you to check over one of the drafts we have to send in on Friday?”

“Can’t do that either-“

“Then what can you do exactly?” You cut him off impatiently. “Seriously, I’ve been trying to ask you for help for the past two weeks and you’ve only ever given me vague answers to my questions and you won’t proofread any of my work which is what you’re here to do.”

Seungmin takes off his glasses and closes the distance between himself and you, “I don’t help out entitled people like you who always demand things.”

You glare up at him, “I’m not entitled. I was just merely commenting about the fact that you don’t do what you’re being paid to do.”

“And you just keep proving my point as to why you are entitled, because you don’t shut up and you always complain. After every tutorial, you come up to me and ask me for something.” 

“Yeah, just like everyone else and yet, I don’t see you giving the same shit to them as you do to me,” you argue right back with him. 

“That’s because you expect things to be handed to you on a silver plate. Unlike them, you don’t work for your shit with me,” Seungmin responds, placing the cap on the whiteboard marker a little bit too rough. 

“Being here is me working for my shit,” you press back. “You’re just being a stubborn ass because you don’t like me.”

“Well you’re right with one thing,” he sighs.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “fuck you honestly.” 

It took a lot of effort not to just shove Seungmin out of your way as you headed out the door with a fresh stormy cloud looming over your head. Felix could spot it a mile away when you went to meet up with him for lunch nearby after his class too. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks carefully, studying the pained expression on your face. 

“Nothing,” you sigh, trying to let it go. “Just one of my stupid tutors.”

“Is this the same one that isn’t doing his job properly?” Felix questions, remembering the conversation you both had about him a while back. 

“Bingo.”

“You know, he’s probably dealing with things in the background that you don’t know about,” Felix points out, his habit of always giving people the benefit of the doubt starting to shine through. 

“Yeah, pretty sure he’s dealing with ‘absolute fucking dickhead disorder’,” you spit. “And even if he was - even if the worst is happening to him, he has no right to be taking out his anger or frustration on me.” 

Felix sports a disappointed look on his face, “is it just you, or are there others?”

“It’s just me, I swear.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Felix assures. “If he really is as bad as you say he is, maybe just ignore him. We’ve only got seven weeks left, that’s not too long until you can get away from him, yeah?” 

It was easier said than done, because the next round of tutorials that approached in the following week, opened up that fresh wound of just seeing Seungmin’s face and dreading it. All of Felix’s advice went out the gate, almost like it was never there in the first place.

In the end, you simply chose not to speak. What’s the point in arguing with a person who won’t move?

So right after the tutorial, you don’t bother darting straight to Seungmin and asking for his help. He’s not willing to give it to you so there’s no point in lingering behind. As you pack your things up from the table and start to head out, Seungmin peers at you from behind the glasses that you so badly want to knock off his face sometimes. 

He’s not entirely stumped that you haven’t approached him, but he is a bit intrigued. Maybe he had come across too strongly with you the other day - maybe within the past month without being of any help to you at all. Then again, Seungmin isn’t the most apologetic of people. 

“Surprised you’re not asking me to check anything for you,” he projects his voice to you just before you leave the class. 

You heard him on your way out, but what’s a retaliation going to do? Only add fuel to your own fire. Seungmin isn’t the one who’s got something to lose here. He’s just a student tutor who’s clearly got enough competence to reinforce the learning you receive during lectures. At the end of the day, his grades for this class aren’t on the line. Yours are. 

“Y/N,” you hear a voice call out to you, recognising it to be Felix. Caught up in the swirl of your own thoughts, you almost forgot Felix had been waiting for your tutorial to end as he sat in a row of seats against the wall. 

“Hey,” you call out to him. 

“So, how was it? Did you say anything to him?” He asks as you sit down beside him. 

“I just gave up,” you answer. “I forgot that you can’t get your point across to dickheads so I stopped trying. I’ll just go to the other classes' tutorials if they let me switch. Or maybe I can just cross-check my work with their tutor.”

“Geez, that bad is he?”

“The fucking worst,” you confirm.

However, you weren’t surprised to learn that Seungmin’s attitude and behaviour still continued in the following tutorial, close to an essay hand-in date which is what you didn’t need. The only saving grace is that instead of going over the content that you learned in an earlier lecture, Seungmin allowed his students to study for another upcoming in-class test in the upcoming week. 

You spent that time wisely working on the essay you needed to hand in since it was the first due. Then, by two o’clock, everyone started wrapping up their study session. You slot your books into your bag, zip it up, and ready to leave.

“You, come here,” Seungmin speaks in your direction, but you really don’t want to listen. At first to begin with, you were surprised he was even talking to you.

“And if I don’t?” 

“Don’t be stubborn. I want to talk about your assignment,” he replies. He set his bait and waited for you to take it. So you approach him hesitantly from your chair, leaving your bag behind at the table. 

“See, how hard was that?” 

You roll your eyes. Not even a full conversation in and he’s already made you reach your limit, “oh go fuck yourself.”

Upon hearing your nasty sentiment, Seungmin’s hand latches quickly onto your wrist, “what did you just say?”

You look down at your arm in disbelief, then back up to him, his eyes narrowing at you, “what?”

“Say it again.”

“I said; ‘go fuck yourself.”

“Fucking brat.” 

Without warning, Seungmin’s hands grasp the sides of your arms in a flash, backing you against the wall behind him. Out of nowhere, his mouth comes down and crashes against yours in a bruising kiss. There’s no time to process what’s actually going on when you start kissing him back, allowing his tongue to delve deeper into his mouth. 

In the back of your mind, you can’t believe your own actions, but at the same time, pushing back on him also feels like you’re letting some of that frustration go. To take things further, Seungmin breaks away from you for a moment, turning your body by your arms, and backs you straight into the desk until your hips hit the edge.

Your first instinct tells you to lean back while your legs automatically lift so that Seungmin can slot right in, pressing his semi-hard dick against your pussy. 

It gives you the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist, trying to bring him in closer as you hope for more friction. Seungmin pins your wrists down to the desk, kissing along your jaw and down to your throat where he bites and sucks until there’s a line of future regretful hickies for you to deal with later on. 

“D-Do something,” you stammer, feeling so dizzy from the pleasure that you desperately start to chase. 

“Why should I?” He mumbles into your skin. 

You turn your head, watching figures of people pass by through the frosted glass of the door who could potentially walk in at any given time. In saying that, a portion of you recognises that there’s something so naughty about being caught in the act. 

“Please Seungmin,” you beg for him, feeding into his ego. 

His head rises from your neck, “that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘please’.” 

You didn’t care what he meant by that. All you care about is relieving that itch inside the pit of your stomach because you know that horny feeling will take a long time to dissipate. Nonetheless, Seungmin seems to listen to you when he unbuttons the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. 

His fingers reach down to your jeans, unzipping them and yanking them right off your legs until you’re just left in your underwear, already soaking through. Seungmin uses the pad of his thumb to brush gently over the fabric which is sticky to the touch. It makes the corner of his mouth tug up. 

“Keep quiet if you don’t want people to come in,” he warns before taking his glasses off and placing them to the side of you before kneeling down. 

Your chest already starts heaving just feeling his warm breath fan across your inner thighs. The anticipation leading up to it has you clawing at the desk when Seungmin starts removing your underwear. 

“Look how fucking wet you are,” he speaks from a stance of astonishment just seeing what he was able to do to you from a simple makeout session and some rough and tumble. 

His comment turns you into a flustered mess that is easily shattered when Seungmin moves his mouth closer to your pussy, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer until he reaches your clit. Your back arches in an instant. One hand clasps over your mouth to stifle a loud moan at the heat of Seungmin’s mouth, the other grabs a fistful of his hair and starts tugging. He doesn’t dare hold back; sucking on your clit, lapping up at what he can to make your entire body shudder. 

It never occurred to you that Seungmin is like this. You’ve always made him out to be some rich, entitled, arrogant, teacher's pet with good grades and an outstanding reputation when he goes and does shit like this – eating you out in broad daylight, in public.

Whatever rabid spirit took over Seungmin, it wasn’t stopping him. His tongue dances perfect circles and random shapes against your clit, embracing your thighs quivering shamelessly around his head. 

“Oh my god, feels…feels so good,” you mutter, using every drop of energy you can to subdue the moans into whimpers. 

Not even the hand you’ve been trying to use to cover your mouth is working because when Seungmin keeps building you up to that edge, you increasingly become louder. But that’s all on him for initiating this, not that you’re complaining. Not when your head is just about thrashing back behind you on the wooden surface trying to syphon all the pleasure you’re getting. It’s like rouge electricity, a live wire inside of you that has no chance of being tamed. 

“Fuck, gonna make me cum,” you mumble, eyelids already fluttering. “So…good.”

Seungmin heard that as a sign to press his face further into your pussy but kept the same momentum and pace that his tongue uses to make you cum, and when you do, every ounce of pleasure pours into all the cells throughout your body. It rattles you in such a good way, that you forget how hard you’re tugging on Seungmin’s hair as he continues to eat you out through to the very end. But you managed to stay quiet – just. 

Your body unstiffens and your chest heaves up and down trying to catch air. The orgasm was so massive that afterwards, you couldn’t figure out what time it was or where you were. It nearly took out every bit of consciousness you had remaining. 

“Been wanting to do that for a while,” he rasps. 

Whatever that means – not that you can articulate it as of yet. You’re still trying to grapple with reality and when Seungmin unzips his pants to free his cock, you know there’s no point in trying.

He’s big in length and has a sizeable girth. He teases you with his tip, sliding up and down from your now oversensitive clit to your drenched hole. Just feeling how wet you are makes him wonder one thing:

“Are you a virgin?” He asks. 

You’re still trying to regain a bit of consciousness, only able to muster a few words at a time, “no...no I’m not.”

“I pinned it down to either that or someone hasn’t touched you in a while,” he responds. You groan at the embarrassment. Seungmin must obviously be that experienced for him to make such an observation. 

“The latter. Now just hurry up and fuck me.” 

“Shut up,” Seungmin snipes, even though he begins to push his cock inside of you at a terribly slow pace. 

You didn’t realise how much you had been aching to have someone inside you. Your own fingers can’t seem to do the right trick of actually feeling full and satisfied. But now that Seungmin is here, slowly thrusting in until he reaches the hilt, can he make you feel that way. 

“Jesus fuck,” Seungmin bites down on his lip and has to hold onto the edge of the desk beside your body for support. 

He’s never felt anything like it. Even after sleeping with other women prior to you in his past, there’s something about the way you feel that isn’t like the rest. Maybe it’s from the fact that you hadn’t been touched in a while or not, either way, Seungmin can’t contain himself when he starts thrusting properly. 

His cock glides in like melted butter, the lewd wet sounds making you want to hide from embarrassment. But Seungmin revels in it like it’s about to slip through his fingers like sand. So he lowers his body onto yours, resting some of his weight comfortably on you. It’s intimate yes, but it enables Seungmin to start whispering things in your ear. 

“So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?” He purrs. “Such a good girl for taking all of my cock, especially for someone who hasn’t been touched in a while. Just opened up for me so easily.” 

No words could ever spring to your mind in response to that, but it causes your body and mind to have a reaction you’re all too familiar with from about five minutes ago. That tingly feeling starts creeping up inside you the longer Seungmin keeps fucking you. His cock repetitively hits such a deep sweet spot that you don’t think anyone’s ever reached before. 

“S-Seungmin…it feels…fuck it feels so good,” you moan right in his ear, your arms clinging to his back. 

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “I bet it does with the way that you’re clenching around me.” 

Seungmin just keeps finding ways to unintentionally embarrass you, but if there’s one thing that he’s learnt about you and himself, it’s that he likes seeing you so flustered. He thinks it’s cute. In saying that, he doesn’t want to get too caught up in things when the euphoria that has already built itself impossibly high starts making itself known.

Just like you, Seungmin feels too good right now. He’s doused in warmth from the heat wrapping around his cock and the way that your walls keep involuntarily clamping around him. 

“S’too much…” you gasp for air, fingers digging into his clothed arms at this point. “M’gonna cum again please.”

Seungmin presses himself up away from your body but still thrusting at his same pace, “go on then. I want to see your face when you do.” 

It washes over you quickly and he’s fast to clock onto the small reactions beginning to change. The only thing that doesn’t alter is the fucked-out look you have on your face. That remains all the way up until the bliss starts packing its punch. Seungmin’s hips don’t hamper your orgasm, not when he watches your eyes roll back and sees the words to describe how you’re feeling become lodged in your throat. 

“Y-Yes!” you call out, your voice echoing throughout the empty classroom. Your wet walls convulse around Seungmin’s cock, clutching onto him for dear life as you cum hard. 

“I suppose that’s why you cum so easily, huh?” He asks, catching his breath. “Because nobody’s been touching you? Poor thing.” 

Your cheeks burn a bright red as Seungmin continues to fuck you, right up until he’s had his fill. Regardless of how overstimulated you are, he can’t stop because he’s nearly there. His hips stutter forward a few times as he chases the tail of his orgasm, getting hit with it right at the last second. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he lowers his head, watching where his cock keeps disappearing into and listening to your whimpers. It’s all enough to tip him right over the edge and into a pool of warm euphoria. “Yes – fuck!” 

With a few more grunts and thrusts, Seungmin slows right down as he cums inside you. For a split second there, his vision started to go splotchy. It reminded him of the fact that he hasn’t cum that hard in a while. In saying that, you get to bask in the warm sensation that fills your lower half. 

“Shit,” he gasps, breathing heavily. In the back of his mind, something told him that he shouldn’t have done that. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” you swallow, trying to dampen your dry throat. “You’re lucky I’m into that.” 

He lets out a breathy chuckle and for the first time, you’ve actually seen Seungmin genuinely smile. 

-

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I kind of want to make a part 2 to this but reader finds out that she’s pregnant lmao

[msbigredmachine]

You Again - Flashback

A/N: A snippet of Evelyn and Joe in high school. I'm still completing Part 2 which hopefully should be up soon.

Warning: Themes of bullying

Word Count: 1.1k

READ PART 1 HERE

Escambia High School, October 2000

“Hey Evie!”

She is so startled she collides with her locker door, her books nearly flying out of her hands. It takes a couple of seconds to regain her bearings and realize who is standing in front of her, and it’s not anyone she’s expecting, certainly not the captain of the cheer team.

“Ayesha,” Evie straightens, awkwardly shoving her books back inside her locker and adjusting her skewed glasses. “Umm, did you…did you want something?” she asks, her arms crossed protectively over herself. They’re not friends - Ayesha has never hesitated to remind her of this - so she wonders why she is here, flashing a megawatt smile that one could mistake to be amiable. 

“So…don’t trip,” Ayesha begins, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “but I found your note in History class.”

For a second she’s confused, and then it hits her. Oh no. Oh god. She tries to play dumb, fighting the urge to look into her History textbook where she’d thought she’d tucked her little, ill-advised daydream away in one of its pages, safe from the prying eyes of the queen of the mean girls. “W-What? What note?” 

“The note you wrote, silly. I think you dropped it on the floor, you really need to be more careful, girl,” Ayesha giggles.

It’s a lie and they both know it. Evie wouldn’t be so stupid as to expose such damning evidence, let alone discard it haphazardly in class of all places. Her brain is working frantically, trying to figure out how on earth Ayesha got hold of it to begin with. Each student had to present their History paper in front of the entire class, and she suspects Ayesha swiped the note from her desk when it was her turn. It’s not hard to imagine the malicious glee in her eyes as she read the contents, not too different from the one she is trying and failing to hide right this moment:

Dear Joe, Would you like to go to the Fall Ball with me? YES   NO

“Okay,” Evie starts tentatively, treading lightly. “So can I have the note back? Please?”

Ayesha’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh! I gave it to Joe. I saw his name on it. The note was for him, right?”

Evie feels her heart sink to Titanic depths, her insides heavy from the weight of this shattering news. The magnitude of the trouble she's put herself in brings tears to her eyes but she quickly blinks them away before Ayesha adds it to her ammunition. “Oh…I, uh…it wasn’t for…You’re mistaken, the note was for another Joe-” she starts to backtrack.

“Oh girl, there’s only one Joe in this school who matters and we all know who he is,” Ayesha dismisses flippantly. “Why you so worried anyway? I come bearing good news. He asked me to give you this.” She extends her hand, a piece of paper that looked torn out of a legal pad tucked between her fingers. Eyeing her skeptically, Evie takes it, her anxiety rising as she unfolds it and reads the familiar scribble:

Dear Evie,

Meet me under the bleachers at lunch.

Joe.

Against her better judgment, her heart flutters at his invitation, excitement bubbling inside her just knowing he responded to her. But common sense swoops in, and she stammers, shaking her head, “Look, I don’t…this isn’t necessary at all…Please, let’s just forget that any of this happened-”

“Girl, are you seriously chickening out on Joe Anoa’i?” Ayesha counters. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you and you’re turning it down?”

Evie makes one last throw of the dice, desperate to get out of this predicament. "But why are you doing this? Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"It's...complicated," Ayesha answers easily, placing a hand on Evie's shoulder. “Sweetie, any girl would kill to be in your shoes right now. Who knows, he might say yes. Are you really gonna throw that away because you’re scared?”

Terrified, actually. Not much good comes out of interacting with Joe Anoa’i when you’re not a member of his precious clique. But Ayesha is right. A private meeting with the most popular boy in school is too enticing to pass up, if only this once. So Evie forces herself to wait through the agonizing hour and a half before lunchtime, embroiled in thoughts of how their conversation will go. 

It turns out she should have trusted her gut, because the minute she steps onto the field, something feels off. 

Joe is not here. Outside is eerily quiet save for the muted bustling inside the cafeteria a few feet away. Chalking it up to him standing her up, Evie permits herself to exhale a huge sigh of relief and spins back towards the building, eager to forget all about the mess she almost made.

Then, it happens. Out of the shadows, they step out, seemingly from every corner of the stands. Jon. Josh. Ayesha and her lackeys, Kelli and Chichi. All of them emerging one by one until she is surrounded by his entire posse.

And last but not least, Joe appears like some kind of video game final boss. He steps between the twins, both of whom stare her down with the same demeanor as vultures circling over a carcass. He twirls her letter between his long fingers, his handsome face wearing a sugary sweet smile and a spiteful glint in his eye that strikes terror in Evie.

“So, Evie…I read your little message to me. It was…sweet. Real cute,” he says, coming closer to her, humored by the way she tenses as he towers over her. “I just have one question…” 

He gently trails the corner of the note along her cheek. The gesture would be considered as intimate if his eyes didn't harbor so much malevolence. “Did you really think my answer would be yes?”

The group bursts into laughter, the sounds cruel and taunting. Joe circles around her, regarding her with the same countenance as a piece of gum stuck underneath his Air Max sneakers. “What makes you think I’d ever wanna go to the dance with a nobody like you? Huh?” He throws an arm around Ayesha and kisses her cheek. "Babe, didn't you tell her you were going with me?"

Ayesha crosses her arms and shrugs with fake nonchalance, an even faker smile on her pretty face. "I wanted to...but it was much more fun fuckin' with her head."

She should have known better. Better than to write that shit in the first place. Known that Ayesha was setting her up from the start; known that standing her up or simply ignoring her was too merciful, too tame for Joe and his coven.

It’s beyond humiliating, and all Evie wants is for the ground to swallow her whole.

Ayesha steps up to her, angling her head low enough to catch Evie’s teary-eyed expression. “Awww, are you gonna cry? You gon’ cry bitch? You thirsty-ass pathetic loser?”

Ayesha's arms shoot out, shoving Evie so hard that she falls over, crying out as her knees collide painfully with the ground. Her glasses slip off her face and onto the cold dewy grass and dirt. Her tears splash onto the cracked lenses as they all step past her fallen frame, their cackles echoing in her ears long after they are gone.

--------------------------------------------------

Fun fact: A version of this incident happened to me in high school in real life. Only difference is I wasn't pushed. 😭😭😭

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[scnderlands]

If you’re open for requests, could you write something with Homelander please?

*cough* pervy Homelander *cough*

content warnings / tags : MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI, strong non-con to barely dub-con, panty thief / sniffer homelander!, oral ( fem reader receiving ), fingering, homelander basically threatening to kill you with laser eyes, stalking, 1.2k words, not proofread ;-;

kai’s notes : hey, my love, sorry this took so long :( I hope this is what you had in mind, I wasn’t fully sure what to write but I made a small drabble nonetheless ! I’m not sure how I feel about this at all, maybe I’ll rewrite it some day, but here it is <3

you crept into his mind day and night, torturing him daily without your knowledge. you slowly became his obsession and it didn’t take you long to realise you had somewhat of a stalker.

you’d been working at vought for a few months and within the first few weeks you’d noticed weird things. at first it was small things like pens and notepads going missing, then a photo of you and your friend was torn in half, your face missing from the picture but your friends sat on your desk.

a few weeks later it began happening at home, to the point you changed your locks and installed cameras in your home, but it never caught anything. you’d put down your working long hours and doing too much work as to why you’d ‘forget’ where you put things. your keys not being where you left them, things going missing from the fridge, cupboard doors being left open, even not putting your clothes in the laundry basket properly. it wasn’t until you noticed that pairs of underwear and shirts started disappearing, perfume depleting faster than usual, your hairbrush being cleaned off from hair.

you were new to the city, no one knew who you were, you had no friends or family there so you knew it couldn’t be anyone you were familiar with. you tried to report it but it wasn’t taken seriously, not that it surprised you in the slightest.

every day at work got worse, always having mountains of paperwork to go through, and home was no escape either — both places feeling as unsafe as the other. but today was worse than usual, all you’d been doing was dealing with office politics and running around after the seven to get them to sign paperwork. and you were the only one that seemed to be doing any work around the tower, and being new made it all that much worse.

once you got home you threw your bag down on the floor, and stripped off as you walked towards your bedroom, desperate to jump in the shower and go to bed.

“what the fuck…”

you stopped dead in your tracks as you saw the homelander laid out on your bed, pants around his ankles, cock in his hand, and a pair of your dirty underwear over his face.

he didn’t even bother to look over at you, instead he fucked his fist even harder, quicker. your name rolled from his tongue over and over, his hips bucking needily into his hand, he was whimpering like a puppy as he was approaching his finish.

you took a few steps back as slow and quiet as you could, but he could hear you no matter what.

“don’t you dare fucking move.” he glared down at you and stopped what he was doing, anger flashing red across his face.

your heart jumped into your throat and you did what he said, fear overtaking your body to the point you couldn’t even move if you wanted to.

“how did you—“

“get in? what, you think changing your locks could stop me?” he raised an eyebrow wondering if you were really that naive.

truth be told, you didn’t know how to answer, you’d never have suspected it was homelander that had been messing with you, stalking you. you rarely saw him that much in work, only occasionally in passing or talking to him when you needed him to sign something. in your head there was no reason for him to be here, for him to be obsessed with you to the point of breaking into your house.

“come here. now.”

he gestured you over with one finger and you stared at him, your blood pulsing through your body so loud that you could barely hear anything else. if it wasn’t for his eyes beginning to glow red, you don’t think you’d have had the balls to move your feet.

it felt like it took you an eternity to walk towards him, and his look of impatience did nothing but cement that feeling in you. he glared at you all the same, reaching out and grabbing you by the wrist with a bone crushing grip.

he pushed you down against the mattress and hovered above you, his cock pushing against your bare thigh, and he couldn’t help but moan at the slight bit of friction.

“you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, do you?”

you shook your head side to side without meeting his gaze, too embarrassed by the way his hand was slowly rubbing up your thigh.

his other hand grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him, a shiteating grin creeping along his face as he cocked his head to the side. it was obvious he wanted to see your face when he touched you, to see if you reacted in the way he’d always imagined you would, how he pictured your pretty face every time he came thinking about you.

homelander chuckled to himself as he kissed your neck, slowly moving his way down your nearly naked body. the lower he got, the more every muscle in your body tightened and the more excited he got. finally his head was between your legs, his face pushing up against the fabric that still covered your cunt.

he let out a sigh and breathed in, enjoying finally being able to take in your sweet scent while your underwear was still on. you could feel him grinding his nose up against you, his tongue desperately lapping at your cunt just to get as much of a taste as he could.

“please, stop…” you pushed at his head to try and get him away, but that only cemented his grip on you, his hands wrapping around your hips tighter and pulling you even closer to his face.

he enjoyed the way you struggled against him, how weak and pathetic humans were, and he could practically smell the way it turned you on — even with how much you pretended you didn’t want it.

he couldn’t resist it any longer, desperate to finally taste you on his tongue, to have your juices dripping down his chin, to have his cock buried so deep inside you that you could barely breathe.

homelander hooked a finger around the crotch of your underwear, letting his knuckle skim across your clit ever so slightly just to get a reaction out of you.

“homelander…” your hips instinctually bucked towards his touch, a heat rising up your body.

with one swift pull your panties were nearly destroyed, and he wasted no time burying his face in your cunt. his tongue swirled around your throbbing clit and dipped in and out of your hole, his grip tightening on your sides the more he lost himself in you.

your hand intertwined in his hair as you attempted to yank his face away from you, but that just added to his enjoyment, a muffled moan vibrating between your legs as he kept eating you out.

“fuck—“ he came up for air for only a second before dipping his head straight back down.

he pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you and laughed at the moan he pulled from you, no matter how much you tried to be quiet you just couldn’t. his fingers curled up back and forth inside of you and his tongue went back to work.

it was obvious that he wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied, regardless of how many times you came, how much you begged him to stop. for tonight, you belonged to him, and you were going to take it like a good little slut.

[thatgirlonstage]

Okay I’m too tired to keep listening to Dark Heir but I’ve got a whole bus ride home so I’m going to spin Black Butler thoughts at you all.

(Idk how coherent this is, I’m sorry if it’s rambly my brain is SO dead but it wants to Talk so)

I’m thinking about… the gradual build of Sebastian’s fear that he could actually lose Ciel, as we go:

The asthma attack in Circus Arc: not ultimately serious, but a danger to Ciel’s wellbeing Sebastian had not been aware of and cannot easily fix

The fight on the Campania, where Sebastian is very seriously injured himself, to the point where he’s in danger of losing Ciel to Undertaker because he can’t physically stop him from being taken,

Which leads into THIS fucking moment in school arc:

which is entirely fueled by Sebastian’s fear that Undertaker will snatch Ciel out from under him, AGAIN, because he did it before

AND THEN GREEN WITCH ARC HAPPENS, where Sebastian gets within literal minutes of losing Ciel to the gas, and WOULD HAVE if Sieglinde hadn’t been there or hadn’t been willing to help them

And still in Green Witch Arc, even AFTER Ciel has physically survived, Sebastian nearly loses him anyway because he backslides so dramatically into a PTSD episode that it nearly voids their contract

All of which is why by the time you get to the Blue Cult Arc, Sebastian is so genuinely afraid he might not be able to protect Ciel that the scent of blood from a single needle prick makes him do. This.

And now, with bizarre dolls getting ever more advanced and better at hiding from Sebastian’s senses and the whole police force mobilized against them, I’m very ready for Sebastian in Brighton to be doing everything short of wrapping Ciel in 19th century bubble wrap. I’ll frankly be shocked if he lets Ciel out of his sight for more than five minutes.

But the thing is. The thing is. Narratively, there isn’t much further you can ratchet up the stakes for Sebastian (at least until you get to the moment of truth with the contract and eating his soul, which is a different conversation). Ciel being put in danger or hurt again isn’t going to do all that much to alter their relationship at this point. Sebastian is already about as whipped as the poor guy can get.

What would be a change, is Ciel nearly losing Sebastian.

There’s been—for obvious reasons—much less risk and fear on that front. There has been some build for it:

Red Butler Arc, encountering reapers, Ciel sees Sebastian fight an enemy who can actually hold their own against him for the first time (and while I don’t think this is confirmed, I suspect Grell’s chainsaw eating his shoulder is the first time Ciel sees him get injured for real (as opposed to allowing himself to get shot and playing dead just for the sake of being a dramatic bitch))

Curry Arc, Agni successfully fights Sebastian to a tie (which is why I’m VERY interested to see if Soma turns back up in the Brighton arc as well, feat. angry Kali powers)

[The murder arc is a fake out, because Ciel knows he’s fine the whole time]

On the Campania, Ciel sees him get very badly injured. This is the one and only time Ciel has real cause to fear for Sebastian’s safety, as such.

And since then, while Sebastian isn’t quite untouchable, he hasn’t really suffered any serious injury or physical danger to himself. There have been defeats or fights that didn’t end perfectly for him—such as the school arc fight—but Sebastian hasn’t been existentially threatened. Ciel, I think, still has pretty high confidence that worst case scenario, Sebastian can always just pick him up and make a run for it (indeed, part of the reason things got so bad on the Campania was because they were trapped on a boat). And even if Sebastian couldn’t save him, Ciel—to the extent it’s even occurred to him—doesn’t have a lot of reason to think he couldn’t save himself.

This is now the second time Ciel has lost everything—his title, his name, his home, his safety, his dignity and respect. The first time was worse, obviously, but he’s got to be feeling the similarities.

The first time, Sebastian pulled him out of his despair by offering him the power to escape.

Now, the second time, he at least still has Sebastian by his side. A Sebastian who is going to be laser-focused on protecting Ciel from all possible threats.

But what happens if Ciel thinks he might lose Sebastian too?

[bobbyseyesmile]

Come again?

Morgan’s dark eyes followed you around the room as you stopped to pour yourself some more coffee to properly start the day. You ignored him when you sat down at your desk but you couldn’t ignore your best friends huge smile so you looked up from your laptop.

“Okay, what is it?” you asked, directed at Morgan and Emily. Both shared a quick look before their eyes shifted back, right at you.

“New hair, huh?”

You rolled your eyes but got excited; of course your very attentive colleagues would notice but would the very weird nerd across the room notice it as well?

Just when you opened your mouth to give Morgan a sarcastic reply Garcia walked into the room, her eyes cold and concentrated. Uh-oh, this would be a bad case. But as soon as her eyes met you a smile curled around her lips.

“Meow, mama! What’s with the sexy hair? And is that a new top as well- jeez, you look hot!” You felt your cheeks redden but couldn’t hide your amusement. “Thanks… you think it’s too much?”

“Oh sugar, it’s never too much pizazz. In fact, the world lacks it-“ she sighed which made Morgan shook his head while laughing “But! I know you didn’t dress that sexy for me, which makes me, to be honest, a bit sad but I get it.”

“Get what?” you turned your head towards Emily who had her eyebrows raised. “You got dressed up for someone in the office?!”

“Of course she did…” Morgan smirked “Should have known. So, tell us, who’s the lucky fella?”

Garcia giggled. “World best profilers in this room and you don’t know??” You turned red again and jumped from your seat. “Shouldn’t we discuss the new case? I bet Hotch is already waiting for us.” You gathered some papers and walked away, ignoring their snickering in the background.

“That woman is mysterious.” Morgan whispered but turned his head when Garcia put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh not at all, my love. That woman is just madly in love.” The quirky blonde turned her head and the friends followed her glance to the curly-haired man across the room.

“Seriously?” a small snort escaped the black man “It’s Reid?”

Spencer walked into the circled office when he noticed all eyes on him. Well, not all eyes because yours were fixed on the file in front of you. You didn’t even look up for a second and it gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. You hated him, he was sure… or maybe it wasn’t hate but surely a strong dislike of some sort.

You always turned red when he made a joke or the one time he complimented your hair- you must have been so angry with him, why else turn red?

“Hey wonder boy, we’ve waited.” Morgan turned in his chair and gave him a cheeky smile which Spencer tried to dismiss. “Sorry, I got lost. I’m currently reading Finnegans Wake again; my bookclub decided to study the consciousness writing style as well as the abandonment of narrative conventions to determine-“

“I’m sorry-“ Morgan raised his hands “I’ll never criticise you again but please for the love of all good, stop talking.”

Spencer noticed the way your fingers trembled against the papers. Great, he did it again. He bored you.

“Why study a book that’s literally so complicated that the general public didn’t even read it?” Emily asked and Spencer opened his mouth but was interrupted by Hotch.

“LA needs us-“ he clicked on the small remote control and a series of gruesome pictures filled the screen “They got an Unsub who hunts young women for their hearts. He cuts them out while they’re still alive.”

“Cuts them out? Dear god….” JJ mumbled but that wasn’t even the worst part.

“The coroner determined that he uses a dull knife. These women lived through the whole ordeal.”

Two days later and the team already presented a profile but couldn’t find a viable suspect so the mission continued into nowhere until Hotch came up with a plan.

“Y/N?” he asked and you looked up “Please come see me.” You walked in the small office and closed the doors as your boss presented you with his idea on how to catch this Unsub. The small hairs on your back stood up but you did exactly what Hotch thought you would: You accepted.

“So, did I get this right? We use Y/N as bait for this guy?” Morgan asked once again and you nodded.

“I’m his type. This will work.” Your voice was a bit shaky but you were still determined to stop this utter psychopath.

“Excuse me but we’re dealing here with a deranged psychopath who’s most likely a cannibal and you want Y/N near him?!” It was the first time that Spencer Reid lost his cool in front of Hotch and questioned his very decisions.

“He’s not going to hurt her, Reid-“

“Yeah, he better not.” the younger huffed “This is bullshit.”

“Spencer-“ you said softly and touched his arm “We need to catch this guy, you said it yourself how dangerous he is.”

“Catching him is not worth to put you in immediate danger.” he shook your hand away and angrily ran his fingers through his hair.

“We leave in ten minutes.” Hotch mumbled before getting up and signalling the others to leave you two alone.

“Spence-“ you tried again but he shook his head. “There has to be another way.”

“Of course there could be another way but this is the fastest. No other young woman should die.”

“You don’t understand” His voice was shaky and he let out a small laugh “I can’t lose you.” Spencer noticed your reddened cheeks and sighed. “Doesn’t matter how angry you get and how much you hate me but-“

“Woah, Spencer, hold up. What do you mean?”

“I know you’re always angry at me and usually I try to ignore it or, or I don’t know, blame it on my weird nature but this? I can’t let you do this.”

“I’m never angry with you, what are you talking about?” You raised your eyebrows in confusion and it made him stop in his tracks.

“You know, the reddened cheeks, your flared nostrils and always looking at the ground when I’m talking. Those are clear signs of hate or disgust.”

“For someone that smart you are pretty dense, Dr. Reid.” you gave him a soft smile and he looked at you in confusion. “Spencer, I like you. A lot. What you’re describing is me being shy and embarrassed.”

“Come again?” he asked and you took a step in his direction.

“I like you, dumbass.”

Spencer was frozen when he felt your lips on his own. You liked him? The moment he felt you withdraw, his hands were on your hips, stopping you. He felt you smiling against his lips and he smiled back. „Guess I need some profiling tipps, huh?“

„I can help with that.“

You’ll only find my work posted here and and on my AO3 blog. I don’t give consent for my work to be re-posted (in any language) onto any other platform, even if it is with credit. Thank you.

[naomijoestar]

⋆.ೃ JJBA HEADCANONS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: headcanons

warnings: slight nsfw for mista

characters: bucci gang

notes: i have never done any headcanon posts but i would like to share these with you guys! even tho part 5 isnt my favorite part in the series, its the part i enjoy writing for the most because bucci gang = confort gang <33

Bucci gang headcanons

(this isn’t checked for any spelling mistakes because i got too tired so i’m sorry if there’s any!)

Bruno Bucciarati

- Loves writing poetry, especially about people he knows and his experiences in life; probably keeps his poems in an out-dated leather notebook inside a locked drawer (i also imagine that he hates to share them with anyone because he sees it as something personal, unless it’s with someone he’s been in a relationship with long term)

- Obviously, a comfort cook. He loves feeding the gang home cooked meals after missions

- LOVES THE RAIN! There’s just something about the rain that soothes him, he also really loves the smell outside after a very heavy rain pour

- He often acts like a protective parent to the rest of the gang, and I strongly believe that he has a soft spot for narancia

- I can honestly see bruno sleeping while sitting up very often, like in chairs and sofas. It’s a habit from years of always being on guard

Leone Abbacchio

- A late night drinker, he enjoys sitting by himself with a glass of wine; he is either zoned off or thinking about the past

- He has an EXTENSIVE collection of vinyl records. Prefers listening to older, slower music because it helps him relax

- This man 100% has a secret soft spot for animals and it’s just so cute, stops on the street to pet and feed stray dogs and cats

- Loves italian pastries, if bruno ever buys a tray of pastries he’ll sneak off at night and eat it all, the gang will probably not suspect a thing and blame it on narancia 😭

- Cold shower enjoyer, also likes showering in the morning rather than the afternoon

Giorno Giovanna

- Plant whisperer, has a habit of talking to plants especially when he’s feeling contemplative

- Giorno keeps his surroundings extremely neat, his room is always spotless and he has a specific system for organizing his clothes, accessories etc

- Obviously has a morning routine, likes to be a pretty princess and has very specific products he uses on his skin, also probably brushes his hair 100 times in the morning to keep it “soft and shiny”

- Enjoys silence more than loud spaces, he doesn’t necessarily hate loudness as long as it’s not too much, but he feels way more comfortable with quiet

Guido Mista

- 100% has a happy trail. I. Will. Forever. Live. By. This. There is not a single thing i hate about mistas character design EXCEPT for the fact araki didn’t give him a happy trail. Like this man is definitely very hairy and prefers keeping a bush

- He is superstitious to the core. He never steps on cracks, walks under ladders, and hates when the clock hits 4:44

- A spaghetti specialist, he takes his pasta very seriously, and even tho he doesn’t know how to cook one bit he will always judge a pasta plate

- Actually doesn’t stink that much, but his body odor is something else after missions (bc of the fact i imagine him to be hairy), but when he’s not on a mission he js smells like citrus and a hint of cigarettes

- Contrary to popular belief, i don’t think mista enjoys gun-play🤔 he sees the gun as something to torture and kill his enemies with, so he would rather not imagine his s/o being in a situation like that

Pannacotta Fugo

- Used to love piano when he was a kid, but when he got older he started to resent it because he felt as if it was forced onto him by his parents, a very good pianist but doesn’t really play

- Habitual Knuckle-cracker, unconsciously cracks his knuckles when he’s irritated or thinking too hard

- Fugo takes pride in his suits and is always dressed to impress, can’t stand the idea of his suits being wrinkled and constantly checks his reflection

- Idk why but i can imagine him playing chess mentally against himself in his spare time

- He’s also fluent in several languages and likes to indirectly flex about it, sometimes switches languages in the middle of a sentence and acts like it was an accident but he actually just wants to flex the fact that he’s multilingual

Narancia Ghirga

- LOVESSS 90’s hiphop and 90’s rap, even tho he doesn’t really understand what they’re saying he is obsessed with the flow and the beat, and also really loves the album covers and how cool they look (i wrote this because 90’s hiphop is my favorite genre of music and i can 100% see it being narancias’ too)(also he prefers biggie over tupac)

- Surprisingly good at video games like arcade shooters, easily spends hours playing and if a game contains a daily log-in streak type of thing, he takes it very seriously

- Snores sooooo louddddddd and moves alot in his sleep, if you’re sleeping next him you WILL be getting kicked, also scratches you with his toenails and cold feet to piss you off

- Has a stash of snacks hidden away for himself and hates sharing, sometimes the chocolates get melted and the candies get stuck together bc of how tightly stashed away they are but he doesn’t care and eats them anyways

- Doodles constantly, on anything, napkins, tables, hands you name it, if he has a pen in his hand he will doodle simple cute drawings

- His phone wallpaper is one of kawaii nutella photo things LMAO😭 idk if you guys know what i’m talking about but he thinks they’re so cute because of their big eyes

That was it! I wanted to write more for narancia because i love him and he is my literal son but then this would be too long ;( If you liked this make sure to check out the scenarios i write and don’t be shy to request ones that you’d like me to write in the future <3

[ghostofhyuck]

Gang AU Series 7

Mafia Boss! Park Jisung x Wife! Reader

Summary: “Do you even know who you married?”

cw: mentions of violence, death, murder, and blood. Jisung is a bit insane here but that’s what makes him hot though. 

AN: I can’t take this seriously because I’m using Andy instead of Jisung IJBOL. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were shaking. Hands cold yet tightly gripping on the gun. You stood there in darkness, silence devouring you and your husband. 

“What? Come on, shoot me,” his deep voice echoed through the void. From the dim light of the kitchen, you can see his sinister smile, teasing, with a smirk on his lips. Nevermind that he’s covered with the blood of whoever he slaughtered, all you knew was that the person standing in front of you is not the person you married. 

“I’m waiting, you know that?” Jisung smiled, even leaning forward, resting his forehead at the tip of the gun. He stares at you cold, and you swore that he became a monster. 

In a minute of silence, no one moved. You couldn’t help but to lightly push the gun forward to him, and yet he remained unfazed. He’s only staring at your soul, waiting for your next move. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and in a split second, you dropped onto your knees. Your hands still holding the gun, as you tried to catch your breath. You can’t. You just can’t imagine ending the life of your lover. You couldn’t. Not when your love for him is too strong despite the betrayal that he just did. 

Jisung kneels in front of you, his hands grabbing your wrist and snatching the gun away from you. You watched him observe the gun, smiling, “You don’t even know how to load a gun.” he said, placing it at the top of the kitchen counter. 

He glances at you, slightly caressing your cheeks and you couldn’t help but flinch at his touch. “I knew you couldn’t do it,” he whispered to you and you don’t know if he was disappointed by your actions or he was relieved

“I’m sorry Andy…I’m really sorry,” you cried. Tears started to flow only for him to swipe it gently. 

“It’s okay love, I understand why,” he assured, but in a split second, you saw how his expression darkened. “Now tell me what happened here while I was gone.” 

You could only stare, trying to recall earlier events. 

 You didn’t expect that police officers would show up at the footsteps of your door on a random Tuesday afternoon. 

“Is Park Jisung home?” the female police officer asked immediately, you raised an eyebrow. 

“I think you got the wrong address,” you answered. 

“You’re yn ln right?” she asked, and you only nod. “Well then, I guess your husband hid his identity from you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Can we come in for a minute?” 

Onto the next few hours, you didn’t expect to be interrogated by them. They asked you about your husband, where did you meet him and do you even know what he does in his job. They kept on pushing you for answers but you were clueless about the accusations. 

You told them your truth. You met Jisung at a club in Seoul, he introduced himself as “Andy Park” and said he just got home from studying abroad. You two immediately hit off. Went several dates and became exclusive after a few months. A year into being together and you agreed to marry him. You felt like there’s no need to take things longer since you can see your future with Jisung. He was serious and was loyal to you. You two never fought and had a healthy relationship.

You two have been married for almost five years now. You two promised to focus on each other’s careers, that’s why both of you are childless. You know that Jisung works as a businessman, specifically on human resources, while you’re a freelance digital artist. 

You never suspected Jisung to be working for an underground gang. You were clueless. You told them that numerous times but they were sceptical. You explained that he does arrive home late but you thought that just him being workaholic. You convinced them that you’re innocent, not even knowing that your husband’s real name is ‘Park Jisung.’

“Do you know Prosecutor Seo?” the officer asked. You shake your head.

She gave you a picture of a man in his fifties along with your husband. They seemed to be having a serious conversation. The picture was angled as if someone was watching them from afar.

“I told you many times, I never meddled with my husband’s career. I don’t know him and his affiliations with Andy,” you told them with a serious tone. 

The officers both glanced at each other. The lady lets out a sigh, grabbing another photo of a crime scene. 

“A few weeks earlier, Mr. Kim, a mayoral candidate, was found dead in his hotel room. We suspected that it was a hitman who did it, since there’s no signs of forced entry,” she explained. You only become quiet as she explains it to you slowly. 

“During investigation, we found out that Prosecutor Seo was behind the murder, but in order to not get his hands dirty, he hired Park Jisung to assassinate Mr. Kim.” 

Hearing those words felt as if something heavy crashed onto you. Suddenly everything became blurry to you and you were frozen. You couldn’t believe it. How is it that that shy and sweet husband of yours is behind a murder case. You tried to grab the glass of water but due to your shaky hands, you dropped it, startling the two. 

“I’m sorry…it m-might’ve slipped,” you stuttered. You tried to stand up to get a tissue but the male officer stood up first. 

“This must be a lot to take,” the female officer said with a weary tone. “I’m sorry you have to discover this way.”

“Are you going to arrest him?” you asked instead.

“No,” the officer sternly said. “We were ordered to take Park Jisung out.”

“N-no! You mean —”

“An order from the higher up,” she explained. “I’m sorry but your husband was too stupid for killing an influential man.” 

You only became quiet. You don’t know what to do. You feel defeated, betrayed, and worried by the fate of your husband. You felt overwhelmed by the revelations told to you. You didn’t even notice that tears are starting to stream down your eyes. You couldn’t help but to bite onto your fingernails, a thing that you do when you’re anxious — 

“But don’t worry, we can help you. We know how hard it is to understand things, but I hope you understand that your husband is a criminal,” she said to you with a serious tone. 

“How?” you asked, defeated. 

She only became quiet, placing a gun in front of you. 

“So that’s why you have a gun,” Jisung nonchalantly said. Grabbing the gun once again. “Got to give them kudos for giving you an illegal gun too.” 

“Andy…” you muttered. 

“No more ‘love’? I understand,” he chuckles. Jisung turns around and looks at you, who's sitting at the chair.

Jisung couldn’t help but feel guilty for hiding his identity to you. But it was for the best. He was afraid of scaring you off, that you might think of him as a dangerous man. But Jisung knows that his works aren’t ethical either. He also knew how much you would worry about his work and career if you knew. The underground scene is dangerous and illegal, but Jisung finds solace in that place. It’s no different to their government and leaders. At some point, all of them went running through gang members and bosses for illegal activities. 

And to think that the police officer forced you to kill him was hypocritical. They weren’t any different from him. 

“Look, I’m sorry for hiding this from you,” he said sincerely. “I just don’t want you to be involved with my career, it’s risky and I don’t want to put you in any danger.” 

Part of him was afraid that you turned your back on him. He’s afraid of you leaving him after revealing his true identity. He knows how ruthless and cold he can be, and it’s that side of him that he promises to not show to you. 

“And what!? You’ll continue hiding it from me until you die!?” you shouted, but you were only welcomed by Jisung’s hands on your shoulders. 

“No! It’s just — I fucked up. No, my men fucked up,” Jisung tried to explained. “Goddamn, if only they were more careful with their actions, then this wouldn’t happen.”

“What did you do?” you asked slowly, eyes darting at the bloodstained shirt of his. 

“Just a small punishment for being stupid, it’s not your concern,” Jisung smiles. “I went home like this on purpose because I know what’s going to happen.” 

You only became quiet. Jisung glances at the cupboard, and points at it. “I have eyes everywhere love, I got to be sure you’re safe.” 

“So you knew?”

“Always one step ahead from them,” he smirks. “Now love, I’m going to be honest with you.” 

Jisung gently removes his hands from your shoulders and places them on your hands. Something that he does to make you feel safe. “I know that you’re overwhelmed with everything, and you are having a hard time trusting me too. I’m sorry, and as much as I want to explain everything to you, we are running out of time.” 

You only stared at him for a minute. That assured Jisung that you’re listening. “Any minute now, they might return to our place and take it upon themselves if you fail to kill me. Now, they might also do the same with you.” 

“They told me they will not touch me,” you explained. 

“We can’t be sure about that,” Jisung rebutted. “Now, are you with me? Chenle’s waiting for us at the port. A boat going to Hong Kong is waiting for us. We can start new, hide ourselves from the world, and maybe…” he kisses your forehead fondly. “Have kids now. You don’t have to worry about anything, just trust me in this one please yn.” 

You looked at Jisung, and finally, saw the man that you married. The man that you exchanged vows with and promised you to put your safety against any things.

You thought that you were a fool for marrying him early due to the revelations earlier, but you know that your heart is telling you something else. As you caressed Jisung’s cheeks, you couldn’t help but to smile bitterly as you nod. You saw how Jisung’s eyes lightened up and how his hands squeezed your cheeks. 

“I know that you wouldn’t put me in danger, love,” you whispered to him. 

“Of course I won’t. God, I love you so much,” he confesses. Pulling you for another kiss once again. You couldn’t help but to kiss him back. Eager and longing, as if you two haven’t seen each other for a decade. 

“Pack light okay? Just important things that you need, we need to leave before midnight,” Jisung told you as you two broke the kiss.

You only nod, watching him grab your hands once again, gently squeezing it. That’s when you noticed the sudden change of his expression. 

“Where’s your ring?” he asked. 

“Oh! I placed it on my jewelry box —”

“Good,” he said in a serious tone. “From now on, don’t you ever remove it from you.”

[specialagentlokitty]

B99 x reader - slightly twisted

Hello. Can I please request the Brooklyn 99 team X reader? Reader works with them and is very kind and friendly with everyone, but occasionally they would say something that scares everyone (including Rosa) For example, everyone is trying to figure out how to get a suspect in interrogation to talk, and out of the blue (Y/N) says "give me 10 minutes with a car battery, I'll make him talk". - Anon💜

Standing in the conference room, you weren’t really paying much attention to what was going on, but you did slightly pay attention to Rosa and Jake trying to figure out how to get their suspect to talk.

“You’ve already tried annoying him, it didn’t work idiot.” Rosa snapped.

“Well you threatening him didn’t work either!” Jake huffed.

You flicked through your paper work.

“Give me ten minutes with a car battery, I’ll make him talk.”

Rosa and Jake snapped their heads towards you, and you looked at them, giving them the sweetest smile they had ever seen.

Gathering your papers, you happily walked outside and they shared a look.

“They’re twisted…” Jake mumbled.

“Seriously twisted…” Rosa agreed.

You had a quiet personality, but you were ever so sweet, always smiling and willing to do anything to help.

But out of the blue, you would so something so disturbing or terrifying, it put everybody in the precinct on edge.

It wasn’t often you did it, but you always did it at the most unexpected times.

For the next hour you sat at your desk, the you got up to make coffee, walking into the break room where everybody else was sat.

You stared intensely at the coffee pot.

“What’re you doing?” Charles asked.

“Thinking.”

“About what?” He asked.

Everybody shouted at him, and you began to calmly pour your coffee.

“Nobody knows when they’re going to die, unless they’re murdered. Then there is one person who knew the exact time you died at, you wouldn’t even know that you’re dead, you would just be dead. We could all be dead right now.”

You sipped at your coffee, setting your cup on the table you walked to your fridge to get your lunch.

You pulled out two boxes and handed one to Jake before sitting down.

“I want you to speak to a psychiatrist.” Holt said.

You looked at him, tilting your head a little.

“Why?”

“You are very disturbed.”

“He’s right, some of the stuff you say is horrifying.” Terry nodded.

You looked the them all.

“You even scare Rosa.”

You turned to Rosa, and she shrugged a little bit.

“I thought I was disturbed.” She said.

You shrugged a bit, going back to eating your lunch, sharing some of your food for Scully and Hitchcock who were lingering nearby.

You sat inside your own head again.

“I want a burger.” You said.

“Go get one.” Amy said.

“Oh! Let us come!” Scully begged.

You agreed, walking with them to get a burger from around the corner before walking back.

Everybody was standing in the bullpen near the vulture as he tried to take the next case from someone.

“It was funny!” He laughed.

“It was a hearse! Don’t you have any respect?!” Amy snapped.

The man shrugged a little and you sat on your desk to watch them.

“What did he do?”

“I happened to laugh as a hearse went buy holding the victim, it doesn’t mean I don’t sympathise. I just don’t care.”

You took a bite of your burger and stared at the man, and the other looked at you.

“You shouldn’t laugh at something like that.”

“Oh I don’t want your philosophy lecture just give me the damn case.”

You looked back at your food, slapping Jakes hand as he tired to snatch it from you.

“One day you’ll day, and you’ll be in a hearse. You could die tomorrow, and you’ll be thrown in a hole and left to rot, bones turning to dust and bugs calling your body home.”

The whole floor went quiet.

“We all go to the same place when we die, in the ground to be worm food, so I don’t see why you act like you’re better, you’re not. You’re just another walking sack of worm feast.”

The vulture made a gagging noise, and he stepped away from you.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” He asked.

You looked up at him.

Your smile turned into a sickening grin as your stared into his eyes.

“I like scaring people.”

“That’s not hot. I’m gone.”

He quickly left and you went back to eating.

“Disturbing but useful apparently.” Rosa said.

They all looked at you and shuddered a little bit as you began to hum a twisted song under your breath.

You were the most lethal member of the squad, you didn’t need guns to bring someone down, no.

You just needed to talk, and that would be enough to make anyone confess or turn themselves in, just to escape the pure twisted truth that you generally talked about.

You had no filter, no thought process, and an unlimited supply of strange and twisted information

[njdevilsdarling]

the ‘costume thing’ | jack hughes x reader

*pairing: jack hughes x gn!reader

*summary: a simple misunderstanding between you and jack turns into a full-blown argument

*word count: 896

*tags: angst, miscommunication, happy ending

*a/n: goodness gracious, this was supposed to be fluff but it grew into this angsty monster. i hope you enjoy !

happy halloween !!

you’ve been trying to convince jack since september to wear matching costumes this year. jack didn’t agree to do it last halloween so maybe this time, it’d be different, but nope. he still shot down every suggestion. it’s starting to get on your nerves. you’d never force him to do it but it’s hard not to feel jealous seeing all of your friends dressing up with their partners.

and you thought you’d had some pretty good ideas, too. your best friend straight up cackled over facetime when you told them your favorite (the angel and devil thing is so overdone but jack has always looked good in white).

now, it’s two weeks before the 31st and he still hasn’t said anything. he doesn’t even pay attention anymore and you suspect that he isn’t listening whenever you bring it up. it fucking sucks.

at first, it was just annoying- something that was just aggravating enough to get under your skin- but now, it’s starting to hurt.

it’s beyond just a costume. it’s about him ignoring you and not even taking your opinion into consideration.

fine. if he wants to play that way, so can you.

“c’mon, just talk to me.”

you cross your arms and stare at him, shaking your head. oh, now he wants to talk, got it.

“did i like, forget to do something or make you upset?” jack says, sounding genuinely concerned. it’s nice to know he cares but you’ve been paying attention to how long it would take for him to approach you. three days is shitty.

you stand there in silence while he fidgets awkwardly, clearly frustrated by your lack of a response.

“can you please say something?”

you sigh, rolling your eyes. the low simmer of irritation and hurt that’s been under your skin finally boils over and you can’t stop yourself from lashing out at him. “it doesn’t feel very good to be ignored, does it?”

immediate regret sets in as you watch the look in his eyes shift rapidly from sadness to sharply annoyed. “is this still about that costume thing?”

“are you serious?” you scoff, full on glaring at him, “you think that’s why i’m upset?”

“yeah, i guess. i don’t know.”

“i’m upset because you’re not listening to me. every time i try to talk to you, you just brush me off, and that’s if you even care enough to respond,” you snap at him. you feel your eyes begin to burn and it only serves to make you more upset. you’d never considered yourself someone who tries to hide your emotions but fuck, crying over this in front of him is embarrassing. “it’s like you don’t even want to hear what i have to say. and i feel ignored.”

it’s quiet but the silence between the two of you is thunderous. jack opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find what to say. you sniffle, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes. it isn’t fair for you to spill everything you’ve been feeling lately out to him and to him to stay still and speechless. it feels like hours before he finally says anything.

“i’m sorry,” jack mumbles, and it’s so genuine that it’s almost like you have to look up at him. “i should have listened to you.”

you laugh wetly, wrapping your arms around your body. “yeah, you should have. you never even told me why you didn’t want to like, dress up with me.”

“i don’t know why.” he shrugs. at least he looks bashful. “that’s a shitty answer, isn’t it?”

he’s right. it’s a horrible answer but he says it in such a way that makes you giggle, hiding it behind your hand. hearing you laugh causes him to smile.

“i didn’t know you felt like that. i wish i would’ve, though.” jack bites his lip, his hands in his pockets. it sucks, seeing him so dejected, but part of you is glad that he’s taking this so seriously. it’s such a contrast from before; he’s actually, really, listening to you now and it’s damn satisfying. “i don’t like seeing you upset.”

you take a deep breath, nodding slowly. he’s trying. one conversation isn’t going to make everything okay but it’s a start.

“just… i need you to talk to me. fighting like this is stupid. i don’t wanna spend most of our time together arguing,” you say quietly, the last of your tears drying on your face.

jack pulls you into a crushing hug and for a moment, you stand still, before hugging him back just as tightly.

“me too.”

he’s got such a way with words.

jack flicks his headband with a frown and you watch the little halo attached to it wobble.

“quit messing with it,” you hiss, elbowing his arm when he goes to hit it again, “you’re going to break it.”

he pouts, rolling his shoulders back. maybe the wings were a little too much, but he just looks so cute in them. “and why am i the angel again?”

“because,” you say simply, flashing him a grin, “you’re always a devil. it’s my turn now.”

you quickly pull your phone out, using the camera to check if your horns are still on straight. in the top left corner, jack readjusts the wings you ‘forced’ him to wear.

you can’t fucking wait for tonight.

[akoyaxs]

˚༄ Tìyora Pt 5 - Final ༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies w Benefits ༊ 5.6k words Warnings: shit is filthy, rut, oral (m and f recieving), 69, rough sex, p in v, multiple orgasms, angst, fluff at the end because we got to finish it off nice :) ~ I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for all the support throughout this smutty slutty little story, I swear it's so unserious at times and I have a good little giggle writing it, but I couldn't do it without all my pookie pies and this one is for all of you Aonung sluts cause this man is so fine 😻 OKAY ENJOY!!! - Zenna

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

“He’s a complete skxawng,” you growl, stabbing the knife you’re meant to be sharpening harshly into the sand.

“Right,” Tsireya says consolingly, though you suspect if you raise your gaze, you’ll find her rolling her eyes. The two of you are sitting on the beach, doing your various tasks, though it seems more like you're ranting and less like you're actually doing anything.

“I haven’t seen him in a week,” you scowl. “He hasn’t been at training, or anywhere around the village or the bay or even the rest of the reef. And he’s not even hiding in your marui.”

“And how would you know that?” Tsireya asks, a small smile curling her pretty lips.

“Because I checked,” you say bluntly. “Several times. Because I’m bothered that my supposed warrior commander is neglecting his duties. That is all.” Tsireya doesn’t say anything, just pursing her lips and nodding seriously, and your frown deepens. “I’m serious. What sort of leader is he going to be if he’s just sulking around and hiding from-”

“And what would he be sulking about?” your friend counters. “I haven’t seen my brother in a couple days, even after he’s been avoiding you or whatever, if you’re so bothered, why don’t you tell me what happened.”

At that, you pause.

You aren’t even entirely sure what happened. The last time you saw Aonung, which had been over a week ago, he’d caught you with Ta’ru behind the rocks. You had played a little game which ended up with you on your knees, getting the shit rocked and breath knocked flat out of you as he fucked you like he hated you (which, of course, he probably still did).

You had probably just imagined that he’d become less haughty towards you, that he’d been sweet and gentle sometimes instead of his usual taunts and condescending idiocy towards you. But apparently not, because now he’s even worse. You can tolerate fights and comments, Eywa knows you’ve battled off enough of them, but getting cut out and ignored just stings so much more.

No. You don’t care.

It’s not that deep. Why should you care that the most infuriating person you ever met is treating you with the same hatred you’re meant to feel for him.

You shouldn’t care.

But you do, for some inexplicable reason, and as always, your upset comes in the form of anger.

“Hello?” Tsireya snaps you back into reality. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about whatever weird thing is going on between you and my brother, but maybe stop trying to murder the beach?”

“What?” You look down to realise you’d been violently stabbing the sand with your knife, shells shattered at the bottom of the jagged grooves you left behind, loose sand scattered all over you from your unconscious stabbing. “Oh, sorry.” Tsireya grins, and then the rest of her words process in your mind and you straighten up to glare at her. “There’s nothing 'going on' between me and Aonung. He’d be the last per-”

“Oh really?” your friend scoffs. “Yeah, I’m not blind. I’ve never seen Aonung like this before.”

“Like what?” you scowl, but a guilty tone of your curiosity shines through your voice as you study her. But Tsireya just laughs and shakes her head, as though she can’t believe you right now. “Fine,” you snap. “Don’t tell me then. I’ll go find him myself.”

“That’s probably not a great idea,” Tsireya says, scrunching her nose up. “If Aonung doesn’t want to be bothered, everyone knows best than to try and disturb him.”

“Well he can suck it up because I don’t care if he’s some stupid silly prince or some bullshit,” you shrug. “I care that he’s ignoring me, because no one ignores me and gets away with it.”

Tsireya just grins as you stalk away, and you swear you hear her muttering smug, giggly nonsense to herself as she watches your furious, purposeful storming.

You end up in the forest behind the village. You’re not entirely sure why; maybe you’re just too worked up and you need something the least bit similar to home, or maybe you just think better when surrounded by trees instead of sand and sea. Either way, the second your feet hit soft, damp grass and the sunlight is barred by lush shady canopy, your annoyance doesn’t quite dissipate, but at least your body seems to relax in the mere presence of the forest.

You’re just wandering, enjoying the sounds of the birds and allowing the damp, cool scents to roll over you like home, albeit more tropical and sweet than rainforest. Or at least, you think it’s only the sounds of the rainforest wafting through the damp air, until you hear it. Deep, pained, laborious groans. Like someone’s hurting, aching, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

You pause. You could run back and get help, but the groans sound oddly familiar, and you find yourself instantly following them. Through the bushes and trees and shrubs, past thickets of bright flowers and sharp thorns and random animals. They’re growing louder, hungrier, the closer you draw to the source of the sound until you burst into a small clearing, a small woven marui stretched over in a shelter in the centre, blocking the groans from view.

You stalk closer, silently, though you can imagine they could never hear you over their own groans and grunts. Then you’re peeking through the gaps of the weavings and stepping into the hut.

Aonung’s slumped against one side, curled up slightly so you can’t see him properly, and he’s hidden in the shadows anyway. His face looks flushed and frustrated, and there’s a certain darkness around him that has your tail pricking up unconsciously. But when he looks up, when he sees you, his eyes darken further.

“What are you doing here?” he croaks, gritting his teeth, sounding furious.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you snap, crossing your arms in the entrance. “It’s been a week Aonung, where the fuck have you been? Cowering in this little hut doing Eywa knows what?”

Aonung just continues to stare, eyes growing darker and hungrier with every second they rove over your body, and you feel them lingering particularly on the curves and hidden places he knows only too well now.

“You need to leave.”

“What?” you ask, taken aback by the audacity of Aonung. “No.”

“Leave now,” Aonung growls, his voice deep and desperate and dangerous, and you feel a sharp jolt somewhere deep within you, as though your body is recognising something the rest of you cannot.

“What did I tell you about you and your orders?” you say stiffly, glaring at his slumped figure. “I don’t give two flying fucks who you are, you cant-”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he roars, eyes narrowing to pale slits, face contorted with desperate frustration.

“NO!” you shout back with equal ferocity, standing your ground and taking a stubborn step into the marui.

And then it hits you. The scent, the energy, the strangeness of his behaviour and his absence from the village, not just you. It should have been obvious already; the lustful darkness in those usually bright eyes, the heat with which he snarls his words, the sheer frustration surrounding him that was no doubt sharpened by days with only his own company.

“You’re in rut,” you whisper, tilting your head down at him.

Aonung doesn’t reply, just breathing heavily. For a moment you think he’s trying to compose himself to speak, but then you realise that his eyes are squeezed shut, hands gripping himself back with fierce desperation for a reason.

It’s starting to piece together in your mind, but not at all. It makes sense that he would go away from the village, hide away and try to master himself in solitude, but he had you. The thought makes you frown, that he didn’t want you near, that he clearly doesn’t want you near, and he didn’t bother asking for your help.

Aonung’s growing more frustrated the longer you stand there, and you can sense wave after wave of pure, vicious, animalistic desire radiating off him and breaking over you in a way that makes something… change.

“You need to leave,” he whispers, his voice a small plead. The change from his snarls and roars for you to leave makes you shiver, and you can already see himself slipping away, his will cracking under your presence and his last attempts to get you to leave becoming weaker as his hunger conquers him.

But you don’t. Surprising yourself, and definitely him, you step closer again, body feeling strangely shaky, even nervous. His ever-darkening eyes watch your every step, and his grip tightens so hard you see his large hands paling, anchoring himself, stopping himself from moving.

“I thought we were supposed to help each other out,” you say quietly, taking another step closer.

“Please,” he breathes, his voice nothing more than a small whine, and you exhale shakily. He’s a fucking mess, and you find yourself longing to take care of it, living off that hunger he’s trying so hard to hold back. You can see that, and that’s probably why you do it.

Your hand reaches out to lift his face towards yours, fingers trapping his chin in your gaze. He’s obviously struggling, whether to refrain from looking away or trying to hold the stare, you don’t know. And you know is the dark desperation in those eyes, and understanding passes between the two of you.

“I won’t be able to control myself,” Aonung whispers, head unconsciously leaning into your palm, looking so lost and helpless you just want to fuck it all away.

“I know.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says, chest heaving with the cracking efforts to control himself.

“I can take it,” you say quietly, gaze turning defiant. He should know that by now, you have an excellent threshold. Either way, you can’t imagine Aonung ever hurting you badly enough that you’d stay away anyway.

And then he cracks, his restraint crumbling, his grip holding himself back loosening, and he’s crashing his lips onto your with a vicious snarl.

With a small jolt, you remember you never kissed. It was an unspoken rule between the two of you; kissing seemed to intimate, and the arrangement had no room for intimacy. You always told yourself you didn’t have any time for it anyway.

But now, with Aonung tugging you closer with every second, kissing with such desperate fervour, it feels like he’s devouring you whole. His lips are hot and slightly chapped, rough and insatiable against yours, tongue slipping ruthlessly past your lips, fangs sinking lightly down on your warm, kissed skin. His hands are hungry too; roaming all over you with careless abandon, squeezing at the flesh of your ass, trailing between your thighs before infuriatingly pulling away to yank your top straight off your chest.

You let out a small hiss, whether you’re annoyed about the top or just shocked or just plain taken aback by his reckless thirst. The beads go scattering everywhere, the light, joyful plinks sounding completely inappropriate to Aonung’s heaving breaths, or the lewd, mortifying moan you let slip when he hefts you up into his lap and closes his lips around your breast.

You unconsciously arch backwards, pushing your chest forward, and he moves with careless hunger; licking over your tit gently, grinning a little at your whine, the stark contrast of your smooth supple skin against his rough tongue just driving you fucking crazy. He wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks sharply at it before he nips lightly at the underside of your tit.

And then, as though Aonung’s impatience gets the better of him (and you have to remind yourself that this is completely about him, and he wouldn’t be in the right mind to be processing your entire pleasure either), he’s pulling you away and tossing you against the floor.

You aren’t used to it. Sure, he’s been less than gentle before, but when he said he wouldn’t hold back, you admittedly had no idea what you were getting into. Seconds later he’s on top of you, pinning you down and sinking his fangs into your warm neck, inches away from the throb of your pulse.

Another symptom of heats and ruts; marking. It was another thing you’d been careful to avoid, so no one found out you were fucking, but Aonung’s animalistic instincts were obviously overpowering. And besides, it made you feel things you never would have imagined.=

At the first whine of his bite, Aonung knows you like it. So again and again he sinks his sharp fangs into your warm, soft flesh, along your neck, the underside of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the inside of your trembling thighs. Then, eyes looking carefully up at you to see your reaction, he lightly licks away the droplet of blood and brushes your clit with a large turquoise finger. You can't speak, just scrunch your nose tightly, grip onto his braids for dear life as he muscles his way in between your thighs and goes to fucking town.

Everything about him is just too much. His hands are holding you down with the force of an akula, as though he’s worried you’re going to scramble away from him, but you doubt you’d be able to anyway. He’s suckling at you so eagerly, tongue stroking over your hole, over and over and over. 

You’re never really that worried about being too gentle with him either, but you’re finding yourself more free in his rut state, knowing his mind is too hazy to focus on any of the little details he’d usually taunt you for if you dared to do them. He doesn’t care that you’re rutting into his face with desperation to rival his, in fact, you can see his hips searching for any sort of friction with the floor.

“Aonung,” you try to say, but it comes out as more of a broken whine. You cough and try again. “Aonung!”

He doesn’t respond, the only indicator he even heard you was the slight twitch of his ears before he’s sliding a thick finger into you. Trying your best to beat off the lewd moans that spill out of you, you try your best to tug at his head to speak to him, cause there’s no fucking way he’s listening properly when his head is nestled in its favourite spot, squeezed tightly between your thighs.

“I’m supposed to be helping you,” you huff, growing frustrated with the effort to slow him down. “That’s sort of the whole po-”

You cut yourself off with a positive shriek when he’s flipping you over, letting you flop against his front before dragging you up his body so your cunt is hovering over his face, thighs once again straddling the sides of his head in a very different scenario.

“Better?” he grunts, sounding extremely irritated.

“Where did you learn this?” you ask, looking in shock at the insatiable man beneath you, growing suddenly familiar with this position when your gaze drops to where it naturally falls, at the very large tent in his tewng. Aonung just huffs, as though growing increasingly annoyed that you keep delaying him.

“Don’t worry about that,” he growls. “You want to help me, go ahead. Now can I finish you off or are you going to keep yapping like your life depends on it?”

You scoff, but before your next words can be spoken, he drops you down onto his face and sucks at your clit. Hard. You let out a shocked squeak, jolting on his face, but he doesn’t protest at all by your weight, and when you worry you might suffocate him and try to lift off, his arm is looping around your waist and forcing you back down before remembering what you’re meant to be doing.

You reach out to grab his length, and he lets out a soft huff of impatience against you, the vibration making you flutter. Quickly, before you can get distracted to the point you’re completely useless to help him, you lick a long stripe up his length before closing your lips and swirling your tongue around the tip.

Thankfully, he seems somewhat satiated, letting out a relieved groan against your throbbing clit, and you slowly bob your head up and down his length, curling your tongue on the underside, dragging warmly against his sensitive flesh. But unfortunately, you forgot to factor in the rut aspect.

Soon enough, he was thrusting mindless up into your mouth, hand reaching out to hold you there, force you to take it all down your throat. You oblige, tears leaking from your eyes, moans spilling around his length in your mouth from his relentless nipping and sucking and licking between your thighs.

It is, by far, the filthiest thing you’ve ever done. You almost feel ashamed of all of it – the lewd sounds you make, the mortifying wet sounds from Aonung between your legs, his strong abs rubbing against your naked tits as he ruthlessly thrusts up into your mouth – but you remind yourself that it’s all for a noble purpose. You’re helping him out, that’s all. That is all it ever is.

And when you inhale deeply and take him down your throat, all warm and wet and hot around him, Aonung finds his hand falling to sink into your long dark hair, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a soft, rumbly, “fuck”.

And when he hits the back of your throat and you accidentally moan around his length, his hips accidentally buck into your mouth despite all his best efforts to compose himself, despite your small hand holding him back against the rock. Instantly your eyes fill with tears and Aonung hurriedly pulls you off him with a gentle grip on your hair.

He seems larger than ever, pulsing and swollen and obscene, driven mad and inconsolable with the animalistic desire consuming him, and you know he’s probably completely deaf to you. He pays no mind to the small sobs you let out against his length, though he remains determinedly focused in his task of sucking your soul out of your cunt.

You can’t tell if your lightheadedness is caused by the lack of air from Aonung being stuffed so far down your throat you can imagine he’s prodding your heart, or the overwhelming pleasure from his far less than gentle treatment between your legs, or maybe even both.

It’s filthy. It’s obscene. It’s fucking humiliating really, that there is just something so deliciously wrong with this situation. Oh god, Tsireya probably knew Aonung was in rut, probably knew what would happen, what’s going on right now in this hidden hut in the forest. You can’t even bring yourself to care.

Aonung’s practically leaking into your mouth and you continue, trying helplessly to keep up with his insatiable paces, but you’re growing further from focus the longer he continues, the harder he sucks at you, the further he pushes himself into your throat.

It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s hot. It’s a warm mix of saliva and precum that’s shining over your lips and mingling with the tears flooding shamelessly down your cheeks.

And when you come undone, it’s with a moan that’s positively obscene. Aonung’s a mess of strangled groans and bucking hips and hands sinking into your hair as he hungrily crests. Your tongue slides along the veins and ridges of his cock.

There is something just so perfectly fucked about the scene, and when you come back down, tears and come and saliva smeared all over your face and collar and tits, Aonung is still hard, and when he pulls you back down to his face, you realise he has no intention of letting up anytime soon.

Your first orgasm has barely abated before you feel it building again. It’s humiliating really, all your sounds and the way Aonung can definitely feel you practically throbbing. It’s overwhelming to the point you think you might actually die, but there’s no physical possibility you could pull away, not with his arm looped strictly around your waist to hold you still.

It’s hot in the hut, or maybe it isn’t, but you feel as though there’s fucking fire coursing through your veins, heating your face and definitely between your thighs. It seems impossible how much you like this, it’s fucked and filthy as well, but there’s something about Aonung’s insatiable hunger and his plain, shameless desperation.

Your moans are growing hoarser at his absolutely relentless movements, warm, textured tongue and slicked mouth sealing around your overstimulated, throbbing clit as his hands move to squeeze the flesh of your waist and hips and ass. You’re writhing against him with enough force to break his nose, but he’s just groaning right back as though this is helping as much as anything in his frustrated rut.

It’s too much, and it feels as though you might actually pass out on this once. Humiliatingly, yet somehow shamelessly, you’re begging for more, for less, to stop, to keep going. It’s slowly slurring into a sobbing mess until finally all that comes out of your mouth are lewd, strangled cries. You think that somewhere amidst that strangled heap of moans that his name is repeated, over and over again, his body tensing under you with every time you whine it, followed by a demeaning flood of incoherent sobbing.

And then it crests.

Somewhere in the middle of your euphoric, delirious vision of blank, tranquil white and the peaceful ringing in your ears, it strikes you that it really is like a wave. Because when it breaks, you fucking flood.

Your muscles are tensed so tight you might pull something, and you couldn’t care less. You can’t feel anything anyway, beyond blow after blow of overwhelming, world-shattering pleasure, completely unaware of the way you squirted beyond his mouth, over his whole face and body, your intense release gleaming with the tahnì over his flushed skin.

You babble incoherently for a moment, eyes wide and drooping at the same time, mouth open in hopeless shock, hands searching to find purpose on his hips before Aonung is lifting you up, chucking you back against the floor and crawling onto your trembling body.

If you thought the regular Aonung, your Aonung, had gone before, you have no idea what’s happening now. There is no trace of that taunting, careful, jealous, gentle man in those large blue eyes. Hell, there’s not even any blue either, just a starved icy ring around the pools of ravenous onyx gazing at you, filled with raw thirst.

There’s no sign of Aonung in any of his movements, not with the way he’s tugging you into him like you’re a fucking ragdoll, not with the heaviness of his breath, the way he claps you against him so he can sink his fangs into your shoulder as he pushes past the ring of resistance and slides into your tight, welcoming heat.

Your cry is strangled by the dryness of your throat, feeling yourself being stretched to a point you don’t think he ever even met before. It’s painful, but you find yourself not wanting anything more than being able to take him, to be able to bring him pleasure, to let him into his paradise between your legs.

This now is a brutal reminder of why you’re here, who all of this is about. Aonung radiates complete careless selfishness as he pushes deep into you, until you physically can’t take him anymore, until you’re sobbing against his shining chest, gripping his arms so tight his flesh is starting to bruise, before he pulls out and slams back in. Fuck.

You don’t know shit, where you are, what way’s up, even if you’re fucking na’vi or tawtute, because the stretch of his relentless length feels as though he’s absolutely ridiculously massive compared to you. All you can do is cling to his tense, growling figure, praying to Eywa that this is satiating him, your own body limp in his iron grip.

Your lolling head allows him perfect placement to your neck and shoulders and chest, where he litters you with hungry nips, warm, wet, textured tongue licking away the blood his fangs spilt. Your own hands can’t do much either, but when your nails dig into his back, he lets out a low, snarling groan against your skin, and you can’t help raking you hands up and down, tracing your mark into the rippling muscles under your fingers.

And when you think you might actually pass away, where the pleasure has peaked so high it might as well be in the fucking heaven tawtute talk about, Aonung pulls out to the tip, fingers lacing back to tug your kuru, neck completely exposed and throat tight with the stretch, and gaze trapped helplessly in his.

“You’re mine,” he snarls, face inches from yours, large eyes deluged in sharp ferocity. “Mine, forest girl.”

And you find you can’t do anything but whine weakly against him. You can hardly breathe in this position, feeling impossibly empty without him stuffed deep in you, yet still being stretched wide by him. His gaze is raking fiercely over your tear-streaked, flushed face, before he buries himself deep inside you once more and completely loses himself.

And you do lose yourself. You just blank out, knowing nothing but his weight against you, his lewd growls in your heart, feeling strangely safe and comfortable. And content.

When you come back, whether seconds or minutes or hours or maybe even days have passed, you don’t know. All you know is you’re slumped against the floor, and you’re no longer drenched in shining sweat, no longer glimmering with release over your skin. The bites scattering your body are throbbing with a warm sting, no longer bleeding, now ruby adornments to your skin.

There is nothing more distressing than the realisation that hits you next; that you’re alone.

With a flare of panic that makes all of you throb painfully, you creak up to a small, seated position. It stings more than the bites, than the stretch and the intensity of your releases. Aonung must have left you, used and littered, a helpful toy during his rut. The wound deepens when you remember that’s all he would have thought it was.

He had no idea - let alone his mind being in its animalistic, desirous state - simply believing you were here to aid him in his struggles.

But then something catches your eye, a dark, muscular pile in the corner of the hut. With terrified tentativity, you pad lightly over to Aonung’s slumped form, back turned to you, face buried in his lap. You can see the marks you raked into his back as you move closer, but you don’t dare to touch him.

“Aonung?” you whisper nervously. He doesn’t respond for a moment, and the tension curling inside you throbs painfully again. He doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t look at you. “Are you…”

“You should go,” he says tightly. His voice sounds strained, painful, but his words sting further than any ache he could be possibly feeling. You still, hands half reached towards him, face twisted in a helpless expression of hurt, trying your best to breathe. You have no idea why you feel so vulnerable right now, why he suddenly has the power to break everything within you, everything you know, and why he’s already halfway there.

“What?” you whisper, and despite all your best efforts, your small, trembling voice expresses all the ache and horror and heartache you tried to hide. Aonung’s muscles tense a little at the so painfully obvious brokenness of your voice, and you would give anything to see what his face looks like right now, as he ruins you.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

That’s all. No name. No explanation. Just two meaningless words tossed carelessly your way, like some twisted reparation for all the damage his last three words did. You bite your lip, feeling your eyes welling with tears.

WHY WERE YOU SO FUCKING STUPID. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU RIGHT NOW.

This is Aonung, the man you hated since the moment you landed in Awa’atlu, the same one just a week before you had practically at your fucking feet. The one you swore you’d never feel this way about. But now here you are, already breaking at his carelessness.

WHY ARE YOU SO WEAK.

The tears stinging your eyes disgust you. Since childhood you had never cried. Not when protecting your siblings, not when getting shot by demons, not when leaving your clan and birthright and all you had ever known. And now you are about to cry over a fucking man, one that you tried so impossibly hard not to care for.

FUCK HIM.

“Fuck you.”

The words are out, they are spoken. Not with quite the ferocity you meant to snarl them with, but the brokenness of your voice had a certain effect too. Aonung tenses, but that just sparks the usual fire inside you. He had no fucking right to be upset right now.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice steadily emotionless, and that fire blazes brighter.

“Don’t be,” you glare. “I mean, the perfect prince of the clan does no wrong, right?”

“I’m sor-”

“Stop!” you shout, rage boiling inside of you. “Stop fucking saying that Aonung. I mean, this was the arrangement, right? Careless sex, no strings, no attachment, no concern, fucking NOTHING.”

Aonung’s shoulders slump slightly, and once again, your annoyance flares that he still won’t face you.

“So what was all that shit about your mine if you’re just going to kick me out now,” you say rawly. “Was it just your rut? Are you just a weirdly jealous fucking man, getting mad when people touch shit that isn’t actually yours? Why are you so fucking angry-”

“Look at yourself!” Aonung explodes.

It takes you a moment to realise that he’s suddenly standing, towering over you, fists balled and whole body tense, face twisted in rage and disgust. With himself.

You can’t think of anything to say for a moment, tense, furious silence falling in the dangerously small space between the two of you.

“I mean, you’re hurt,” he says, eyes raking over your body. The bites are glowing against the dark, rich blue like sanguine crescents. Your skin looks raw and flushed still, and you realise that he must have wiped everything off you. “You’re ruined.”

“Aonung I-”

“And I did that to you,” Aonung sighs, face twisting in slight distress as his eyes fall over the bites and grips and few bruises he left over you. You let out the breath you’d been holding.

Aonung’s gaze flicks up to yours, emotionless and blank as you stare back at him. There’s terror in his eyes, which are slowly returning to their usual blue, pupils shrinking away as the animalism of his rut starts to pass. He’s worried, maybe you’ll slap him, or shout at him again. But your hand comes to rest gently on his face, thumb brushing lightly over his flushed cheek.

“I told you Aonung, I can take it.”

Aonung squeezes his eyes shut, face screwed up in overwhelming emotion. But his head unconsciously leans into your hand, and you smile slightly.

“But I hurt you,” he whispers, sounding disgusted with himself.

“You’ll have to try harder than that skxawng,” you smile weakly, and Aonung lets out a shaky laugh. “But I was more than happy to do what it took to help you.”

“Eywa,” he groans, his own hand coming up to brush your hair from your face. “I’m so sor-”

“Stop apologising skxawng,” you frown. “Or I’m actually going to leave.”

Instantly, Aonung’s hand closes around your own, his fingers lacing through yours and tugging you back, so you’re inches away from him, neck tipped back to look at him. There’s that usual grin playing around his face; although his face remains blank, you can see the smirk glittering in those eyes.

“Go on princess,” he whispers. “What were you saying, before I so rudely interrupted you?”

“That you’re a complete idiot,” you grumble, but you don’t let go of him. You don’t want to ever let go of him. “What did you mean before, about me being-”

“Mine,” Aonung finishes. “You’re mine.”

And you feel a small smile twitching at the corner of your lips.

“Alright,” you smile, blinking up at him.

“Alright?” he echoes, as though that wasn’t at all the answer he was expecting, what he dared to hope for.

“Yep. I’m yours, fishlips.”

There’s a brief moment where he’s silent, eyes wide and staring blankly at you. He blinks several times, lips parting, before he’s stepping in and wrapping his arms tight over you, pillowing your body in his own. After a moment, you lean in even closer and snake your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I still think you’re a skxawng,” you mumble against his skin, and his laugh rumbles warm and comforting against you.

“Of course syulang,” Aonung grins, squeezing your waist lightly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stay in that embrace for a moment, before he realises just how tired you are, and then he’s instantly fussing about you, making sure you’re alright, that you don’t need anything, before he’s making you rest against him, cuddled warmly and comfortably on the floor.

His hand is resting lightly over you, lightly tracing your darker patterns or gently playing with your hair as you drift comfortably off, head resting comfortably against his solid chest. You can feel his warm heartbeat against your cheek, steady and reassuring.

When you wake up, he’ll be waiting to be able to hold you tighter without being scared of waking you up, having already gone out and hunted while you were sleeping. He’ll take you gently back to the village where you both deny any of the suspicious comments your friends and family shoot you, but no one believes you; the hopeless grins on your faces and the sly grins you send each other aren’t all that sneaky.

But for now, you’re warm and comfortable and happy in your fucked out, satisfied state, snuggled against the man you once hated so fiercely.

As far as it goes, you came out alright on this one.

Quite the victory it was.

Your tìyora.

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

༊ Taglist: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul - Thank you for being here and enjoying this story 💗 Also tagging @pandoraslxna @pandorxxx @hotdsworld @tojisun @xylianasblog @aperiraa @blue-slxt @theblueflower05 and @vivid-ink bc you are all my biggest inspirations and thank you for being such a big part of the avatar fandom 😘 Okay let me know if i forgot someone hope you pookie pies enjoyed 🙃

[abiiors]

sfw alphabet ❣️ // matty healy x reader

a/n: there is one story in here that is based on true events from my life hehehe. also while we're here i'd like to say that i tried veryyyy hard to keep it strictly sfw but some innuendos did slip through lol cw: mostly fluff, very brief mentions of addiction. brief mentions of morning sickness, some angst but it's very tame overall wc: 5.6k

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

matty’s like if you fed a stray cat that one time five months ago—meaning, he’s going to be the most affectionate person ever if you show him even one act of kindness. it doesn’t matter what your relationship to him is, it’s just a given at this point that if you’re close to him, he’s going to go above and beyond for you. 

you get your first taste of it when you show up to his house, on the verge of tears and a panic attack from the stress of an upcoming deadline. it’s three weeks into dating, you’re barely even sure if you should be bothering him with your silly little problems (even though later he would scold you for calling them silly little problems). 

matty opens the door, takes one look at your face, and instantly pull you into a hug. 

“oh, darling, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of concern and you suspect there’s a giant frown on his face. 

“everything!”

a little giggle slips out of him and he has to press his mouth shut when you look up at him with a betrayed pout. 

“everything? hmm, we gotta do something about that then, don’t we?”

and then that’s exactly what he does. 

“should we light a fire?” matty asks once he’s got you a glass of wine (your favourite that he found out about and now always keeps on hand) “you love a good fire.”

“and we can read together?”

“anything you want, baby!”

and even though his face twists into an expression of instant regret as soon as he says it, matty still proceeds to make a fire while you set up blankets and pillows on the sofa. he knows exactly what’s coming though (no seriously, he fondly likes to call your kindle unlimited subscription the bane of his existence)

still, twenty minutes later, snuggled up next to you and cringing through every bad sex scene, he can’t complain. not when he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck and hear you laugh at his reactions.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

loyal to a fault!!!

you can pinpoint the actual date the two of you became friends—years and years and years ago, practically decades at this point, at the ripe old age of fourteen, you got into your first fight. 

you can’t remember how the fight started or who it was with. all you know if there were a few words, someone pulling your hair and the next thing you know, you were on the ground, trying to hit any vulnerable spot you could find. 

the memories after that are fuzzy—you, school uniform undone, dried blood on your split lip, toeing the grass outside your school and trying not to look nervous. what if some teacher saw it? 

you didn’t throw the first punch! what if—

“you look like you could use a fag!” a voice cuts through. it’s a boy you’ve sometimes seen around school. black hair (awfully straightened), a unibrow, thick black glasses, always surrounded by the same three boys. 

“i don’t smoke,” you counter and go back to torturing the poor grass. 

“i didn’t ask if you smoked, just said you look like you could use one.”

what. a. fucking. twat!

still, you aren’t much in the mood for an argument. “don’t wanna get in trouble.”

the boy shrugs. “you’re already in trouble, mate. but whatever.”

he’s about to leave when you grab his arm. “no wait. why are you being nice to me?”

at that, he grins. “are you joking? we all saw what you did to sam! biggest fucking bully in class and you looked like a badass putting him in his place.”

“wait, really? you really think that?” 

“ask george,” (you don’t know who george is) “or ross or adam,” (you don’t know who they are either) “we all think you’re fucking cool.”

that makes you smile too. you hiss quickly though, smiling with a split lip hurts but he extends the cigarette to you once again. 

and this time, you accept it gladly.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

clingiest man in the whole wide world!!! he has to be attached to you at all times otherwise he’s gonna have that horrendously sad little pout on his face all day. 

if you’re just at home, watching something on tv then his head is on your boobs (or in your lap but boobs is preferred though) while you play with his hair. every once in a while he nuzzles his face between them and says something that suspiciously sounds like “comfy”

he’s cute though! and it’s not always sexual. you love the fact that he feels so much adoration for you. 

if you’re in bed though, you end up being the little spoon because he absolutely loves to flop on you and cover you with his entire body. he’s deliciously warm and smells so incredible (and he smells like home to you). you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve fallen asleep like that—with his face buried in your neck, his stubble scratching the skin. and even when his arm falls asleep, he won’t make you move your head at the risk of waking you up.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he is a brilliant house-husband (and that’s a title he’s claimed on his own).

“no, go sit down babe, let me take care of that for you” or “let me cook for you tonight” or “should i do the laundry while you finish your movie?” are definitely regular matty sentences arround the house. 

the few weeks when he’s just gotten back from a tour and wants to do nothing but sleep all day long are probably the only time you do all the chores while he’s also in the house. he does get huffy when he realises you didn’t wake him up and ask for help.

“i could’ve hoovered,” he pouts but it melts away quickly when you pull him into a kiss. 

“i know you could have, love, but you looked so peaceful sleeping i didn’t wanna bother you!”

he isn’t very happy about that but he silently vows to stay up and help you the next time.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he doesn’t want to let go no matter how much the relationship deteriorates. he knows he can fix this and turn back time and bring back the spark. he knows the weekly fights are just a phase, he knows you love him so much! 

deep down, he also knows he’s delusional.

you’re sleeping in two different rooms again, you in the guest bedroom, and he’s in your cold, empty bed. and there’s no way he can sleep that night judging by all the tossing and turning he’s done so far. your latest fight echoes in his head—all the nasty things he said, all the vile things you responded with. 

just fuck off then, and don’t bother me again! those were your last words of the night before you slammed the door shut and the loud, defining thud echoed through the whole house. 

when morning finally arrives, he knows he has to do it. 

he knows he owes you at least this much. to break it off with dignity. to salvage whatever shreds of friendship and love that remain between you. 

“we need to talk,” he says as soon as you enter the kitchen, eyes swollen and red and surrounded by bags. lips dry and chapped. 

still, you nod. and matty extends you a steaming mug of coffee for the last time.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he is so down to commit! 

he’s started planning a proposal like a year into the relationship. he hasn’t bought the ring yet or anything! in fact, he’s not going to buy a ring at all. not when he plans on giving you his grandmother’s precious ring that she wore every single day until the day she died. 

however, he knows the timing's not right. you’re both so busy and you’ve just started a new job. he has a few more tours coming up for the next two years. and well, he has his best friend’s wedding coming up soon, he’s not about to be the dickhead that proposes at someone else’s wedding. 

so matty keeps the proposal contained to his day dreams. 

he knows it’s going to be at home (he knows how much you despise public proposals) and he knows it’s going to be during the golden hour when you cuddle into him like a sleepy cat. he loves this routine—you, sleepy and gasping for a nap, plopping onto him when he’s just doing his own thing in the living room. 

he loves how content you look in the dying light of the sun. how happy and beautiful and utterly perfect. 

and matty knows, when he eventually gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, that’s when it’s going to have to be!

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so incredibly gentle!

you can’t remember a single time matty’s ever raised his voice at you. he used to be your pretty, dainty boy but he’s started working out now and he’s got muscles (which you find extremely hot. he’s also got a cute little bubble butt that you love to slap). it’s not that he’s unaware of his own strength but now he puts extra effort in being gentler if you two ever get into a play fight. 

he makes sure to never fully pin you down (unless you ask for it 👀) or put his whole weight on you. 

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves them on most days. 

his hugs are always the absolute best! it’s like being surrounded by all things matty—his cologne and aftershave, his arms, the softness of his shirt and the feel of his chin on top of your head. you think a hug from matty is the closest you’ll ever come to having a universal cure for every ailment ever. 

on some days he gets quite overstimulated though. you can see it on his face when every single sensation becomes a bit too much and as much as you want to bundle him up, you try to give him his space. to let him calm down a bit. you can always just sit there and hold his hand if that’s all the touch he can bear for the moment. 

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

one month in, completely on accident!

you’re sick with the bubonic plague (a cold) and rotting in bed, surrounded by used tissues, half-empty cups of lemsip, and your trusty little comfort plush. matty’s in full nurse mode, despite you telling him that it’s nothing, you’ll be fine if he left. 

it’s only when george calls him for something work related that he relents. 

“let me check your fever one last time before i go,” he insists and you roll your eyes. but you have no other choice but to give in. it’s a 100 degrees, exactly what it was an hour ago. not too bad at all, but matty frowns. 

“i’ll be back in a few hours, darling, you have to promise to call me if you need anything okay?”

“i will!” you croak out and wince when your throat protests. “now go.”

he holds his hands up in surrender and bends down to press a kiss on your head. 

“don’t wanna get you sick matty,” you try to protest weakly but even then you know it’s useless. he’s going to do whatever he wants. 

“go to sleep now,” he says, “i’ll see you soon. i love you!” and then he leaves. 

ten minutes later, when it finally registers in your fever addled brain, your entire body goes cold. did he—

did you hear it right? no… it’s just the fever right? you’re sick! that must be it. 

little do you know, matty had to sit down outside your room for a good two minutes before he could leave the house. and now that he’s in the studio, distractedly working on producing a track, he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he used to get soooo jealous back when you were “just friends”! (he still is, he just thinks he hides it better)

the first time you really clock it is when you bring a friend to one of their shows. you know sean’s been a fan of theirs for a bit and frankly, you’re quite excited about introducing him to the band. 

matty, however, is as far away from excitement as one can get. 

he tries to mask his unease, and greets you with a forced smile. “heard you were our special guest, mate,” he nods in sean’s direction and puts his arm around your waist. “hope you enjoyed the show?”

if sean finds any of it weird, he doesn’t say it. he’s smiles bashfully and gushes about how much fun it’s been. you, on the other hand…

“matty…?” you say as soon as you get a moment alone with him. 

he’s outside smoking a cigarette staring off into the distance. his jaw looks sharper than it usually does, his lips are pursed in a straight line. you take a deep breath, contemplating whether to address the obvious tension or let it slide. the distant city lights flicker in the background as you approach him, and he finally turns his attention towards you, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"alright?" your tone is a mix of concern and curiosity. when his eyes meet yours, for a moment, it feels like he's searching for the right words.

he shrugs, attempting a nonchalant smile. but you can see through it. so you fold your arms, giving him a knowing look.

matty sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. he leans against the venue's brick wall, avoiding direct eye contact. “thought we were going out for drinks later. just us two you know?”

ahhhh. so that’s what it is. 

a tiny tendril of something shoots through your stomach, does something funny to your entire body. 

“we are,” you try to stifle a smile. “do you not want to anymore?”

“what? no!” matty sputters, “i mean, yes! of course, i want to get drinks with you, i just thought…”

“you just thought?”

“well you brought a… friend.”

it becomes almost impossible to hide a smile then, and matty narrows his eyes. “you’re laughing at me,” he accuses and narrows his eyes further when you burst into a fit of giggles. 

“he’s going home in a bit,” you manage to recover a bit. “you’re stuck with just me i’m afraid.”

that makes matty shake his head and you can finally see a tiny smile peaking through. 

“just you… hmm,” he teases. “guess i’ll have to make do with that.”

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses always leave you a little breathless. 

it doesn’t matter if it’s your first kiss of the day or if he’s been particularly affectionate or if he’s kissed you all over the face—you somehow always end up giggling like a teenager with a crush with your head spinning slightly.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

so good, it gives you immense baby fever for the next few weeks. 

it’s three months into your relationship when his mum insists you spend christmas with their family and you agree to it happily!

his entire family is there! his mum and step-father, his brother and his girlfriend, his dad, his step-brother who’s just had a baby. and that’s the moment you know you’re about to suffer from raging baby fever. 

the whole weekend matty is absolutely adorable with the baby. you see him offer to take care of her and feed and change her, you see him making her laugh and smile, but it’s when you see him singing her to sleep, that’s when you truly lose it. 

matty doesn’t even know you’re watching him, he's completely immersed in singing his own rendition of you are my sunshine while the baby stares at him with sleepy eyes. but it almost makes you weep when she clutches his finger in her tiny hand and starts to dose off. 

the image lingers in the forefront of your mind even when you’re trying to sleep, being spooned by matty and under a cosy duvet. so much so that you have to turn around and bury your face in his chest to stop yourself from squealing at the cuteness. 

he’s long asleep by then though. all he does is tighten his hold around you and you’re left to dream of a tiny baby with your eyes and matty’s curls. 

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

when you’re not getting off to… other things… mornings are usually very calm and chill. more often than not, one of you wakes the other with a steaming mug of coffee. if it’s a busy day and you don’t have much time to be lazy and cuddly, you just chat about your plans for the day while having coffee and some breakfast. 

if it is a lazy day, however, breakfast usually turns into brunch in bed, followed by a nice, long bath full of bubbles!

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights are just as sweet and way more cuddly. 

both of you have a little ritual of reading in bed before going to sleep if you aren’t… otherwise occupied. still, he loves to just sit there and listen to you talk about your day or your work in general. 

it always makes you laugh how excited he gets about any work gossip you might have for him. 

overall, your nights together are so relaxing and sweet and genuinely make you appreciate him so much more.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

in all fairness you knew much more about matty than he knew about you. he’s always been so open about his friendships and music and all his struggles, still, you knew hearing it from him first hand was going to be different. and you also expected it to take some time. 

he doesn’t reveal it all at once though, he thinks he’s trying to make it more palatable for you if he talks about stuff bit by bit. 

you’re special to him. he doesn’t want to scare you away by trauma dumping outright! it takes him a bit to open up completely, even when you show him nothing but support. but the more he shares with you, the deeper he falls in love. the more it becomes clear to him that you’re here to stay. 

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

anger isn’t the right word for it really! mostly he just gets annoyed sometimes—like a sweet little toddler with his cheeks puffed up it’s almost funny if it wasn’t so downright adorable. he can’t stay annoyed though! one kiss from you (even though it’s usually multiple in quick succession. a strategic attack really!) his annoyance melts away like butter on toast.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

matty’s like a walking encyclopaedia for trivia related to you and your relationship! he might not remember what he ate for dinner the night before, but he remembers exactly what earrings you wore for your music awards with him.

you do cheekily quiz him sometimes, and matty just smirks like an insufferable twat. “you can try all you want, love, you can’t best me at this game.” he grins. 

“oh yeah? that’s a lot of cockiness healy!”

“go on then, quiz me!” he challenges and you smirk back. 

“what did i say before i kissed you for the first time? four years ago that is! i need it verbatim, babe.”

for a moment he looks speechless and the smile on your face widens. it was four years ago after all. you’ve had infinite kisses since then, there’s no way he remembers. definitely not verbatim. 

matty stalks closer. “you said…” he drawls between one long stride and the next and then he’s right there in front of you, mouth hovering over yours. so close your lips are almost touching. the air between you two feels charged with lightning. 

“you said, you wanted to do this, and i quote ‘since the first time you fixed my smudged lipstick with your thumb’.” and before you have the chance to even react, he’s crashing his mouth on yours, smiling against your lips.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

it’s been fondly dubbed as “the mayhem disaster”. 

one morning you hear matty go, “no, no, no, mayhem!” you put your book aside, and sit up to listen the curses that follow. 

“everything alright?” you call out, confused and curious. 

“babe, can you come here a sec?” he responds, making you groan into your cosy cocoon you'd made for yourself. it rained all night before, and now the weather’s just the perfect combination of gloomy and cosy—perfect to cuddle with your boyfriend all day. 

which is what you had been doing until ten minutes ago when matty had to get up to let mayhem out into the backyard. 

you turn the corner into the living room only to freeze in your tracks and slap your hand on your mouth, still failing to stifle the loud gasp that leaves you. 

in front of you sits matty, on the floor, his head in his hands and next to him stands mayhem. except his gorgeous black fur is now fully covered and matted with mud

behind him, you can see muddy tracks and stray leaves he's brought in. 

“oh no…” you don’t know if you should laugh or cry at the scene in front of you. 

“baby…” you coo softly, both at matty and mayhem, “what happened?”

“he ran straight for a puddle the second i let him out, didn’t you, you twat?” he scolds the pup making you tsk. 

that makes him laugh though. shaking his head, matty gets off the floor. 

“well, come on you, straight to the bathroom,” he points a finger in the vague direction. 

when the two of you finally manage to get him in the tub, matty starts running a bath while you rummage through the cabinet for pet shampoo. 

“be a good boy now,” you scratch mayhem behind his ear, grimacing at the mud that’s now under your fingernails. 

you crouch down to his level, softly grabbing his face and about to start cleaning. but of course, he takes it as an invitation to play and begins nuzzling you with his head, trying to climb on you. 

matty laughs, making absolutely no move to help you. mayhem, covered in mud, tries to climb on you as you try to set him back into the tub gently. but it’s far too late, you’re already covered in mud.

“fuck! my favourite t-shirt!” you whine, looking down at yourself in despair. 

“it’s not even yours,” matty laughs while you scowl at him. “besides,” he waggles his eyebrows, “you can always take it off.”

“pervert,” you laugh at him and then proceed to take it off in one fluid motion and chuck it at his face. 

your eyes widen when the t-shirt slides off his face, leaving a perfectly round muddy mark on his cheek.

“you got mud on my face, didn’t you?” he dips a hand in the tub and you know what’s coming. “didn’t you?!” he asks again before splashing a handful of water on you. 

you squeal as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer, rubbing his cheek against your face, neck, chest. 

“matty!” you laugh, trying to get away from him but he holds on tight. “get her, mayhem, get her,’ he giggles and the puppy covers you in wet kisses once again.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s always been protective of you, especially when you’re in public. he doesn’t have to worry about the fans being rude or agressive, but the same can’t be said about random photographers and tabloids.

you thought you knew the extent of his protectiveness. all of that changed the moment you found out you were expecting. 

you thought you knew his mother hen tendencies inside and out, turns out you were absolutely dead wrong! matty hovers. so. much. 

he’s there, holding your hair every time you find yourself throwing up. he’s there cancelling on appointments and on the boys on days he deems the morning sickness “too serious”. most of all, he won’t let you go up or down the stairs alone. at all. 

“i’m pregnant, matty, not an invalid!” you whine one evening when you feel him hovering behind you as you make your way up the stairs. 

“i know,” he drags it out as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i’m just making extra sure.”

your eye twitches. “making sure of what? that the stair monster doesn’t get me?”

you kow he’s rolling his eyes without being able to see his face. “alright, smartarse. i meant more if you got dizzy halfway up or down the stairs.”

“i’ll sit down!”

he hmphs, completely dismissing that logic. 

“baby, the stairs have a railing for a reason!”

he hmphs again. “didn’t know it was a crime to make sure my girls were safe!”

that makes you sigh. this is a petty squabble—it’s not your first, it certainly won’t be your last. once you reach the top of the stairs, you turn to face him with another long sigh. “look, baby, i appreciate the concern, but i'm not made of glass. i can handle a flight of stairs without a chaperone.”

“indulge me, okay! we can have this argument every time, or you can just ignore my presence when you’re going up or down the stairs. either way, i’m going to hover.”

“matty!”

but you know it’s useless. besides, his stubbornness is almost endearing. and between that and the pampering that comes with the protectiveness, you might as well just give up your stance now… 

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts in so much thought! it has been like this since date one—since he made sure to accommodate your likes and dislikes and food preferences in finding the perfect place to eat. even after all these years, he takes his time to plan out everything. even if it’s just an at home pamper day for you while he does all the chores. 

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

it’s a low hanging fruit but… the excessive smoking annoys you sometimes. especially because his voice is his job. you’ve told him multiple times to tone it down a little and it’s not like he doesn’t listen. it just… doesn’t always stick.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

depends on where he has to go and what the occasion is. he’ll be dressed to the nines if he has to accompany you to a party or an event but usually he’s fine being in soft comfy clothes that keep him cosy 

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes! 

this literally needs zero explanation. 

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

pots and pans clatter; great, banging sounds first thing in the morning in an otherwise serene kitchen. it wouldn’t be like this, not really but you’re both incredibly sleepy. two figures, one tall and hunched over, the other smaller, softer. cuddled into him. the kitchen is awash in the early morning light, too early if you were to be asked  but you’re okay with it. you’re happy and content as long as you get to stay stuck to matty’s side. 

he cracks an egg. 

“a sunny side up? still want that?” he asks and then laughs to himself. it’s an inside joke to him because, in the end, you’re going to end up stealing the eggs on his plate (a soft scramble) and accuse him of putting more care into his breakfast. which is exactly why he does it; puts more love into “his” breakfast that is. he knows you’re going to end up stealing it.  

“can’t have you changing your mind again, darling.” matty ruffles your hair affectionately and tugs at the claw clip holding them together. they cascade down your shoulders; messy, frizzy and big. 

this early morning everything is a bit fuzzy; your head, your thoughts. “mmm,” you respond. a sleepy little hmm. it’s quite possibly a yes, or it could be a “hold on i’m still thinking” or even a “don’t really feel like eggs anymore”. in all your years together, deciphering your hmms has been his biggest challenge. 

“alright then,” a pause. you cuddle closer simply because his t-shirt is soft and he is very warm. this early in the morning you have no sense of anything else but the familiar warmth and the sizzling of the pan. 

“i’ll make some coffee for us,” you volunteer and move away. 

the bubbling of the kettle almost puts you back to sleep; it’s soothing, rhythmic. but you keep yourself occupied. your favourite mugs are always hung side by side. his is comically large, in the shape of a pint glass; you always tease him about not being able to finish the coffee, about always finding cold remnants at the bottom of the mug. 

yours on the other hand looks more like a bowl; soft pink with tiny daisies all over it. you like holding it in both hands and cuddling it close to soak up some of the liquid’s warmth. on days that are especially cold, matty calls it your “emotional support mug”. and it is. 

“okay we have to time this,” you announce and carefully pour hot water into the french press. so now he has about four minutes to finish the eggs. that’s alright, four minutes is all he needs.

“get the plates for us, would you?” he asks, bumping his hip into yours. it’s partly to wake you up some more, partly because he’s not very coordinated first thing in the morning either. 

you’re about to grumble. getting the plate means leaving your comfy spot and having to open the door, dig around, close it again; so much work really. but matty is quicker. he knows this grumble is coming and he knows a tiny kiss on your nose always does wonders. 

unfair really, that he should know you that well. 

“hmm,”  you huff and start the trek to the cabinet. matty snickers at the way you drag your feet, like a child being told to clean her room. always a grump before you’ve had some food and caffeine. 

“such a grump,” he teases, “c’mere.” 

when you stop in front of him, two plates in hand, he immediately sets them aside and pulls you close. your eyes are droopy, soft and sleepy. there’s no resistance when he tilts your chin and kisses you sweetly; a lingering soft kiss. 

then he holds the steaming mug of coffee in front of you. 

it’s as if the aroma makes you come alive; you perks up instantly, eyes finally open and hands reaching to cradle the bowl-like mug, to hold it close to your chest. you don't just drink the coffee, you indulge in it. 

“right!’ you speak after a few sips, and proceed to steal his eggs.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

snobbiness is a big no no. he really hates it when people retend like they’re better than someone else just because they have more fame or success or money. 

he would absolutely despise himself if he ever turned into that person. and regardless of who he’s with at the moment, he makes sure that they don’t possess that quality. 

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

so erratic it’s worrying sometimes. 

you tried to figure out if he was a night owl or a morning bird but it’s genuinely so unpredictable that you had to give up after a few weeks later. 

one thing remains consistent though, wherever he is, he won’t go to bed without talking to you and telling you he loves you! even if he’s on the other side of the world, calling you with sleepy eyes and drooping curls while you hold your morning cup of coffee. even if he’s just got back home at 2 am and you’re already fast asleep. matty makes sure to whisper a little i love you and place a kiss on your head before he goes to bed. 

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

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[devilishchaos]

You know what I'm implying | Jack Harlow imagine

Rating / genre: fluff?

Pairings: Reader x Jack Harlow

Summary: Telling your boyfriend that you can't get your tampon out (prank).

Warnings: use of pet names “babe”, “baby”; NO mentions of blood or anything

Word Count: 643 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

“Y/N!! Come on, men. We’re going to be late.” you heard Jack’s complaining from the other side of the door. 

You were currently in the bathroom trying to keep it together for the sake of the prank. You wanted to get Jack so bad since he scared you shitless earlier during the day. So you thought to yourself what better timing than now - being almost late to the regular weekly dinner with his crew. 

“Coming!” you shouted back before opening the door dramatically. 

Jack was laying on his front in the middle of your shared bed and was scrolling on his phone. The moment you opened the door he lifted his head up and looked at you. 

“What took so damn long?” he mumbled, clearly annoyed, but you didn’t move an inch and just stared blankly at him. 

“Babe? You alright?” he asked after a couple minutes of your guys's staring contest. 

“I need your help.” you paused “My tampon is stuck..” 

Instant shock on his face. 

“I need you to get it out.” you let him know, still with a blank face. 

He licked his finger and tried to get to you. 

“No! Jack, I'm serious.” 

“Okay.” he spoke for the first time in a while. 

“I tried to take it out, like twice. And it’s not coming out. At this point I can’t even feel it..” you said while gesticulating trying to make it seem more real. 

“Will you help me?” you asked while making puppy dog eyes at him.

Slowly blinking while trying to process everything, Jack whispered “Yeah..” 

After that he once again licked his finger and tried to touch you. 

“Jackman! It’s not funny!” you smacked his hand away. 

“I’m not-I’m fucking lubing up. Let’s go.” 

After a short laugh he asked “Wait. Why are you..You don’t have a tampon in!” 

“I do! I got my period today. Why do you think I was so horny earlier?” you said in hopes that he won’t suspect anything. While he scrunched up his face contemplating how he didn’t notice that something was going on. 

“Okay. What should I do?” 

“I don’t know..” you tried to suppress a laugh coming out “You have to like go..properly in..” 

“Okay. I can do that.” he started rubbing his hands together. 

“Why are you not taking this seriously? I’m like..scared, I’m shaking right now!” 

“Baby, it’s okay. We’re gonna get it out.” Jack got up from the bed and stood in front of you. “Lay down on the bed.” he instructed. 

“What? Lay on the bed for what? Who-who do you think I am?” you started laughing. 

“Baby, I-I don’t know how this is done okay. I’ve never done this in my life but I’ve been there.” his reply just sent you into a series of giggles but you absolutely lost it once you figured out what he actually meant. 

“Jackman Thomas! You really are something else.” 

“How can you be laughing in a situation like this?” 

“Says you who licked his fingers trying to “lube them up”. I can’t with you sometimes. And you damn well know I ain’t wearing a damn tampon. Let’s just go before we are really late.” you hit his shoulder moving past him. 

“What? So like you don’t have a tampon stuck inside you?” he asked, confused. 

“No! This was a prank.” 

“Oh, alright. I was so confused.” he shook his head “You never wear tampons so I was like what the hell is she talking about? You know.” 

“You are confused by nature, babe. Let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

“Hey, but on the brighter side: you can have something else stuck inside you-” 

“Jackman! Car. Now.” you scolded him. 

“Alright, alright. Trying to act like you don’t love it. Jeez.” he lifted his hands up in the air and made his way out of the room.