#if u are alive u have curves

[housecow]

I notice girls who eat loads of healthy omega 3 fat foods like avocado and olives have really curvy womanly figures. Plus watermelon. Could you eat a lot of these 3 to get really curvy?

no store in the US carries my bra size and you want me curvier????????

[pedroscowgirl]

Guilty as sin

Professor! Joel × fem college student!reader (series)

MASTERLIST /Part 2

Warnings: smut so minors dni!

flirting, teasing, age gap (reader is her 20s and joel in his late 40s), fingering, squirting, infidelity (joel is married) , no use of y/n, joel being an asshole towards the end, forbidden romance

Lmk if I forgot something!

wc: 3.2k

A/n: okay so i actually started writing this over a year ago and just finished it today cuz i finally had some inspiration. So if you notice a difference in the writing, don't mind it pls

Joel Miller is the epitome of rugged charm, the kind of man who effortlessly commands a room with his presence. To you, he's the sexiest man alive, an intoxicating blend of intellect and masculinity. Attending his classes became more than just an academic obligation, it was a guilty pleasure, an excuse to indulge in the sight of him. Joel was undeniably alluring,his maturity and confidence set him apart from your other professors. Yet, a glint of reality kept you grounded. The shiny glimmer of a wedding ring on his strong, veiny hand, was a constant reminder of boundaries you couldn't cross.

Your daydreams were interrupted when your friend pulled you back to reality. "Hey, it's break time. Stop ogling that old man and let's go to the bathroom," she teased with a knowing laugh. "He's not that old," you protested, feeling a flush of embarrassment. She arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Please, he could be your father." You sighed, reluctantly tearing yourself away from thoughts of him.

As you walked toward the bathroom, fate had you crossing paths with Joel. His presence was magnetic, drawing your eyes to him. You couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have those capable, veiny hands on you, exploring the curves he seemed to discreetly notice. Yet, despite the heat in his gaze, he seemed the kind of man who wouldn't stray, loyal to a fault, and unlikely to be interested in someone so much younger.

Still, you couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on you as you passed, nor the surge of confidence it gave you. You knew you looked good in those jeans, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he was thinking about you as much as you were about him.

---------‐-----------------------------------------------------

A week went by, and u had an appointment with another professor just before your class with joel miller. You had a busy day ahead because your friends wanted to go out after class. And since u didn't have time for changing clothes, you just wore your going outfit the whole day. You wore black thigh high boots with a jeans miniskirt and a sexy black cutout top. And on top of that you wore your long leather jacket to cover you up.

Your appointment with your professor went well and when u walked out, u decided to take the elevator since u were on the 5th floor and were wearing heels. You pushed the button on the elevator and to your suprise, you saw professor miller standing in it.

Your heart started to race like crazy. You greeted him with a smile and got into the elevator. "Good afternoon" he said and u were getting so hot. "Good afternoon, professor Miller." You answered and he smiled "you don't need to call me professor miller. Just call me joel." You laughed and said "that's a little strange but if u insist."

The elevator was now on the 3rd floor and you felt his gaze on you. Your jacket was open cuz you were in a hurry and u awkwardly smiled and said "I'm going somewhere after your class so I'm a little overdressed right now. I swear I'm not being inappropriate on purpose." He laughed and was a little taken by suprise by your random statement. "That's fine. I assume you're a grown woman since you're in college and there are no dress codes here. So no need to worry about it. And you look great." You blushed and got even hotter because you didn't think he would say that.

And suddenly the elevator stopped out of nowhere. You grabbed his arm when you almost fell and quickly took it back and apologised when u stood still again. "Don't be sorry. I guess we're stuck here now. But don't worry I'll call someone." The way he was so calm and easy going turned you on so much. You wished you could just take him right here and now. Cuz you needed him so badly.

"Are you a student of mine?" He asked after he was done calling for help. He knew you were a student of his but he didn't wanna sound like a creep and make you uncomfortable. He also just didn't want to stand in silence the whole time. "Oh uh yes I am" you smiled and he smiled aswell. "Do you like the course?" He asked. "Yes it's actually one of my favourites. I love going to your class. You explain everything so well." He smirked a little and said "I bet you say this to all your professors." And winked at you. The wetness in your pants grew bigger and your heart raced faster.

"Oh what's your name? It's so rude of me not to ask." He said and you laughed and said your name. "That's a beautiful name." "I bet you say that to all your students." You smiled. "I actually thought of naming my daughter that way" he spoke and now it's confirmed. He really is a dilf. Which made it so much more intimidating for you. A married man is one thing, but a married man with kids? Oh you had no chance. The dissapointment was spread over your face and joel furrowed his brows. "Are you okay?" You snapped out of your thoughts and smiled at him. "Oh yes I'm fine sorry. "What's her name" you asked politely. "Her same is Sarah." He smiled and you smiled aswell. "That's a cute name."

A silence filled the room and suddenly the elevator doors went open. "Oh finally" He said and you sighed. You're happy to not be stuck anymore but at the same time, you were dissapointed that your little moment with your professor ended. The elevator stopped halfway so you had to climb up to the floor to get out of there. The man on the other side told you to grab his hand but you struggled. You looked at joel with an akward smile and he said "I'll help you, don't worry."

You gasped when you felt his hands on your thighs. It sent a spark to your core and blood rushed to your cheeks. He was so strong which made him even hotter which you didn't even know was possible.

You both got out of the elevator and went to the class. He opened the door for you and you looked for your friend. When you finally saw her, you smiled. But her eyes were wide and she was staring at your outfit. You sat next to her and she asked where you were. "Oh I was stuck in the elevator with Mr Miller." You casually said and she giggled. "You were stuck? In the elevator? With your crush?" She said and you nodded and blushed again.

"Sorry I was late. I was stuck in the elavator" joel said into his mic and smiled at you. You couldn't concentrate for the rest of the lecture. You kept thinking about his thick fingers grabbing your thighs." It was the first time that you were not paying attention in his class. Well at least not on the subject.

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

Weeks had passed, and you found yourself lingering after class more often than necessary. At first, it was subtle,an extra question here, a slight delay in gathering your things there. But soon, it became deliberate. The way you stole glances at him from across the room, the way your fingers grazed his desk when you spoke to him, the way you shifted in your seat when he was lecturing.

And you noticed something else, too. He was looking.

He was careful,but his eyes betrayed him. They flickered down your legs when you crossed them, lingered a fraction too long when your blouse dipped just slightly. It made something burn in your lower stomach, knowing that your presence affected him.

So you got bolder. Wearing miniskirts, fitted tops, lingering touches. Each time, his restraint was evident, his jaw tight, his voice even. But then you noticed the big bulge in his pants and it made your mouth water.

And it was that thought that propelled you to his office that afternoon. Your heart pounded in your chest, though you wouldn’t dare let it show. You knocked lightly, already knowing he was inside.

“Come in,” his voice rumbled through the door.

You stepped in, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. He looked up from his desk, and for a brief moment, he seemed almost caught off guard. His gaze swept over you, your short skirt, the backless top revealing smooth skin, the lack of straps on your shoulders and most of all, your hardend nipples. You could've used some nipple covers to wear but gathered i'd be more fun this way.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Uh—hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sit down, please.”

You did as he asked, slowly crossing one leg over the other as you settled into the chair. His eyes darted downward before he forced them back up, and you bit back a smirk.

“I just had a few things I wanted to go over,” you started, keeping your tone light, innocent. As if you didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched on the desk, the way his shoulders tensed.

“Yeah?” he leaned back, but the movement felt more like a defense mechanism than anything else.

You nodded, tilting your head slightly. “Just some things about the last assignment.”

He exhaled sharply, nodding as he grabbed a pen—something to do with his hands, something to focus on that wasn’t you. “Alright. What’s confusing you?”

You leaned forward slightly, closing the space between you. “Well, I was thinking…”

And as you spoke, you could feel the tension tighten, coil, waiting for something—anything—to snap.

When the discussion about school finally came to an end, you stood from your seat, smoothing your skirt as you reached for the door handle. Joel stood as well, guiding you toward the exit, his presence towering behind you. Just as your fingers curled around the handle, his voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

The word was sharp, almost involuntary, and you turned your head slightly, catching the conflicted expression on his face. His jaw clenched, eyes dark, as if waging an internal war with himself. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck before finally exhaling a breath that seemed to carry every ounce of restraint he had left.

“I can’t—” he started, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t—”

But then he looked at you again, really looked at you, and something in him snapped.

Before you could respond, he reached for you, one hand wrapping around your waist as the other cradled your jaw. And then his lips were on yours—hot, urgent, desperate. The kiss stole the breath from your lungs, the heat of it searing into your skin as you melted into him.

You barely had a moment to react before he lifted you, guiding you onto his desk with ease. His hands splayed over your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he slotted himself between your legs, deepening the kiss with a hunger that had clearly been building for far too long.

The papers on his desk crumpled beneath you, forgotten, as his hands roamed and explored every inch of you.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”

Joel’s voice was low, thick with restraint as he hovered over you, his rough hands brushing along the hem of your skirt. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable, something dangerous. You didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess it—you just nodded.

“Yes, Professor.”

That title alone made his breath hitch. His fingers curled around the fabric of your skirt, slowly pushing it up until he could see the lacy pink panties you’d worn just for him. A little bow sat at the waistband, an innocent contrast to the filthy thoughts running through his mind.

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he let out a quiet chuckle. “Well, ain’t that just the cutest thing.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you met his gaze with a slow, teasing smile. He dragged his calloused fingers up your inner thighs, watching your body react under his touch, watching the way your breath hitched as he finally pulled the thin fabric down your legs.

He licked his fingers and you stopped him. His brows furrowed as he looked up at you, confused.

“There’s no need for that, Professor,” you said, voice sultry and dripping with need. “I’ve been wet since the day I met you.”

Joel let out a low groan, shaking his head as he chuckled. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

His fingers lowered, trailing through your slick heat, feeling just how ready you were for him. The moment he pushed a finger inside, your body clenched around him, making him curse under his breath.

“Yeah, you’re right, sweetheart. You are very wet for me.” His voice was deep, wrecked with desire. “Such a naughty girl.”

A desperate whimper left your lips, your back arching as he curled his thick finger inside you. “Hmm, Professor… feels so good…”

Joel groaned, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep you still. “Gosh, I love when you call me that.”

He pushed another finger in—this time, the one with his ring on it. The cool metal pressed against your warm, sensitive clit, making you shudder from the contrast in temperature. The thought of him touching you like this, fingers deep inside you while that simple wedding band glinted under the dim light, sent a rush of pleasure through you.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be spread out for your hot, married professor, letting him fuck you with his fingers on his desk, but God, it felt too damn good.

And the way he was looking at you—like he was absolutely wrecked, like he couldn’t get enough—made it impossible to stop.

His fingers moved faster, curling inside you, dragging against that sweet spot with perfect precision. The wet sounds filled the office, obscene and sinful, but neither of you cared. If anything, it made him work you even harder, his wrist flexing, his palm pressing against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Your stomach twisted, pleasure winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap. You could barely breathe, barely form a coherent thought, just a trembling mess beneath his skilled hands.

“P-p-professor, I-I’m gonna—”

Your body seized up as the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your nails dug into his arm, desperate to ground yourself as your release gushed out, soaking his hand, his wrist, even splattering onto his shirt. Your vision blurred as you cried out, thighs shaking violently, every nerve in your body set ablaze.

Joel groaned, voice low and wrecked, watching with fascination as you came completely undone. “Holy shit.”

His fingers didn’t stop, not even as your body convulsed and twitched from overstimulation. If anything, it made him move slower, more deliberate, dragging out every last wave of pleasure until you were nothing more than a trembling, panting mess on his desk. He loved it. Loved seeing you fall apart beneath him from just his fingers.

By the time he finally pulled out, you gasped at the sudden emptiness, your walls fluttering around nothing. The loss of contact sent a shiver through you, and you collapsed against his desk, completely spent.

The only sound in the room was the heavy rise and fall of both your breaths. The air was thick, humid with sex.

A few seconds passed before you finally sat up, still trying to gather your senses. Your voice was weak, hoarse when you muttered, “Fuck… that was my first time—”

Joel’s body tensed. His head snapped up, his dark eyes wide with panic. “This was your first time??” His voice cracked, full of disbelief and something close to fear.

You blinked at him, then let out a breathless laugh. “Oh my God, no,” you said, still catching your breath. “I was gonna say… it’s the first time I’ve ever orgasmed.”

Joel’s tense shoulders immediately dropped, and he let out a deep, relieved chuckle. His head fell back for a moment as he ran a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, darlin’, you scared the hell outta me.”

You smirked, tilting your head at him, amused by his reaction. “Didn’t mean to give you a heart attack, Professor.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head before giving you a knowing look. “Guess those college boys ain’t doin’ it for ya, huh?”

Your cheeks burned, but you bit your lip and shook your head. “Not even close.”

Joel’s lips curled up into a cocky little smirk, his eyes still dark with lingering desire. You could see it,he wanted more. He wanted to push you down onto that desk, spread you open, and take you apart all over again.

Your hands moved without thinking, trailing down his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, until they reached the thick outline of his cock straining against his jeans. He was still painfully hard. You pressed your palm against him, feeling the heat of it through the denim, watching the way his jaw clenched, his body tensing beneath your touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you reached for his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle. But before you could undo it, his large, calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“Uhm… we shouldn’t do that,” he muttered, his voice suddenly hesitant.

You blinked, confused. “Why?”

Joel sighed, rubbing his free hand over his scruffy jaw. His voice was quieter now, almost like he was reminding himself as much as he was telling you. “I’m married. And I’m your professor.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You sure as hell didn’t care when your ring was rubbin’ my clit.”

Joel flinched, his expression twisting into something conflicted. You could see it, the guilt creeping in, the weight of reality slamming back into him.

But it was too late for that.

Your chest tightened, a strange mix of anger and disappointment bubbling inside you. Just minutes ago, he was inside you, whispering dirty little praises in that deep Texas drawl, making you feel things you never thought possible. And now he was pulling away, acting like he suddenly had morals?

“Fuckin’ coward,” you muttered under your breath.

You yanked your wrist from his grip and slid off the desk, legs still shaky. Your panties were somewhere on the floor, but you didn’t bother looking for them. Instead, you grabbed your skirt, tugging it back into place with shaky hands.

Joel didn’t say anything. He just stood there, stiff and silent, watching you with a guilty look in his eyes.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before turning toward the door. “Y’know what, Professor?” you said bitterly, glancing at him one last time. “I hope she doesn’t fuck you either.”

And with that, you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you.

Joel exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as he leaned back against his desk. His cock was still rock hard, his fingers still coated with your wetness, his shirt still stained with your release.

He should feel ashamed. He should feel regret.

But all he could think about was how badly he wanted to pull you back into his office and fuck you until you forgot your own damn name.

[plethorawrites]

Here I request a damian x sunshine! fem! reader where reader is extremely passionate about art and everything magical. She loves translating whimsical visions into paint and flowery scenes too!!! Despite her extremely bubbly personality, her precious smile falters when people complement her works and she ends up stiff and avoiding eye-contact. Pair that with a tsundere Damian and I see sm fluff and cuteness><!!!! If u have the time ofc:D!!!... Otherwise, have a lovely day!! or night... x3!

I can absolutely make time. (I'll admit, I did have to look up tsundere because I'm not heavy into anime aside from a few shows, but I know now!)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Damian Wayne would HATE a sunshine reader at first. The over the top, bubbly, smiling appearance annoyed him to no end.

School was beneath him and had been since he was in middle school. He thought he had grown to at least be able to tolerate it by the time he was a senior in highschool, so close to escaping it. Maybe his father would finally accept that he didn't need futile lessons when he already had an IQ higher than Einstein.

But then, in his very last year, he was thrown one last curve ball. A perky, energetic, irritatingly happy girl who somehow managed to be in every single one of his classes.

How anyone could be sitting with her done and her clothes pressed, thrilled to be alive at 7 am for Political Science, he didn't know. He certainly had no interest in it.

She always raised her hand to answer questions and always got them right, too. His only real interest was the art program he had right after lunch.

It was just his luck she was there too, sitting right next to him, humming while she spread her paints on the palette, mixing colors. It took at his willpower not to tell her to shut up. He figured she'd stop at some point.

The humming persisted until her brush actually hit the canvas, then, it was dead silent. He glanced over, confused by how she had miraculously shut up for basically the first time since 7 am. Her eyes were focused on the canvas, watching the paint smoothly spread over it. He looked over again and again throughout the class, noticing the way her forehead crinkled and her teeth sink into her bottom lip while concentrating.

He scowled, though, when the teacher complimented her painting, claiming it was "Bright, but had a hidden depth to be explored." Unlike his, which was. "Very dark and telling of his thoughts."

That annoyed him a bit, but not for long because it was replaced by confusion when she just shrugged meekly, avoiding the teacher's eyes. She did that a lot, he soon found after watching her a bit more instead of making a conscious decision to stop ignoring her entirely.

He saw her cheeks redden when the teachers said her answers were right or congratulated her on a text. He noticed her looking down at her desk when a classmate said something along the lines of asking for her help because she was doing really well in the subject. He saw her bury her head in her locker, pretending not to hear when guys asked her out.

Eventually, he was just too damn curious and after yet another football player got shot down, she took a breath, lifting her head out of her locker right before Damian slammed it shut with his hand.

He leaned against the locker beside it, his arms crossed, asking what was wrong with the guy for her to reject him. "Aside from the obvious lack of brain cells and the fact that he's on a one way track for steroid addiction and early balding, of course."

She snorted a laugh, covering her face as it reddened, before clearing her throat and replying. "Just wasn't interested."

"Who are you interested in, then?" He couldn't help but ask. "You've turned down the jocks, the nerds, the supposed bad boy who is a Mama's boy in disguise, and the suave poet who left notes in your locker. Not many cliques left. So, you're clearly not finding anyone who's your type. What js your type, anyway?"

Her lips quirks. "Are you stalking me, or something?"

No. Of course not. He had way better things to do. But...it wasn't like he wasn't bored out of his mind during school hours since he already knew everything in every class. So, maybe in a way, he was watching. Slightly.

"You're not interesting enough for me to bother," he retorted with no real bite. "You are a bit of an enigma though. I don't like those."

"Sorry. Not trying to be," she promised just shrugging. "But if you ever want to try to figure it out, go for it."

So, he does. He could easily run a background search, but that wasn't how he wanted to do it. No, he'd rather figure her out by himself.

During class, he paid special attention to her notes, taken with a pink pen, mostly covered in doodles of flowers and mountains, or a forest of some kind with a creek.

She, he admitted to himself, was quite good. Even better with paints during art class. He started asking questions, starting off easily.

"Why those colors?"

"Is there a memory attached?"

"Did you have a sketch to go off?"

Then, he started catching up with her at lunch, because it was the best time to really grill her.

"Why did you move to Gotham?" "

Where are you from?"

"No siblings, I'm sure, because you don't ever text or talk about one."

"You look allergic to carrots, since you keep picking them out of the salad during lunch. That or you just hate them. Which is it?"

He'd occasionally slip up though, without realizing, by starting a question with a compliment.—"Since you're good at art, I assume you've practiced since you were a child." The tips of her ears burned red and he frowned. "Why can you never take a compliment?" He asked.

"I can, I do," she defended.

"Yeah, but not well. You get all...weird about it." His voice was a bit less accusatory and more gentle.

She shrugged. "Just don't like them."

He couldn't understand that. Everyone liked compliments. It was the reason the world was polluted by attention seekers looking for praise.

"How come?" He pushed.

"Just don't," she insisted.

"Don't really feel like they're accurate." He hummed. "So, you have low self esteem despite your annoyingly perky attitude, then," he surmised.

Her eyes widened. "I do not!"

She definitely did, he knew then and there by her reaction. Her cheeks got redder, flushing to the point it looked like heavy blush and she stormed off, leaving her salad.

He ate the carrots, nodding to myself. He had finally figured her out.

But, for some reason, that wasn't enough.

He thought he'd be satisfied, but he wasn't. If anything, he felt a bit bad for pushing so hard when she clearly didn't like attention despite always being the center of it, just by being herself.

The next time they had art class, he complimented her painting, just to see her blush. It was really quite cute. So was she. Not that he could admit it.

He did it again and again until she was frustrated and he was amused, asking her to just admit it, which she finally did when they were alone in the classroom after it was let out.

"Fine!" She exclaimed. "Yes, I have low self esteem. I don't like compliments, they make me feel weird."

"That's called validation. You get it because you're good at things," he told her, his voice completely sincere despite trying to be sarcastic.

She held her arms, avoiding his eyes like she always did when she got a compliment. "Great, I'm competent. Doesn't mean people have to say."

Damian frowned a bit. "Humans are hardwired to say what we see. Just like we're designed to see what we say. But you don't do that part. You never see the reason behind all those compliments," he explained.

She scoffed lightly and it was perhaps the first time he'd ever seen so much attitude from her. "I see plenty. Students who want to walk all over me like a door mat because I'm nice and every guy just want to date me to say they've done me—" "

That is an incredibly crude thing to say about yourself," he interrupted. "Not to mention entirely untrue."

She rolled her eyes. Again with the attitude. It seemed she really was capable of it when she was fed up with something or he supposed someone. Him.

"Oh, please, spare me," she muttered sarcastically.

"I'm serious," he repeated. "That's untrue. Some guys, yeah, maybe even most. Definitely the dumbass football guy who is failing homemaking somehow. But plenty of men, who actually know how to be respectful, would appreciate you. And for more than your looks, as well."

"Oh, the sparkling personality, you mean? The one you think is a facade."

He had thought that. At first.

He sighed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "It's not a facade, but you have more layers than that." Her head tilted so he elaborated. "There's more than just the pink pens and highlighters, like the study method you use to scribble and write simultaneously for better retention rates. You're naturally bright, probably a B average if you didn't study, but you do."

"So?" She wondered.

"So," he parroted. "You make A's because you have a strong work ethic. Because you come from a family who prioritized it, maybe even to the point you were almost neglected from how often they were gone because you always seem fine going last, or getting whatever scraps you're handed inside of fighting for anything else."

She frowned, not at all liking to hear that. Not only because it was slightly true. Alright, definitely true. But also because it was something she worked to keep hidden.

"I thought you said I don't put up a facade?" She countered.

"You don't. You're happy, and bubbly, always looking on the bright side and that's not a ruse. It's who you are," he clarified. "But you can still get angry, frustrated, annoyed, especially when your character is called into question. Clearly."

She didn't know how to feel about the tone in his voice during that last part. "You can stop, now."

But he didn't. He didn't want to. He'd spent so long trying to figure her out and he was so sure he had done that he was his work to pay off, for her to admit he was right or at the very least hear what he had to say, even if she didn't want to say it was true.

"You're not vain about your looks, even though you could be without effort because you're easily the prettiest girl in this entire school."

Those words came out of nowhere, especially the last few. But he had said them and there was no taking them back, even if he wanted to.

It was silent for a while.

"You really are a stalker," she quipped quietly, looking to the floor.

He huffed in annoyance. "Take the damn compliment," he insisted, stepping closer to her, lifting her chin. "Look in my eyes, not away and just accept it."

He waited, to see if she'd push him away or let him compliment her. He swallowed, suddenly feeling the urge to go red as well, but refusing to allow himself to.

"Fine," she agreed in a whisper, locking eyes with him. That alone was clearly already hard, but she was trying. "You're not just the most beautiful girl at this stupid school," he muttered. "I think you could quite possibly be the most beautiful I've ever seen at all. Especially with that blush you seem to hate and hide."

Her cheeks got redder, her lips twitching to avoid any sign of emotion and it was clearly hard for her to look away, hating the level of attention. "It's not cute, it's utterly embarrass—"

"Don't try to refute it either," he interrupted, shaking his head calmly. "Just...just accept it. Please."

He said please. God, he hated doing that.

But it seemed to work and she gave a small nod, finally listening.

He nodded back, letting go of her jaw, stepping back and clearing his throat.

She stared for a bit, before grabbing the rest of her things and leaving him alone to blow out a long sigh, mentally cursing himself for that entire exchange. Perhaps even getting curious about her in the first place.

But then, a second later, she walked back in, the flush less prominent on her cheeks and ears. It was replaced by the look in her eyes, which seemed rather determined despite a bit of apprehension.

"You asked me, like six weeks ago, what my type was," she reminded him.

His eyes narrowed, recalling the conversation. The first time they ever actually had one. He meant it mostly as a quip or some dig. "Yeah, considering you've turned down like 3/4 of the boys in this school. Plus a few girls, for that matter."

She huffed a laugh, gripping the books in her arms closer to her chest and nodding. "Yeah, well, they weren't my type, you were right," she confirmed causing a bit of a smug expression to cross his face. "I didn't even really know I had one, but uh- I think I might."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" He questioned, adding another quip. "Let me guess, older guys. You've been giving the math teacher eyes all week."

She shook her head firmly. "No, definitely not," she told him. "I'm pretty sure my type is the weird, stalker boys who are actually really sweet."

[aurantiumred]

okay fuck it im speaking my truth

jason's handwriting is completely illegible, no curves, he's missing a whole ass 4 letters so he can't even spell his name right (he spells it "IASON C-RACE), and the only reason his signature works is because it's so unusual no one can copy it. the closest anyone has gotten is leo, who was running off of 2 hours of sleep, diet coke, and sheer fucking force of will at the time.

jason "what's a zero?" grace (those were invented after the roman empire). jason except he has no clue what g, j, u, or w are. jason except he's really smart in select subjects and quite literally the dumbest man alive in others. he only uses roman numerals for a while and eventually switches to the regular 10 digit thing after enough time with piper and leo.

he can't read english. he simply cant. he knows caesar cipher and morse code and latin but he can't read english. he speaks with a thick latin accent and it gets worse when he's upset. we were robbed of jason actually using proper latin. he should have been cursing in his mother tongue. give this bastard an accent im begging you rick he should have one.

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT prologue, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, grief, hallucinations, intense survival situations. HUNGER GAMES EEKEKEKEKEEK

main masterlist | tag list | next

you practically volunteer for death with a smile on your face.

the sky is too blue for bloodshed. but the flags flap like they know what’s coming. red, black, and concrete gray, colors that mean order. control. victory.

your boots hit the stone square in time with a hundred others. it smells like sweat, steel, and the stale echo of war. no one cries here. they only clench their jaws tighter.

the stage looms. peacekeepers gleam like statues. the man with the mic is already smiling with his perfect teeth, slick voice. the reaping bowl is silver and deep, shimmering like a trap.

they call a name. not yours. but you step forward anyway. you say it loud, “i volunteer as tribute.”

your voice cuts through the silence like a blade. cheers erupt, not for you, but for the performance. and you grin.

you take the girl’s place, step onto the stage. raise your chin like your mother told you to. and then they call the boy’s name. and that’s when the blood begins.

another boy shoves forward. bigger. older. louder. he doesn’t want to wait to die. he wants the glory, the blood, the roar of the crowd.

but the name already belongs to him. the quiet one, the one with the sharp collar and colder eyes, the one whose father whispered into the right ears.

he doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask permission, just moves. and when it’s over, the bigger boy is choking on the stage, teeth cracked like glass, blood puddling under his skull.

the real tribute stands above him, bruised, breathing like a machine, lip split open and dripping down his chin.

you watch it all. you don’t blink once. this is what you signed up for.

the man with the mic stammers something patriotic, something rehearsed, and then,

“rafe cameron and y/n y/l/n, this year’s tributes for district two!”

you reach for him. he wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist, smearing red across the curve of his hand. then he grips yours with that same hand, tight, unflinching.

you raise your arms together. blood paints the space between your fingers. the cameras catch it all.

the crowd goes fucking feral. you’re smiling like you’ve won already. he’s not smiling at all. and somehow, that’s worse.

you don’t look like heroes. you don’t look like victims. you look like monsters. and somewhere far away, on a train bound for the capitol, other tributes watch this moment play on a screen, and feel the first true pang of fear.

district two is coming. and it’s already soaked in red.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms

THIS SERIES will have literally teasing psycho rafe & silent killer reader probably. i wanna make it brutal, bloody, violent, but also raw and vulnerable eventually! theyre still humans at the end of the day. there are just a few things to know:

ONE theyre obviously from district 2. rafes dad is a peacekeeper, or something related to that. for the reader its undecided tbh but u guys can give me ideas if u want!! rafes family exists but i doubt we’ll hear much from them.

TWO reader is unfortunately one of the careers who are brainwashed into training to volunteer someday and represent their district. rafe has his own similar reason that we’ll get into in this series soon!!

THREE i might put up a poll for u guys to decide whether we pull the “lovers who die together”, “lovers where one dies and the other wins”, “lovers who win together because fuck katniss & peeta i guess” cards, so the ending is entirely up to u guys!!

LET ME KNOW if u would like to be part of this tag list, i’ll take a break from shameless to rewatch or reread thg idc. im having sm ideas now that SOTR came out LOL

[muniimyg]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . pov!jk . ۫ ꣑ৎ . — [ 5 . ] sleepyhead

series m.list // taglist unavailable

friends to ???

slow burn but the group is noticing now huhuuu

jungkook is overworked n tired n his favourite person is here :')

note: okok ,,, that's it for pov jk this weekend ! see u guys in a bit <3

//

jungkook’s halfway up the stairs when he hears your voice.

he doesn’t catch all of it—something about misa stealing your blanket, probably—but the sound of you is enough to cut through his exhaustion like a warm light beneath a locked door.

and just like that, something in him shifts.

he was supposed to crash.

that was the plan. in his head, it went like this; room, blackout, nothingness for at least twelve hours.

his duffle’s already by the entryway. his hoodie’s clinging to the curve of his shoulder, hair still damp from a rushed shower. he looks like someone who’s been running on fumes for two days—because he has. school, back-to-back shifts at work, and helping out his friend eunwoo move. he hasn't really slept, not properly.

but now he’s backtracking.

feet slow, then turn on their own. like gravity tilts differently when you’re in the house.

his hand drags across his face as he walks toward the living room, bones moving more out of instinct than energy.

and there you are.

you’re tucked into the corner of the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, legs folded beneath you. misa’s curled against your side like a cat, half-asleep. jimin and tae are stretched across the carpet, playfully yelling at each other about whose turn it is to pick the next episode. jin’s already raiding the snacks, tapping away at his phone, muttering something about “kids these days.”

the room is golden. warm and soft and flickering. and your face lights up the second your gaze catches his.

“you’re alive,” you say gently, like you were really wondering.

he exhales a breath that curls into a faint smile.

“barely,” he mumbles, voice gravelly and small.

“i thought you were going to bed,” jimin calls out, tossing him a can of cider. jungkook catches it one-handed, barely blinking.

“i was.”

he walks over and sinks into the empty spot next to you without a second thought. doesn’t even ask. doesn’t have to.

“changed my mind.” jungkook's answer is simple. jimin takes it without question. then, he nudges his chin in your direction, tone deadpan.

you blink.

a little caught. your heart ticks up, then stutters.

“…you should rest,” you murmur, gaze darting to the faint shadows under his eyes.

he cracks the can open. takes a small sip.

“i’m fine,” he says, voice low, slow. almost like he’s trying not to fall asleep mid-sentence.

you don’t push.

but you don’t move away either.

the room settles into a quiet buzz. someone lowers the volume. another episode rolls in. misa’s breathing evens out. jin’s given up and is now curled up in a blanket cocoon by the foot of the couch.

and beside you, jungkook’s head dips.

at first it’s subtle—his chin tucking in, eyelids dipping. then a soft lean. the faintest shift of weight until his arm brushes yours.

your fingers curl into your sleeves. you pretend you don’t feel it... but god, you feel it.

he blinks up at you, all slow and sleepy. “you okay?” you ask, trying not to sound like you care as much as you do.

“mmhm.” he nods a little too slowly. “can you do that thing again?”

you pause. “what thing?”

“my hair,” he murmurs, eyes half-closed. “like last time.”

your breath catches.

not enough to be audible. just a faint trip in your chest.

then, your hand moves on its own.

fingers rising, brushing into his hair. slow. gentle. your touch barely there at first, cautious, like you’re not sure what the rules are anymore.

he sighs like he’s been waiting all night. his cheek grazes your shoulder as he shifts closer. doesn’t say anything. just stays there, eyes fluttered shut, letting your fingers lull him.

you can feel your pulse everywhere.

your spine.

your throat.

your wrists.

is this okay?

you don’t know.

but he’s warm. and he’s tired. and something about this feels like the kind of moment you can’t get back once it passes.

so you don’t stop.

no one says anything.

but misa opens one eye. sees. registers. smiles into the hoodie sleeve she’s been fake-napping against. jin glances up from his phone. smirks to himself. jimin nudges tae. whispers something. tae mouths; “i knew it.”

you pretend not to notice.

so does jungkook.

he leans in just enough to let his nose brush your collar.

“you should’ve gone to bed,” you whisper. your voice is quieter now. like the hush in a room where someone’s fallen asleep.

“hmm?” he breathes out. “but you're never around.”

your fingers still. just for a second.

he’s still not looking at you. but his voice is soft. deliberate. like that one sentence took the last of his strength.

and you—you don’t know what to do with that.

because he’s right. you’re never around. always missing the group nights, always too busy, too far. and suddenly it hits you: he waited.

he wanted to be here when you were.

even if it wrecked him a little.

and then—

“___,” jin stage-whispers behind you. “misa says she needs help in the kitchen or she’s going to scream at me again and i’m not emotionally strong enough for that.”

you huff out a laugh, lips twisting. of course. misa never lets you just sit still.

before you can reply, jin is tugging at your sleeve like a 5 year old. you go, not because you want to, but because you know misa won’t stop calling until you do.

you ease out from under jungkook slowly, trying not to wake him fully.

but the second you move, he stirs. head rising, eyes blinking open—blurry and a little lost.

you look back once from the kitchen doorway.

he’s curled into the spot where you were, cheek pressed to the fabric of your hoodie.

and when he finds your gaze across the room—he doesn’t speak. doesn’t smile.

but the look in his eyes is heavy. still. quiet in the way only the truth can be.

a kind of silent asking.

a kind of not-yet.

a kind of please don’t leave again.

and you think—next time he asks you to stay, you might.

really, truly stay.

[honeyryewhiskey]

whiskey kisses

or, close is never close enough. dean just needs his hands and lips on his favorite little thing warnings!! birthday sex, drunk, alcohol makes dean say the boldest damn things when he's inside u, 18+ mdni!

The Roadhouse was alive with the kind of chaos only hunters could conjure. Glasses clinked in toasts to survival, stories of hunts both gruesome and glorious were swapped over loud laughter, and the air was thick with the scent of spilled beer and aged whiskey. The jukebox crooned an old rock ballad barely audible over the noise, and Ellen was busy behind the bar, slinging drinks with the practiced ease of someone who’d seen it all.

The overflowing crowd and rowdy cheers raged against the night, all in the name of Dean.

But the man of the hour was nowhere to be seen.

Away from the buzz of the bar, tucked in the shadows of the backroom office, Dean leaned against the edge of a cluttered desk. His usual smirk, softened by the flush of whiskey warming his veins, held a sweetness reserved just for you. The flicker of the dim bulb overhead casts a golden glow across his face, but your focus was on the heat of his hands, firm and possessive as they rested on your hips. He dipped his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake.

“This is better,” he murmured, voice gravelly and low, the kind of tone that made your knees weak. His lips barely grazed your ear. “No crowd, no interruptions. Just us. Been needing to get you alone all damn day.” His grip tightens with his words because close is never close enough for Dean when it comes to you.

The celebration outside might as well have been a world away, distant and irrelevant. Dean’s green eyes locked onto yours, their lovesick intensity sending a rush of heat through your chest. It wasn’t just tonight—you always found yourselves pulling away together, whether on a hunt, in the bunker, or stolen moments in between. The need to be close was as irresistible as it was inevitable.

“Aw,” you sigh with a teasing smile, hands smoothing over his chest. “you need me that bad?”

“Hey,” his warning tone doesn’t match the amusement swirling in his eyes, “can’t blame a guy for wanting a little alone time when you’ve been flaunting that pretty little ass of yours across the bar room all night.”

“Flaunting?” you feign an offended gasp, playfully swatting his chest, “I would never.”

he lets out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a scoff as his brows quirk, “oh yeah, tease?” his eyes darken, his dimples popping at each end of his grin as his hands dip lower, squeezing the fat of your backside. Your breath hitches from the suddenness of it—your body already buzzing from the medley of whiskey and Dean’s all the more intoxicating presence. “And lookin’ up at me like that, all pretty and sweet.”  His smirk oozes confidence as he dips his head to your ear, lips tickling your skin as they ghost across, “Tell me you’re not begging for me to bend you over right here.” 

You can’t help but hum a sigh at the sound of his voice, so daring and enticing.

The heat growing between your thighs flips into a pulsing heartbeat. Your hips shift in his grasp, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by him, yet still, you shake your head innocently.

Your hands slid up to cradle his jaw. Stare fixed on your thumb brushing over the curve of his bottom lip as you murmured, “I just like looking at you, Dean.”

His expression showed he held no belief in those words, but still found your coy tone beguiling. “Mhm.” His hum vibrated against your skin as he turned his head slightly, planting soft kisses from your thumb down to your wrist, trailing heat with each pink peck. “Y’think they’ll notice,” he mumbled against your pulse, his palms pulling you flush against him in one swift swoop, chests colliding at once, “if we,” his lips found your neck again, slow and deliberate, “disappear?”

You tried to focus, really tried, but the way he teased that sweet spot just beneath your ear made coherent thoughts dissolve.

“Mm, no,” you lied, the truth buried beneath the haze of his hands sliding under your shirt, sending shivers up your spine. You knew they’d notice, like they always do when the two of you sneak off. But you didn’t care. Not when his chuckle rumbled against your skin, followed by the scrape of his teeth that coaxed a quiet whimper from your lips.

Dean stood to his full height at the sound, his hands cradling your face, and when his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t soft or tentative as his teasing has been—it was a mess of heat and hunger. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Your heavy breaths in sync, hands tugging and pulling, each of you desperate to release the tension of having to socialize all day instead of doing this.

He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your lips, “Front door’s right there.” Another kiss. “Make a break for it?”

“Definitely,” you breathe, stealing one last kiss before pulling away to half-heartedly adjust your shirt. He laced his fingers with yours, tugging you to the door of the backroom like two kids sneaking off from a school dance.

Peeking out the cracked door, you scanned the bar, finding everyone too absorbed in their drinks and conversations to notice your absence. Dean gave you a quick nod, and in the next moment, you slipped into the crisp January night air.

Dean’s arm looped around your shoulders, pulling you close as the chill nipped at your skin. “I parked out back, ’member?” he reminded you, his wink carrying the kind of promise that made your pulse race. You couldn’t help but laugh, realizing why he parked back here and not his usual spot out front. He had this escape route in mind well before you started giving him the eyes from across the bar room. Leaning into him as the two of you walked around the back of the building, the sound of crunching snow echoes into the night. 

Dean was quick to unlock the car, and you matched his pace, crawling into baby’s backseat with a mix of urgency and giddy anticipation. The door slammed shut behind you, cutting off the cold bite of the night air, leaving only the warmth of Dean’s presence to surround you.

He barely gives the door time to latch before his lips are on yours again. The kiss is heated, impatient, and full of the kind of intensity that sends a rush of adrenaline racing through your veins. His hands found your waist, tugging you onto his lap until your knees pressed against the sides of thighs, his touch grounding you in the confined space.

“You sure know how to throw a party,” you giggle between kisses, your fingers slipping under his jacket and flannel to push the material off from him. He lets you undress him, until your hands are roaming the warmth of his bare chest and shoulders as his puffy pink lips kiss any part of your skin he can reach.

Dean pulled back just enough to smirk, his breath hot against your cheek. “Best part of it’s right here, pretty girl.” His lips trailed along your jaw, the scruff of his stubble scraping against your skin.

The Impala’s interior was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a distant streetlamp filtering through the windows, but it felt like your own private sanctuary. The faint scent of leather and whiskey mingled with the warmth radiating from Dean as he tightened his grip, his hands wandering from your waist to the small of your back to rock your hips against his.

“You’re gonna wrinkle my shirt,” you tease, your words catching on a gasp as his lips found the curve of your neck.

Dean chuckled, low and husky, his grazing teeth streams goosebumps along your skin. “Don’t care,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Looks better off anyway.” On cue, his hands worked quickly to remove your tops. 

You laughed softly as he tugged the last layer over your head. Your fingers threading into his hair as you tilted your head to give him better access. His lips claiming the territory of your chest. The world outside the Impala didn’t exist—not the party, not the hunters, not the chaos. Just the two of you, tangled together in the backseat of his beloved car, stealing a moment that felt like it was only yours.

“Dean,” you whispered, his name tethering him to the moment as his green eyes lifted to meet yours. They glimmered in the dim light, searching your face for any trace of hesitation.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice stripped of its usual bravado, softened by something tender—almost vulnerable. It had taken so long to chip away at the stoic armor he wore each day, shielding himself from the world.

But your patience never wavered. Night after night, you stayed by his side, even when shadows of doubt and pain loomed over him. Slowly, his walls began to crumble.

And now, the man who once swore he’d never let love in was looking at you like you were the only light he’d ever known.

A hand cradles his cheek, your thumb tracing softly over the faint freckles that adorned his skin. “Happy birthday,” you whispered, your voice a tender caress as you leaned in. Your lips met his in a slow, heartfelt kiss, each moment infused with the boundless affection your heart held for him.

He drew you closer, his arms a secure haven as his lips moved with yours in perfect harmony—a quiet, unspoken testament to the depth of his admiration for you.

Dean smiled against your lips, his hands gripping you like he never wanted to let go. “Best damn birthday I’ve ever had” he murmured softly. 

Your laughter mingled in the stillness, the sound fading into soft murmurs as he claimed your lips once more. His arms tightened around you, shifting your body until your back rested against the worn leather seat. He hovered over you, his gaze lingering before he leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips.

His hands explored your skin with reverence, as though he couldn’t choose which part of you to cherish most, each touch an unspoken confession of how deeply he was lost in you. Palms roughened from years of hunting graze over the sensitive peaks of your breasts, rippling a moan from your lips.

He unlatches your belt without breaking the kiss, pulling away only to free you from the snug denim. He pauses for a moment, kneeling on the seat before you, taking in the sight. 

“Don’t stare like that—I’ll get shy.” a sheepish laugh leaves you, as you instinctively pull your knees together. 

“Can’t help it,” he hums, dipping to kiss the tops of each knee, his eyes never leaving yours. His lips trail down from knee to thigh, as if this gentle movement is the secret code to access the warmth between your limbs.

Fingers graze the line his lips made, the softness of his touch making you shudder beneath him. He hums in satisfaction, drinking up the thrill of your reaction to him.

“Promise me something?” he mumbles, moving up to cage your body beneath his. With one hand propping him up, the other easily undoes his belt and unzips his jeans. Moving the material just enough to free himself from the constraints.

“Anything,” you breathe, your eyes tracing every line of his face. Both rugged and tender, his features are a study in contrasts, but it’s his gaze that holds you captive—soft and unguarded as it rests on you. There’s no teasing smirk, no playful glint in his eye, just a rare and fleeting glimpse of Dean stripped of his armor, letting himself be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

“Promise,” his tone is barely above a whisper, his free hand works to rub his tip against your wetness, impossibly thick as he gets himself slick from how worked up he’s gotten you. He pushes against your clit, briefly, before teasing your entrance—leaving you to choke on a gasp caught in your throat. His eyes never leave yours, his face only faltering slightly as he slowly pushes into you. Stretching you out and ignoring the impatient buck of your hips. “That every birthday,” he continues, not missing a beat as he thrusts his full thick length inside, “you’ll be with me.” 

You’re hissing out “fuck, dean,” before you can even respond. Your heavy lidded eyes looking up into his. He’s watching you with so much care and patience, it makes your head spin. Your legs tremble when he finds his rhythm, as intoxicating as honey whiskey, pushing deeper with each thrust. The sound of your body inviting him in with a wet squelching filling the air around you.

“I,” you gasp out, trying not to get lost in the waves of passion triggering each of your senses, “I promise. I promise, Dean.” 

Your oath is met with a low rumble, like a growl, vibrating from his chest. He dips down to press his lips to yours and you match his lazy but sweet kiss as his hand grips the thigh hooked around his waist. You dig your nails into the soft skin of his back, as if that could anchor you within reality while he fucks out any ability for you to think straight. His lips graze against yours as the kiss breaks apart, his lashes brushing against your cheek. 

You’re chest to chest, sharing breaths as an arm snakes around your back. His hushed groans, mumbling against your skin as he maintains closeness makes your stomach flutter. His brows are pressed together, deep jade eyes dancing across your features like he’s seeing you blissed out like this for the first time all over again—appreciating each curve and divot in your expression, etching them into his memory.

“Say it again.” he demands, freeing his hand from your thigh, gliding across your skin until his thumb is pressing into your clit. The pressure of him working deliberate circles makes your lashes flutter. He groans at the feel of your walls squeezing him tighter. “say it, sweet girl .” his words come out rough through gritted teeth, his thumb pressing harder—you’re not sure if he’s coaxing your undoing or your words—or both. His head dips, nose brushing against your jaw and he sucks and kisses your sweet spots. His other hand finding your breast, the overwhelming combination of sensations pushes you over the edge until you’re whimpering and shaking in his hold.

he pulls away to catch a glimpse at your eyes fluttering closed, chest heaving as you buck up into him.

“I promise,” you whisper, weak but sure of each word, “to be here, with you.” 

Your words break any semblance of control he had. With a throaty groan, his lips hastily lock onto yours as he coats your walls. 

You both are a mess of raw emotion, breaths mingling as you reel from the high. Dean’s forehead rests against yours momentarily before his lips brush your temple with soft, lingering kisses. His touch is tender and reverent, as though he’s afraid to let go of the moment.

Eventually, he shifts, his movements slow and deliberate. He removes himself from you with care, pressing another kiss to your cheek before sitting up. You follow suit, untangling your limbs to sit up beside him. Without a word, he ruffles through the pile of clothes and grabs his t-shirt and flannel. You watch him, your body still humming with aftershocks, as he turns back to you.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to. After slipping on his shirt, the warmth in his gaze holds a gentle warmth as he dresses you in his flannel, buttoning the top few buttons. The material swallows you, his scent—whiskey, leather, and something uniquely Dean—wrapped around you like a second skin.

He smoothes out your hair, tucking it behind your ear and kissing your cheek. “Better?” he murmurs as he pulls away, his voice still rough from the haze of passion. 

You nod, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, better.”

Dean lies back with a huff, dragging you down with him so you’re sprawled on top of his chest. He covers you with his big leather jacket, containing the heat of your bodies beneath the material. His arms encircle you protectively, giving a slight squeeze as he does. His hands are already finding their way into your hair. He starts threading his fingers through the strands, the motion soothing, grounding.

After a beat of silence, he lets out a soft, rumbling chuckle, the vibrations shaking his chest. “You meant it, right?” he asks, his voice low and uncertain, a trace of vulnerability hiding behind the question.

You lift your head slightly, resting your chin on his sternum to meet his gaze. His eyes search yours—not for reassurance, but for truth.

“Meant what?” you ask softly, though you already know.

“About being here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your neck. “For all my birthdays. Even the ones when I’m old and grumpy... or just grumpier.”

Your heart tightens at his words, the quiet fear beneath his teasing tone making your chest ache. As his eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, you wonder how anyone could ever walk away from him. You gently cup his face, your thumb tracing the freckles on his cheek.

“I meant it,” you say with certainty. “All of them, Dean. I promise.”

Something shifts in his expression—a mix of relief and affection so raw it almost steals your breath. He pulls you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, a vow all its own.

“Good,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Wouldn’t wanna spend ‘em with anyone else.”

The silence stretches again, but it’s warm, comforting, the kind of quiet you only find with someone who feels like home. Dean’s hands trail up and down your back, his touch lulling you into a blissful haze.

“You’re gonna spoil me, y’know,” he says eventually, his tone light but his smile soft.

You grin, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

He chuckles, his inability to believe you wholeheartedly is evident in the slight disagreement pinching at his features.You shake your head with a small knowing smile, too tired to fight him on it for the moment. Pressing a kiss to his jaw before settling back against him. “Yeah,” you murmur, your voice soft but sure. “You do.” And as you both lie there, tangled together in the quiet sanctuary of the Impala’s backseat, the promise you made feels less like a commitment and more like a truth you’ve always known. Dean might not believe in forever, but in this moment, you make him want to try.

this is my last bday fic :,) i had so much fun putting these together <3

[quimichi]

Omg I have an undying obsession 4 kinich rn so could u PLEASE do an S/o who's adventurous but often gets Scars and minor wounds from their travels it'd be so cute (I'm totally not stalking your account looking 4 more kinich fics)

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ KINICH TAKES CARE OF YOUR INJURIES ࿐ྂ

A/n: there you go anon ♡ more kinich content

When you return home with injuries on your body, Kinich always does his best to patch you up, his touch gentle whenever he tends to your wounds. He doesn’t always approve of your adventurous nature, but he does understand it.

Sometimes, when there are no injuries to tend to, he can't help but touch you anyway. His hands trail softly, lovingly, over your body. He traces every part of you like a sculptor, fingers mapping the planes and curves of your flesh as if you might be snatched away from him at any second. He can never be sure of your safety until he can feel you in his arms.

"Ouch-I'm fine! Don't worry-!" "You say that every time." He rolls his eyes, but the gesture has no real heat behind it. He's already getting the medicinal supplies.

"I wish you wouldn't take so many risks," he says, not for the first time. Once he's got everything he needs, he moves back to you. He gently dabs at your new injury, careful to try and not hurt you as he cleans and wraps it. "One of these days, you're going to get yourself killed," he mutters, voice soft as he keeps his eyes fixed on his work. You roll your eyes at that.

He gently smacks your leg with one hand. "Don't roll your eyes at me. I'm only saying this because I care about you." He finishes wrapping your injury and lets his hand linger. "I know you enjoy your adventures, but you still have to be careful. You are... I wouldn't be able to bear losing you," he admits, voice dropping to a whisper. He lets his hand slide up your leg ever so slightly, until his palm rests on your knee.

"I...try to be more careful." You know you already said that last time, and the time before that, and before that time too. "...I suppose I can't ask for anything more than that," he sighs, although he still sounds a little hesitant. He keeps his hand on your knee, keeping a loose but steady grip on you, as if to keep you from running off and getting hurt again. "Just promise me that you'll come back alive, alright?" He lifts his head to meet your gaze, his eyes intense even though there is a hint of fear buried within them.

"I promise..."

[urprettylildoe]

Thought of a yandere where they get transported into a modern city (they got transported from a novel into reality), kinda afraid of every strange tech that appear, until they see someone looking like their first love, from the same voice the same humor down to the body language. This idea was rent free and I don’t know what to do with it… save me it’s putting me on a chokehold

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

♡ anonnn ur so creative <33 hope i saved u from that chokehold lollll and that this was up to ur expectations. ♡︎ yandere isekai x first love reader

he couldn't speak. he couldn't move. he couldn't even breathe from the heavy lump that hangs heavily in his throat.

no, no, he was definitely delusional; that's the only possible explanation because this couldn't be...

...could it?

you laugh, the soft sound surprisingly carrying over the awfully noisy people on the street, and one he only hears when he tosses and turns on his ber, handkerchief buried in his nose as the last fragment of your shared, ever-lasting love.

the too-bright lights of this irksome world shine over his head, messy strands of hair from this unfortunate ordeal catching the light.

everything looks so real yet so foreign in this dream, from the buildings that are nothing like his estate and architecture back home, and the people walking outside dressed in what he would to wear sleep. their eyes glance at him, scrutiny flashing in them for not even a split second, before returning to the glowing devices glued in their hands.

his wide eyes blink, hands shaking with utter need by his sides. you- you're here: well, untarnished with crimson blood and so very alive in front of him.

your own eyes, as magnetic as he remembers them, flit around your surroundings as you speak with gestures in your hands. the girl who has the pleasure of receiving your attention covers her mouth to stifle her laughter as well.

"darling?"

his hand a mind of its own when it closes around your wrist. his heart warms at the contact. It brings him back to when he would hold you just like this, and spin you around, teasing you with his now-deceased humour and making you pout oh so adorably.

brows knitting together, you regard him with a sense of confusion. unease. your loving words are absent, instead replaced with a weary, "do I know you?"

he falters. "y-yes, yes, you do, you do!" his words aren't trying to convince you as it seems, but rather himself. "remember this?" frantically, he produces the wrinkled handerkerchief he slept with in his pocket, "y-you gave it to me, y/n. you do remember, tell me you remember"

but your silence says it all.

and it finally dawns on him that he spoke too soon. your presence came at a price: your memories gone, erased. your heart wasn't thumping like it was going to break your rib cage, nor was your belly tingling with a swarm of butterflies at the sight of you. not like how his body was reacting to a glimpse of you

gently, you nudge your hand out of his, offering him a weak smile that doesn't reach your apologetic eyes, "sorry, you must have mistook me for someone else."

ha. you think he's mad.

but he isn't. he swears he isn't. it's you — his darling fiancé he lost on that fateful night. how could he not know it's you, when he's spent hours memorising every curve and dip of your body while you smile hazily down at him? how could he not know it's you, when he knows everything from your worst fear to your favourite food? how could he not know it's not you, when he recognises his scent by heart?

how could he not know, when all he's ever wanted, craved, is right in front of him?

but you look at him like he's just a face in a crowd, someone mentally unstable. and before he can even get another word in, your friend drags you by the arm out of there.

he sniffles; hurt, angry, frustrated. you're so close yet so far away.

but maybe, just maybe: this isn't the end.

there's a reason why he's here, to get you back in his arms, to finally have you in his bed instead of that stiff figure beside him they call his wife.

he's not going to waste his second chance, not when he knows there should be at least an ounce of love underneath your oblivious exterior. and if needed, he'll dig it up with all his might, no matter what it takes. because if one thing's for certain —

— he's not going to wake up from this dream until he's tasted heaven one last time.

[greenglowinspooks]

consider: danny son of Joker

All Sharp Angles

—

Danny had always known that he was adopted; far before his parents had actually up and told him, anyways.

He’d just never looked like his family.

Where his parents were soft curves, he was all hard angles. He was lean and slender, almost willowy once he got his growth spurt, where his parents were broader and thicker-built.

Where his father’s hair was a warm, light black, like a cup of coffee, his was dark and cold like an oil spill.

Even his eyes were wrong; sure, his father’s eyes were blue too, but his were far darker. Danny’s were as light and frigid as arctic ice; even before he had died, they had never reflected enough light to seem alive.

So, when his parents finally told him the truth once he turned 15, it was honestly more of a relief than anything else. He wasn’t uniquely strange, he just didn’t look like his parents because he wasn’t related to them.

Still, he couldn’t help but be curious as to where he had come from. Sure, he liked his parents’ stories about the Fenton family and their rich (probably false) history, but he had roots branching elsewhere, too.

So, with money he had earned from washing cars and mowing lawns, he had bought a DNA test for 50 dollars, and sent a vial of blood in to whatever shady company he had bought it from.

The results…

He stared at the letter in shock.

He had already crumpled to the ground; luckily, he had been standing on the plush carpet of his room rather than the kitchen tile when he had opened it.

Father - Unknown

Mother - Dr. Harleen Quinzel

Fuck. Fuck.

That couldn’t be right, could it?

He checked the reviews of the company with manic speed; not a single other person had been named as being related to a rogue.

Could it be a prank?

Surely, the actual Harley Quinn never had time to have a child. Or, if she did, she would’ve been made to keep it by the Joker.

He began to google in a daze.

…

After a few minutes, he had his answer.

The longest time that the Joker had ever been in Arkham was for a year and a month.

He had gone in roughly 9 months before Danny was born, which technically gave Harley the time to have a child, put it up for adoption, and lose some of the baby fat before the Joker came back, all without him ever knowing.

Harley had also been mysteriously inactive for most of that time, too, which only gave more credibility to his theory.

What was he supposed to do with this, though?

It’s not like he could tell anyone. It’s not like it really changed anything in his day to day life, aside from his entire worldview.

Obviously he told Sam and Tucker, as well as Jazz after a few days.

Obviously he didn’t tell his parents.

…

In the end, not much came of it.

It was just another fact of life, another thing eating away at Danny’s mind. Another fear to internalize.

He had gotten so good at ignoring it, in fact, that he didn’t even remember where he came from when he was accepted to Gotham U, and drove a whole day to the only university willing to give him a scholarship.

…Well, as long as he keeps his nose out of trouble, it won’t matter much anyways. After all, what are the odds he actually meets anyone who might be able to figure it out?

[sh4nksslvt]

Hi! Hope you have a nice day. If it's okay with you, may i request something for the charming firefly, ace?

Something like ace is vv oblivious to the reader's flirting, just thinking everything just a coincidence, like their seat on the dining table are next to each other, or when he's thirsty or hungry, the reader will always have a drink or snack/food ready. While actually it's happening because of the reader and their observations.

Sorry if it's too long, thanks for your time for reading this! (Completely okay if you're not ok with writing this, i just wanna say thank you)

a/n: wahh! thiss is soo cutee! hope u like thiss ><

Clueless Hearts and Full Plates

Ace doesn’t realize the reader’s affection is behind every perfect coincidence—until one finally clicks.

Ace X gn! reader

tags: fluff, sfw, flirting, ooc, ace being oblivious

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It was always a coincidence.

At least, that’s what Ace thought.

Every meal, every shared moment, every little “accident” that placed you beside him was chalked up to fate, luck, or the universe just being weirdly nice to him that day.

Like this morning.

The Moby Dick rocked gently with the waves, and the crew had begun their daily scramble to the galley. Ace, still half-asleep with bedhead and one sandal barely on, made his way to the table. As usual, the crew’s chatter filled the room with the kind of loud, familial chaos only the Whitebeard Pirates could manage.

And, also as usual, the seat beside you was the only one open.

“Hey,” Ace greeted, plopping down with a yawn and no suspicion.

“Morning,” you replied, already pushing a glass of orange juice in his direction without a second thought.

He blinked. “Whoa, you read my mind. I was just thinking I was thirsty.”

You smiled. “Coincidence, I guess.”

Ace grinned, utterly unaware of how long you’d been keeping track of the way he always reached for juice in the morning, never coffee, never water. Just juice. Always.

After a minute, he added, “Also kinda hungry… I forgot to grab a roll or somethin’.”

You wordlessly slid a small plate of warm bread and butter closer to him.

He gasped, delighted. “Seriously, you’re magic! You always have just what I need!”

You bit your lip to hide the fond curve of your smile. “Lucky timing, huh?”

Lucky timing.

That’s what he called it the other day when he tripped coming down the deck stairs and nearly face-planted—only to find your hand catching him in time. It’s what he called it when he accidentally left his hat on the upper deck and you “just so happened” to come by with it a few minutes later.

You didn’t mind. Not really.

It was kind of… endearing. In an Ace-way. He wasn't cold or careless—he just genuinely didn’t see it. The thought that you might be observing him, remembering the things he liked, and subtly trying to show him how much you cared? It never even crossed his mind.

You watched as he messily buttered a piece of bread, crumbs falling on the table. He looked content, humming a tune and swinging his feet like a child in a giant’s chair. And when he caught you watching, he gave you a bright smile—one so open and warm it made your stomach flutter.

“Y’know,” he mumbled around a bite, “you’re always around. It’s kinda nice.”

“Kinda?” you teased.

He nodded, mouth still full. “Mm-hmm. Like, comfy.”

The word hit somewhere soft in your chest. He didn’t even realize he was flirting back.

Later that day, a few of the crew were setting up for poker in the corner, but you were more interested in the commotion coming from the training area. You leaned against the railing, watching Ace spar with Marco. He was shirtless, flames licking at his fingertips as he dodged and laughed, clearly having fun.

Your gaze lingered on him. How could it not? He was strong, fast, alive with every movement.

And when he collapsed on the deck in dramatic defeat—Marco having pinned him with a blue-flamed armbar—he wheezed out, “Water… I need water…”

By the time Marco released him, you were already at his side, bottle in hand.

“Holy crap,” Ace said between breaths. “You’re, like… everywhere.”

“I told you,” you said casually, helping him sit up. “Lucky timing.”

He chuckled, leaning back on his palms and chugging half the bottle. “At this point, I’m starting to think you’re my guardian angel or something.”

You raised a brow. “You think your guardian angel would watch you get elbowed into the deck before offering water?”

Ace grinned. “Gotta build character, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest was warm with something fond and frustrating. How could he be so oblivious?

The truth was, you noticed everything about him. The way he only got grumpy when he was too hot or too tired. How he always tried to hide his hiccups when he laughed too hard. How he made sure the youngest crewmates never felt left out during meals, even if it meant giving them the last piece of meat on his plate.

You didn’t just like him. You admired him.

So yeah, maybe you rearranged your seat every meal to end up next to him. Maybe you kept his favorite snacks in your jacket pockets during long shifts. Maybe you started carrying an extra bottle of water—just in case a certain fire fist decided to exhaust himself in a sparring match.

He never asked. You just… wanted to.

And he just… didn’t notice.

It wasn’t until one particular night, under the stars, that things finally shifted.

You were both sitting on the edge of the deck, feet dangling above the sea. Most of the crew was asleep or out of sight. Ace had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and you handed him a second one without saying a word.

“Man, it’s like you read my mind,” he said for the hundredth time.

You sighed softly. “Maybe your mind is just easy to read.”

He looked at you, puzzled. “Huh?”

You gave a small, nervous smile. “I mean… I always seem to know what you need, right? I guess I just pay attention.”

There was a pause. The kind of pause where your heart beats a little faster, wondering if maybe, finally, he might catch on.

Ace blinked. “Oh. So you’ve got like, observation haki or something?”

You stared at him.

Deadpan.

“…Yeah. Sure. Let’s call it that.”

He beamed. “That’s so cool!”

You dropped your face into your hands.

But then—something changed in his tone.

“…Wait.”

You peeked up through your fingers.

Ace’s smile was still there, but it was… slower. Thoughtful. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. Every juice, every meal, every seat, every snack.

And then, like someone lit a match under his brain, realization bloomed across his face.

“…Wait.”

You watched the faintest red spread over his cheeks. He sat straighter. “Are you—? Have you been—? This whole time—?”

You tilted your head, lips twitching. “You’re cute when you put the puzzle together.”

He gawked. “So it wasn’t just coincidences?!”

You snorted. “Ace, I’ve been flirting with you for weeks.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

And then he laughed. It was loud, a little embarrassed, but full of warmth.

“I’m such an idiot.”

“A lovable idiot,” you corrected, nudging his shoulder.

“…So does this mean,” he said slowly, “you like me? Like, like like?”

You raised a brow. “Only if you like me back.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to yours with a shy, crooked grin. “Well, now that I know… I’m definitely gonna start paying attention.”

You chuckled, nudging the bottle of water into his hand again. “Start with drinking water. Then we’ll work our way up to romance.”

Ace laughed, and this time, he didn’t call it luck.

[paucubarsisimp]

Hector teaching reader to drive?

That would be pure chaos 😂

driving lessons

pairing: pablo gavi x reader, pedri x reader, hector fort x reader, pau cubarsi x reader

summary: in which your boyfriend tries to teach you how to drive

warning: none

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: since i got a request for both pau and hector, i decided to also add pablo and gavi! lmk how it is 💕

𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐢

it was a beautiful saturday afternoon, and you were in the passenger seat of pablo’s shiny car, already regretting your decision to let him teach you how to drive. you’d been together for ages, long enough to know that when pablo said he was going to teach you something, it usually ended in chaos.

“alright, princesa,” pablo said with that cheeky grin of his. “ready to finally learn how to drive?”

you raised an eyebrow, feeling the weight of impending doom. “you’re gonna teach me? you? the guy who drives like a maniac?”

“hey, i’m a professional,” he said, flashing a wink. ���trust me, amor, i got this.”

“i don’t know if i trust you after the last time we went to the grocery store and you almost crashed into the shopping cart,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

“that was a one-time thing,” he said with a wave of his hand, starting the engine. “now, enough talk. let’s go. you’re gonna be a pro in no time.”

you looked out the window, doing your best to suppress the panic rising in your chest. “if i survive this, i swear i’m going straight to therapy.”

“you’ll survive, princesa. just trust me,” he said, hitting the gas a little too enthusiastically. the car lurched forward, and you immediately grabbed onto the seatbelt like it was a life raft.

“pablo!” you screamed, eyes wide. “slow down!”

“slow down?” he laughed, clearly enjoying the chaos. “this is how you learn, amor. full speed ahead! feel the car. it’s all about feeling it.”

you felt your stomach drop as pablo swerved around a corner, going way too fast for comfort. “i think i’m feeling death, not the car!” you gripped the dashboard, your knuckles turning white.

“no, no, you’re doing great!” pablo said with a grin. “you just have to be brave, princesa. bravery is key in driving!”

“pablo, bravery doesn’t involve going 100 on a side street,” you argued, looking out the window at the rapidly approaching curve. “you’re gonna get us killed!”

“no, we’re fine,” he said, completely relaxed as he shifted gears. “now, hit that turn. don’t be scared. i believe in you.”

you gulped. “pablo, if i hit this turn, we’re gonna die.”

he shot you an exaggerated look of disbelief. “i thought you loved me, amor? trust me. we’ll be fine.”

you braced yourself and, somehow, by some miracle, you didn’t die as pablo took the turn with alarming speed. the car screeched as the tires fought for grip, but somehow, the two of you made it.

“you see? i told you!” pablo grinned, leaning back like a proud parent. “you’re a natural!”

you couldn’t even speak, your heart still pounding in your chest. “i’m gonna be sick,” you whispered, taking deep breaths. “this is not normal. i can’t believe i trusted you.”

“princesa, you survived, didn’t you?” he teased, glancing over at you. “you’re a legend.”

you shot him a look that could melt steel. “if you keep driving like this, you’re gonna make me legend—as the girl who died in a car accident with pablo gavi.”

he laughed, as if he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “you’ll thank me later, amor. when you’re driving like a pro, you’ll remember today fondly.”

“i’ll remember today in therapy,” you muttered, still holding on to the seat. “i swear, if i make it out of this car alive, i’m never getting in it again.”

pablo looked over at you, his grin softening just a little. “you’re gonna be amazing, princesa. and i’ll be right here with you, every step of the way. just trust me.”

you sighed, feeling the adrenaline finally start to wear off. “i’m trusting you… but if you crash us into a tree, i’m blaming you forever.”

“deal,” pablo said, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “but you’re gonna be the best driver ever, amor. mark my words.”

you weren’t so sure, but somehow, in that moment, the chaos didn’t feel quite as terrifying with pablo by your side—even if he was still driving like a maniac.

𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢

you were gripping the wheel like it was the only thing holding you together. the car jerked forward, and pedri’s hand shot out to the armrest, eyes wide.

“¡joder!” he muttered, looking like he might pass out from the tension. “what the hell was that?”

you shot him a panicked glance. “i don’t know, i swear this thing has a mind of its own.”

pedri tried to steady himself in his seat, holding on like a lifeline. “okay, okay, no panic. just… breathe, alright? this is not a race. we’re not trying to break any records.”

“i feel like i’m already going to break the car,” you muttered, eyes darting from the road to his face.

“just… just go slow. no need to floor it like you’re being chased by a toro.” his voice cracked a little, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic he was being.

“i think you’re the one panicking, not me,” you said, trying to focus, but the car lurched again as your foot slipped.

“¡madre mía!” pedri yelped. “i swear you’re making gavi look like a pro driver right now.”

“hey!” you frowned, momentarily offended. “gavi’s awful at driving.”

“exactly,” pedri said, holding his stomach as if he were about to get whiplash. “but you’re giving him a run for his money.”

“no way, i’m way better than him,” you said, trying to steer but swerving a little to the left.

“no, no, no,” pedri said, his hand shooting to the dashboard as if he could stop the car by sheer willpower. “we’re not doing this. take a deep breath. turn the wheel gently, like you’re guiding a puppy across the street, not sending it into the wild.”

“puppy?” you blinked. “pedri, this isn’t a walk in the park.”

“no, no, but you need to guide the car, not fight with it,” he said, face a little pale but still trying to sound reassuring. “i know you’ve got this. just pretend you’re driving to get ice cream, nice and easy.”

“i’m not sure i can handle ice cream with this much stress,” you muttered.

“¡madre mía, qué locura,” pedri groaned as you swerved again, narrowly avoiding a parked car. “how do you even do this without a panic attack?”

“i’m just trying not to hit anything!” you said, now more focused on not crashing than on listening to his instructions.

“i think we’re both going to have a panic attack before we even make it to the corner,” he said, half laughing, half terrified. “seriously, next time we’re practicing in a parking lot.”

“i don’t know if i’ll be ready for that,” you said, your voice laced with frustration, but you managed to get the car moving straight again.

“we’ve got time,” pedri said, giving you a soft smile despite everything. “you’ll be fine. just… take it easy. no need to drive like we’re in a high-speed chase.”

you tried to focus, but then you shifted gears a little too suddenly and the car jerked again. “oh god, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to—”

“¡mierda!” pedri shouted, grabbing onto the armrest again as the car bumped over a small curb. “this is worse than the time we tried to make paella together.”

“we both know that was your fault,” you said, trying not to laugh. “this is definitely not the worst thing that’s happened.”

“yeah,” he said, voice strained, “but the worst hasn’t happened yet. i’ll be okay once we’re out of this death trap.”

“you’re being dramatic,” you muttered, but you could see him squeezing his eyes shut. “pedri, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to—”

“no, no,” he interrupted, opening his eyes to give you a teasing look. “i should be the one saying sorry for even getting in this car. i think i’m gonna be traumatized for life.”

you let out a shaky laugh, starting to feel a little more comfortable with the situation. “okay, i think i’m getting the hang of it. i just need to, y’know, stop trying to kill us.”

“well, that would be a good start,” he said with a wink. “let’s get to the end of the street before we both need therapy.”

you both shared a laugh, though you could feel the tension still in your shoulders. “i don’t know if i’m ready for another lesson.”

“don’t worry,” pedri said, his voice soft. “we’ll take it slow. one day at a time. and maybe next time, we’ll let gavi teach you. he can make it interesting.”

“i never want gavi near my car,” you said quickly, giving him a teasing smile.

pedri grinned. “yeah, maybe you’re right. he’d probably drive it into the ocean or something.”

you both laughed as you finally made it to a stop sign, and for the first time that lesson, you felt like maybe you were finally getting it.

𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

hector slid into the passenger seat with a cocky grin. “alright, let’s do this. i’m about to teach you how to drive like a pro.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’ve had your license for a week, hector.”

“exactly!” he said, beaming. “i’m basically a master already. trust me, i got this.”

you started the car, and the engine roared to life. hector immediately jolted in his seat, his hands flying up like he was about to brace for impact. “whoa, whoa! easy! easy on the gas! you’re gonna send us to the moon!”

you barely pressed the pedal, but he was already gripping the armrest. “i’m not even going fast,” you said, trying not to laugh.

hector’s eyes were wide. “look, i drive fast, but you? you’re like a wild animal in the driver’s seat! slow down, okay? smooth, controlled. like a professional.”

you smirked, giving him a side glance. “you sure you’re not scared?”

“scared?” he said, leaning back and trying to act cool. “i’m just… concerned for our safety. you need to be more precise, like a football pass. control is key.”

you pressed the gas just a little more, and the car jerked forward. hector’s grip tightened. “no! no, no, no! slow down! i’m not ready to die today!”

you chuckled. “you’re dramatic. i’m just getting the hang of it.”

“dramatic?” hector shot you a look of panic. “you’re not getting the hang of it, you’re about to send us into a ditch!”

you eased off the gas, trying to calm him down. “alright, alright. but don’t pretend like you’re not terrified.”

hector gave you a nervous smile. “i’m not terrified, just… cautious. you’re like a wild stallion behind the wheel. i’m a pro, but you? you’re a disaster waiting to happen.”

you laughed. “well, i guess that makes you the one who’s scared.”

“i’m not scared!” he said, but his hands were still gripping the seat. “just… aware of the danger.”

you couldn’t help but grin as you kept driving at a steady pace. “yeah, yeah. i’m the danger, huh?”

hector sighed dramatically. “please, just—no more surprises. i’m doing this for you, alright? just… don’t kill us.”

you smiled, trying not to laugh. “no promises.”

𝐩𝐚𝐮 𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐢

it was a bright, sunny afternoon when you decided to finally face your fear of driving. after months of avoiding it, today felt like the day. your boyfriend pau had been encouraging you for weeks, always reassuring you with his calm demeanor and gentle smile. but you were still nervous.

“you ready, mi amor?” pau asked, settling into the passenger seat with a soft, reassuring smile. his eyes sparkled, but you could see the slightest hint of concern behind them.

“i think so,” you answered, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement. “but i’m not going to lie, i’m a little scared.”

pau’s expression softened. “it’s okay, mi vida, i’ve got you. we’ll take it slow. i’m not going anywhere.” he gently placed his hand on yours, squeezing it for reassurance.

you nodded and adjusted your seat, trying to calm your nerves. you’d practiced a few times already, but this felt different. this time, pau was with you, and somehow that made it feel more real.

“okay,” you said, exhaling deeply, “foot on the brake, and then start the engine?”

“that’s it, cariño,” pau said, his voice steady and soothing. “just take your time. we’re not in a rush.”

you pressed the brake, and the car roared to life with an unexpected growl. you flinched, gripping the steering wheel tighter than you meant to.

pau’s eyes widened, his hand instantly flying out to the dashboard as if to brace himself. “ay, dios mío!” he exclaimed. “did you start a jet engine or the car?!” he looked at you, a mixture of shock and amusement on his face.

you laughed nervously, trying to regain composure. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you.”

pau took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “it’s okay, mi tesoro. just—no need to startle us both, alright?”

you chuckled, trying to focus. “i’ll try my best.”

“okay,” pau continued, voice soft. “now, slowly take your foot off the brake, and gently press on the gas. nice and smooth, like you’re petting a little bunny.”

“a bunny?” you looked at him, confused.

“sí,” he said, nodding seriously. “soft and gentle. you don’t want to hurt the bunny, cariño.”

you bit back a laugh, trying to keep your focus. with that strange, yet oddly comforting image in mind, you pressed the gas gently.

instead of smoothly gliding forward, the car lurched, and you both shot forward a little too quickly. pau’s hand shot out again, gripping his seat like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“oh my god!” pau yelled, his eyes wide with panic. “what did we just do? are we in a race now?!”

“i didn’t mean to!” you were trying to keep the car steady, but you couldn’t stop laughing.

“mi amor, we’re not in a race,” pau said, his voice full of mock horror. “slow down, please! i’m too young to die!”

you tried again, taking the gas much slower this time, but the car jerked forward again. pau yelped, clutching the seatbelt like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“you’re killing me, cariño!” pau shouted, his eyes wide. “i feel like i’m on a rollercoaster! are you sure you’ve done this before?”

“i swear, i’ve practiced!” you laughed, feeling a bit more relaxed despite the chaos. “it’s just… different when you’re in the car with me.”

“i know, i know,” pau said, his voice shaky but trying to stay calm. “but maybe… just pretend we’re driving through a cloud, okay? smooth and soft. think of it like… walking on marshmallows.”

“walking on marshmallows?” you raised an eyebrow, but you were grinning.

“sí,” pau said, his voice serious but still with a hint of humor. “soft and gentle. like marshmallows. no bulls, no rollercoasters. just marshmallows.”

you laughed, trying to focus and get the car under control. this time, you pressed the gas even more gently, and the car moved forward with a little more grace. pau let out a long, relieved sigh and finally looked at you, giving you a nervous but proud smile. “there we go, mi solcito. that’s more like it.”

you felt a small sense of accomplishment, but it didn’t last long. as you turned the corner, you hit the brakes a bit too hard, causing the car to lurch again. pau’s hand shot out again, and he almost yelped.

“okay, okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “i think i need to go home and take a nap after this. i’m not prepared for this kind of stress, mi vida.”

you couldn’t stop laughing. “i swear, i’m really trying!”

“i know, i know,” pau said, giving you a soft smile. “you’re doing great. but just… no more rollercoaster rides, okay?”

you carefully parked the car, though it wasn’t exactly the smoothest stop. pau looked at you, his hand still gripping the seat, but his eyes were soft. “we survived,” he said, laughing nervously.

you both laughed, the tension from the lesson slowly melting away. “thanks for being so patient with me, pau. i swear i’ll get better at this.”

“mi amor, you’re already doing amazing,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “you just need a little practice. i believe in you.”

you smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest. “i think we both survived this lesson, thanks to you.”

pau leaned in, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek. “next time, i’m bringing a crash helmet, just in case. but honestly, i wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

you grinned, squeezing his hand. “next time, i’ll try to drive like we’re on marshmallows.”

pau laughed, nodding. “i think that’s a great plan, mi chiquita.”

[chansdoll]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ현진ㅤㅤ♡ㅤㅤeuphoriaㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

★ pairing。nonidol!hyunjin x fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g. ╰・  smut‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。drug usage (ecstasy) , high sex , unprotected sex , oral (m & f rec.) , light teasing wc。3k

lana's note!  ᰍᩚ this was requested by my beloved mootie @jeonginsleftcheek :3 i hope u like it !!

♡ masterlist

the air felt heavier than usual, yet somehow softer too. the basement walls were draped in deep crimson and sapphire tapestries, their rich colors swirling faintly under the warm glow of string lights that danced along the ceiling. the futon beneath you was cushioned and warm, the fabric brushing against your bare legs like a whisper. your breathing felt louder — not quite labored, but deliberate — as though every inhale sank deeper into your chest, each exhale curling over your skin like smoke.

you shifted slightly, your arm brushing against hyunjin's. just that — the faintest graze of his skin — and it was like sparks igniting under your flesh. his warmth, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his breathing seemed to sync with yours — everything felt heightened, crisper, yet somehow blurred at the edges in a way that made you want to sink deeper into the haze.

"you feel it yet?" hyunjin's voice was low and smooth, and it dragged down your spine like a silk ribbon. you turned your head on the pillow, meeting his gaze. his eyes were half-lidded, dark and glassy beneath the strands of hair falling over his face. he was watching you like he knew something — like he could feel your pulse skittering beneath your skin.

"yeah," you murmured, swallowing thickly. your tongue felt heavy, your throat dry, and yet... you felt good. really good. your body tingled with warmth, and the pressure that normally held your thoughts together seemed to have lifted, leaving you weightless — relaxed but alive.

hyunjin's hand shifted, resting palm-up on the mattress between you. you didn't think — you just reached out, tracing your fingers over his palm, watching as his fingers curled slightly in response. his skin was so soft — impossibly soft — and the more you touched him, the more you wanted. the pads of your fingers drifted along the lines of his hand, lingering in the curve where his thumb met his wrist. the faint pulse there seemed to thrum against your fingertips, and you swore you could feel it moving through you, like his heartbeat had become your own.

"feels... nice," you said softly, almost to yourself.

"yeah?" hyunjin shifted closer. his thigh pressed flush against yours, and you gasped softly at the heat of him. you shouldn't have reacted like that — it was such a small touch — but god, it felt like fire licking up your skin. the warmth spread deeper, pooling low in your belly.

you swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat. "i... i think it's hitting me pretty hard."

hyunjin chuckled, low and deep. his fingers turned, sliding between yours, and his thumb dragged slowly along the inside of your wrist. the sensation unfurled inside you, like silk brushing your veins, and a soft sound slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

"i know," he murmured. his voice was softer now, more intimate — like a breath against your skin. "it’s gonna make you sensitive for a while."

his fingers traced up your arm, following the slope of your shoulder before curling around the back of your neck. his palm pressed warm against your skin, grounding you, but it only made the restless craving inside you worse. you bit your lip, eyes flicking to his mouth, and your breath hitched when his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"hyunjin..." his name left you like a sigh — soft, needy, barely more than a breath.

"mmm?" his gaze dropped to your mouth, his thumb dragging lazily along the side of your neck, pressing just enough to make your pulse jump beneath his touch.

"touch me more," you whispered, your voice barely your own. "please..."

hyunjin groaned softly, his fingers tightening ever so slightly at the back of your neck. his other hand moved, ghosting along your thigh, barely there, but it sent a rush of heat through you, your breath shuddering from the contact.

"fuck," he murmured, his lips parting as he watched your reaction. "you're feeling everything so much more, aren't you?"

you nodded, unable to form words, your body arching instinctively toward his touch. his fingers traced higher, dancing up the inside of your thigh, and you whimpered, the sensation impossibly intoxicating.

"you're so warm," he whispered, his breath brushing against your lips. "so soft..." his fingers teased at the hem of your shorts, playing with the fabric, never quite moving where you needed him most. "i want to feel all of you."

his lips hovered dangerously close, his breath fanning across your skin, and your fingers dug into his wrist, wordlessly pleading for more. hyunjin smirked, his free hand sliding up your side, pressing firmly enough to make your skin burn in the most delicious way.

"tell me what you want," he said, his voice thick, dripping with something dark and sweet.

your head was spinning, heart pounding in your chest. "you. i want you to touch me everywhere."

hyunjin exhaled sharply, his restraint snapping as he finally closed the distance, his lips crashing onto yours.

his lips burned into yours, tasting you, drinking you in. a quiet whimper left your lips at the sensation. he broke the kiss, straddling your thighs before taking his shirt off in one swift motion. you sat up, running your palm along his torso, from his chest to his abs, making him groan. 

he leaned down to kiss you again, his hands made way along your back, helping to lift your shirt as well and tug it off you. as if you blinked, your shirt and bra were both discarded, and he laid you down, eagerly attaching his lips to your skin again. 

you gasped as his lips danced across your chest, hyunjin purposely avoided your nipples, teasing you, wanting to draw out the anticipation as long as he could. “hyunjin, please..” you begged him, your peaks hardening from the cool air. he blew on them softly, watching your reaction with a slight smirk. 

a soft whine left your lips, and  satisfied, he leaned down, swiping his tongue along your right nipple before sucking on it, making your body shudder. 

his lips crashed into yours, searing and desperate, like he was devouring every breath you took. he tasted you, drank you in, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, intoxicating dance. a quiet whimper escaped your lips, the sensation setting your nerves alight.

hyunjin pulled away just enough to look at you, his dark eyes heavy-lidded and filled with something molten. without breaking his gaze, he shifted, straddling your thighs, and in one swift motion, he peeled his shirt off, revealing the smooth expanse of his torso. the dim lighting cast golden shadows over his skin, highlighting every defined ridge of muscle.

you sat up, unable to resist the pull of him, your fingers trailing from the center of his chest down to the taut lines of his abdomen. his skin was warm beneath your touch, and when your palm flattened over his stomach, his breath hitched. a low, throaty groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down your spine.

hyunjin didn’t give you time to dwell on the effect you had on him. he leaned down again, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss, his hands sliding along your back, fingers grazing your spine as he tugged at your shirt. with ease, he lifted it over your head and tossed it aside. as if the moment had blurred in time, your bra soon followed, leaving your skin bare to the cool air.

before you could process the vulnerability, he eased you back down against the futon, his mouth already seeking your skin again. his lips trailed slow, deliberate kisses down your neck, along your collarbone, until he reached your chest. you gasped, the heat of his breath making your skin prickle, but he didn’t rush.

he purposefully avoided your nipples, teasing you, dragging his lips along the soft swells of your breasts, his fingers skimming over your sides. your body trembled with anticipation, aching for more. "hyunjin, please..." the plea fell from your lips, your peaks hardening from the mix of cool air and his deliberate torment.

a smirk ghosted over his lips before he exhaled softly, blowing against your sensitive skin just to watch your reaction. the sharp intake of your breath, the way your back arched slightly—it was exactly what he wanted.

"so needy..." he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something darker.

then, finally, his mouth descended, his tongue flicking over your right nipple before wrapping his lips around it. the wet heat of his mouth sent a sharp pulse of pleasure straight to your core, and a shudder wracked through your body as a helpless moan spilled from your lips.

satisfied with your reaction, hyunjin switched to your other breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles before closing his lips around your peak, sucking just hard enough to make you gasp. his hands smoothed along your sides, his thumbs pressing into your waist as he kept you in place, as if grounding you through the overwhelming pleasure. every touch, every flick of his tongue sent waves of heat cascading through your body, pooling low in your stomach.

when he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his breath heavy against your skin. he looked down at you, his gaze dark and needy, his fingers trailing lower, just grazing the waistband of your shorts.

"please, baby…" his voice was hoarse, dripping with desire. "let me taste you. it's gonna feel so good, i promise."

His words sent a jolt of anticipation straight to your core, and you nodded without hesitation. A satisfied hum left his lips as he hooked his fingers into your shorts, tugging them down slowly. You lifted your hips to help him, the cool air kissing your exposed skin as he slid them off with ease.

But he didn’t remove your panties just yet. Instead, he lowered himself between your legs, his hands pressing gently against your thighs as he spread them further apart. His lips found the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses there, trailing dangerously close to where you needed him most. The heat of his breath ghosted over your clothed core, and you instinctively bucked your hips, chasing more friction.

hyunjin chuckled, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, full of mischief. "so eager…" he murmured before pressing a firm kiss over your mound, the fabric of your panties doing little to dull the sensation. he exhaled purposefully, his warm breath seeping through the damp material, making your thighs quiver.

his fingers traced along the waistband, teasing, but he didn’t pull them down yet. instead, he pressed his tongue against the fabric, licking a slow stripe over your covered clit. the sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, and your breath hitched, a soft whimper leaving your lips. he repeated the motion, swirling his tongue over the damp fabric, teasing you with feather-light pressure that left you squirming beneath him.

"hyunjin..." you gasped, fingers tangling into the blankets beneath you.

he grinned against you, his fingers finally hooking into the sides of your panties and dragging them down, achingly slow. the cool air was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from you, and before you could process the exposure, his mouth was on you.

his tongue traced a languid path along your slit, savoring you, his movements unhurried and precise. he groaned against you, the vibration sending another ripple of pleasure through your body. he licked and sucked with deliberate intensity, alternating between teasing flicks and deep, slow strokes, drawing out every sensation until your thighs trembled around his head.

the drug coursing through your system heightened everything—the wet heat of his mouth, the skillful way his tongue worked you open, the way every nerve in your body was on fire for him. it built too fast, too intense, your body already tightening, your orgasm creeping up on you faster than you could brace for.

"fuck, hyunjin—" your voice broke, your back arching off the futon as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your climax unraveling you completely.

hyunjin groaned against you, his grip on your thighs tightening as he worked you through it, his tongue relentless until you were trembling beneath him. only when your body sagged back against the futon, breathless and spent, did he finally pull away, his lips and chin glistening, his dark eyes burning with desire as he looked at you.

"god, you taste so fucking good," he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning back up to capture your lips again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

as you caught your breath, a bold thought crossed your mind, desire still burning through you. your fingers trailed down his chest, lower, until they reached the waistband of his sweats. "i want to make you feel good too," you murmured, your voice still shaky from your high.

hyunjin swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he nodded. "please do."

you pushed him onto his back, your fingers hooking into his sweats and pulling them down. his cock was already hard, flushed, and leaking with need. you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slowly before leaning in, letting your tongue swirl around his tip before taking him into your mouth, savoring the way his breath hitched and his fingers tangled into your hair.

you pulled off, sensing he was close, and he grunted from the loss of your warm mouth. his chest rose and fell in heavy pants, his fingers twitching at his sides, desperate to reach for you, to guide you back down. you stroked him lazily, your touch featherlight, teasing, watching the way his abs clenched with every movement of your hand.

licking your lips, you met his hooded gaze, voice dripping with need. “i want you to finish inside me…” you trailed off, your words sending a visible shudder through him.

his breath hitched, his hands coming up to grip your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. “fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself, his dark eyes searching yours for any hesitation. but there was none. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

hyunjin wasted no time. he pulled you up, flipping you onto your back with effortless ease. his body hovered over yours, his cock pressing against your slick folds, teasing, as if savoring the anticipation. he dipped his head, capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he reached between you, positioning himself right at your entrance.

“baby,” he murmured, breathless, lips brushing yours. “are you sure? if you’re too out of it–”

you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. “please, hyunjin. i need you.”

a deep groan rumbled from his chest, and then, in one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside you. the stretch had your mouth parting in a silent gasp, your nails digging into his back as he filled you inch by inch. hyunjin’s head dropped to your shoulder, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he bottomed out, his body trembling from the sheer sensation of being buried inside you.

“holy fuck,” he breathed, his voice raw with pleasure. “you feel… so fucking good.”

he stayed still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust, his lips tracing slow, reverent kisses along your jawline. then, he pulled back slightly, only to thrust forward again, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had you both unraveling.

each roll of his hips sent sparks of pleasure through you, his movements fluid and intoxicating, like he was savoring every second. his hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every dip, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt beneath him.

the effects of the ecstasy heightened everything—the way his body moved against yours, the heat pooling between you, the blissful drag of his cock as he pushed deeper, hitting spots that had you gasping his name. every sound, every touch, every sensation was magnified, sending you spiraling further into pleasure.

hyunjin’s lips found your neck, sucking and nipping, marking you as his. “you’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his voice wrecked. “i could stay inside you forever.”

his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. one of his hands slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that sent your pleasure skyrocketing.

you were close—so close, your body trembling beneath him, every muscle tightening as you chased your release. “hyunjin—” his name fell from your lips in a desperate plea, your hands fisting the sheets as you teetered on the edge.

“come for me, baby,” he groaned, his thrusts turning erratic. “i wanna feel you—fuck, let go for me.”

and with one final flick of his fingers, you shattered. your orgasm crashed over you in waves, white-hot pleasure consuming every inch of your body. your walls clenched around him, drawing a deep, broken moan from his lips as he lost himself completely.

with a final thrust, he buried himself deep, his body shuddering as he spilled inside you, his release prolonging your own. he groaned into your neck, breathless, his entire body taut as he rode out his high.

for a long moment, the only sound was the heavy rise and fall of your breaths, the distant hum of music blending with the rapid pounding of your hearts. hyunjin collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead.

“that was…” he trailed off, shaking his head as a slow, satisfied smile curled his lips. “fucking unreal.”

you chuckled, still dazed, still high on him. “yeah,” you breathed, nuzzling into his chest. “it really was.”

hyunjin exhaled a content sigh, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “i don’t ever wanna come down from this.”

you hummed in agreement, letting your eyes flutter shut, your body still buzzing with warmth, with pleasure, with him. and in that moment, wrapped in his arms, under the hazy glow of fairy lights, nothing else in the world existed—only the two of you, lost in the aftermath of something neither of you could quite explain.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @geni-627 @bbokvhs @wavetohannie @hhwangsmoon

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[str4ngr]

Hello!! Could u do number 5 angst with megumi jjk??

no. [crying.]

just not now.

m. fushiguro. | my drug, my addiction.

cw: angst, foul language, unrequited love, rejection, gn! reader. wc: 629. notes: we're not friends. not proofread

His eyes met yours like a scalding hot burn, piercing your soul in merciless indifference,

"Sorry, but no."

Megumi's voice echoed in your head, no longer the song that made your heart sing but what made it shatter. Your breath felt like it shrunk in your lungs while each word and emotion began to ball up into a lump in your throat. Your eyes were blown wide, staring right at him but it felt like you couldn't see him. The warm curves of his cheeks turned into the creases in his forehead as he raised a brow at you,

"What? Look, y/n, I don't see you like that."

It felt like autopilot, robotic smile on your lip as you nod, letting him walk away with a dry expression as he turned his back on you. He didn't look back, the uncomfortable glare of unreciprocated feeling lingering on your face as your back faced his. it felt hard to swallow, it felt like your head was coming unscrewed from how fast it was spinning. Were you truly that delusional?

They always say when a door in life closes, another open, but right now? Right now, it feels like every single molecule of space around you is a door slamming shut and squeezing you alive. Your feet dragged back to your dorm, phone discarded somewhere, muted as regretful texts from Kugisaki lit up your lockscreen.

Curled up beneath a behemoth mountain of sheets, you still felt cold, the reminder of his dismissive stare, his hands in his pocket, the way all those bubbly feelings in your heart bursted into searing rejection that felt like they tore apart your chest.

The wall felt happier to stare at then yourself. God, maybe you really were wearing rose-tinted glasses. You pursed your lips, think to every time your mind brought you to a hopeful la-la-land of your ideals.

Every time Megumi 'stared' at you, was he staring at you, or was it because you were sat next to Panda, who he was talking to? Or... when he remembered your favorite snack! Or maybe it's because Itadori told him, since he was the one who was supposed to get them. And he was the one you had told... How about your birthday? No, all he did was contribute to the collective gift given by the other first-years.

With how dehydrated you were, you weren't sure if it was now that you became deranged, or before. But probably the latter, considering your mind was now brutally slapping you in the face, each memory of your pathetic puppy love followed by the raging reminder of rejection.

Maybe today wasn't the day to feel confident, maybe you shouldn't have hyped yourself up in the mirror this morning.

Early morning practice was a weekly shenanigan; shenanigan because most of the time, those who were not dueling to the half-death were goofing around. Today was just another one of those days, with Maki and Kugisaki going head to head in a close combat training. Megumi had. just finished with Itadori, and fuck did he look beautiful, wrist wiping the sweat on his forehead, his fringe flipped back as his chest slightly heaved.

You couldn't help but admire the way the just risen sun's light glimered off each bead that trailed down his defined cheekbones, or how his sharp eyes glared into Itadori at some stupid joke he had made. Megumi had decided to go refill his water bottle, and you decided to trail along. God, did you regret that now.

How much more fucking obvious could it be? You were being delusional, desperate, grasping at the straws of romantically meaningless, platonic, actions, playing make-believe as if they meant anything at all.

Class would be much harder from now on.

notes: oh my gee i havent used y/n in so long....

[starrydali]

HIHIHIHI So idk if you're doing reqs rn but i was recently reading your percy jackson x reader and i saw "request here" at the bottom so here i am!!1!! okay so basically percy x aphrdodite!reader if that's okay w u 🫶🏻 thanks in advance, remember to take care of urself and drink water hihihiihhahahehahhahahs

∘°∘♡∘° Yes, absolutely. I love requests! Send as many as you want! ♡

✧˖*°࿐*✧.┊Being the daughter of Aphrodite, you were no stranger to love and affection. Percy, on the other hand, wasn't used to this but was never one to shy away from your constant doting. He found your love a bit overwhelming at times, but adorable and sweet nonetheless. And even if it made him blush, he couldn't help but think he was the luckiest guy alive to have you looking at him the way you did. ✧. ┊ 

ʚ percy jackson x aphrodite!reader ɞ

You were sitting on a grassy patch just outside of camp, your back resting against a tree as Percy sprawled out beside you. The soft breeze ruffled his hair, and you couldn’t help but stare at him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

He was talking, probably about something important—he always did—but you barely registered the words. Instead, you were far too focused on the way the sun highlighted the curve of his jaw, the softness of his lips, and the playful gleam in his eyes. Every time he looked at you, you swore you were going to melt into a puddle.

You twirled a lock of your hair around your finger, smiling dreamily as you gazed at his face, unable to tear your eyes away from how absolutely perfect he looked. You let out a soft giggle, completely lost in how cute he was.

Percy noticed the giggle and stopped mid-sentence, furrowing his brow as he leaned up slightly to look at you. “What’s so funny?” he asked, though his tone was full of amusement. “Did I say something funny?”

You shook your head, still smiling like you were in a daze. “No, no,” you said, your voice soft, almost breathless. “I’m just thinking about how cute you are.”

Percy blinked, caught off guard by your words. He sat up a little straighter, the confused look on his face quickly replaced by a teasing smile. “What? You can’t stop staring at me now kid?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, your gaze never leaving him. “I just like looking at your face,” you admitted with a shy giggle. “It’s really nice.”

Percy’s smile softened, and he let out a quiet laugh, trying to suppress the sudden warmth spreading through him. “You’re making me self-conscious, you know that?”

But you were already too busy to pay attention to what he said. You reached out, gently brushing his hair out of his eyes, your fingers lingering against his soft skin. You adored the way his hair always seemed to get just a little messy, no matter what he did, and how his eyes seemed to sparkle even in the softest of lights.

You found yourself inching closer to him, still admiring his features. “You have the most perfect face, Percy,” you whispered, your voice practically reverent, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You tilted your head, completely mesmerized by him. “Like... how are you real?”

Percy blinked in surprise, but there was a fond smile tugging at his lips. “I’m pretty sure you’ve told me that like a hundred times already,” he teased, though his heart was beating just a little faster at how genuinely affectionate you were being.

But you were already too busy again. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, and then on his other cheek, and his forehead, planting gentle, lingering kisses all over his face.

Percy froze for a second, his cheeks going slightly pink. “Hey, hey, easy there sweetheart,” he chuckled, trying to pull away just a little. “You're making me blush.”

You didn’t stop, though. You continued dotting kisses across his face, your lips soft and sweet against his skin. A giggle slipped from you between each kiss, and Percy could barely hold back the flustered smile that threatened to break free.

“You’re so cute,” you murmured with a giggle, kissing the tip of his nose. “I just can't help myself.”

He gently pulled back, trying to stop the onslaught of your kisses, but you weren’t having it. “Y/N,” Percy said, his voice a little breathless from the sweetness of it all. “You really need to stop... I—I can't think straight when you do this."

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and affection, and you held his face in your hands and leaned in for one last kiss, this time a soft peck on his lips. “Aww, but you’re so cute,” you teased playfully.

Percy let out a quiet laugh, now fully flushed, as he covered his face with his hand. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” he muttered under his breath.

“I know,” you said softly, resting your head against his shoulder, still feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips as you gazed at him, content to simply be in his presence. “I’m pretty lucky, too.”

Percy sighed in a mock exasperated tone, but there was affection in his eyes. He couldn’t help it—he loved the attention. Even if you were making him the blushing, flustered mess that he was, he was totally okay with it. Because, as much as you adored him, it was pretty clear—he was the lucky one.

✧. ┊ Send requests! :)

[kunareads]

after midnight

choso x reader

when was the last time you had a one-night stand?

masterlist

wc: 4.6k

hair down choso u will always be famous !!!!!!

content: one night stand!choso, the dynamics shift a lot here, protected sex!!, oral (f! and m! receiving), hair pulling, biting

18+ please <3

the club is alive around you as the night grows deeper. the bass reverberates through your body as neon lights dance across the crowd. laughter mixes with the sharp bite of spilled alcohol, and you sip your drink, warmth spreading as you watch your friends lose themselves on the dance floor.

the music pulls you in like a tide, and you're dancing with your friends before long. your dress clings to your body, black fabric shimmering under the lights.

your eyes drift across the crowd until you see him. a man leaning lazily against the bar, a quiet storm in the midst of chaos. he's gorgeous, hair falling in locks around his face, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are fixed on you. they're piercing, a hint of something dangerous simmering beneath the surface.

you feel his eyes travel over you like a weight. heat creeps up your neck as your lips curve into a slow, daring smile.

you hold his gaze as you dance, every move deliberate. his lips curl into the faintest smirk before he sets his drink down, the crowd seeming to part for him.

there's no preamble when he reaches you. his hands find your hips, warm and confident, pulling you closer. the first thing you notice when you slide your arms around his neck is that he smells like leather and mint, sharp and masculine. it makes you lightheaded.

"you dance like you want trouble," he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

you giggle, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against the shell of his ear. "maybe i do."

his laugh is quiet, nearly lost in the music, but you feel it against your skin. his grip tightens as the tempo slows, the rhythm coaxing your bodies together. "can't have that."

you savor the proximity as you lean into him. his touch makes you bold. you trail your fingers down the back of his neck, fine hairs rising at your touch. "no?" you challenge. "what are you gonna do about it?"

he doesn't need more encouragement. he captures your lips and the heat of his kiss drowns out the pounding music, the crush of the crowd fading with the movement of his hands. you're on high alert as you pull away, every subtle movement sending sparks through your veins.

you spin, pressing your back to his chest, and move your hips in a slow circle, baiting. he matches you seamlessly, his hands settling firmly on your waist. his grip is confident, nails digging into you just enough to light a spark. every touch feels electric, leaving you breathless for more.

you arch into him, resting your head against his chest, almost like an invitation as his hands map the curves of your body. his lips skim the side of your neck, leaving a trail that stops just below your ear.

when you turn your head, he's already waiting, the kiss all heat and desire. you bite his lip, admittedly harder than you meant to, earning a groan as his hand tangles in your hair. he pulls sharply, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, claiming you.

the sound you make is sinful, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

"you like it a little mean, huh?" he teases, his free hand sliding lower to squeeze the curve of your ass.

"maybe," you reply with a playful arch of your brow.

his eyes flash as his grip tightens, pulling your head back to bare your throat. his teeth graze your neck, slow and purposeful, while his other hand slides just under your dress to skim the sensitive skin of your thigh, drawing a soft gasp from you.

he seems to know exactly how to play you. every touch feels calculated, designed to unravel you. it's maddening. you can't get enough of him.

you let out a soft whine, and he chuckles low against your throat.

"something wrong?" he goads, loosening his grip on your hair just enough to trail his fingertips down your neck.

"touch me," you breathe, the words trembling on your lips.

he hums, pleased, as his fingers ghost over the curve of your breasts. "thought i was touching you," he muses as his hand ventures higher up your thigh.

"more," you say, hips swaying against him in defiance. two can play this game.

turning to face him, you plant your hands on his shoulders as you close the distance. his eyes widen for a moment, caught off-guard, but it's short-lived when you roll your hips against him in a slow, dirty grind. the way his breath hitches sends a thrill through you.

"that's not fair," he mutters, a low growl in his voice.

"all's fair," you reply, your hands gliding down the hard lines of his chest. you lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, letting your lips trail down his neck and savoring the way he squirms for you.

his grunt vibrates against your lips, sending heat coursing through your body. you flash a wicked smile as your hand drifts lower, brushing over the hard length straining against his jeans.

"fuck," he hisses, fingers tensing on your hips.

"too much for you?" you ask mockingly, your teeth scraping his pulse point.

you take his heavy breaths as encouragement, squeezing him lightly. he swears, his head tipping back and the tendons of his neck standing out.

"maybe i should stop," you taunt, the words a hot whisper against his skin.

"don't you dare," he growls, his tone almost desperate as his hand slides up to cup your face. his lips crash against yours, demanding, erasing every thought but him.

he kisses you like he needs the air from your lungs. he takes over, his lips commanding, his tongue teasing as he walks you backward through the crowd until your back hits the wall. one hand weaves back into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss, while the other grips your jaw firmly. you melt into him, clinging to his waist, the heat of him driving you crazy.

"come home with me," he rasps against your lips, voice thick with craving.

"yes," you agree, panting.

he leads you out of the club, the night air cool against your heated skin. his fingers slide into yours, the gesture simple but enough to send butterflies swirling in your stomach. on the walk out, you introduce yourselves to each other. his name is choso, you learn.

the uber ride is a blur. the two of you are lost in each other, hands roaming unapologetically. his lips are on your neck, leaving teasing kisses and soft bites. you're a mess by the time the car rolls to a stop, stumbling out with him.

the door barely clicks shut before he's on you again. his hips press you firmly against the wall, leaving no space between you as a low moan escapes into his mouth.

you're a live wire, electrified under his touch. your fingers grasp at the back of his shirt, pulling him closer as his knee presses between your thighs. the rough fabric of his jeans sends a thrill straight to your core.

choso's lips move down your throat, leaving faint marks in their wake. you revel in the feeling of his body against yours.

"bite me," you request, the words slipping without thought.

his teeth graze the curve of your neck before sinking in, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. the sting melts as his tongue follows, soothing the spot while your hips buck.

"so sensitive," he breathes, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

you grind against him, chasing the sensation. "that a problem?" you challenge.

"absolutely not," he hums, nipping at your jaw with a smirk.

you pull him into another kiss, urgent and unrestrained. the air between you thrums with lust as his hips roll against you. you can't help the sounds that fall from your lips, moans and curses and pleas for more.

"take me to bed," you beg, voice rough with need.

he complies, lifting you, arms wrapped securely around your thighs as he carries you through the apartment. you wrap your legs around his waist, your lips brushing his jaw as the heat builds with every step.

he sits on the bed, keeping you close so you can straddle him. his fingers skim your thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress to grip the soft skin. the warmth of his touch sets you on fire as you move against him in a smooth rhythm.

"off," you whisper, tugging at his shirt. his laugh rumbles in his chest, indulgent as he pulls it off in one smooth motion. you trace the lines of his tattoos with your fingertips, following the patterns up to his neck and then down his chest. his stomach clenches under your touch, urging you.

you trail kisses down his neck and across his chest. the faint taste of salt lingers as his groan reverberates through you, fanning the flames at your core. the way his body reacts to your touch is addictive, you decide.

"so responsive," you murmur, biting his collarbone, savoring the way he shudders beneath you.

"that a problem?" he taunts, the words an echo of yours from earlier.

"'of course not," you breathe, the words ghosting across his skin.

he captures your lips in a searing kiss, demanding and consuming, as his hands slide up your thighs. he tugs your dress upward in one fluid motion. cool air brushes over your skin, but the heat radiating from him keeps you grounded.

his gaze sweeps over you, a wolfish grin tugging at his lips.

"fucking stunning," he murmurs, his voice thick with hunger. the intensity in his eyes sends warmth through you, leaving you both vulnerable and powerful under his stare

"touch me," you breathe, your lips grazing the shell of his ear.

he doesn't hesitate, his hands gliding up the curve of your waist, thumbs brushing over your nipples. the contact sends sparks through you, pulling a soft gasp from your lips.

he leans in, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing. the sensation makes you dizzy, your head tipping back as a moan slips past your lips. his free hand mirrors the attention, rolling and kneading, making you restless.

you grind against him, the motion making heat pool in your core. he groans, the sound muffled against your skin, as his body tenses.

"keep doing that and this'll be over before we start," he says, voice tight.

you giggle, leaning back to look at him with a raised brow. "well," you quip, your voice light, "looks like you'd better keep up."

he growls, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. his hands shift to your hips, flipping you onto your back and pinning you to the bed. the movement is seamless, his controlled but undeniable. your breath catches as you look up at him, anticipation coiling in your chest

"you're fucking dangerous," he murmurs, eyes dark. you smile sweetly at him. his lips brush your neck before his teeth sink in, drawing a whine from you as the pain blurs into pleasure.

"scared?" you ask, your voice laced with defiance.

"not even close," he purrs, the words a velvety promise against your skin.

he travels down your body, alternating between soft kisses and sharp nips that leave your skin humming. he's patient, attentive, learning what makes you moan, what makes you arch into him, what makes you gasp.

your thighs tremble as you try to press closer, desperate for his touch. a soft whimper escapes you, your body leaning into his hands, pliant and eager for more.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down inch by inch. the pace is torturous, and you whine, your hips jerking involuntarily.

he chuckles, the sound turning you on even more. "easy," he rumbles. you groan, the anticipation making you dizzy. you're sensitive, wet, and aching for him. he knows exactly what he's doing.

his lips find the tender skin of your inner thigh, leaving deliberate kisses, featherlight but incendiary. his breath ghosts over your core, warm against the cool air, drawing a gasp from you.

he pauses, hovering so close to where you need him, his eyes locking onto yours.

"tell me what you want," he demands, the words shooting heat to your core.

"you," you whimper, fingers twisting desperately into the sheets.

"not good enough," he taunts, teeth grazing your thigh, making you shudder.

"i want your mouth on me," you pant, your voice breaking on the words.

his hum is smug, his dark eyes glinting with clear satisfaction. "where?" he presses, his voice thick with need but completely controlled.

"fuck, please," you moan, your body arching toward him.

"say it," he growls, the roughness in his voice unraveling you.

"please, eat me out," you plead, the words spilling out in a desperate plea.

he's on you in an instant. his tongue presses against you, and the sudden contact draws a sharp cry from your throat. he moves with purpose, dragging his tongue along your folds before circling your clit.

you write, but his grip on your thighs is strong, keeping you right where he wants you. your head falls back as he builds you up patiently, every stroke of his tongue sending you closer to the edge.

"yes," you moan, hips straining against his hold. you're getting so lost in the feeling that you don't register the shift until you find yourself straddling his face.

your breath catches as you glance down, his eyes meeting yours with a predatory gleam. his hands grip your thighs, guiding you as he pulls you closer.

"fuck," you gasp, the pressure on your clit making you see stars.

"ride my face, sweetheart," he says, the command lighting a fire in you.

you grab his hands, pulling them above his head and pinning them there. he lets you, the flash in his eyes making your core throb. he doesn't waste a second, tongue lapping at you. you move with him, grinding against his face, chasing the friction.

"god, yes," you moan, losing yourself in the feeling. you're sliding against his mouth, fucking his face, each movement pushing you closer. he's relentless, eating you with an intensity that makes your whole body tremble.

"fuck, don't stop," you plead, your grip loosening on his wrists to pull his hair.

he groans loudly against your pussy, the vibration sending a shockwave through you. "it's so good," you babble, words spilling from you uncontrollably.

he pushes you higher, closer. you're a mess, hips jerking, thighs shaking. "i'm so close," you cry, the pleasure almost unbearable.

he doesn't falter, licking and sucking, driving you to the edge.

"please, choso" you beg, voice a broken whine.

he growls in response, his hands gripping your ass and pulling you down harder against him. the added pressure is your undoing.

your orgasm hits you like a freight train, a wave of pleasure so intense it leaves you searching for air. your vision blurs, your body tensing, a flood of white-hot bliss overtaking you, pulling you under entirely.

you ride his face instinctively, chasing the aftershocks as he coaxes every ounce of pleasure from you. he doesn't let up, drawing out every last wave until you're spent.

"fuck," you sigh as you come down.

you release his hair, moving off his face, laying next to him. your orgasm has passed, but the arousal is still there, simmering in your core. you want more.

you watch as he sits up, a wicked smirk playing on his lips, eyes dark with unrestrained hunger. the sight of his slick chin sends a fresh wave of heat through you, leaving you humming with need.

he leans over, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you're breathless when he pulls away, dazed.

"can i taste you?" you ask, obvious desire in your voice.

"i don't know," he drawls, his tone cocky and teasing. "can you?"

"let me taste you, pretty boy," you purr, your lips brushing his in soft, teasing kisses.

his breath hitches, a low groan escaping him. "god," he mutters, the nickname making him shiver beneath your touch.

"what's the matter?" you tease, your tone laced with honey. "can't handle a little payback?"

"not from you," he replies, eyes flashing with heat.

with a sly grin, you push him down and slide between his legs. the bulge in his jeans is evident, the damp spot on the front telling you everything you need to know.

"look at you," you murmur, your finger tracing the length of him through his jeans. "so worked up already."

"fuck," he swears, hips jerking under your touch, chasing the friction.

"what's wrong, pretty boy?" you tease, the nickname making him groan. "can't hold still for me?"

your lips find the sharp line of his hip, nipping at the skin there. the reaction is immediate, his dick twitching, straining harder against the confines of his pants.

you smirk, undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, freeing him. he's beautiful, thick and heavy, the tip flushed and glistening.

"you're perfect," you whisper, the words slipping past your lips without thought.

he doesn't respond, biting his lip as a blush spreads across his cheeks. the sight of him makes your chest tighten, your smile widening as you savor his reaction.

you glide your tongue slowly up the underside of his dick, the faint, salty taste of precum igniting the fire in your belly again.

"shit," he hisses, his hands fisting in the sheets, the muscles in his stomach tensing.

you take your time, kissing the base of him, your lips trailing upward. his breathing grows heavier, his hips shifting as he fights to stay still for you.

finally, you take his tip into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him as you suck lightly. the feeling makes him gasp, a breathless curse falling from his lips.

"oh fuck," he groans, his hips bucking involuntarily, pushing deeper into your mouth. the taste of him makes your head spin, a moan slipping out around him as you take him further. "more," he begs, his voice cracking with need.

you oblige, taking him deeper until you're meeting his base. he's thick and heavy in your mouth, the weight leaving your head light with desire.

"oh god," he moans, his hands twisting into your hair. the gentle tug makes you throb, your thighs clenching instinctively.

you find a rhythm together, your head bobbing in time with his shallow thrusts. his dick moves smoothly, in and out, as you relax your throat to take him deeper. his grip on your hair tightens, guiding you as he loses himself in the sensation.

"you feel so good," he groans, his voice breaking.

the praise sends a jolt to your core, and you moan around him, the vibration drawing another gasp from him. you hollow your cheeks, sucking and licking as his hips buck helplessly, driving deeper into your mouth.

"wait, fuck," he chokes out, the desperation clear.

you pull back, looking up at him. his cheeks are flushed, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. "are you okay?" you ask.

"fine, great, amazing," he says, words tumbling out in a rush, a breathless laugh. "i'm gonna cum if you keep going, and i want to be inside you."

his words send another rush of heat through you, the ache between your thighs intensifying with anticipation.

"condoms?" you ask, voice barely audible over your heartbeat.

"drawer," he replies, nodding towards the bedside table.

you retrieve one quickly tearing the wrapper open. his eyes are glued to your hands as you roll the condom onto him. the way he twitches under your touch only makes you want him more.

"how do you want me?" you purr, voice dripping with invitation.

he smirks, sitting up and pulling you onto his lap. the position aligns him right at your entrance, his tip brushing against you.

"you're so wet," he groans, sliding easily between your folds.

"i'm not the only one," you tease, a smirk on your lips.

he rolls his eyes, his hands tightening around your waist. "such a smartass," he murmurs, his voice low.

"you like it," you shoot back, your hips rocking deliberately. his groan is guttural, sending need through you.

"fuck," he breathes, fingers flexing against your skin as he struggles to stay still.

"so impatient," you taunt, leaning in to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

he moans, melting into you. his hands are everywhere, exploring every curve with something like reverence. your hips shift, dragging him between your folds. the friction brings matching moans out of both of you. when his dick brushes against your clit, you feel sparks shoot up your spine.

"stop teasing," he growls, his voice frayed with desperation.

"tell me what you want, choso," you murmur, his name rolling off your tongue like honey.

"i want you," he pleads, his grip tightening on your hips, his words raw. "i want you so bad."

with a sinful smile, you sink onto him in a steady glide. the stretch makes your eyes roll back, pulling a breathless moan from you as your head tips backward.

"fuck," he hisses through gritted teeth, shuddering as he adjusts to the overwhelming feeling of you around him.

"choso," you moan, the sound breathy and needy as you take him fully.

he doesn't give you a chance to adjust, pulling your hips down and snapping his own up to meet you, the force stealing the breath from your lungs. you cry out, the feeling overwhelming you as the two of you set a bruising pace. the room fills with the sound of skin meeting skin, the air electric with your shared need.

"just like that," he groans, eyes fluttering shut. "fuck, don't stop."

you ride him, hard and fast, chasing the pleasure. he meets you perfectly, hitting every spot to send you spiraling higher. the air feels thick with the scent of sex and the sounds your pussy is making around him.

"fuck, yes," you moan, the pleasure mounting. you look down at him, and he has this stupid smile on his face. the sight makes your heart stutter.

"you're so fucking gorgeous," he breathes, his voice ragged.

you lean forward, your fingers finding his throat and wrapping around it gently.

"harder," he rasps, his eyes going wide and desperate with a hint of something deeper, more primal.

you tighten your grip just enough to make him gasp. you can feel his pulse racing beneath your fingertips. you feel his whole body tense beneath you, every muscle taut, amplifying the tension.

"don't stop," he pants, the words barely audible but laced with urgency.

your breath catches, the command making you needier. "choso," you whimper, trembling and raw, his name both a prayer and a plea.

he drives into you relentlessly, filling you over and over, each thrust threatening to pull you over. the pleasure swells, all-encompassing.

"come on," he urges, his voice rough.

the feeling is nearly unbearable, every nerve in your body stretched taut. your cries spill freely, incoherent and desperate, as the pressure inside you builds to its peak. he feels you getting close, the way you clench around him, the slick sounds between you growing just that much louder.

"let go," he whispers, his voice commanding, the words igniting a spark that races through you.

your movements become frantic, driven by pure instinct, your body chasing release. he meets you, thrust for thrust, his hips snapping up to meet yours with an intensity that leaves you trembling.

you're close, so close. your hand releases his throat, your nails digging into his hard chest as you buck against him. one arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, as the other cradles your head, his lips brushing your ear.

"cum for me, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice rough and threaded with desperation.

and it's that, the softness in his voice, the endearment, the tenderness of his grip, that tips you over the edge. the pleasure is blinding, your body shaking violently as it takes hold.

"fuck, choso, fuck," you moan, the words breaking apart as your back arches, every nerve in your body alight. you ride the wave, your pussy clenching around him as he keeps moving, drawing our every last spark.

"god, yes," he groans, his voice trembling with the effort it takes to hold on. you can feel him losing control, his movements becoming erratic, the tension radiating from him.

"cum for me, baby," you whisper, the words soft but insistent.

his thrusts falter, a shudder running through him. "oh god," he chokes, his head tipping back.

"it's okay," you encourage, your voice soothing, coaxing him through. "give it to me, choso." the way his body shudders beneath you makes your chest tighten, your words tumbling out in a breathless murmur.

his hips stutter, his entire body locking up before he spills into the condom, his release accompanied by a broken moan of your name. his head drops to your shoulder, his whole body trembling as he rides out the waves of pleasure.

"god," he murmurs. he sounds wrecked.

you hum, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. the two of you lay there, a tangled of limbs and sweat. the room falls into a comfortable silence, only broken by the sounds of heavy breathing.

after a few moments, he pulls out and ties the condom off before tossing it into the trash.

"can i clean you up?" he asks, his voice gentle.

you nod, a small smile on your lips.

he lifts you gently and carries you into the bathroom, setting you on the counter. his movements are delicate as he turns the shower on, checking the water temperature before guiding you in.

the water feels amazing, the heat and pressure soothing you. his hands are steady and his touch purposeful as he washes you. neither of you speaks, but the silence is surprisingly comfortable.

once you've both washed away the heat of the night, he wraps you in a towel and leads you back to bed, where he sits you down and pulls a shirt over your head.

"i'm hungry," you admit with a smile.

choso chuckles and takes your hand, bringing you to the couch. he tucks a blanket around you before disappearing into the kitchen. he returns with snacks and water, setting everything in front of you before settling into the couch himself.

the two of you sit comfortably, sharing snacks, trading small bits of information. you learn that choso's into tattoos, that he works late nights more often than not, and that he's been to tonight's club a few times. in turn, you tell him about your favorite drinks, your job, and the time you nearly got banned from karaoke.

it's easy, light. different from how you expected the night to end.

you watch him as he speaks, noticing the way his lips curve when he's amused or how his brow furrows in thought. there's something comforting about it, the way he seems genuinely interested in what you have to say.

this doesn't feel like the usual fleeting intimacy of a one-night stand. it lingers, unspoken but undeniable, and the thought settles in your chest like a quiet revelation.

he stretches out beside you, tossing the now-empty chip bag back onto the coffee table. "so, what happens next?" he asks, his tone casual, but there's an undercurrent of curiosity there.

you smirk, sinking into the pillows. "guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

the night drifts on, quiet and unhurried. whatever this is, it feels like more than just a moment. that thought lingers in your mind long after you fall asleep.