#if you have enough patience to read it I want you know that I adore you and THANK YOU

[seirei-bh]

Jason Mendal's facade. Deep analysis about him: his past, traumas, ideologies and subsequent development -Theories

I'm going to try to do a deep analysis here about why Jason is the way he is and how he became the person he is now. At least the little info que got about him until ep 5. Before start to read, you have to keep in mind that although there is some canonical data here, there is also a lot of speculation on my part, so these theories may be refuted in future episodes.

I am going to talk here about all the possible reasons for how his behaviour is today, applied to his business, as well as to his relationships of rivalry, friendship and romance. About his ideas, mentality, his heart, and everything related to the little we know about his childhood, personality and way of behaving. It will be a long analysis with many points to discuss.

Backstory and possible traumas

To begin with, another theory about Jason that I have after ep 5 that I'm going to add to my huge list of theories about him (you can read them in some of my previous posts, like this one and others in my Jason's headcanons post) is that, regarding the big number of brief romantic partners he had, and why he doesn't want to have a long and stable romantic relationship with anyone, I think one of the reasons to that fear may also be related to the death of his father and with his own actual “perfect” life in general.

First, I mean the fact that his father died when he was a teenager has made me think that perhaps Jason's emotional situation could be similar to Anthony from Bridgerton series, who after losing his father and seeing how much his mother suffered from that loss, that created a trauma that made him never want to fall in love for fear of losing someone else whom he loves again and suffering for it.

Perhaps his mother had depression after the death of her husband, maybe because of this she neglected her son or even lost her job, so they even had financial problems, and Jason having to deal with tons of responsibilities since he was too young. That also made Jason become a person more focused on getting money and power at any price and as quickly as possible.

We do not know how his father died, it is most likely that it was due to a car accident or some serious illness. About Jason and his mother, I wonder if maybe they never got along, or if their relationship deteriorated after his father died. But regardless of that, the death of one of your parents in your teenage years is something that can affect you greatly. This makes me think about what kind of situation Jason would live in high school, I’ve the feeling that he wasn't very popular, or at least not at first, and that he was one of those people who go from being one of those who suffered bullying to those who end up bullying others as a wrong way to show that he could be stronger and thus create some popularity with which he would stop feeling alone and unprotected. I bet his "charming personality" started to come through here, and the death of his father had a lot to do with it. Being a person who did everything possible to try to fit in, even if he had to destroy others to do so.

I also wrote a long time ago in another post that it is possible that other children made fun of Jason at school for having white locks, and that he perhaps dyed his hair all brown for a long time, and that perhaps his poliosis was also a consequence of Waardenburg syndrome, which can have other consequences. Which would only add more insecurities to that little Jason and cause him to accumulate more resentment.

He saw all those popular boys at high school who were very confident guys, seemingly charming (even though they were really jerks), rich, dating with all the pretty girlfriends they want, and who had everything going well in their lives, while him, being a good and nerdy boy couldn't achieve anything and who felt more vulnerable than ever after losing his father, so he told himself that to succeed and be stronger that was the law of the jungle that prevailed and that he had to be not only like them, but better, imitating them and also later going further than them in life, whatever was the price to pay. Succeeding the unpleasant way.

To add here something more: Chinomiko said originally when New Gen was still in the previous High School ideas, Jason was a character like a “stupid comical villain”, so at least we can imagine he ended been being a jerk in his teenage years for sure. Probably the typical pathetic bully who likes to bother others, but since his character had the best glow up I also guess that now he's more complex than before too.

And all this will also manifest itself in being obsessed with the ideal of perfection and in projecting an image of himself of absolute self-confidence. Which would also make him start faking a perfect image not only at high school, later at work, but among his “friends” and with his romantic partners, so it would be exhausting for him and would end getting bored of them and don’t make him feel happy. But by the other hand, he’s afraid that a woman could find out his true self and be disappointed, so he prefers to hide his insecurity and prevent them from seeing them, ending the relationship as soon as possible.

It could also be possible that Jason's father, before he died, was a very humble and good man who had high expectations for his son and convinced him that he had to reach very high levels professionally, either because he positively supported this and had great dreams and hopes for the future of his son so he could have the better chances in life he couldn't achieve, maybe even his father was the one who had the dream about “Goldreamz” and had the desire to start his own company one day, OR on the contrary, because he was a cold man who put a lot of pressure on him to achieve excellence, because he had no expectation that his son couldn’t achieve anything like him (I think it's more probably the first option than this second one because the second one is too similar to Nathaniel's father, but who knows). Both which also led Jason to want to achieve a high professional goal, either so that his father could have been proud of him and make their dream come true, or because he wanted to show him that he could be better than the low expectations that his father had.

Someone may think that Jason getting "daddy issues" and most of his problems being caused because of this is very cliche or simple, but we have seen that before with other Mcl characters, whether due to negligence and parental abuse (Nathaniel's parents), due to little attention and abandonment (Castiel's parents, Nina's father) or due to the death of their parents or one of the parental figures (Lysander, Armin and Alexy's biological parents, or Violette's mother), so I think it wouldn't be so strange for Jason to have a trauma related to that and that a lot of things that he try to goal in his life were in some way related to that, same about why he has that behaviour in his relationships.

Another thing: Jason mentions in ep 5 that his parents were not millionaires, and his birthday was rather modest. He is quite dry and serious when mentioning this, which makes me think that it is a detail of his life that he doesn’t like to talk about, since he may consider it a weakness. And it doesn't surprise me, since Jason couldn't set up the company alone, he needed the help of various private investors to whom he now owes money and favors. Also in his description he says that he likes expensive brand clothes and numbers (I guess this refers to money, not maths XD) So the fact of appearing to be a man with a lot of money is something that probably has him obsessed, and that it has cost him a lot of sacrifice to achieve, and he may also have still debts to those investors, but he does his best to pretend that everything in life is going very very well. He won’t want his rivals, his companions, or any flirt to find out that there are things in his life that are either not going so well or have not gone well in the past. (I’m not saying he’s broke, but I mean he’s not so rich as Amanda, despite of he tries to do his best to look like that, especially because all his company investors are probably rich men of very high category, high social standards you know), basically about this Jason is a bit like Jordan in The wolf of wall street movie, in the sense of someone who started very low in the social scale and ended up climbing to the top, according to him with clean methods, but who knows if he or any of his investors actually have any illegal secrets about his finances, and I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case and Jason purposely ignored this, since he himself said in ep 5 that he didn't know how some of his workers did their jobs and that he "wasn't interested in knowing it." He said this about Danica, but I think it really implies that he applies it to everyone who works with him and for him.

His business ideology:

There is a saying in Spanish that is quite famous in the world in marketing and great finances and that can be applied perfectly to Jason to explain and summarize his behaviour in business and his way to see the life: it is said that in business you need to have a "mentalidad de tiburón" (literally have a mind like a shark), this refers to a white shark, if it doesn't move it sinks, and means this is the mentality that an ambitious man of business must follow in order not to sink and continue continuing with his goals and dreams, the mentality of a person whose main motivation is money, who does not mind jumping the limits of ethics and morality in order to achieve it.

The equivalent in English here is “wolf-like mentality”, it’s similar to what I’ve explain, but includes too the saying of “divide and conquer” and to clarify this even more to understand Jason’s character, here I add all the main points it includes, something that can perfectly fix in Jason’s character to understand him better, a very Maquiavelo-like:

This can also apply to his personal relationships (romantic ones included), this way of thinking can explain it very well too what could be other of the reasons why he feels he cannot have a long romantic relationship: because his business are the first, and also can explain why perhaps he lost the interest in women very quick, because he’s mostly focused in the mentality of immediate results and thinks maybe the other choice is a lost of time + the fear for the previous trauma about the attacked and losing someone I’ve mentioned before.

And about wolf mentality and his rivalry and work…

Now let’s talk about the matter of his rivalry with Devon.

Maybe the answer is just a simple as: Jason was just frustrated for not be able to achieve his dreams for all the stuff I’ve been wrote before, which led him to steal the project from Devon (whether it was stealing it by himself acting alone and by himself in a desperate act or because some third person manipulated and convinced him to do it), but even if those were the main reasons, I still think there's something more here we still don’t know. Something more that happened between them before or during the town hall project thing, something more personal and complex than what we've been told, or at least that there's something more here that Devon doesn't know.

Maybe could be also for envy too. Devon was a good person and didn't have to pretend to be perfect to achieve his dreams like Jason did to have friends or a romantic partner and Devon seems to had a loving and stable family, maybe they meet each other since they were teenagers, but we still have no confirmation about this, so maybe I’m wrong, the only thing we know for sure is that at least they didn’t meet each other since childhood, since Chinomiko said it on Instagram long ago. But still this doesn’t feel enough (to me at least) to explain Jason’s behaviour.

For now, I also keep other of my old theories about there is possible a third person involved in all this problem. We’ll see what’s the real answer to this question.

Although here I want to add one more point, and that is that Devon and Devenementiel curiously represent the exact opposite of Jason and Goldreamz in the business approach, the called “sheep mentality”, and these are the differences between them:

Ironically, today in the competitiveness of modernity in business, it's considered that in reality the best entrepreneurs are neither one nor the other, but a mix between both types of mentality. Does this mean that there will be a time in the future when both companies find themselves in a delicate situation and decide to collaborate in order to mutually triumph against a greater enemy (Ioann and his company, f*ck Ysa's ex boyfriend, I hope we can punch him, that Ioann is gonna be the new Debrah and main villain mark my words) by overcoming their differences? Well, only time will tell...

Now, about Ysaline-Jason:

There is the small detail that Ysaline comes from a rich family, or at least her mother became rich and famous in her work in recent years, and thanks to that Ysaline was able to do private and expensive studies abroad (and Jason clearly knows this, he's an stalker who got her number and email easily XD and other characters like Thomas and Amanda knew Ysaline's mother was rich too just searching some info about her on internet). And that may also cause some insecurity in Jason, fearing that perhaps Ysaline may be disappointed if she finds out that he's not as perfect as he seems or at least that he was not at all in his past. Maybe he even had an ex girlfriend who, after she found out that, felt disappointed about him and left him, and that made him more superficial and cautious with her subsequent love conquests, or maybe since he only get romances once he started to put on his popular guy facade and succeed, he thinks he needs to impress and seduces her in the same way he did it with other women, because he thinks she will only be seduced by him by superficial stuff like his charms, attractive, money and work. Until Ysaline shows him what she wants is really get to know him, with all his weakness, in heart, mind and body, and until he realizes he really wants to know her better just because he loves to spend time with her and she makes him happy, and we know that will happen.

I've read some theories from different people and social webs that some think that Jason wants to use Ysa's family's money to invest in his own company, but I think his intentions are not in that way, but rather:

I think also one of the reasons why he agreed to help in ep 5 her was not only to seduce her or to show her Goldreamz so that she would want to work there with him, but also because Jason is able to see her potential, since a person with her studies, her family money, all the important contacts her mother has, and with the previous experience of having worked in a big important company and who has also shown him face to face that she has a competitive and brave side, she can undoubtedly go very far, and obviously he wants her to go far having her by his side, but of course he will also have a conflict here since I don't think he is the type of person who is comfortable mixing love with business, not like Ioann, the hell with that shitty man.

Obviously he also wants to manipulate her or at least bother Devenementiel somehow with all this. The little we have seen of Danica in ep 5 is that she is someone very efficient and fast at her job, Jason saw that and brought her to his side, now Jason sees that although Ysaline has failed in one of her projects, she still has potential to become a great event organizer. He also wanted to closely observe how she works when she is motivated and has someone guide her in the right path, when she is herself, and maybe even Jason sees in her the person he was before he achieved excellence. And Ysaline has ambition, she herself told Devon in one of the previous eps (if you follow Devon's route) that she dreamed of one day becoming a big star in the world of events and had the goal of being one of the best at her job. Even in one of the dialogues you can get in ep 2, Jason asks Ysaline "Aren't you willing to do anything to achieve success?" Jason knows that they are both similar in that way, and he wants to take advantage of that.

However Ysaline not only has ambition and a competitive will, but also a certain level of morality and feeling of unity with her co-workers, boss and her family and friends. And although it is still early to assume this, it's quite possible that she is the character that represents the perfect mix between the two business ideologies, both the wolf and the sheep. I'll call that fussion "the kitten mentality" because I can.

Of course, returning to the relationships issue, one thing to try his best to seduce her and make her work for him or at least have her as an ally and briefly as lover, and something very different is what we know will happen: that he will fall in love with her and both will want more, but he will feel that he cannot and shouldn't go further.

So we have here all this matter about his fake perfect facade of rich, charming and popular man of business + his humble origins + wolf-like mentality + his trauma about the losing of his father and more people in the future. A perfect cocktail to be afraid to have a stable relationship.

Greetings to all Jason fans like me who have him as a route and loves to suffer. In this house we love traumatized fictional men with red flags.

And let's add of course there will probably be many more problems that will make him fear having a relationship with Ysaline once he falls in love with her, because problems already numbered in more than 2000 words weren't enough first because he will try to convince himself that he only wants to manipulate her so that she change sides and join to Goldreamz, and to seduce her so that she'd end up in his bed (and she maybe would believe that too), but then when he finds out he's in love with her, and she with him, Jason will have to make the decision about whether to go ahead with his revenge against Devenementiel or not, because he knows that will end up hurting her, since she could suffer if her colleagues and boss find out about her relationship with him and distrust her or if that even ruins her reputation, which is was already bad in her previous company because she slept with her previous boss, and above all because she will never forgive him and will hate him if the Devenementiel closes and all his friends and her loses their jobs because of Jason's actions. And having a relationship with him makes her feels more guilty for what happened, like believing she was part of his plans and she helped him in some way, and then she could believe she was nothing except another more of his conquers and everything was a lie (her ex-boyfriend trauma attacking again here), or at least she wasn't as important to him as she thought.

And perhaps, even if he tries to stop those actions, and not harm Devenementiel further so as not to make her harm her, perhaps, by then, it will be too late to stop those revenge plans...

So he will lose another person that he loves and wants in his life. The only person who accepted him and loved him exactly who he really is and who really knows him. His biggest fears making true, again.

but this is an otome game, guys, everything will be solved at the end and everybody will be happy, don't worry!

[tbaluver]

Can you write the guys reaction to having a baby girl as their first child? (I'm a sucker for papa's little princesses)

Thank you and your works are the best and comforting!

Papa's Little Princess- The Love And DeepSpace Men

synopsis: when your first child is a girl! genre: fluff fluff a/n: omg this was such a cute idea i wish they were real (╥﹏╥) and thank you so much! i hope my works can continuing being comforting for you and anybody else <3 i hope this was okay and that you enjoy this! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

His little star

A gentle father. He's the type to never yell at his daughter but he'll provide positive disciplining strategies with you.

He wants to be in every part of his daughter's life in any way he can. He wouldn't really know how to do his daughter's hair but he was willing to try ! He would watch you tie her hair, braid, and put many accessories in her hair and he would be confused on how you did all that. He tried looking up how to do her hair and his first time wasn't the best.....but after some practice with you, he would be a pro just like you!

Do NOT let these two bake together especially with the easy bake ovens. Nearly set the kitchen on fire attempting to make cookies for you. He couldn't say no to her when she wanted to cook or try baking with him. You don't know how but it ended up burnt or with the weirdest toppings ever and a broken easy bake oven.

Nap time is serious business with these two. They are not to be disturbed. She's either asleep on his chest or in his lap. Whenever you take walks and she gets too tired, he'll carry her around on his back. She'll rest her head on the crook of his neck while he holds onto her tightly.

She would have all the plushies, toys, and snacks she wants! He'll do his all to get her the plushies in the claw machine to make his little angel jump up and down in joy. She could never have enough

Loves to join her in her imaginative play whether she wants to be a princess or an astronaut. It makes playtime full of joy and adventure

Zayne:

You two would have the most polite, well mannered, and kindest daughter ever.

Loves to participate in playing house with her. He'll sit on the floor or the tiny chairs from the tea party set you gotten for her. He'll play the role with no complaints and tell her that the tea is delicious even though there is absolutely no tea in the plastic cup.

He's a doctor but he can't help but sneak a few sweet treats for her. If she wants some before lunch or dinner then she can have at least one before she eats her meal and then she'll have plenty more after. These two would have cavities later on.

He would make her all the mini snowmen and other things she wants from his evol. He finds her reaction to be adorable each time, it never gets old.

If your daughter mentions a boy, he would tell her she can have a boyfriend around 30. She would be happy and so was he. Mainly because she has no concept of time and age yet.

Your daughter loves to hear him read. Even though she was still very very young and didn't grasp everything just yet, he would read her stories and explain them with care and patience, aiming to entertain and nurture her curiosity. She loves to sit on his lap and sometimes she'll fall asleep on him.

He would let her pick any flower she wants to grow in your garden at the backyard. You would all start a small garden together and he would teach her how to care for them.

Rafayel:

Takes playing house a little too seriously. Whatever role his daughter gives him, he's giving it his all.

Oh he was so excited when your daughter first held a crayon. He colors with her a lot and eventually will introduce her to paint. He would tell her that she's doing so well even if they were just blobs. She's going to be an artist just like her papa. He'll even add some of her artwork on his so he can point it out to her if he were to have another exhibition tour.

First time at the beach with his daughter was such an emotional day for him. Hearing and seeing her squeal when her little feet touched the water warmed his heart. He held her so tightly and tenderly, reassuring her that she won't float away because her papa's got her. He teaches her a lot about how some fishes are friendly and one day he'll meet some of his fish friends.

He'll eventually tell her all about Lemuria whenever it was time for bed and he thought it's so cute whenever she wanted to hear more about it.

Would absolutely love to play dress up with her. Sometimes he'll pick some of her clothes out and he would think she is beautiful just like her mama. They'll make a little runway and model the outfits.

He would keep all the little milestones she has made and any memories. He'll keep all the photos, drawings, and any mementos to look back at the treasured memories.

Sylus:

The second person who will ever see his soft side is his daughter. You being the first.

He is protective over his daughter and with you. If anyone were to look at either one of you wrong? Sleep with one eye open.

He does not have fragile masculinity! He will let her apply as much toy makeup as she wants on his face. He'll play dress up with her as much as she wants no matter how obscure the outfits are! He has no complaints, anything to make his little angel smile and happy.

She loves hearing him sing lullabies. It puts her to sleep immediately but sometimes she'll sing or hum along with him.

If you tell your daughter no to something then she'll ask Sylus. He can't say no to his sweet baby girl. Just don't tell mom. He doesn't know what true fear is until he meets a mothers anger.

Loves to spoil her just like how he loves to spoil you. Not to the point where she's a brat though, you two would teach her to be better than that. "Just because" gifts to make her feel special without any special occasions

Anytime he would be away for business, he'll always bring you two something back. Something that you both either love or reminds him of you two or maybe both.

BONUS (All): They would all be patient fathers overall. They would never yell if your daughter showed any emotions especially if their daughters were to cry. They’re offering their own patience, love, and comfort in their own way. They would be there for your daughter emotionally as they were with you.

[jiniretracha]

I Don't Want You Like a Best Friend - Lee Felix

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: smut!!, fluff (like so much), angst (if you squint), felix and readers being oblivious idiots in love.

Summary: You have been in love with Felix, your best friend, since the first time you laid your eyes on him. But you never said anything about it, too afraid to ruin your friendship that you treasured so much. So, when a pretty boy asks you out on a date, you accept, figuring it is the best way to get over your stupid crush. But your best friend doesn't seem so happy about it. Based on "Dress" by Taylor Swift.

Word Count: 6k

PS: I uploaded this on AO3 and thought it'd be fun to post it here as well!

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi

There’s an indentation in the shape of you

“And? What do you think?” 

Felix lifted his head up as he heard you walking inside the room once again wearing the dress. His eyes widened and his heart started beating faster and louder. His gaze raked your body up and down a couple of times and he tried to play nonchalant.

“U-uh, you look very pretty, Y/N. He’ll love it” Felix smile.

Yes. He’ll love it. 

Truth is, you had met this cute guy at the coffee shop you and Felix frequently visit before you drop him at the studio every day. His name was Ashton. He had a charming smile and he had been brave enough to ask you for your phone number while complimenting your looks. You were almost a stuttering mess while you typed in your number in his phone, then he winked and left the coffee shop, leaving you with a slight blush in your cheeks. 

Felix had returned to you with both of your orders with a smile. You told him about Ashton and he had promised he would help you with him. Later that day, he asked you out on a date. Today’s date. 

You turned around and looked at yourself in the mirror, you liked the dress. It was a pretty cream colour with little flowers on it, a heart-like cleavage and lace on the pretty top. 

You were oblivious to Felix’s adoring eyes behind you. He was trying to memorize every single detail of your beautiful form. The heavy stone in his stomach was a bother, it was pure jealousy. And sadness too. 

He would’ve given anything to be the one who takes you on dates. 

“Thank you, Lix” you smiled at him. “Could you pass me those earrings please?”

“Of course, darling” he said, standing up and walking towards your nightstand. He came back with the earrings and gave them to you, as you smiled and thanked him. 

As you put the earrings on your earlobes, you started thinking. How would you like for Felix to be the one who is taking you on this date. You would love to be with him. It’s the only thing you’ve yearned and craved for years. You’d give up anything for Felix to crumble into his knees and beg you not to go. 

To stay with him. To be with him. 

You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You noticed that he hadn’t stopped staring at you. Why doesn’t he say something?

You turned to look at him and your gazes met. His breathing turned a little choppy, from the nervousness. He pressed his lips together, like he was about to say something and your eyebrows arched in desperation. 

“I-“

And then your phone started ringing. You clenched your eyelids and grabbed your phone that was sitting face up on the bed, making Felix catch who was calling: Ashton. 

“Hey” you said after clearing your throat. 

“Hey, Y/N” Ashton said. Felix frowned. No ‘pretty’, no ‘beautiful’, just Y/N. “I’m right outside, would you mind coming down?”

“Of course. Give me a couple of minutes” you faked a smile. He caught it. 

All of this silence and patience,

pining and anticipation

You got to the door and grabbed the keys. “I don’t even know why I’m nervous” you tried to shake off the anxiety lurking in your head. 

But Felix could read you like a fucking book. 

You weren’t nervous. 

You were aching. He knew you didn’t want to go. But why couldn’t he just say something?

“I- Y/N-“ he stammered. 

You looked into his eyes. “Yes?”

“I- I just-“

Ashton’s honk made you both startle. “What’s up?” you said impatiently. 

“N-nothing. Have a great time. Ashton’s really lucky” he said, giving you his signature tight-lipped smile and walking towards his room. 

You sighed as soon as he was out of view and pressed your eyes shut tightly, praying not to cry or else you would ruin your makeup. Or give yourself away. You opened the door and walked the steps of the stairs down. 

Felix locked himself in his room, his fists clenched against his sides as his back pressed itself to the door. He was so angry at himself. 

When did he become such a coward?

He heard commotion outside, from the open window of the balcony. He walked outside, and looked down. He saw Ashton, who had dark black hair, was big and bulky and was wearing formal clothes. 

Ashton was the total opposite as him. Felix had blonde hair, brown eyes and he liked to use beanies and wear baggy clothes with jewelry. 

Felix noticed that Ashton’s hands were empty. No flowers. 

He rolled his eyes. He just wished you would notice that he wasn’t right for you. Because what was right for you, was standing right above you. 

Staring hopelessly as you drove away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You arrived at the restaurant and Ashton led you towards the table he had reserved. 

“You like pizza, right?” he asked with a smile, as he sat down on his seat. 

With a blink of your eyes, you just stood staring at him. You were waiting for him to pull your chair out and help you in. Felix does that. You mentally rolled your eyes and smiled at him. “Yes, yes, I do” you slightly lied as you took a seat. It’s not that you didn’t like pizza… it’s just that it would’ve been nice if he’d ask you what you like. Felix would’ve- STOP. 

You scolded yourself mentally and tried to focus on the man in front of you. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“So, what music do you like?” Ashton asked. 

You put your glass down and smiled. “Oh, well, I’m into pop music, mostly. I like k-pop, too. A lot” you nodded. “My best friend’s in-“ you stopped yourself. 

“He’s…?” he trailed off waiting for you to continue. 

“He’s in a band”

“A k-pop band?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing with a smile.

“Yeah. They’re great, actually” you smiled. “What do you listen to?”

Ashton sighed. “Well, I’m into country music”

“Oh, like… what? Taylor Swift, Shania Twain, Little Big Town?” you asked, remembering a couple of bands and singers you liked.

“Nah, they sound too pop for me” he nodded with a shrug. “I’m more into Morgan Wallen”

Yikes.

“Right” you trailed off. 

“He’s great. You should listen to his music, actually” 

I pass. “Yeah, sure. I’ll listen to some of his stuff” you faked a promise. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every little thing he said or did, you compared it to what Felix did. He was so different from him.

Ashton kept talking and you couldn’t help but wander your eyes around his features. He was so different. He wasn’t ugly. Not at all. He was very handsome. You knew that you could easily date this guy. He was sweet. But he was nothing like him. He wasn’t Felix. 

“Hey, you okay?” Ashton woke you up from your daydreaming by putting his palm on top of the back of your hand. “You look like you were gone for a couple of seconds” he chuckled. 

You smiled slightly at him and then shook your head. “Y-yeah, it’s just uh-“

“Here you go, guys” the waiter came with their order. “A margherita with garlic” he said and placed the pizza in the middle of the table. 

“Thank you” Ashton nodded. 

Once the waiter was gone, Ashton smiled.

“Shall we?” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Felix was staring at his phone. 

He was busy texting Chan, who was the only person that he had confessed his feelings towards you. The other band members were aware, because Felix made it too obvious, but the blonde hadn’t said anything to them. 

Felix: I don’t know what to do, man.

Chan: Why didn’t you try to stop her?

Exactly. Why didn’t he try to stop her?

The answer was pretty simple.

Felix: Because I’m a coward.

Felix: That’s why.

He sighed, staring at the ceiling. It was eating him up. 

Chan: You’re not. But seriously, you need to tell her, man. 

He’s right. 

Chan: Or else, when will you do it? What if Y/N really likes the guy and decides to pursue a romantic relationship with him?

Shit. 

What if you really liked this dude?

Chan: Think about it. 

He really needed you home. 

He needed to tell you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You chewed on the pizza while Ashton was telling you an anecdote from one of his friends. You had lost the story’s thread a long time ago and at this point, you were just staring at his forehead with only one thing in mind: getting home to Felix. 

“Y/N?” he asked with a frown. 

Shit. This was like the third time you had zoned out. 

“Hey, are you okay? I promise I won’t get mad, but is there something going on?”

You bit your lip and then released it. “No- I mean, yes” you stammered. 

“What is it? Do you feel okay, do you-“

“No, Ashton, just-“ you cut yourself off with a huff. “I need to go home”

“Oh-“

“By myself” you clarified when you saw him start to grab his stuff. “I’m so sorry, really. You seem like a very good guy but-“

“You like someone else, am I right?” Ashton smiled sadly.

You pressed your lips together. “No.”

Ashton nodded. “You love someone else”

He wasn’t asking. It was a statement.

And then you nodded. 

“I get it. I do, too” Ashton said, his face red. “I- I’m sorry too. I used this excuse of a date to get over someone. And I’ve been trying so hard but-“

“You just can’t get them out of your head” you completed.

“Exactly” Ashton said with a chuckle.

“I know” you smiled. “I’m sorry”

“No, don’t apologise. I figured” he shrugged. 

“At least let me pay. I mean, you really tried to be nice and I just kept zoning out” You tried.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I promise”

“No, it’s not. Really” you pleaded.

Ashton smiled. “Alright. But only if we split the check… and I get to take the pizza home” he smirked.

You chuckled. “You got yourself a deal, mister”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Felix opened the kitchen cabinet and took out the brownie jar, leaving it on the counter. He then stared at it. 

You made your mark on me,

a golden tattoo

You were everywhere. Including in that stupid jar of brownies. It reminded him how he had made them for you. Because he knew you absolutely loved his baking. 

A key digging into the keyhole startled him and he put the jar away, choosing not to eat due to the heavy anxiety sitting at the pit of his tummy. 

You got inside the apartment, panting heavily. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he saw you close the door quickly and throw your stuff on the couch. “Hey, you’re home early. Everything okay?” he asked, getting worried. 

“I know… I’m fine” you said, getting nervous all of a sudden. 

Felix nodded, leaning against the counter. “How did it go?” he asked shyly. 

You sighed and looked away. “Um… terrible” you chuckled to yourself.

Felix felt ashamed, but he was kind of glad to hear that. “Oh. I’m- I’m sorry to hear that, darling” he told you, lying. 

“Well, I’m not” you said, feeling your heartbeat getting louder and faster by the second.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why’s that? Did he do something to you?” he asked, getting angry. 

“No, no, no” you quickly shook your head. “He was nice, and… polite. But he wasn’t… he just wasn’t…” you stammered. 

Felix started walking towards you. “Hey… tell me” he said, putting his hands on your bare shoulders. “He wasn’t what?”

You swallowed, feeling your throat getting dry, like sandpaper. “He just wasn’t you” you whispered.

But he caught it. He felt his heart drop. You couldn’t have just said that, did you?. “What?” he asked, confused. 

You looked away and took in a deep breath. “I was just dressing up for someone that I wish that it was you… I wished you would’ve told me not to go on that date. To stop me. I wish the date I went on today… I wish my date had been you, Felix” you confessed. 

He blinked a couple of times, trying to let the new information sink in, while his hands on your shoulders dropped to rest by his sides. 

“I kept… comparing him to you” you told him. “Every single thing he did, I just kept thinking what you would’ve done. Or said. Or the things he didn’t do, and how I know you would’ve done. Like- fuck, like pulling my chair for me to sit in” you chuckled slightly. “Cause you’re in my mind all the time. You’re all I think about, Lix. And it drives me crazy”

Felix shook his head. “Y/N-“

“I know. I’m sorry” you apologized. “This is a lot. I know. And I get it if you don’t feel the same, I do-“

Your rambling was cut short when a pair of hands grabbed your cheeks and pulled you into the most magical kiss of your entire life. He was holding your head still, angling it so he could kiss you as he liked, pushing his tongue into your mouth, while it curled with yours. His kiss had swallowed your surprised gasp, turning into a moan that vibrated against his lips. 

Felix pulled away from your mouth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling together as you panted from the intensity of your first kiss. 

“Y/N…” he mumbled in a desperate hush.

Say my name and everything just stops,

I don’t want you like a best friend

“I love you” he whispered, making you gasp internally. “I’ve always loved you, in fact. I was just- just so fucking terrified of you rejecting me and I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship” 

You smiled, shaking your head. “Felix… how is it possible that you didn’t notice how head over heels in love I am with you?” you asked him, with a chuckle.

Felix pressed a long kiss to your lips. “I love you” he said, looking into your eyes. “I-“ kiss. “love-“ kiss. “you-“ kiss. “so-“ kiss. “much” he finished with an open-mouthed kiss that made your knees wobble. 

His kiss made you warm inside… and another place. You shifted, pressing your thighs together as he continued kissing the life out of you. 

With a pant, you pulled away slightly, your noses rubbing against each other’s. “Lix…”

“Yeah?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your nose. 

“Take me to bed” you whispered.

He pulled his face back with a pained groan. “Y/N, I want to, I swear but… I wanna do this right. I want to take you out on a date and-”

“Me too, I know, but I need you right now. So bad” you pleaded, your eyes searching his. 

Felix was only human. He couldn’t resist such temptation, and the fact that you were literally begging him to fuck you. He saw it in your eyes. 

He took you by surprise by crouching down slightly, placing his palms on the back of your thighs and hoisting you up, making you squeal in surprise. You crossed your legs behind his back and pressed your lips against his as he walked with you in his arms towards his bedroom. 

You didn’t know how he managed to walk with you in his arms while kissing him without bumping into anything. He kicked the door open and walked towards the bed, throwing you into the center of it. You bounced on the mattress with a surprised gasp and stared at him with doe eyes as his hand went to the back of the neck from his shirt, pulling it over his head, and throwing it on the floor. 

Felix decided to give you a show and clenched his stomach, showcasing his very defined abs. 

That motherfucker, you thought to yourself. 

“See something you like?” he teased you, with a smirk, as he watched you stare deeply at his stomach.

Your eyes met his and you let your head fall onto your shoulder. “Oh, yeah, pretty much everything” you said, letting your eyes dance over his figure. 

Felix smirked and moved his hand to the belt of his jeans, unfastening it torturously slow and throwing it where he had thrown the shirt before. He then crawled up to your shivering frame and put his hands on each side of your head, dipping his head to catch your lips into a drugging kiss. 

Your hands grabbed at his back, trying to pull him to drop his weight on top of you and he obeyed, pressing his hips first so that his bulge was pressing against your crotch, making both of you groan. Your nails dug into his back as you continued kissing, definitely marking him up. 

His hands traveled to the edge of your dress, his hands dipping under it and caressing your soft skin. His kisses drifted to your neck, biting your soft flesh, making you gasp. 

“You’re so beautiful” he mumbled against your skin. He licked at a certain spot in your neck and then bit it, making your arch your back. “So, so beautiful” 

Suddenly, he pulled away completely, grabbing your arms to sit you up. He turned you around softly, making you kneel on the bed, facing the wall. His soft fingers caressed the zip of your dress, grabbing at it and slowly pulling it down all the way. His hands dipped inside of the dress and pulled it off, and he stared at your braless back. The dress was pooling at your waist by now and you swallowed, trying to find the courage to turn around and reveal yourself. 

He dropped a kiss to the side of your neck, sensing your nervousness. 

You turned around slowly, looking into his eyes, as his dropped down immediately to your chest, noticing how they were black at this point from lust. 

You felt nervous under his gaze and you couldn’t help but say something.

“It’s for you…” you breathed out. 

His eyes fluttered a couple of times and looked at you. “What?” he mumbled, confused. 

“I bought it for you. The dress…” you said, licking your lips and trying to find the words that were threatening to die on your throat. “I wanted you to see me in it… I wanted you to take it off from me” 

Only bought this dress so you could take it off. 

Felix let out a ragged breath out, cupping your face and bringing you into another drugging kiss. His hot breath hitting your upper lip and the way his hands slid from your cheeks to your back, made you arch your back and press your bare chest against his. The skin to skin contact made you shiver and you both groaned. 

Your hands were gripping his wrists, as he continued kissing you as he liked. 

His hands drifted to where your dress was sitting, bunched on your waist, and he grabbed it, pulling it off. 

The action made you stumble on the bed slowly on your back as you lifted your hips up so he could take off the dress completely.

Once he got it out, he chucked it on the floor and got on top of you once again. He dug his face into your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, and his mouth started to drift further down your body. At this point, he was leaving dark purple marks on your skin, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit. 

His hot mouth stopped at the valley of your breasts, his hands enveloping each one and letting his thumb run across your nipple, making you shudder and let out a whine. 

Felix bit into your skin and then pressed your breasts together, burying his head into your chest, letting his lips suckle and bite at your nipples. Your hands carded through his hair and held him in place as his ministrations made you moan. 

“Lix, please” you whined, pressing the back of your head against the pillow. 

He suckled once and lifted his head to stare at you. “What? What do you want, baby?” he asked in a whisper. 

“I- I just…”

“Use your words” he urged.

You swallowed and propped yourself on your elbows, staring at him with a soft panting. “I want you to go lower” you told him, trembling and slightly scared of his reaction. 

You had asked him to do something that no one had done to you before. 

He smirked and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then pulled away to continue kissing his way down to your stomach. He bit at the skin close to your navel as his hands caressed your skin down to your thighs, opening them up. 

Felix pressed a kiss to your pubic bone, over your panties, and then his fingers curled on the band of the lace, tugging them down your long legs torturously slow. 

You got shy and nervous all of a sudden and pressed your thighs together. You felt a little stupid, knowing that you were the one that had asked him to do that. His hands grabbed your thighs and gently pulled them apart, sending you a wink and a little smile, reassuring you it was okay. 

His gaze settled on your core and you blushed, feeling your face turn hot. Felix let his fingers dance your slit, collecting the wetness pooling there. He then pressed his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan. 

With an animalistic groan, he dove his face into your core, dipping his fingers inside of you and sucking on your clit. Your back arched violently as your fingers gripped on his hair, pressing his head into your heat. You moaned in surprise and tugged on Felix’s hair, making him groan against your flesh. He liked that.

He scissored his fingers, dragging them against your walls. 

“Yeah, just like that, Lix. Fuck” you moaned breathily. 

His free hand caressed and gripped your thigh as he continued his ministrations. He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, once again. Then, his tongue licked over your hole and pressed the tip of it inside of you. 

“Fuck, I’m close, Lix” you said, continuing to grip his hair tightly, pressing him against your cunt. 

His thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit, making your back arch and release your orgasm on his tongue with a long moan. You laid gasping, with your hands on your stomach as he pressed kisses on your shaking thighs and caressing your skin. “You okay, beautiful?” he asked, crawling towards you to press a kiss on your cheek. 

You nodded, curling your arms around his neck and bringing him closer. His mouth went to kiss your neck once again, laying half of his weight on top of you.

“This is all I’ve wanted” he whispered against your neck, his deep voice vibrating against your skin making you shiver. Your fingers caressed the back of his neck, his words were making your heart beat louder. “All I’ve dreamed about” he whispered, kissing your flesh.

“God, me too” you whispered back. “You’re all I want”

Felix lifted his head and pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you” 

“I love you” you said to him with a smile and kissed him, trying to show him all the love you held in your heart for him. 

Inescapable, I’m not even going to try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

One of his hands made its way to your head, holding you in place while the other drew patterns on the skin of your waist, gripping it a little. He pulled away from the kiss, stared at your mouth and pressed two more kisses.

Your hands that were on his neck, made their way down to his jeans, unbuttoning them. “Take them off” you whispered against his mouth, kissing him again. 

He pressed two more kisses to your mouth and lifted himself from on top of you to take his jeans, letting them drop on the floor as he stepped out of them. 

The bulge in his boxers made you whimper and bit your lip. He saw your face and smirked, hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down his legs, standing naked in front of you. 

He crawled back on top of you, claiming your mouth in a kiss full of tongue and heavy breathing. You moaned, grabbing his arm with one hand and the other one pressed against his chest. 

The hand on his chest drifted down to his pelvis, curling around his erection, making him groan and bite your lip. 

“What- what are you doing?” he asked, pulling away from your mouth, his eyebrows furrowing and twisting in pleasure as your hand started moving up and down over his shaft, his thumb wiping his tip. 

You smirked, sticking your tongue out and licking his lips sensually. “Returning the favor” you whispered hotly against his lips. 

He let you continue for a few seconds before grabbing your wrist and pulling it away from his shaft. “Next time, okay? I wanna come inside of you” he said, kissing your cheek. 

You nodded and smiled when he pressed more kisses to your cheeks. “Do you have a condom?” you asked. 

He pulled away and stuck his arm out to his nightstand, pulling out a condom from the first drawer. Felix lifted himself up slightly, rolling the condom on his cock and then went back to his last position on top of you. 

The head of his cock nudged your entrance, making you gasp and dig your nails on his shoulders. His nose brushed against yours as he slid inside of you, swallowing your gasp with a kiss. 

He bottomed out, giving you a couple of seconds to adjust to his thick length. His hands were gripping the sheets tightly, trying to refrain from driving into you at a wild pace. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding kind of strangled. 

“Yeah, yeah” you nodded breathily. “You can move”

“Fuck” he whispered, pressing his face against your neck and started to snap his hips against yours. “Fuck, you’re so tight, baby” he groaned. 

You moaned with every thrust, your nails raking his back. “Oh, God, Lix” you gasped in a whine, feeling full and overwhelmed, in the best kind of way possible.

His hips were moving steadily as his mouth enveloped yours, trying to hold the urge to slam his hips against yours. One of his hands went to one of your breasts, gripping it tightly, his thumb sliding over your nipple, making you cry out. 

“Lix, faster… please” you pleaded, and it was enough for him to grab your thigh, pulling it over his waist and fucking you deeper and faster, the sinful sound of skin slapping on skin invading the room in a constant echo. “God! Just like that” you continued whispering his name over and over, like a prayer.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered against your lips before claiming your mouth with a kiss. “I love you. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. It’s always been you” he continued whispering against your lips, getting closer to the edge with every thrust. 

“I’m yours… yours. All yours” you gasped when you felt his fingers starting to rub circles on your clit, trying to get you closer to your orgasm. “Lix- Lix, I’m close, so fucking close”

“Good, come with me, baby. I need you to come” he said, sticking his tongue out and licking your throat and then biting your skin, making you clench around him, finding the action super hot. “God, you’re so tight” he babbled.

You arched your back as you felt your orgasm rush through you in a hot wave across your body, making you moan and curl your fingers on his bicep, digging his nails against the skin. 

Felix’s face fell to your neck as he thrust hard a couple of times before spilling inside the condom with a moan muffled against your skin. His body shook with aftershocks from the earth-shattering orgasm he just had as he felt his body go limp and fall against yours.

You wrapped your limbs around him, holding him tightly against you as you both tried to regain your breathing. Your hands caressed his back while your nose nuzzled against the shell of his ear. 

Felix lifted his head up and looked down at her, his eyes searching yours. He then smiled, pressing his mouth against yours, his hand caressing your hair. 

He pulled away and you saw the love in his eyes. How lucky you were.

You could live like this, knowing that there was so much love inside of him. For you. He loved you. 

Yes, you were so lucky. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You threw your head back in laughter, holding your glass of wine as Felix made you laugh, telling some stupidity as you both felt the effects from the alcohol running through your veins. 

You both decided to jump into the bath after two more rounds of passionate sex and treat yourselves with some wine. 

“God, I don’t know how you dated her” you laughed. “She was so dumb”

“Yeah, I know” he nodded, looking away. “She- truth is, and I’m gonna sound like an asshole, but… I dated her because she looked like you” he said. 

You pulled your face back in surprise. Felix had dated this bimbo named Julia a couple of months ago, and now that you recall her face, she did look like you. 

“Wow” you giggled. “Yeah… she did” 

Felix groaned, burying his face into the palm of his hand. 

“Don’t be embarrassed” you told him, getting closer to him, placing your palm on his cheek, urging him to look at you with a nudge. “Hey, look at me” you said, and Felix slowly looked at you and you noticed the pretty blush sitting on his cheeks, giving his freckles a colorful background. “It’s alright, we’ve all had our moments to forget about someone. I mean, I cannot blame you. I literally just came from a date hours ago, one that I went to forget about you”

“Yeah, and look how that went” Felix said with a smirk.

“Oh, it went good” you smirked, climbing on top of him, with the glass in your hand. Your knee slid a little, making you stumble a bit and he grabbed your waist to steady you, the movement causing to make you spill some of the red liquid on the water. 

“No! Careful” Felix laughed, making you laugh back.

“I almost slipped, I’m sorry” you chuckled, leaving the glass on the floor and curling your arms around his neck. 

You two stared at each other and you felt his wet, warm hands sliding over your back in a sweet caress. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he said, pressing kisses on your face. “Ethereal, I swear to God” he whispered, making you bite your lip.

“Are you even real?” you whispered. “I think I’m just imagining you” 

Felix made a movement with his pelvis, making his hard on nudge against your core. “Do you think that’s fake?” he asked, his deep voice making you clench around nothing.

You gasped, your nails digging into his back. “No… no, that’s definitely real” you gasped. 

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we’re both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You looked at yourself in the mirror after finishing the last touches of blush on your cheeks. Your fingers glided over the pretty dress that you had bought. For him. For the right person. 

Your person.

A vibration made you look down to the phone laying on the bathroom counter. 

Felix: You ready, my love?

You giggled at the message, feeling like a little kid. You quickly replied, telling him that you were going and left the bathroom, putting your stuff inside your purse. 

Sliding your shoes on your feet, you felt your heart starting to beat faster in nervousness, but in excitement as well. 

This was going to be the best date ever. Not because of what you were doing. But because of who you were going with. 

You opened the door of your bedroom and saw him standing there with a nervous smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Your favourite flowers. 

With a gasp, your hands flew to cover your mouth. 

“Baby” you whispered, extending your hands to grab the bouquet. “Oh my God, I don’t know what to say. They’re so beautiful”

Felix smiled in pride, seeing your face and how it lit up when you saw the flowers. “Do you like them?” he asked, getting a little shy.

“Like them?” you gasped with a smile. “I love them, honey. I love you” you said, curling your free arm around his neck and bringing him into a passionate kiss. 

HIs hands fell to your waist, pulling you closer against him. 

“I love you” you whispered again into his lips.

“I love you” he whispered back. “So, so much” 

As he continued to press kisses into your mouth, you started to wonder: how were you deserving of such a wonderful man? So attentive, so caring and thoughtful. 

“I don’t deserve you” you let it slip up.

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed, pulling his face back, getting serious out of a sudden. “Don’t say that” he whispered. “Of course you do. We deserve each other. We deserve to be with each other after so much waiting. After so much pining” he said, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You looked at him, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Hey, no, don’t cry” he said with a smile, making you mirror his expression, letting out a laugh as a single tear rolled down your cheek and he caught it, brushing it away. “Come on, as much as I’d like to stare at your pretty face all day… we have a date going on” he smirked.

You bit your lip and you kissed him. “Let’s go” you smiled at him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

And I woke up just in time, 

now I wake up by your side.

With a content sigh, your eyes fluttered open and stretched your limbs, feeling your cheek squished against your lover’s chest. You cranked your neck to stare at his pretty face, still asleep. 

Hoisting yourself on your elbows, you admired all his facial features. His beautiful nose.

His perfect lips. 

His lashes.

His freckles.

God, his freckles. Did they made you weak in the knees. 

You bit your lip, wondering how the hell was this man yours. He had seen you at your worst. And he still stayed. 

Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me

Flashback to my mistakes,

my rebounds,

my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

He was everything to you. He had you, in the palm of his hand. He could crush you, in any second, he could do anything he wanted with you. And he chose to cherish you. Love you. Worship you. 

He was your angel. And your sunshine. 

His eyes fluttered open and smiled when he caught your face. 

“Hello handsome” you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek, caressing his supple skin. 

He let out a breath, out of content. “Hello, beautiful”

Yeah, he was your everything.

My one and only,

my lifeline.

[dokries]

seventeen when you block their kisses

pairing: seventeen x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.3k

warnings: kissing of course, mentions of tea in minghao’s, mention of a spider (though only in passing) in vernon’s

author note: hehe i wrote this anyway! thank you dori for requesting again 🫶 i’ve never written like this before, so i hope it turned out well, and you enjoy reading :D lots of love!!

masterlist

seungcheol (s.coups)

✦ pouts immediately and slumps, crossing his arms and looking away in protest.

✦ maybe he’ll try again but if you block him then too, trust me. he’s going to act like a kid having a tantrum and whine and mutter under his breath.

✦ “baby, why aren’t you letting me kiss you…”

✦ you end up smothering him in kisses until he grins and hugs you happily before pouting again, making you sigh.

✦ he’s not getting over it for a while for sure, and will hold it over your head forever.

jeonghan

✦ raises an eyebrow when you move away from him but leaves it at that, going back to his phone.

✦ doesn’t try again at all and knows what you’re up to, so he just sits just close enough where you can kiss him easily to test your patience. (and if you’re not joking, he gives you space and doesn’t initiate anything before you do to make sure you’re comfortable.)

✦ when you eventually do end up kissing his cheek, he smirks, pulling you into him.

✦ “i knew you couldn’t go too long without a kiss.”

✦ you grumble as he giggles and kisses you on the forehead.

jisoo (joshua)

✦ thinks something is wrong right away and asks you if he did anything to upset you.

✦ did he forget to do the dishes? he’ll do them right away. did he forget a day that’s important? he’ll make it up to you somehow, he promises.

✦ he stares at you with those big deer eyes with your hands clasped in his and you can’t stop yourself from grabbing his face and kissing him where his eyebrows furrow.

✦ he laughs in relief when he realizes nothing is wrong, and kisses you back on the cheek softly.

✦ “darling, i was so worried i forgot something—you scared me for a second there.”

junhui (jun)

✦ stares at you in concern before mentally listing off anything he might’ve done by accident, like joshua.

✦ he looks at you with his lil confused cat look and you can’t not kiss him on the cheek.

✦ even then, his face doesn’t change until he belatedly registers that you kissed him.

✦ he chuckles shyly before patting your hand, still slightly dazed.

✦ “woah you confused me…i thought you were mad at me or something.”

soonyoung (hoshi)

✦ looks at you in shock before cuddling up closer to you, staring at your face to analyze your expression as he frowns in concentration.

✦ “is something wrong? are you feeling okay? are you sick? babe…”

✦ his boba eyes win and you kiss him on the nose and he immediately grins, squishing your cheeks together as a punishment before kissing you back on the nose with the most outrageous look of adoration.

wonwoo

✦ is confused and stares at you with his head tilted. he doesn’t usually initiate anything so he doesn’t get why you’re refusing him.

✦ puts a hand to your forehead to check your temperature and senses nothing wrong, so he leans back in his seat on the couch beside you, the same expression on his face.

✦ eventually spaces out until you giggle and move over to kiss the side of his lips, and he turns to you and blinks before letting out a sigh of relief.

✦ “yeah, i have no idea why you blocked my kiss…that was confusing.”

jihoon (woozi)

✦ also someone who doesn’t initiate skinship most of the time and tilts his head in concern, swiveling back to face the computer screens in front of him.

✦ he starts to overthink everything he has or hasn’t done in the last few days, sneaking looks back at you to gauge your expression.

✦ eventually goes back to working on the song he started, expecting you to explain when you want to.

✦ when you come over and wrap your arms around his neck and place a kiss on his cheek, he turns to look at you. when you giggle, he smiles, patting your arm.

✦ “oh okay, i thought you didn’t want to be around me right now…i’m glad that’s not the case.”

minghao (the8)

✦ when you move your face away from him, he pauses, softly asking if you’re alright.

✦ when you don’t respond, he squeezes your hand reassuringly, and lets you be, sitting quietly next to you as he sips his cup of tea.

✦ he’s surprised when you kiss the hand that’s holding yours eventually, unable to keep him waiting longer.

✦ he smiles gently before teasing you, nudging your shoulder.

✦ “i can’t believe i don’t get to kiss you but you can kiss me. seriously though, you okay? maybe you should start on your tea, i’m sure it’ll help.”

mingyu

✦ pouts when you don’t let him welcome you with a kiss while you’re in the doorway of your home, and chases you around until he can finally put his lips to yours with a giggle.

✦ back hugs you until he gets answers from you and if this holding you isn’t enough, he starts to tickle you, and eventually you crack.

✦ he pretends to think before asking for another kiss as an apology, and grins when you oblige.

✦ “you really think you could get away from me without a kiss? well, i think not!”

seokmin (dokyeom)

✦ also pouts automatically, shocked as he pulls back from your face as he cuddles you.

✦ he frowns as he puts his hands on either side of your face to inspect it and see if you’re not letting him kiss it because you’re conscious of something. when he finds nothing, he grabs your hands, asking if you’re okay. 

✦ and yeah, it’s hard for you to hold back—so you don’t, and you peck him on the lips quickly before moving back to see his reaction.

✦ his eyes are wide and he smiles slowly before pulling you close with a sigh of contentment.

✦ “i thought something happened, my love! don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

seungkwan

✦ immediately gives you a stink face with the worst side eye ever. what do you mean you don’t want a kiss from him? don’t you love him and his tendency to kiss you on the cheek all the time? 

✦ he narrows his eyes at you when you don’t say anything and sighs, asking if something happened and if he can do anything for you.

✦ when he frowns in concern, you reach to grab and kiss his cheek with a giggle, and he groans before kissing you back softly, looking off to the side after. eventually, he cuddles closer to you and plays with your hands, mumbling under his breath about how you scared him, and how he’ll always give you reminders of much you mean to him so you’ll never forget—or stop him from kissing you.

✦ “don’t get me worried like that again, okay?”

hansol (vernon)

✦ tilts his head at you but doesn’t push it like jeonghan, though he does this because he knows you’ll communicate if something’s wrong. 

✦ leaves you be and goes back to watch cat videos on the couch next to you, deciding not to leave so he can remind you that he’s always here for you, even if you don’t necessarily want him there—which is what he believes right now.

✦ you eventually move to snuggle against him and watch a cat try to do a backflip with him, and kiss the corner of his smile, and it only gets bigger as he takes your hand. 

✦ “glad to have you back. anyway, have you seen that one video where a cat gets super scared by a spider and flops down onto their owner’s stomach—”

chan (dino)

✦ looks at you confused when you don’t accept his kiss hello, and you can see the question mark hanging over his head. 

✦ also grabs your hand to ask if you’re okay, and scans your body to see if you’re hurt anywhere.

✦ he smiles when you kiss him after a few minutes of just him standing there and staring at you, determined to figure out what’s wrong.

✦ intertwines your hands so you can walk to wherever you’re going, and looks at you lovingly the entire time.

✦ “what? wow, you didn’t want me to kiss you first, and now i can’t even look at my favourite person in the world?”

[theastrical]

genshin men and their way of apologising

Genshin men and their ways of apologising.

kaeya, diluc, childe, (alhaitham, zhongli, kaveh on pt.2) x reader (fem!reader diluc)

ps: it’s comfort/hurt, a bit angsty but with fluffy ending!! Also if you guys have triggers with cursing, this content has cursing/verbal scolding implications so please mind that before reading!

Kaeya:

“stop doing this and that..you’ll end up being a burden.” He shuts off the door and locks it. You were just trying to help him, and unfortunately, he doesn’t like it. This happens quiet a lot, where he closed off all part of himself in order to heal himself…that’s okay, at first, but what about you? You’re hurt and he kept you out just like that; is he here to wound your heart just like the other exes who grew apart from you?

And when you start to lose your patience, he can’t do nothing about it, right? He’s just there to hurt-hurt-and make you feel as if you in deserve of such a treatment. You cried, it felt weird to cry over kaeya. He has been sweet, yes, you never doubted once that his act are truly meant for you, but at what certain point did you do to make him immediately switch up? You didn’t know, you never know. He never wanted to communicate, that’s the problem.

“if you don’t want me to help you, that’s fine, just please kaeya…talk to me like i’m a human, not somebody you can use when you’re happy. I also need a set of time to heal.” You say that-an automatic reply set on your brain to confront him even if it’s not face to face. Now door to door-you just scold him and leave.

It took him a huge amount of time to heal. he knows what he has done can’t be undone. Listening to your cries become his worst fear, he can’t just stand in front of your eyes and say sorry, he knows that wouldn’t work. That enough explains how much he hates apologising; because his apologies always ended up with him crushing over the burden of his sins.

That’s why, the next day, in the morning when you woke up. Kaeya is already there beside your bedside. Folding your palm between his. His head on the floor.

“i’ve taken your words and…* he sighs before continuing. “Apologies don’t really matter if i don’t change my attitudes, so please, if you’re still willing to give me one more chance, can i have the privilege to change, at least, for you?”…he stays quiet for a while. “Lastly, i’m sorry, i know all i did these yesterday and these past few months weren’t tolerable. I understand if you would hate me for this.”..he looks up to you, his eyes are already watery. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He hugs you and that felt so good…

A mark on your neck was left, a few peck it took for him to finally calm down. And he looks at you with a smile, even when his eyes are puffy. “I love you..thank you for still being here.”

Diluc:

Diluc came home quite late, it was unusual and it worries you, after all, since the day you married him. He had never been this late-he always come home with a huge surprise which is food…for obvious reason (he’s wants you to eat instead of cooking him a meal since he knew how exhausting it can be).

you were just about to ring up his phone-and suddenly a slam from the door was heard. You came to the first floor and..there’s diluc! “Diluc!” You grin, as always, you warmly greeted him, because it’s your husband, it’s diluc, what more reason to make you adore him?

You tried to help him get his bag and put off his jacket…but his bag was so heavy…whatever does he put inside his bag? Why is it so h— oh no! The bag suddenly hit your coffee cup and spilled the remaining coffee to the bag…now his bag is tainted with coffee and he-who saw that scene in front of him can’t even hide his raging eyes. Before one word to spit out-he gives off a long sigh-squinting his eyes.

“Why…sigh…it’s always you, you AND YOU who makes the worst mistake OVER AND OVER AGAIN! In the WORST TIMING AS WELL, CAN YOU—“ you replied, cutting off his words. “I-i’m so sorry diluc…i’ll help you with th—“ , “CAN YOU STOP CUTTING MY WORDS? Listen to me lady, it’s not about the bag or the papers, its about your presence…why helping you when you can’t even help yourself fix these problems, you’re helpless.”

He said that like a drunk man with no sanity behind his eyes, yet, this time, he’s actually sober, so sober he already pulled off that bag from your grip... He’s losing his patience and you know his words are the truth…still it hurts way too much. Why? Because it’s diluc, the one you called husband. tears fell and you don’t know what to do. It’s like your body doesn’t know how to move.

You look at his eyes, your mind went blank. You can sense his anger, but the tears never stop from your eyes. It’s like you just got hit by a truck. You try to left the living room to the bedroom upstair. At the same time diluc realise his action-you’re already up there-on the stair.

As soon as your foot step into the bedroom. You slowly loses the ability to numb the tears. You lay down on the comfy covers and then just cry. Sniffling. Without words, just cry and cry and cry. Realising that it was your mistake but..it hurts when he struck you with the truth that you’re useless in his eyes.

Diluc didn’t pay mind to pride when it comes to apologizing. Hence, when he heard the sniffling become louder in each breathe you took. He storms to the bedroom and hold your body to his embrace. Covering you from his face. Covering you from the cowardice and guilt he has to face. Securing you from his words..comforting you with his presence.

“sorry princess…don’t bother looking at my face if it means you’ll hate me…i don’t deserve the sight of your eyes…i don’t deserve anything.” He hugs you closer and strokes your hair, within each stroke, it felt like his hands have just won you again. “Thank you for helping me, it ease me a lot—that’s the word you need and i’m unable to fulfil that right..here i am, rejecting you, not acknowledging the effort you took just to wait for me.” He kisses your forehead before carrying you to sit on his lap. “but do believe that i’ll fix this mistake and beg on your knees if you need me to...” he look at your eye despite you not giving him a sight of your puffy eye.

“Anything for a second chance, for my princess.”

Childe:

you really love cooking. It’s something that nobody really knows-cause not evedybody has seen you cook or even taste the food you cook. You’re known to be secretive about everything; Even childe being your husband, only 2 of your 100 friends know-especially with the fact that topic is on your top 10 secret list.

And being in a marriage with childe means you’ll cook 24/7, which at first seems fine with you-but lately, you’ve been losing interest in cooking. It’s like..whatever you make is just a rating of ”it’s okay” for childe. It’s like he doesn’t even bother appreciating your food. So today, you’re trying to confront him…

He’s in a badmood-that’s why he doesn’t bother to try and reach out to you. Though it’ll be very thoughtful if you actually make him his comfort food right? And maybe if you did so, he would’ve complimented your cooking? Right! So you did and you’re so happy with the result! It taste perfect! So you began serving it onto the small bowl and put the food in front of him, you immediately get some spoonful of the food and put it inside his mouth-which is hot-like BURNING HOT. You know you fucked up so badly, so you get some water for him before he said “fuck!” so casually.

“W-what’s wrong..? Sorry i burned your tongue, i really am..!!! Please dr—“ he immediately cut you off. “No…i don’t want to eat dinner, the food doesn’t even taste good…” oh. “and thank you for burning my tongue as well! It certainly helps!.” He mocked you. “Now i can speak while enduring the pain! Right! That’s what you want your husband to feel, right?” He happily grins, a mockery. Childe immediately walked out of the dining room like a child.

And he scoffs silently on the hallway, even though it’s easy enough for you to listen because he talks to himself like he talks to another being. “I should’ve just searched for another person..i can’t stay with an idiot…” and that push you towards a realization that childe always have think of you as somebody who isn’t worth of his time. It’s like reality finally gives you a sign that he’s just one lucky pull you got. You didn’t cry. It gives you a numbing feeling, an empty one.

You sat on the dining table, taking out your apron, you get some bowl of the food and eat it by yourself. Because, like childe said, he wouldn’t eat dinner, so why bother waiting for somebody who can’t even appreciate you?

Eating alone is such a complex feeling, especially in a marriage. It feels lonely but peaceful. At least it can make your mind steady for whatever coming afterwards. You did feel a bit better but..the pain of his words never left you. It never did. It just makes the heart feel more numb as the seconds passed.

You sighed and…there he is, all shy and embarrassed behind the walls, he has been spying on you since 30 minutes ago…he’s guilty as charged. When you see him, you ignored him, immediately. Not wanting to share another eye contact with that man who have insulted your ways of loving him.

He follows you and hold onto your arm before you go elsewhere, who knows what will you do if his arms didn’t hold yours. Childe is embarrassed-guilt on his face and a coward on his heart. He made you wait for a good 5 minutes, he was waiting for you to say something..but instead, childe was met with cold air.

“i’m a loser for insulting your way of loving me. I’m dramatic. I’m a brat. I’m everything that you don’t want in a man.” His head can’t even meet yours. After all, your eyes are blank and it pierces his soul. “You don’t need to give me second chance. You don’t need to treat me right after what i’ve done. A bad deed is a bad deed.” With the courage of the final sentence; he hold onto your hand and kisses your fingertips. “I will win that cold heart of yours again and again, if it means i can live with you in every life to come.”

[rinhaler]

HI CAN YOU PLZ DO LIKE A DRABBLE OR SOMETHING OF SUKUNA MAKING OUT WITH US AND THEN PUTTING HIS HAND UNDER OUR SKIRT AND THEN USING THE MOUTH ON HIS HAND TO EAT US OUT WHILE WE KISS SUKUNA. PLZ IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH MWAH ILY

This prompt is SO scrumptious I had too much fun with this omggggg

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, degradation, fingering, monster fucking?, pussy eating, squirting, mutual pining (they are both low key in love but haven't confessed lmao), dom!sukuna, sub!reader.

words: 1.9k

“You aren’t ready.”

His words ring true but your lip wobbles nonetheless. Sukuna’s true form is something you can only dream about for now, it seems. But your want and agonising desperation to see it, see him, is becoming overwhelming.

You’ve heard about it in such visceral detail. Other sorcerer’s have told you bits and pieces during your time on campus, although, each specific trait told to you by Sukuna himself makes you quiver as adoration further engulfs you. Learning more about who and what he is makes you want him more.

Sure, this might make you a traitor by Jujutsu law, but you don’t care. You can’t possibly care when you’re so infatuated with him. He makes you feel special, too. Because of all of the human beings, all of the women in the world, he chose to take an interest in you.

His lips slot against yours, thumb stroking across your cheek in an uncharacteristic show of attentiveness as he notes your disappointment. You aren’t sure if he loves you, and truthfully, you don’t know if you’ll ever know. But when he’s gentle like this, it feels like love.

“I-I’m ready, I promise.” you tell him as your mouth widens to accept his forceful tongue. Your heart skips a beat when you note his hesitation. You’re not foolish enough to think his interest in you makes you exempt from his ability to swiftly end your life. So you swallow thickly as your eyes search his, red glaring irises that warn you to remember your place. They drop to your throat as he watches the journey of your saliva bobbing through your oesophagus before his eyes fix back to your own.

“I will not only decide when you’re ready,” he starts, clawed fingers grab your chin and roughly turn your head so he can finish rasping his point into your ear. “I will decide when you are worthy. Do you understand?”

Not a word makes it by your lips before that heavy grasp on your chin is forcing you to nod your head like a subservient pet. You shudder as his thick, tattooed tongue curls against your cheek. He’s tasting the salt of a tear you didn’t even know was there.

“You know… I don’t have much time or patience for little girls who don’t listen to what I say.” he tells you, his head tilts backwards and his eyes are suddenly looking down at you like you’re worthless. “I’ll cut this short for today.” he finishes.

It’s a devastating blow, but you know better than to argue. So you nod in acceptance, and now you do feel the second tear that has escaped to begin rolling down your cheek. There’s an uncomfortable ache between your thighs, your arousal pooling and soaking through the seat of your panties. He looks at you, his eyes filled with something you can only denote as suspicion as you squeeze your thighs together as subtly as you can.

“You’re soaking aren’t you?” he asks, looking you up and down. You can only imagine how wide your eyes are as he speaks, filled with shame and humiliation that he’s been able to read you with such ease. He laughs, though it’s short and restrained, but his smile remains wide as he looks at you with fangs bared. “I can smell it.”

“Jesus.” you sigh, covering your face with your hands. You yelp as large, veiny hands encase your wrists and rip them away from your bewildered face.

“I barely kissed you. And you’re that wet?” he begins. He sounds incredulous, but he grins once again when he sees your expression change from acceptance to embarrassment. “You truly wish to fuck a monstrous being so desperately? That’s why you became a sorcerer. What would your superiors say?”

“That’s not—” you sigh, stopping yourself from continuing before you say something he’ll chastise you for. “If we aren’t doing this, you should just go.”

You barely blink before you realise you’re looking up at the ceiling. Four barely open eyes look down at you with a combination of lust and malice lingering in them, but you can’t care for too long as he starts to kiss you so sloppily with passion and reverence. You moan pathetically, and he smiles into your kiss as he begins to hump his body like a beast against smaller prey.

“You dare talk back to me while your cunt is drenched like this?” he asks, the contrasting words from his almost loving body language makes your head spin. Another, heartier moan rips from your throat as his words rush to your sopping heat. “You got wetter when you saw all of my eyes. This room might turn into a hot spring if you see all of me.”

“S-Stop it,” you object, horrified by his mocking words. “It’s not—” you’re silenced with another kiss, and you’re a little surprised to hear him moan, too, as you cup his face gently with both hands as he kisses you.

“We might both drown if I pin you down with four arms. If I devour your arousal with the mouth on my stomach. If I fuck whichever holes I desire with two cocks.” his heavy breath disguises a laugh.

You can’t object anymore, you can’t express your humiliation so you just take it. Your mouth stays open so that he can curl his tongue against yours, retracting as it smooths over the back of your teeth.

His eyes remain on yours as his hand finds itself under the bend of your knee, expression surprisingly stoic as he forcefully pushes it away from your other leg until it’s pinned at an almost uncomfortable angle. A sharp breath leaves you at that moment, and still, his face doesn’t change.

“I’ll make you cum, one last time.” he assures you, hand slithering beneath your displaced skirt. You whimper, though there isn’t a specific reason why. Whether it be the claim that this will be your final tryst with Sukuna or the fact that his fingers are toying with the sodden material of your panties, it’s a heady combination that’s enough to make you cry.

“Okay…” you breathe. He smirks at the way you bite your lip as he circles your clit through your dripping cotton underwear.

He pulls the material off your body, discarding them who knows where as he smothers your lips with his own yet again. It’s enough, you think. It’s enough that you’ll be fingered by the King of Curses as a final farewell, albeit a little boring. He’s being considerate of you, he’s putting your pleasure before his own, and in spite of that you’d rather he’d fuck you until your brain turns to a pink soup that drips from your ears after his cock renders you unconscious.

“This will be a reminder that no man will compare for the rest of your days. You will never cum in the ways that I can make you.” he tells you, almost as if it were a promise.

He’s right, you know that already. He isn’t a man, after all.

He’s a curse.

Two fingers push into your tight hole with little resistance. His experience briefly crosses your mind, undoubtedly far more than your own. It makes you feel insecure when you think about it for too long, so you try not to. He chose you, after all. The way his fingers hook perfectly through your walls and target your pressure point makes your breath hitch and lodge in your throat before a boisterous moan tears through you.

You shiver violently as his teeth graze your earlobe, biting softly and tugging before he begins to lick and lave at your pulse point. The knowledge that he can easily tear out your jugular while your walls throb and squeeze around deft fingers isn’t lost on you. Though that worry soon dissipates as his mouth levels with your ear once more.

“This is more than you deserve, but you said you’re ready.” he hisses.

“What?” you ask, quietly, confused by the implication of his words.

All addling thoughts racing through the creases of your mind are lost as you feel a familiar yet nonsensical feeling between your legs. His rough kiss silences any thoughts you wish to speak, which only leaves you more perplexed.

His tongue tangles with yours, and yet you’re tremoring from the sensation of another tongue running up and down between your puffy folds. You want to pull away to ask, to look at what he’s doing to you. But his free hand holds your jaw in place and you know better than to think you’d ever be able to best his strength, even with all of your might.

The pads of thick fingers still hone in and target your g-spot as he curls and presses against it roughly. But a secondary tongue from the palm of his hand swirls around and across your clit like that’s its sole purpose. You want to scream, you want to moan into the abyss but you can’t free yourself of Sukuna’s bruising kiss.

They’re his noises, he’s earning them by reducing you to this. It’s only right that he get to devour them. You’re barely present as the lips on his hand suction around your firm clit. The alternating actions between licking and sucking have you writhing and kicking beneath his heavy form.

But you can’t move, not really. Not when he’s pinning you beneath his weight with a refusal to let you move even an inch away from what he’s inflicting upon you.

You try to scream as you finish, pussy gushing more than you ever have before. It’s only then that he pulls away, eager to see the way your pretty pussy squirts copiously for him. The hand on his mouth slurps and feeds on the fluid, the heavenly taste causes Sukuna to throw his head back in ecstasy as his hand carries on savouring and ingesting your purest flavour.

It’s only when your cunt has nothing left to give that he looks down at you. Your convulsing form and entirely white eyes make him snicker as he hides the secondary mouth on his hand and withdraws his fingers from your twitching hole. His hand smooths over your hair, and he kisses your cheek repeatedly until you respond.

“You’re alive, then.” he mutters.

“Sukuna…” you breathe, you want to caress his face. You want to rake your fingers through his hair and feel his skin against yours if this is truly the final time he’ll be with you like this. But you can’t, your body is spent and you can barely find the energy to move your lips. But you have to, you must. “I don’t want to… lose… you.”

You don’t miss how his eyes widen in surprise. Though he dispels it quickly, assuming he’s mistaking your lust for true feelings for him. He smirks instead, placing a chaste kiss against your weary lips.

“You will see me again.” he assures you. “It took so little effort to conjure up that mouth on my hand, and look how pathetic you are.”

Despite having a fair amount of notches on your bedpost, no one has ever compared to Sukuna. The way he fucks is an art. The way he can simultaneously make you feel a pleasure you’ve never felt before while also prioritising himself is a sexual experience you’ve never known, and you’re sure you never will again without him. And yet, all of the encounters you’ve had with him pale in comparison to the orgasm you’ve just had.

And that took little effort?

If you had the energy, you think you’d be able to cum again just from imagining what he’s capable of when he actually tries.

“I’ll make you ready for me one day. All of me.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[solar-wing]

⚣ Submission 🗣️

⚣🗣️ A/N → Something I couldn't get out of my head after I saw this TikTok. You can't tell me this wouldn't be Jason in this situation. WARNINGS: none

���🗣️ Summary → Imagine being in a relationship with Jason Todd where you know Jason could easily beat you in a fight but it never stops you from talking shit as if you’ll fuck him up, and he just lets you…

⚣🗣️ Words → 851

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🗣️

It’s not something Jason admits he finds amusing and adorable about you, but the fact that he lets you do it without any real pushback is telling enough. Because imagine, this towering and colossal-sized man, definitely over 6 feet and huge mass with the muscles to show and is a trained fighter (no matter how informal), getting beaten in a fight between him and his shorter and/or smaller boyfriend.

And it’s not to say you could never beat him in a fight, oh no! Your Jaybirdie would never want you to believe he doubts your capability and skills like that. Actually, he’d very much like and would encourage you to be able to learn how to take him down. It would help with his anxiety and fear of you being out in the world without him there to protect you, feeling more at ease knowing you could defend yourself if need be.

He’s definitely planning to make that a reality, because if you two are going to continue to be in a relationship, Jason needs to know that you can protect yourself without him there. It’s something you both talked about and he made it clear when you first got into a serious relationship about him and his family’s side careers.

But, until then, Jason will happily and silently enjoy the trash-talking and play fights with you. It just gives him more of an excuse to have your body rubbing against his, the perv…

It always starts small and silly.

Whether you’re just feeling playful or want attention, it doesn’t matter. You and Jason will be cuddling on the couch or the bed and engaging in your usual harmless domestic banter. Or he’ll be minding his own business cooking, reading, or going over cases and reports, and you’ll just come up and start messing with him.

Messing up his hair, poking him in his face, slapping his butt, and shoving against his body. Despite popular belief, Jason has a somewhat good level of patience and will endure it, but then you start talking shit.

“Oh, was that important? Looks like you’ll need to start over,” You’ll say after purposely jerking his hand while he was writing notes down on a mission report.

“Oops, looks like you dropped something. You’re so freaking clumsy,” said with a jeering tone after knocking the book Jason was reading out of his hands.

“Aww, is the little baby getting upset? Don’t cry baby, it’ll be okay,” You’ll respond in the most insulting baby voice knowing how much Jason despises it and usually ends up being his last straw.

The vigilante will give a soft shove and a warning look to you and that’s all you need. You’ll start taunting him even more and pushing yourself against him, grabbing at his wrists and arms as he holds you back.

“You feeling tough all of sudden? Am I going to have to mess you up like last time?”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The next moment, Jason’s patience has officially run out and now, the two of you are rolling around on the bed, couch, and floor trying to pin the other. Well, you’re trying to pin him.

Jason’s just holding you off with ease and letting you slip out of his grabs now and then, letting you think you’ve got a chance. Of course, that leads to more shit-talking.

“Man, what kind of criminals are you fighting? You’re no match for me.”

Of course, as things will go when it comes to wrestling between two males, it eventually gets a little out of hand. You’ll shove Jason too hard, accidentally land a hit on his face or nether region, or you’ll even purposefully try to cheat to which your boyfriend responds by immediately putting you in a submission.

Never anything too rough or painful, just enough to immobilize you until you calm down and stop fighting back. But, even the non-painful ones are a bit much for you since you’re not used to fighting like Jason is, so you’ll typically give in within a few seconds, especially when he puts a little pressure on you and jerks you a bit as payback for all the trash talk.

It doesn’t stop you though, since as soon as you’re both done and back to whatever you were doing, you’ll continue to talk shit at your boyfriend like you had him in submission.

“Hopefully you learned your lesson.”

“We can clearly see who the big guy is in this relationship now. Don’t worry little man, maybe you’ll win again next time.”

“Light work. Maybe we should get you some classes small fry.”

And so much more trash-talking and playful jabs until the next round. But, Jason doesn’t mind. As long as he’s the one getting to put you in a submission at the end, he’ll let you trash-talk him all day, every day.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[cattlemons]

hi, if you're okay with writing for him, wanderer x reader hcs? (it can be short and brief!!) /nf

The Archivist and The Stubborn Scholar

TW: Not proofread and the punctuations on this might be kinda yikes (tried my best tho), this particular big boy is 1,7k words big (very short and super brief (❁´◡`❁))

Hope you like this, my first ever nonnie! (I wanna frame you like a first dollar)

I feel like the Wanderer is kind of a tough nut to crack because his trauma wall is 100 inches thick.

At the beginning, he’s really just huffing and puffing and being a total jerk to you (and everyone else). To be honest, you’re just trying your best to tough it out and not cuss him out every chance you get.

Technically, he isn’t a permanent student of the Vahumana; he only comes in to borrow research papers he needs for his own paper and then he’s off again. So, there's no reason for you to see him all that much.

But aside from being a student, you’re also the Akedemiya’s archivist, so you do meet him fairly often. Not that you enjoyed his prickly presence at first. It was quite the nuisance, if anything.

Every time he comes in to borrow something, it feels like he’s purposefully trying to get a rise out of you.

He’s also frustratingly accurate in pressing your buttons; like he knows exactly what makes you tick and explode.

You want to chop his head off.

Luckily for him, you’re closer to Celestia than he is because your patience for him is on par with that of a saint.

“I need a paper on Tatarasuna, but I want it as recent as possible. The closer to ‘yesterday’ it is published, the better.”

Looking away from your own paper, you looked at him like he grew five heads, each wearing a big ‘ol hat. To your defense, you’re only four beats off.

“Look, I know you’re an honored guest of the Archon and only recently started joining in on this research writing business, but you’ve got to learn how we do things here,” you huffed as you searched for a written guideline you have not needed for a while now.

Pulling the paper out of your bag, you pointed and explained the graphic drawn on it.

“First, you go and find out which collection of research papers you need and ask me politely if we have it here in the archives. Then, I tell you if we have it or not before asking if you want it copied and if you need more assistance—”

“Okay, fine. I want Tatarasuna papers and assistance.”

“Please let me finish.”

“Why’d you stop talking if you weren’t finished?”

“You interrupted me?!”

That’s basically how an average conversation with him goes.

But as time goes on, the hate turns into dislike and then into pretend hate and finally into secret like.

At the start of his research, the visits are few and far between, but as the research starts getting heavier, his visits get more frequent too.

He also likes to work on the tables right outside the archival building for “quicker access to papers.”

This is not for the public, but he also kind of maybe perhaps secretly likes looking at the archivist.

He just likes looking at you when you’re confused about why the journal you’re reading is spewing lies. He also likes looking at you when you huff at your paper because the wording is all messed up.

Yeah, his sadistic tendencies were not wiped away when he pulled his stunt on the Irminsul. You can’t win them all, I guess.

Anyway, it’s all totally because he likes seeing you suffer. You’re on top of his “pain in the ass” list, after all!

Not because you look adorable when you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion.

Definitely not because he knows you didn’t get enough sleep last night (he heard your friend chastise you about it) and you made a bunch of mistake on your paper.

He DEFINITELY DOES NOT find your tired eyes and sleepy yawns cute (like a very angry cat he DOES NOT want to take care of).

But really, he actually believes in this reasoning. He simply thinks it's schadenfreude.

Man’s smart when scheming but dumb bum when anything else.

He does not catch on to his feelings all that quick. In fact, it took him embarrassingly long.

He had to do a lot of soul searching and experience a ton of jealousy to finally realize that maybe he likes you more than he hates you.

Or rather, he likes you more than he originally allowed himself to like you.

Oh no! It’s the consequences of having a heart because a heart isn’t an object but the accumulation of interactions that build the psyche and emotion! Darn, life lesson! (Wanderer, probably)

The Wanderer decided that he’s going to work on his paper in the archive building today. He’s not in the mood to sit in some shitty cafe and listen to incessant chatter.

Wow, he wished he had chosen the cafe instead.

“Hey! Who told you, you can just take a paper out of the archive and waltz your merry way home? Give that back. Right now!”

“I thought we were friends,” Kaveh mumbled in faux hurt as he stretched his hands out to return the paper to you.

“Archivist first. Friend second,” you huffed out, snatching the scroll of paper out of his hands.

The blond proceeded to clutch his chest and make a scene.

Sometimes you wish you weren’t such good friends with the man. At least then, he’d act civil.

Meanwhile, the Wanderer was watching all this from the front row seat; absolutely soaked with friendly-banter-that-he-misunderstood-as-lovey-dovey-affection. Your interaction with Kaveh spilled over into the splash zone of his seat in the archival building and he hated it.

In his mind, he came up with the conclusion that the heat in his heart is coming from a place of annoyance.

Why are you so loud at 7 in the fucking morning?

Why is the blond one also so loud at 7 in the fucking morning?

Why are you even entertaining guests this early in the morning? Didn’t you refuse him any service when he came this early a few weeks ago?

Why is this guy any special?

Somewhere much deeper in his mind, he thought differently.

I thought you were only grumpy with me.

You said ‘friend’ to him, right?

Why does that ease me slightly?

But you treat me like that too… Am I a ‘friend’ as well?

Why does that hurt even more?

After that moment, his visits get less frequent. When he does visit, though, he keeps things brief and… polite?

You even tried to start up a banter; mentioning something you know (on a normal day) would get his veins popping and kick-start a back-and-forth and then some.

To no avail, he stayed silent and just looked mildly inconvenienced.

This confused you to Celestia and back and then to Celestia again and then back again.

He’s honestly not too sure why he distanced himself from you in the first place.

But hindsight is 20/20 because after a much-needed self-evaluation session (by ‘self’ I mean himself and Nahida) he knows it’s because he doesn’t want a fourth addition to his list of major betrayals.

Not that he’ll actually agree with that statement out loud. But inside, he gets it.

Of course, this understanding is between his own person. You, unfortunately, were completely out of the loop.

You thought you had somehow pissed him off beyond forgiveness or crossed some kind of line.

At one point, you thought that the banter was, in a very weird way, flirting.

But maybe you got it wrong. What if he never saw you as a friend at all, let alone someone he might like.

You decided that if a relationship(?) friendship(?) has to die, then it’s going out with a bang.

*(bang = mutual understanding on what went wrong and peacefully going back to being strangers).

So, you visited him one day. Out of work hours too (mmmm how bold).

The knock on his door broke the puppet out of his cluttered thoughts; thoughts of a certain archivist he misses. Grunting as he stood, he closed the book he pretended to read in favor of opening the door.

“Who is it?”

He opened the door just as the ‘intruder’ reached to knock on the door again. He doesn’t know why you thought that knocking needed that much force but he’s certain it’s way too much.

Anger poked at him as he yelled, “That’s going to bruise, idiot.”

It won’t.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“You should be! That hurts.”

It did not.

“Not about that! I’m sorry for whatever happened between you and me to make you hate me…”

The fuck?

“You don’t have to forgive me or anything. I get that you have some sort of past to make you that way and I probably overstepped somewhere but… I thought we were friends. I thought if you were to revert back to us being enemies again, at least you’d tell me why…”

The Fuck?

“Is it because you know I like you? If that’s the case, you’re not fully wrong but I can just throw that away because I know you’re probably not looking for something like that and that’s probably the bit where I overstepped and you know I’m not even fully invested in it so really I can just stop!”

The FUCK?

So much for mutual understanding. With how things are going, it’s more of an individual understanding.

You got way too nervous and now things are spilling left and right and he’s not even saying anything?! He’s just staring at you like you grew five heads, each wearing a big ol' hat. You took a breath to continue your long-winded mess of a rant when he clutched your shoulders.

“Stop for a second, will you, motor-mouth.”

You clammed up right away, tears leaking out of your eyes.

“Listen, I’m not going to ever say this again but I like you too. It’s shit and I hate feeling it because… because I’ve never felt before, okay? So, stop talking all that crap about throwing important things away, it's pissing me off.”

You fully started sobbing now. He panicked and pulled you in for a very awkward, very stiff, but very loving hug. Snot got on his robe and cape as you cried your emotions out on him.

He found he didn’t quite mind. He could use less snot, sure, but he was glad you cared this much over him. He's never had anyone worry over him, let alone to the point of crying.

Soon, tears prickled his eyes but it's alright because relief found his heart.

By the way, he did say it again. He said it 1,000 times before your eventual marriage and 5,000 more times but with ‘love’ as a substitute for ‘like’.

What a liar.

a.n. My first ever request and I’m so incredibly chill about it (lies I jumped and screamed slightly). Anyway, I’m not sure what you’d like to see so I made this about how you came to be the wanderer's partner. Send in another one if you want something more specific (I’ll literally smile and break my cheek muscles if you do).

[hanafubukki]

Hanaaa i have a hopefully fun question for you if you want to indulge? ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝´ ˘ `⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

how would you say the Disasomnia boys kiss? or even where do they enjoy kissing you most! ♡ hehe

Hello Gray 🌺🌻💞

When I saw this ask, I was so excited because I wanted to write more intimate/suggestive moments this year. 👏👏

But I also blue screened hahah Error 404. 😂😂

But I’m going to test my waters a bit and see how this goes:

Lilia Vanrouge:

He has lived centuries and traveled. He is the curious type, so it’s safe to say he’s not new to kissing. He has experience when it comes to intimacy of all kinds.

Initially, he would test the waters with his love. He, gradually and sometimes spontaneously, kisses you.

His kisses always left you breathless, even more so when he had a certain look in his eyes. His eyes speak of hunger and desire.

Don’t worry, precious, you’ll enjoy every moment while he partakes in his desire of you. His favorite place to kiss is where your heart is.

Normally, it would be your neck. After all, he can show everyone who you belong to.

But your heart? Your heart is his. Hearing the sounds as it beats for him calls to him. What a precious lullaby.

For him and him alone. He especially adores the way it beats when he’s with you. It’s all too telling how much you adore him. It’s okay love, his beats just as strong for you.

Malleus Draconia-Vanrouge:

He has lived for so long in terms of human years. He knows about intimacy and has even read it.

But he hasn’t experienced it before. With you, everything is new. He’s going to explore these moments with you. He’s all too willing to learn, especially with his lover.

But careful dear one, dragons are possessive. Once his hunger for you awakens, he’s going to be insatiable.

His kisses will consist of nips with teeth and with his tongue curling around yours. Leaving you gasping.

His favorite place to kiss would be your forehead, especially when you’re tucked into his arms. Here is where you belong and knowing you chose him above everyone else? How can he not love you?

His Future Queen.

His.

Silver Vanrouge:

Sweet dearest Silver would court you. He has learned how to court from his father, so expect something slow, in the beginning at least.

He would follow your pace and what you’re comfortable with. If you asked him for a kiss, he would gladly give it to you.

But careful, he’s the type to be passionate and once you open this pandora’s box, let it be known that never have you not needed to hold onto him for support.

He would wonder why he waited so long to kiss you and now he can’t get enough. So expect a kiss from him in the morning and at night at the very least.

His favorite spot to kiss is your hands. As a knight, he treats you as if you were nobility. You have his highest regard. But sometimes, you can’t help the shiver that runs through you as he nips at your wrist. His eyes conveying he wants so much more.

Sebek Zigvolt:

He has always been a loud one, hasn’t he? But with you? He’s quiet and tender. Not always, and surely not in the beginning, his passionate persona and determination would sometimes be difficult to handle.

But your patience with him and your comments would always be noted. He appreciates you. He knows how he can be given what others and especially Silver say.

So he takes his time with you. As you learn about him, he learns everything about you. Always the dutiful studious types.

He especially pays attention to what kinds of kisses you like, especially the ones that leave you asking him for more. The urge to consume you wholly is always there. He hungers for you and only you can satisfy it.

He loves marking you, but let it be known, that his favorite place to kiss is your eyelids and around that area. Because you have always seen him, haven’t you? When others didn’t and when he himself couldn’t, you have. With your eyes on him, he can hold himself proudly always.

I didn’t realize how long this became 😂🫶💞

Though this became more of a dating/kissing/favorite places combo didn’t it? 🤔😂 But I like how it turned out nonetheless. 💞💞

I had a couple ideas for each but chose these. ☺️💞🫶

[irndad]

if you’re still doing flower prompts i’d love either Rainflower or Purple Lilac with spencer <3

a/n: heyyyy im alive! writing from my trip, love you guys, don't know the wc! flower prompts

Rainflower - realizing that you/they love them/you back

It comes on all at once. 

Spencer- he’s never been particularly good at knowing when he’s feeling romantic. There wasn’t any experience with it. He knows that he’s hardly anyone’s dream guy- all awkward gangly limbs, too tall and too full of information that no one wanted to hear.

He’s carved out a little corner of the world that he can be seen in, that he can be loved in- but he’s never really been under the notion that someone could want him. Spencer knows that he’s lucky to have even this- to have people that ignite the prickly and irritating parts of himself and love him despite about this. And while he might fantasize, daydream about a life where he can lace his long fingers with those of someone who sees him only in a loving gaze of joy, Spencer knows that he’s not the kind of person that gets that. He’s being rational about it- most days, he’s able to relegate this desire to be filled with fantasy. 

Except- something has been up lately.

His best friend is probably the best person that he’s ever met in his life. She’s a consultant with the BAU, and it’s been nice to know her, in so many ways. She’s funny and kind in a way that never seems to have a victim. Spencer is not the kind of person that particularly values physical beauty, but she possesses it in such a large margin that it is difficult to ignore. He’s actually distracted by it sometimes, having to take extra mental attention to her words when all he is drawn to is the lovely curve of her Cupid’s bow, and the both light and heavy weight of her gaze in him. I like when you look at me, he thinks. She never makes him feel small. 

When they’d met, he was reluctant to her presence in most regards. Spencer knows that when he is focused, he can be a solitary creature, and that he’s an acquired taste. But she never seemed to need time to acclimate to him. From her first day, she listened to him when he spoke, and god, she squeezed his shoulder when she walked past him. 

She never had to try to like him. He was never a concession to her. 

This morning, she is late to work. He tries not to time it, but he enjoys the ritual of his mornings far more when he’s with her. He makes her tea and greets her first thing, and she asks about his evening the day prior. He tells her about whatever foreign film or Russian book he read the night before, a little too earnestly. She listens with her lovely doe eyes, sipping slowly as she transitions into her day. It doesn’t feel like patience with her- it feels like she actually cares what he has to say. Their routine is a warm radio crackle of familiarity, his favorite part of his day.

But she’s late today.

When she walks in, she’s a little frazzled and  so, so, adorable. She’s in a T-shirt that looks so familiar to him, and a pair of jeans that look lovely on her pretty legs. It’s a pleasure, looking at her. He wish he had more time to do it, wants to leisurely drink in the sight of her like he has all the time in the world, it never feels long enough to look.

Her hair’s frazzled and she’s just about 5 minutes late- Hotch hasn’t even come out of his office yet, but she’s clearly nervous.

“You’re okay,” he hears himself say, as she plunks down her bag on the desk, “I have your tea.” 

He doesn’t expect her to look up, but she does. She looks up at him and beams, and Spencer- his heart swells. She grabs the cup, dainty pretty fingers wrapped around the curve of it, and she beams her so-sweet smile at him, and god, his knees might buckle. Has it always been this way? 

He drinks in the sight of her, as she runs a hand through her hair in a worried, incredibly endearing gesture. She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. He wonders aimlessly, that she might have been meeting with a man this morning. It might be the explanation for the dishevelment. 

The burning bit in his chest this causes is one that lacks explanation. It hurts in a way that he cannot explain- she is not a realistic dream for him to have. It’s not like he’s never thought about the idea of the two of them together. It’s a fleeting thought, like the consideration if your life if you could fly. It’s not a dream that warrants real consideration. 

But when their fingers brush, her light touch on his hand, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she wanted him.

“Thank you, Spence,” she says, warm voice dripping with gratitude and something in his heart warms at the nickname, “You’re my hero.”

She takes a sip of it, and closes her eyes in a contemplative, restful moment. It’s unfairly adorable.

He’s never actually thought about it, until this moment. But her beauty transcends just being pure fact, a thing to note about his reality. It would be nice, Spencer thinks. It hits him like a tidal wave, images of her gorgeous laugh washing over him on a Sunday morning, the curve of her cheek, a world where he can hold her by the dip of her waist, where her ever-present kindness meant that she might, could, maybe, love him.

Love him back.

She has whipped cream on her finger. She took the lid of the drink off to have the whipped cream. 

He is so, so fucked. 

“Have I told you that I love you today, boy-genius?” 

Even though she’s kidding, and he stammers out a reply of acknowledgment, it is in this moment he knows, with the certainty of every empirical journal he has ever read. 

Spence Reid is hopelessly in love with his best friend, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about that. 

It’s still nice to want, though. 

[daizymax]

wondrous | lmh (m)

summary: pregnancy is strange and uncomfortable and even kind of gross, but your loving husband is always willing to show you just how desirable and wonderful you are.

pairing: lee know x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 5.3k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: profanity; pregnancy; some body insecurities; binary gender talk; graphic sexual content; pregnant sex; dirty talk; lactation kink; creampie

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. hope you enjoy!

{ click here if you prefer to read on AO3 }

---

Slamming the car door with more force than necessary is childish, and if your husband were here, he would probably tell you so. Well, maybe not in such blatant terms. First, he would probably ask you to explain what led you to such pissy behavior, and your answer would be that you’re frustrated and out of patience.

You hate that your patience is in such short supply these days. You know you are going to need all of it and then some when the baby comes.

You rest one of your hands on the crest of your bulging stomach and sigh softly. “I’m sorry,” you say to the ever-growing baby within. “I guess you might need to be patient with me, too, if it’s not too much to ask.”

The tears well up unbidden. That happens often lately with your hormones on the fritz. Evidently something as mundane as a shopping trip to the mall is enough to upset you nowadays. Then your mind dwells on how you should be grateful to be in a position to buy the things you want and need whenever you want, and that only makes you sob harder.

You allow the silly little breakdown to run its course, knowing it will be better to sit and let it out now before you drive home.

After a few minutes, you sniffle and wipe your wet cheeks in shame. After a couple more minutes of deep breaths, when you are certain you are stable enough to drive, you start the engine.

The commute home gives you some time to decompress, and the sight of Minho’s car in the driveway lifts your spirits. He told you this morning that he might have to work late this evening — which was fine by you since it translated to having more money for the pending expenses of birthing and raising a child — but having him home is even better.

A loud clang and a muttered curse greet you as you enter the front door. It may not be a polite reaction, but you can’t help but smile at whatever your husband is struggling with in the kitchen. You sling your shopping bags onto the couch and go to rescue him.

Minho is bent over at the waist, rummaging through a bottom cabinet with his backside to you. You take a moment to ogle the fit of his jeans appreciatively before making your presence known.

“Hi honey, need some help?”

He flinches and whirls around. “Heyyy, doll! I didn’t hear you come in.” He hastily combs his fingers through his smooth brown hair as if to compose himself for you.

“That’s because you were busy tearing down the kitchen, from the sound of it,” you laugh.

He does not even dispute your joke. He just groans in frustration and kicks his foot out behind him to close the cabinet. “Where do we keep the rice cooker? I swear I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Did you look here?” You pull open the correct cabinet near your calves and squat down to retrieve it. He rushes to stop you.

“Hey, hey, let me get it.” He comes over and crouches with you only to put his hands on your hips and guide you back up with him. “You shouldn’t exert yourself. I have a bun in that oven, lady.”

You snort loudly. “Don’t I know it. My whole day was an over-exertion, though. I think I can handle stooping over to grab the rice cooker.”

“Oh?” His face becomes concerned, eyebrows wrinkling and pink lips pouting adorably. His hands begin sliding up and down along your sides. “What was wrong with your day?”

“Oh, I’ve just decided I hate shopping for maternity clothes now,” you say, sighing heavily. The statement is so frivolous it makes you cringe, but the rest of your unimportant complaints come flooding out anyway. “They’re all so unflattering, not to mention it’s so uncomfortable trying them on. Getting undressed and redressed is such a pain in the ass. It’s like a whole fucking workout now, I swear to god.”

“Ah, I bet. Poor thing,” Minho says without a trace of condescension to his tone, and you envy his patience. He pulls you in for a hug in his strong arms, and your swollen stomach bumps against his flat one.

Inspired by his understanding, you continue unburdening your rather meaningless worries into his shoulder. “It was so crowded, too. I hate how everyone stares at me all the time just because I’m pregnant. And I especially hate when other parents come up to me and give me advice or tell me stories about their own pregnancies, like I fucking asked.”

Minho laughs and massages his fingertips into the back of your head. “I think they’re just trying to be kind and helpful. They only mean well.”

“Yeah, well, it’s also super annoying.”

“Sorry. What can I do to help?”

You shake your head and step back from him. “Right now I just want to shower and change my clothes. I’m not kidding about that ‘workout.’ I’ve been sweating for hours and I feel disgusting right now. The boob sweat is strong under this sweater right now.”

“Well, we’ve got a towel right here.” He whips the dish towel off the handle of the stove with a flourish and holds it up with a cheeky grin. “Let me help you.”

You laugh. “You want to dry my boobs off with that?”

“It’s clean!”

“Don’t be silly.”

“You’ll be glad for my silliness when our baby comes,” he says, dropping the towel to start tickling you mercilessly.

Your stomach muscles heave with your fit of giggles, and the baby starts kicking to join in on the commotion.

“Ah! No t-tickling, damnit! The b-baby doesn’t like it.”

“No?” Minho stops his playful torment and cups your stomach on either side. It only takes a second for him to feel what you mean. “I think maybe she does.”

“Or he. The baby could be a boy, you know.”

The two of you have decided to keep the gender a surprise until the birth, but that does not stop your husband from speculating.

“Could be,” he says a bit dismissively. He kneels down on the tiled floor so his face is level with your belly-button, which has recently begun to protrude outwards like the rest of you.

He runs his fingers along the surface of your stretched sweater and says quietly, “I just have a hunch that it’s a girl. She’s feisty, like you.” He places a sweet kiss on the top of your belly, then speaks directly to it. “Sorry about the tickling, sweet baby girl. Daddy was just making Mommy laugh to help make her feel better. I have something else that might make her feel better, though.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

Minho interlocks his fingers with yours and leads you up the stairs — which have become quite the strain on your knees lately — and to the baby’s room.

The moment he pushes open the door, you see exactly what he means. The crib now resembles a crib and not a scattering of wooden pieces strewn around the floor the way they had been for weeks. The inside is lined with blankets and stuffed animals, and the mobile you chose is hanging above it. It could hardly be more picturesque.

With this, the nursery is complete. The painting had been finished a couple months ago, and the other pieces of necessary and decorative furniture have been set in their places for quite some time as well.

“Wow, you actually finished it?” you say. “How did you have time to do that after work today?”

“You were gone for longer than you realize,” he says, chuckling. “I took half the day off to come home and surprise you, but you weren’t here, so I decided to surprise you with this instead.”

“Consider me surprised,” you say with a smile. You squeeze his hand before letting go and walking over to the crib. You give the rail a little shake to test the sturdiness of your husband’s handiwork, and your eyebrows raise in satisfaction at the result.

“I only had to start all over again once,” Minho says proudly, sidling up beside you and gliding a hand along the small of your back to rest on your hip. His thumb traces little circles into it.

“You did a great job,” you say, turning in his hold to wrap your arms around his waist in return, albeit with a bit of difficulty due to your belly getting in the way.

“Glad you like it.” He leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, then down to your chin, then back up to your mouth. You smile and chase after his lips when he pulls away, and he laughs as he kisses you again. “Come on, let’s sit for a bit and get you off your feet. Dinner and a shower can wait a little while longer.” He moves over to the rocking chair in the corner and takes a seat, then pats his lap invitingly.

“Min, I’ll crush you,” you say with a shake of your head.

He shakes his head right back. “Oh, stop it. No you won’t. You’re not that heavy, and I’m not that fragile.”

He starts beckoning you by stretching his arms out and repeatedly opening and closing his hands. The action is irresistibly cute, so you relent. You toe off your shoes and go to sit on his proposed seat. You try not to rest too much weight on him as you sit on his knee, but he ruins your position by taking your hips and dragging you further up his muscular thigh.

“Put your legs up on me,” he says. “If it’s not too uncomfortable for you, I mean.”

You do as he says and turn sideways to hoist your legs over his other thigh. Minho holds onto your knee with one hand and wraps his other arm behind your back to keep you in place.

“There we go. Is this okay?” he asks.

You shift and wiggle until your back is relatively comfortable. “I think so. Are you okay?”

He smiles and squeezes you reassuringly. “I’ve got my beautiful wife on my lap... we’re sitting right where we’ll be rocking our baby when she — or he — is born... I’d say I’m pretty perfect.”

You take his word for it and sigh in content, leaning into him and resting your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek against your head and pushes his feet off the floor to begin gently rocking the chair as it was intended.

For a few moments, the two of you sit and rock in silence until Minho begins humming softly. Something mellow and baritone. The melody is one you recognize, but the lyrics to that particular song elude you. You’ll ask him about it later. Right now, the vibrations from his throat and the steady thrum of his heartbeat are lulling you peacefully. The faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body seep comfortably into your skin.

You tilt your face up to kiss his throat appreciatively for the comfort he is providing. He hums out of tune at your gentle touch, and you kiss him there again. This time you take a bit of his flesh into your mouth with a delicate suck, and he hisses in a short breath. His reaction spurs you to do it again, and then again, until the honey skin is left pink from the teasing.

“Mm, that feels really good, babe,” Minho murmurs. The pet name makes your heart flutter a bit; it was used so frequently at the start of your relationship, but over the years it has become a bit more rare. It makes you feel a little sexy, even in your sweaty, bloated, and achy state.

“Yeah? Should I keep going?” you ask. Your lips ghost over his neck, and your fingers begin trailing down the center of his chest.

“Please.” There is a slight rasp to the syllable that makes you feel proud considering you have barely even done anything to him.

Your fingers find the hems of his sweater and white t-shirt and begin tugging at them. “Do you mind if I take these off?”

“Not at all.” He shrugs out of his cardigan then lifts his arms so you can have the honor of pulling up his shirt to toss it aside. The taut muscles in his chest and abdomen twitch as your fingertips graze them. Before you get to the waistband of his jeans, Minho takes your wandering fingers and stops you.

“Wait,” he says. You look at him curiously. “You said you had a rough day. I should take care of you.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, I figured I could start by getting you out of your clothes, and then we can see where things lead.”

Sex with your husband has been infrequent over the course of your thirty-week pregnancy so far, but it has occurred. The doctor assured you there are no complication risks involved, even when this far along. Your pregnancy is perfectly healthy, and sex is not harmful to the baby, so you and Minho are free to continue your normal sex life.

The problem is you don’t always feel up for sex. Between your various aches and the increasing challenge of finding a comfortable position, you sometimes have to wonder if an orgasm is really worth the trouble. But it has been a while since your last release, and you trust Minho to be caring and attentive, so you nod in agreement.

He guides you to stand up from his lap, and you allow him to remove your shirt. The sheen of sweat that has been building for the greater part of the afternoon is made even more apparent when the open air meets it.

“Ugh, I still feel gross,” you mutter under your breath. The inkling of sexiness you felt just moments ago is already gone.

“You don’t look gross,” Minho says. He scans you from head to toe before settling his gaze on your chest. “Will you take your bra off for me, please?”

You hesitate a few seconds, then unhook the restrictive garment and shrug out of it to let it drop to the floor. The moment it is gone, Minho reaches out to grasp your hips and slide his hands up along the expanse of your stomach. His warm, tender touch sends a shiver through you, and the baby begins fidgeting again. Your husband must feel it, too, because he smiles up at you brightly.

“God, how did I get so lucky? You are so beautiful.” His tone carries real sincerity. “Especially with your body like this, carrying our child. You’re so fucking… wonderful.”

You automatically let out an unflattering snort of self-consciousness as you think of the new stretch marks striping your breasts, hips, and stomach. You can’t even bring yourself to look at them right now.

“I mean it. It’s true,” he insists. His eyes drop to your bare stomach to look at what you will not. “It’s amazing how you’re able to grow a baby inside of you, just because I came in you.”

There is laughter in your breathy exhale. “Gee, you make it sound so sexy, Min.”

“But it is sexy. You’re growing hands and feet and… eyes inside your womb right now, this very moment.”

You wrinkle your nose. “That doesn’t sound sexy at all. It sounds scientific.”

“Yeah, but it’s also kind of magical, isn’t it? And just think about it: you’ll be able to feed the baby with your body, too…” Minho folds his bottom lip between his teeth for a second as he studies your chest with great interest. “Just look at these perfect tits, getting all swollen with milk for our baby.”

He starts to squeeze, lift, and massage your breasts reverently, completely undeterred by the stickiness coated on the undersides of them from your sweat. A quiet moan rumbles up from your throat.

Even though he is being gentle, the stimulation is still enough to make your nipples begin discharging a thick fluid that is slightly yellow in color. The sight of it kind of embarrasses you, even though it is completely natural. Your doctor explained that it is the “pre milk” before your body begins producing normal breast milk after the birth.

“Min…” you fret with a nervous giggle. You peel his hands away and take a step back from him.

“It’s okay, babe,” he says. He stands up and rearranges your hands so that he is the one holding yours. “It’s just your body, don’t be ashamed. I told you, you’re beautiful. You’re wonderful. You’re amazing.”

He lifts the heavy mounds on your chest again and presses them together as if to get a better view of the wetness seeping from them. He swipes his thumbs over both of your wet nipples, then casually sticks one of his thumbs in his mouth as if he has done this many times before.

“Mm, tastes sweet,” he says.

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Can I… do you think I could...” He trails off in a puff that sounds like he is the one who’s embarrassed. Eventually, he blurts, “I want to try some more.”

“What, you want to actually… drink it?” you ask. The notion surprises you, and you want to make sure you are understanding him correctly.

“I’d like to try, if you’re comfortable with that. I just want to appreciate your body in every way.”

Minho rolls a sensitive pebble between his thumb and forefinger as he waits for your reply.

After another second, you nod your consent, and he flashes you a toothy smile before he latches his mouth directly onto your nipple. The touch of his soft lips coupled with the tip of his tongue makes you gasp in pleasure. Goosebumps break out over your skin as he suckles delicately. You have to admit the sensation of the fluid flowing from your nipple is oddly satisfying, and the wet suction sound Minho is creating is more than a little erotic. Heat starts to pool between your legs to dampen your panties.

“Is this okay?” he asks you again, peering up at your face as he switches to the other tit. When his tongue takes the nipple in between his lips, you notice it is coated with a milky sheen.

“Yeah, it… it actually feels really good,” you confess. Without consciously choosing to do it, your thighs press together to apply some pressure to your clit. Even with your stomach in the way, Minho’s smirk tells you he does not miss the action.

“Are you wet down there between your legs, too?”

“Yes.”

“Dripping?”

“Mm…”

“I want to feel.”

“Be my guest,” you invite. He goes to slip his hand past the waistband of your pants, but you quickly instruct, “Just take them off.”

He does not need to be told twice. He detaches from your breast and yanks your pants down to your ankles. You steady yourself on his shoulders as you pull your feet free.

“Panties, too,” you add, but his fingers are already hooking into them.

Once they are shed, Minho takes his time running his warm hands back up your calves to your inner thighs, spreading your legs just a little wider than hip-width apart. He wastes no more time in dipping the pads of three fingers along your slit. The slickness he finds there has both of you groaning lowly.

“You are wet. Is this all because I sucked a little milk from your tits?”

A slow smile grows across your face. “Maybe.”

“Should I suck some more?”

“I don’t think there’s much in there at a time yet, honestly,” you tell him rather seriously. “Not until after the baby is born.”

He hums in understanding. “That’s okay, babe. I’ll settle for eating your pussy, if that’s alright,” he says, sinking two knuckles inside you.

“J-Jesus, Min. Y-yeah. Please.”

He grins, drawing his fingers back a little just to shove them in forcefully. “Alright. Have a seat for me,” he says. He removes his fingers from you and slides them into his mouth for the taste of something else. He really does adore all parts of you.

The rocking chair tips backwards when you settle into it, which only improves the access Minho has to your pussy. He makes it even easier for himself, however, by kneeling down and hoisting your legs onto each of his shoulders.

“Is this good?” he asks. He brings his head between your thighs and dots soft kisses along one of them.

You scoot your butt to the very edge of the seat. “Yeah, for now. I’ll let you know if it starts to hurt.”

“Please do,” he agrees at once.

He leans forward and parts your sticky folds with two fingers before dragging his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top in one slow, firm motion. Your breath hitches in your chest when he buries the pink muscle into your wet hole. He licks in a circle from one pulsing wall to the other and back again, then pulls back and licks his lips.

“Do you want my tongue in you and fingers on your clit, or my tongue on your clit and fingers in you?” he asks. He does not normally require such direct instructions, but he has been so concerned with you in your pregnant state. He wants to make sure he is giving you as much pleasure as possible, and he does not want any room for misunderstanding or disappointment.

“Fingers inside, please,” you say.

Minho fits one finger back inside your pussy, soon followed by a second, and your walls squeeze tightly around the digits to welcome and secure them. Then he flattens his tongue to press it back and forth, up and down over your clit. He builds a steady pace that renders your eyes closed and mouth unhinged to let flow a stream of pleasurable sighs and moans. Your pitch heightens considerably when his fingers hit pay dirt on that spot inside you that always makes your toes curl. When you rock against his face to get all the friction you can, the chair moves with you.

“Shit, this is so hot, babe,” your husband groans from below. “Should’ve eaten you out in a rocking chair a long time ago.”

You start to respond but your words pinch into a squeal from a particularly strong tap against your g-spot with his fingertips, and that seems to be all the answer he could want.

Minho becomes greedy for your unfiltered noises and closes his lips around your clit to suck it the way he sucked your nipples just moments earlier. A shiver tumbles down each rung of your spine, all the way to your clenched toes. Your muscles tense to cope with the sheer intensity of the pleasure being administered to that oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. His fingers work tirelessly to undo you in tandem with his skillful tongue. The crest of your climax is drawing near so soon.

“Oh my god, Min,” you breathe with hardly any sound. “Fuck, you’ve got me so close already.”

He grunts his acknowledgement. “Is this how you want to come, doll? All over my fingers? All over my tongue?”

It is very tempting, but you still decline. “N-no. I want you inside me.”

“I’m already inside you.” He twists his fingers pointedly. “Can you be more specific?”

“You know what I mean,” you groan.

He has to get in a few more swipes of his tongue before he can say, “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it. You can have everything you want if you ask me.”

“I want your c-cock inside me. Now, please.”

Minho makes no move to cease his actions other than to briefly retract his tongue to speak again. “You sure you don’t want me to just keep going? You’re so close.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Please, fuck me already.”

The moan he lets out when he pulls away from you and gets to his feet is positively carnal. He rushes to undo his jeans, then shoves both them and his underwear to the floor in one swoop. You tilt your head to take in the view of his erect cock; the bulbous head is nearly purple from engorgement, and there is a glistening wetness at the slit from a buildup of precum.

“How do you want me?” he asks.

“Let’s try the chair.”

“Do you want to bend over it and I’ll fuck you from behind? Or do you want me to sit down and have you ride me?”

“Sit down and I’ll try riding you.”

You rock yourself up and out of the chair, and Minho takes a firm hold of each of your hands to help tug you to your feet. He kisses you quick and sloppy, giving you a quick taste of your arousal, before switching places with you and taking a seat. His cock points upwards as the perfect target for you to sit on.

You face away from him and straddle his legs to get yourself in position. One of his hands steadies your lowering hips as the other lines his dick up for entry. The tip squeezes into your warm wetness with ease. Minho spreads his legs wider and thrusts up to fit a few more inches of himself. With another shove from him and a bit of wriggling on your part, he bottoms out.

“Fuck, you always feel so fucking good,” he rumbles from behind you. Both of his hands are clenched tightly on your hips now.

You moan in agreement. “So do you.”

Bracing yourself on the arms of the chair, you raise yourself up a couple inches, then sink back down swiftly. Minho plants his feet firmly to keep the chair steady and meet you blow for blow as you start up a rhythm. The two of you grunt and pant with every stroke; the sounds are out of sync, but your movements are not.

The friction feels good, but your looming orgasm from earlier is not quite building again as you had hoped it would. Furthermore, your arms are already beginning to tremble from your efforts.

“Shit,” you swear in frustration. “Maybe this won’t work after all.”

He brings up his earlier suggestion and says, “Want to try bending over?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s try that.”

His wet dick falls out of you to slap against his stomach when you stand up from his lap. Again, the two of you switch positions so you can lean down and prop your arms along the armrests of the chair. The seat tilts downward as you bend over and press your head against the back of it, and your breasts hang heavy below you. You vaguely notice they have begun to leak again.

Minho steps up behind you and returns his hands to your waist to lift your backside a little higher to expose yourself to him. The head of his cock briefly pokes over your asshole when he guides it into place at your pussy again. With a sigh of satisfaction, he pushes back inside and waits for an extended moment while you to readjust to the tight stretch of his girth.

When you tell him you’re ready, he recreates the rhythm you had started earlier, but at a slightly faster tempo now. Each smack of his tensed thighs against your buttocks makes your breasts bounce — another motion that does not go unnoticed by him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathes. One of his hands reaches over to cup one swinging breast and then the other. His fingers toy at your wet nipples once more. “You’re already such a MILF.”

The term makes you burst into surprised laughter. “Oh my god, please do not call me that,” you say.

“Why not?” Minho laughs back. “It’s true. You’re so. Damn. Sexy.” He emphasizes each word with concise, gasp-inducing thrusts. “And motherhood is only going to enhance that.”

“Ungh, right now I just want to come,” you groan, not interested in continuing a conversation at the moment, no matter how flattering. Your body feels heavy, but the coil in you is getting close to snapping again. “Please, Min... please…”

“Oh, you will, doll. I want you to come just as badly.” He pinches your drippy nipple with one hand, maneuvers the other hand around your waist, under your stomach, between your legs to trap your throbbing clit between two fingers. “Want you to come all over this cock.”

“Keep going and I will,” you promise him.

He speeds his hips up until he is hitting your g-spot with every push. He rubs and plays with your clit just the way you like. The steady whapping sound of skin on skin fills the nursery, along with your breathless encouragements for your husband to keep groping, keep pounding, keep going.

“You’re dripping everywhere for me, aren’t you, baby?” he grunts, his breath hot and ragged. “Got your sticky little clit in one hand, and your tit is leaking in my other.”

He is not wrong. Everything is so wet, so hot, so sticky. You whimper and repeatedly push back against him to further increase the friction.

“So fucking filthy,” he goes on, nearly growling. “Makes me want to bust and fill you up with cum. There’s gonna be so fucking much of it.”

His words, combined with a few more sweeps of his fingers over your clit and stabs of his cockhead against the sweetest part of you, burst you straight through the roof of your climax. With a whiny, broken moan, your pussy clamps him tightly, and it is not more than four of five more strokes before he joins you in sheer bliss. He seizes and grunts deeply as his cum shoots out of his twitching cock to meet the resistance of your already-occupied womb. He was right — there is a lot of it. The viscous white fluid oozes out of you and down along your thighs before the spurts have even finished trickling out of him.

Both pairs of legs between the two of you are shaky as Minho pulls out of your swollen pussy with a slick squelch. He helps straighten your body and pulls you into an adoring hug as you both regain your lost breath. His sweaty chest is nearly as damp as yours as it heaves against your back. You can feel his heart racing.

“You alright, doll?” he checks while dotting sweet kisses along your shoulder. “Was that good?”

“Very good,” you pant with a blissed smile. You turn your head to the side and pucker your mouth for a kiss. Your lower belly is cramping from the intensity of your orgasm, and you massage it absently as Minho’s lips envelop yours. His fingers bump yours as he, too, goes to cradle your stomach.

“How’s our little princess?” he asks next.

“Fine,” you answer. You kiss him deeply and whisper against his mouth: “We’re both just fine, thanks to the daddy.”

---

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copyright © 2024 by daizymax. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

[papercorgiworld]

Quiet a long night

Alternatively: Enzo’s deal with Mattheo

Enzo and Mattheo x reader

You can read this request as a summary, because I don’t want to reveal anything else.

Warning: not really a threesome, but still you get fucked by both Enzo and Mattheo, fingering, oral m and f receiving, submissive reader I guess, piv, overstimulationand maybe orgasm denial… I’m not good at warnings, but I’m sure you get it: 18+

Minimal plot, sorry. I hope it lives up to the expectations. I might have strayed a bit from the essence of the request. Not exactly a threesome, but the next best thing I guess, because I honestly believe Mattheo would go mental if he had to watch the woman he loves with another man. I’m going to be honest, I’m a softy so despite the jealousy this isn’t crazy rough, I mean this is just how I write but I did my best.

A/N: If you check out my little masterlist thingy, you’ll notice I added a little currently working on etc. This is because of some changes in life, which have me worried about how much time I’ll have to write so this way you can check up on what I’m doing.

Feedback is always welcome. Happy readings!

Tears are welling up but you hold them back as you tell Pansy everything that had happened the night before. Sympathetically she listens to your painned voice, while Lorenzo approaches you with a frown on his face as he listens in. “He just walked out and now we’re done. Can you believe it?” Enzo raises his eyebrows and uncrosses his arms to wrap you in his arms. “Mattheo’s an idiot sometimes. He’ll come around. He always does.” You huff through sobs as you break down in Enzo’s arms. “He needs to realize that I am not someone he can toss away whenever he wants to and then come back when it fits him.” Enzo places a soft kiss on your temple, arms still tightly embracing you. You stay in his arms for a while and Pansy who’s been silently watching the both of you chews her lip. “I’m not one to meddle, but if you really want Mattheo to realize that you won’t wait for him every time he gets confused over his daddy and mommy issues, you can always fake date Enzo. I’m sure Mattheo will learn.” With watery eyes you stare at Pansy, but slowly her idea starts to make a lot of sense. When you turn to look at Enzo with teary eyes he really can’t say no. A hesitant breath leaves his lips as he worries about what he’s getting himself into, before speaking up. “What are best friends for if it isn’t for fake dating.” He jokes and you cuddle up to him.

It only took Mattheo two days to lose his patience. He had endured enough of you two and was done watching you with him. You in Enzo’s lap laughing at his goofy acts. Enzo’s hand slowly moving down and resting on your ass. You wrapped in Enzo’s arms while he places a soft kiss on your forehead. Enzo leaning back in the common room just to wrap his arm around you, gently playing with your hair. Your hand on Enzo’s thigh tenderly moving up as he stares at you with adoring eyes. Mattheo was forced to watch it all.

When you and Lorenzo skipped breakfast and stayed in one morning, Mattheo had had enough. With gritted teeth and dark eyes Mattheo walks the hallways of the castle. Berkshire, you worm, you had no right to spend the night with my girl. We’re not together at the moment, but she’s still my one love and you know that, you little shit. Enzo was out of line. “Berkshire!” Enzo snapped his head around to find a fuming Mattheo approaching him. This was bound to happen, honestly Mattheo had held together for longer than Enzo expected him to. “You break it off with my girl, today!” Mattheo pushes Enzo against a wall, but Enzo bites back pushing Mattheo’s hands off of him. “Why would I do that when she’s so much fun?” Lorenzo’s suggestive teasing makes Mattheo’s heart squeeze tight. You were his girl, he needed you back. Mattheo reaches for his wand as his eyes burn with hate and he closes in on Enzo’s face. “You will step back, because I love her and I will have her back. I’ll kill for that brat, so go find someone else.” Mattheo’s voice is ice cold, but he doesn’t cast a curse. Lorenzo relaxes as he watches Mattheo turn away, but as soon as Enzo lets his guard down Mattheo throws a punch, hitting Enzo’s cheek hard, before calmly walking away.

***

Enzo lets himself fall next to you on the couch with a sigh. You immediately spot the bruise on his cheekbone with horrified eyes and gentle fingers, you brush his face. “It isn’t that bad.” Lorenzo whispers and you feel guilt well up. “This was a horrible idea.” Enzo meets your eyes with a comforting smile. He tugs your hand and you move to sit in his lap, brushing your lips over his. “Did he say something?” His eyes fall to his hand resting on your thigh. It takes a moment before Enzo meets your eyes, but when he does you notice how soft they are. “Matt loves you (y/n) and we both know you belong with him… so I guess it’s time we stop fooling around.” You look down to his hand, his thumb drawing soft circles on your thigh, and chew your lip. “What did he say exactly?” You wonder, does Mattheo really love you, does he really want you back? Lorenzo softly brushes his fingers through your hair, adoring your beauty. “It’s what you wanted right? He wants you back and I’m sure that he’s not gonna let go of you ever again.” You wanted Mattheo back so bad, you belonged with him, you were sure of that, but a part of you was going to miss Enzo. “I’ll miss our time together.” You whisper and meet his eyes. A soft smile tugs on Enzo’s lips. “Wish you could have us both?” You hide your face in the crook of his neck, before softly whispering: “Maybe.”.

***

You and Enzo decided to break things off tomorrow. After today’s classes you would have one last date night, which again ended with you underneath him.

You lay on your bed as his hands moved over your thigh, while he kissed and sucked on your neck, leaving small bruises. Your fingers entangle in his hair as you feel his hand slowly move under your dress and up to your panties. “Please, Enzo.” You moan and he traces kisses from your neck to your lips. “Take off that dress for me first.” You push him off of you and while he removes his shirt he watches you with hungry eyes as you reveal your lingerie to him. Instantly he’s back on top of you, his eyes scanning your body. “So fucking beautiful.” His fingers gently trace your bra, hips and thighs, before focussing on your panties. His hand slips underneath the soft fabric of your panties and a finger slides through your folds. “Wet, but not wet enough.” Lorenzo growls and with those words he enters a finger, sinking deep into you, making you moan. Your parted lips are a silent invitation for him to sneak his tongue in and eagerly explore your mouth. Muffled moans fill the room as his finger plays with your clit, making you arch your back and squirm underneath him. He feels your body tense as your orgasm builds up. “Not so quick, princess.” He pulls out his finger, making you whimper before whining. “Enzo.” You whine. Mattheo was right, you're spoiled rotten.

You watch him through hooded eyelids as he traces kisses over your breasts, while his hand sneaks to your back to unclasp your bra. His tongue eagerly moves over your perked nipples and you tug to his hair, whimpering underneath him as sensations build up. While his mouth plays with your nipples his hands are free to move down your panties a little, only separating his mouth from your boobs to carelessly throw your panties on your bedroom room. Enzo places soft kisses over your tummy, announcing his way down. You can feel your core get needy for him as he works his way down teasingly slow. “I beg you, Enz, please-” A soft cry interrupts your plea as his tongue slips between your folds. His hands grip your thigh forcing your legs open so he can press his face hard against your pussy. Soft desperate moans escape you, but it’s not enough for Enzo and his hands move to your boobs kneading them and fingers harshly playing with your sensitive nipples, while mercilessly devouring your cunt.

You cry out Enzo’s name as you buck your hips searching for that last touch to tip you over the edge. He grabs your ass like a brute angling you right so he can give you what you need, his tongue focused on your clit. Your lips part, but no sound comes out as you climax with Enzo’s mouth still working your pussy, thirsty to taste your juices. He finally moves away to watch you panting underneath him, slowly removing his pants and boxers revealing his large member to you. You squirm as you realize that Enzo was far from done with you, which only makes Lorenzo smirk as he jerks himself before crawling over you. He looked godly, fully naked and hovering over you, lustful for you.

He kisses you intensely and despite your already wobbly legs you bravely reach for his cock. You stroke Enzo’s painfully hard cock and he moans into the kiss, while you guide him to your entrance. “You’re so good for me.” Enzo whimpers as he slowly moves inside you, loving the feeling of your walls around him. Once he’s settled deep inside of you, Enzo grabs your hips and flips you in one swift move so you’re now on top of him. A cry leaves your lips at the sudden movement with his dick deep inside of you. “Move for me.” Enzo whispers as he brushes your hair out of your face. You nod with your mouth slightly agape and do as he asked. With your hands on his shoulders you bounce on his dick. You start slowly, but quickly try to pick up the pace. Enzo pants and moans as his eyes move from your blushed face to your pretty tits moving in front of him to your cunt taking him so fucking well. You drop your head and soft cries escape you as you struggle to take his full size, feeling him stretch you hard and deep.

As Enzo feels his orgasm approach he curses himself for making a deal with Mattheo. Your walls clench so good around him, he wants you to cum and he wants to cum, but instead he stops your hips from moving. “Get on your knees and let your mouth work.” Enzo clenches his jaw as you look at him with confused and pleading eyes. Was he punishing you for some reason allowing you to feel him inside of you to then take that away from you with any release. “Enzo, please.” You whine cupping his face and doing your best to move on his dick despite Enzo’s strong grip on your hips. “Do as I say sweetheart.” Reluctant you move up, leaving your pussy clenching around nothing as you still so desperately want to cum. With innocent eyes you watch Enzo as you move to sit between Enzo’s legs. His hand makes its way to your hair, caressing your scalp as you open your mouth to taste his cock covered in both your juices. Your legs are pressed tightly closed as you feel your clit throbbing in need of touch, but you ignore your own desire and focus on pushing Enzo’s hard member deep down your throat. Enzo moves your head just a little more, making you gag a little before allowing you to move up and down. You pause a moment to lick and suck his tip before working his dick deep again. When feels himself get close Enzo firmly grips your hair and thrusts upwards into your mouth, fucking your mouth and spilling deep inside of you. Your eyes get watery as you take his load. Surprised by his own harshness he pulls your flustered face towards his. Brushing a tear away with his thumb. “You’re so pretty. So sweet.”

Enzo pulls you close and wraps his arms around you, while kissing you passionately, before pulling away and leaving you alone and naked on your bed. You watch him confused, desperate and vulnerable. With one word from Enzo the key from the door clicks, unlocking it and it only takes a second for the door to open. Flustered and with still teary eyes you watch Mattheo walk in and instantly your lips part as a soft sound leaves your lips. Mattheo feels himself get hard the second he sees your naked body, glinstering cunt and flushed face, exactly how he wanted you. Feeling vulnerable under Mattheo’s piercing gaze you close your legs and look away in shame. Enzo places a soft hand on your thigh, squeezing gently, while his lips move close to your ear. “You said you wished you could have us both.” Your eyes move from Enzo to Mattheo who slowly removes his tie with his eyes still focussed on you. “So I managed to make a little deal with the devil.” Enzo pulls away from you and licks his lips.

“Can I watch?” Lorenzo asks with a playful smile, but Mattheo doesn’t look at him as he steps closer to your naked sheepish figure. “Get lost Berkshire, I’m the boyfriend, you’re the toy.” Your mouth drops as Enzo just grins at you, pulling up his pants and grabbing his shirt, before leaving. With confused eyes you stare at the door through which Enzo just left. You sit still on the bed, unmoved as Mattheo sits down next to you on the bed, watching you carefully while you avoid his gaze, feeling your heart race with anticipation of what is to come. “Don’t be ungrateful.” Mattheo whispers softly, while stroking your cheek. “Open your legs for me.” You part them only slightly as you feel your wetness pool at his words, stimulating your sensitive overstimulated pussy. “Wider, I’m not Enzo, I need to be deeper inside of you.” He immediately inserts two fingers harshly into you. “Berkshire lived up to his word, preparing your cunt for me. It’s soaked.” You whimper as his fingers stretch you and forcefully circle your clit. “I’m still sensitive.” You whimper barely audible, feeling your whole body fill with sensations at your boyfriend’s touch. “You wanted the both of us, love, so now you’ve got to take the both of us, no complaining.” Mattheo whispers harshly with eyes focused on your teary ones as you softly nod.

Mattheo continues to thrust his fingers inside of you, while wrapping an arm around your figure and pulling you against him. He rests his head against yours, allowing himself to take in your warmth and smell. I missed you, princess. You cling to his shirt as his fingers curl inside of you soaking his hand with your arousal. You let your head rest on his shoulder as you whimper at his touch. You missed his touch and warmth so much. “I love you, Mattheo.” You whisper with a shaky voice and watery eyes. “I love you too and I promise I’m here to stay.” He whispers softly before suddenly pulling his fingers away from your needy pussy. “But don’t ever fuck that toy of yours without my permission again or you’ll regret it.” He grabs your chin and forces you to meet his eyes. Your naked figure is shaky as you nod softly, eyes focussed on his dark ones. “How do you want me?” You ask innocently, knowing that pleasing your boyfriend is the only way he will lead you cum tonight.

“Hands and knees.” He states and gets up to undress, while you move to please him. He watches you with longing eyes, while gently stroking your thigh before harshly grabbing the flesh of your asscheeks. “I’ve been hungry for you for a while, so this really isn’t going to be pretty.” Mattheo warns as he grabs his cock and guides it to your entrance to tease you, only brushing his tip through your folds. You spread your legs a little wider and lower your hips in search of more of his touch, while simultaneously grabbing the sheets tightly and arching your back, preparing for Mattheo’s animalistic side. However, he continues to tease you and watch you squirm for a few moments. Angry with himself that he allowed Enzo to have even a glimpse of how good you could be. He needed to fuck you hard and deep and probably more than once to find peace with what you had allowed Enzo to do to you. Without warning Mattheo thrusts into you, immediately earning a cry from you.

Firmly grabbing onto your hips he pounds into you like you’re a doll. You whimper his name as he hits your sensitive spot at a ridiculous pace. In record time your moans go silent as your mouth hangs open, face pressed onto the mattress as your pussy is forced to take Mattheo’s thick cock fast and deep. His eyes carefully watch you and when notices you’re only seconds away from climaxing he reluctantly pulls out, turning you into a sobbing mess and flipping you over onto your back. “Wide.” He demands and you spread your weak legs as wide as you can, ashamed at your own state and your desperation for your boyfriend’s dick you look away as he hungrily watches you while kneading your breasts, thumb moving over your nipple, before slipping his cock back inside your cunt. Mattheo cups your cheek and forces you to meet his eyes as he pushes himself deep inside of you, watching your lips part for silent moan as he stretches your walls. Softly he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “You belong to me, princess.” He growls and you nod with submissive eyes, before snaking your arms around his neck, while he settles in the crook of your neck. He starts rutting into you again, directly hitting the spot you need him to and finally giving you that much needed orgasm that nearly has you pass out. The blissful ecstasy running through your body helps your overstimulated walls take Mattheo a little longer for him to spill his load into you, something that was only reserved for him since he’s your boyfriend.

Your fingers entangle in your favorite curly hair as Mattheo pants against your shoulder, still keeping his dick inside of you for a few more moments. “I’m sorry for what I did with Enzo.” You whisper and Mattheo places a soft sloppy kiss on your cheek. “It’s okay, princess. I was an ass to you, I deserved it and you deserved a little treat.” You rest your cheek against him, but he moves away a little. “But, I meant what I said earlier. Don’t ever let him touch him with my permission. You’re mine.” You nod knowing he was dead serious, but you can’t help but like the idea that there is a possibility of him granting permission. However, at the moment your body was not in need of another round. “How about a warm lavender bath for the princess?” You nod, eager to lay on your boyfriend’s chest as the warm water relaxes your body. After all, it had been quite a long night.

Bonus?

Relaxed and cleaned, you enjoy the intimacy of sitting together surrounded by the water. You feel yourself dozing off as Mattheo runs the washing cloth over your skin softly while you lay on his chest. He kisses your cheek and you hum at his touch, making him chuckle softly. “I’m glad the smell of Enzo is finally gone.” Your eyes flutter open again as the tone of his voice warns you. “Get up. One last fuck. Then you can rest.” Mattheo’s voice is demanding and you get up reaching for a nearby towel. He follows swiftly and lets his eyes wander shamelessly. The plan was to at least get you to the bedroom, but when Mattheo catches you staring at his hardening member through the mirror he smirks, before pulling your body against his. With your back pressed against his chest, his hand snakes between your legs making him groan and you moan. “Be good for me and maybe I’ll let that toy of yours fuck you again someday.”

Word count: 3414

Picture source Mattheo

Picture source Enzo

[joosthead]

finally // beautiful stranger || j.k. f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ part 3/prequel to normal au — this is a standalone fic but here’s part 1 and 2 if you want a little lore down the line : ). or if you’ve already read p1&2–this is how normal au joost and reader meet :3. set in december 2019.

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader. notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not from nl

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 11k (exactly !! :3)

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (strangers to…lovers?, f&m!receiving oral, eating it through panties, protected piv), smoking, drinking. mentions of violence. reader and joost are kind of dicks to each other + pouty and annoying but dw it's ok bc theyre cute. unironic use of the word yolo. reader is apprehensive about receiving oral—references being self-conscious because it’s been a while. unironic ome robert during sex : ( teehee op does not drink or club sorry for inaccuracy

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “finally // beautiful stranger” by halsey :'')

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: plushies!!! thank you for your patience and the love on normal au :''') i absolutely adore this au and i'm so glad to know you guys do too!! much more to come ;)))) honestly this isn't extensively edited i was just so excited to drop it : 3 thank you so so much to @howisjoostfanfictionforfree and @killerlookz for hearing me out on my decisions on how to place this in the normal au verse >-< I SO APPRECIATE YOU GUYS!! <3333

₊˚⊹⋆ translation: "Zo mooi, liefje, ik heb zoveel geluk." - "So beautiful, I'm so lucky." / "Je smaakt zo lekker, ik vind het geweldig." - "You taste so good, I love it."

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

You should’ve brought a jacket. 

If you were someone else, you’d have blamed it all on your roommates, their insistence that since your shared townhome was “only a few blocks away” from the club you were going to and “the snow isn’t even that bad” and “see it’s not even that cold” convincing you that an extra layer wasn’t needed. You’re you though, and you’re bearing the entire brunt of your regret as you trudge through the sleet covered footpath, the snow shoveled to the side and yet still not enough to keep the wetness off of your strappy heeled feet.

Why didn’t you bring a jacket? Why is it so cold in the Netherlands? Why did you move here for university? Why did you even sign up for that many courses this term, and why did the weather have to be like this right after you took your last final?

When will it end? Never, you think, but at the very least—tonight you get to party. After trudging through a kilometer of snow, of course, your roommates trudging right in front of you and suffering just the same. The snow that falls melts as soon as it hits the ground, your skin, dampening your hair and chilling you with the wind that whistles past. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have even gone—but you promised that you’d loosen up after how hard you’d been going at work and school. Either way, you wouldn’t pass up the chance to meet your roommate, Ruby’s…Ruby’s boy-thing, an up and coming music producer with big eyes and a soft voice stage-named Tantu; and you wouldn’t pass up seeing Alanis, too, an acquaintance of your other roommate, Marina, turned your own friend. 

It’s okay. Before you even know it (feels like an eternity), you’re through the line and through the threshold of the club (after getting squished and cut in front of and annoyed), and now you stand in front of the bar, trying (and failing) to get the bartender’s attention. 

The club is packed to the gills with people—it is a raucous Friday night, and it’s been months since you’ve been in a place so full of people that wasn’t a library, a lecture hall, or some work event you had to attend. Still, though, it feels natural getting back into the groove of things, holding hands with Ruby as she leads you through the dance floor, checking on Marina behind you before she leaves to find Alanis. 

The cold you were blanketed with outside is no more, not even close now that you’re slipping in between and through grinding bodies and flashing lights, the background music to your night a thumping beat you’ll feel in your bones tomorrow and a fast rapping Dutch voice over it. It’s overstimulating in a good way, you think, much preferred over the overstimulation of your packed schedule—you'll have a few weeks of this before it all starts again, and you're happy to be here at the end of it all. 

Eventually you make it to the bar. Someone stepped on your foot on the way there, you lost sight of Marina, you have to adjust your little black dress constantly—whatever. Ruby’s boy thing is unmistakable, giant blue eyes and typical dad cap, and he stands at the bar with three shots waiting for you both.

“You must be Ruby’s other roommate!” he yells over the music and you nod, smiling at him as Ruby goes to hug him around the waist, giggling as she does. 

You prop your elbow up on the bar for support—god, these shoes suck—and yell back, “You’re Teun? Is this your song?” 

“This is my friend’s song, actually, Joost!” He looks around for a bit before giving Ruby a smile; her excitement is contagious owing to the fact that she’s almost never so animated, like she’s bouncing on her heels with her movement. “He’s supposed to be here tonight, I think he’s late.” 

“Joost?” you yell, and he nods—you nod back in approval. Very pop, very gabber (if you’ve judged the subculture correctly in the 2 years being here), very loud, but you like it. 

“He’s a really cool guy, I promise!” Ruby says, giggling even more and sharing a mischievous look with Tantu that you’re not sure means something. 

“Mmm, sure,” you smile, scrunching your nose. You have a feeling that Joost, whoever he is, will become someone important later on in the night, but you put him on the back of your mind as you pick up your shot glass alongside the two of them and down it—you expect it to burn on the way down, seeming like some kind of vodka, but it’s smooth and sweet, only slightly burning. “Thanks Tantu,” you say, holding your hand up for a high five which he reciprocates, laughing. 

“You’ll like Joost, I think,” he nods, and you cock an eyebrow. 

“Are you trying to set me up with someone?” 

“You need something to distract you from all your work, babe,” Ruby says, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Hopefully expensive vodka will loosen you up a bit.” 

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, “I didn’t ask for a distraction.” Work and school are already difficult enough to juggle as is, let alone your abysmal social life only kept alive by Ruby and Marina’s wide circle of friendly, eccentric creatives. You’d rather just keep your circle small, keep your head down and focus, but your friends always have things up their sleeves. 

Ruby orders 3 Bacardi colas for your small group and turns back to you. “We’re gifting you one, okay?” 

You shake it off, focusing more on the lovely rum and cola once it comes into your possession. Sipping at it, you follow Ruby and Tantu onto the dance floor, the bustling crowd jostling you around as you teeter on your heels, keep your purse close to your body, and try to keep your drink from spilling. 

Truthfully, the purse (the purse!!!) is one of your most prized possessions—you don’t think yourself too materialistic, but scoring a 90s Dior saddlebag for less than a thousand euros, with your first big paycheck… you reason that that’s more than enough to get you to be materialistic. 

You cover it with your arm as best as you can as you try and follow Ruby’s pretty lion’s mane of brown curls, turning to make sure you’re still there every once in a while but mostly just hanging onto Tantu’s hand—you don’t mind third wheeling when Ruby’s being so cute, a side of her you've never seen before. 

The three of you make it to the heart of the crowd, running into Alanis and Marina and picking them up along the way, the thrumming beat of some early 00s song until it transitions to something so hyperpop your eardrums might rupture. 

You mouth the lyrics, bright lights shining into your eyes, your dancing constricted by being way too close for comfort with a bunch of drunk and sweaty strangers, but. You’re trying. That’s for sure. 

Marina’s hands snake around your waist as you sway together to the music, eyes closed and letting the alcohol get to you; you would go back to the bar and get another drink if it wouldn’t be such a damn hassle to do so. 

You’re enjoying every single moment, the time passing by in a blur of dancing people and loud voices and sweaty bodies—you’re almost in a haze, all you’d need is a drunk cigarette to make this night perfect, but then Marina lets go of you, and you get disoriented. So many lights, so many people, not enough of your people. 

You get elbowed in the back by someone and it takes you out of your trance completely. You look back in annoyance, the culprit being a tall blonde guy with douchey sunglasses who’s whooping and hollering with a friend who looks just as rambunctious as he is. Scowling, you turn back to where Ruby and Marina are, speaking/yelling with Tantu and Alanis, somehow several feet away, but then you stumble over your feet, and the guy behind you stumbles into you, and you feel a cold liquid run down your arm, your side, all over your dress. 

Shocked (and frankly, about to cry) you look down at your now dripping arms, your purse and the stains on it obvious even now in the dim club light. A mixture of anger and pure disdain for the guy behind you comes over you as he turns around—what the fuck!!! Almost four months of utter bullshit at work and university and this is what happens to you the night you get back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll pay for it, just find me later!” he yells, looking down at you, turning back to his friends and laughing, and you practically gasp in shock with how rude he’s being. Can’t even give you the time to make things right now, what makes him think you’ll trust him enough to leave it later? 

You tap on his shoulder, making him turn his attention back to you. He’s wearing earphones for some reason, and the big sunglasses really are so douchey. You’re normally not so judgmental—but he ruined your night. “Are you fucking serious? Sorry doesn’t cut it—this is vintage,” you shout, pointing at your poor purse. “And you’re a fucking asshole!”

“Oh, it’s vintage?” he scoffs, and you—you want to punch him in his smug face. You can’t even look him in the eye, his stupid sunglasses blocking your vision of him, but you know that you’re glaring holes through him. 

Any night else, you would’ve left it alone, probably. At the very least, get a yell in; at the very least, get his info and give him an angry text the next morning. Tonight, though, you have nothing to lose and a chip on your shoulder. You get up closer to him, in his face as best as you can with the height difference and the close quarters. 

“You wanna take this outside? You can yell where I can actually hear it, my music’s playing too loud!” he smirks, tapping on his stupid earphone, then pointing to the ceiling as the music keeps playing around you, as the people around you still keep dancing and hollering. He starts moving away from you, and you catch a glimpse of all of your friends—the puzzled stares from Ruby, Marina, Alanis, the concerned expression in Tantu’s eyes. You can't pretend to care about what you look like at the moment, except that’s all you care about at the moment. Your once perfect black dress, your mint-condition bag. 

You bring your purse up to your nose—fucking Baco, not even a clear drink that you can get out relatively easily. Maybe if you’d just brought a jacket, you wouldn’t have a Bacardi cola spilled all over everything and ruining your life. You forgot how intense you are when you’re tipsy. 

You follow behind him, practically stomping—you notice that people are parting for you more than they did in the beginning, and it’s likely because of the anger just radiating off of you in waves as you fume. Every once in a while, he turns and sees if you're still following…of course you are. You're not going to let him off the hook that easily. Any of your other friends would handwave it and just go back to partying. You’ve got an agenda, though. 

When you make it out of the club, jostling through what feels like a million people, you're a bit sobered up and it’s so late—it’s so cold. In the lamppost light, you see he’s much taller than you, wearing a heavy jacket and a wrinkled white button-up underneath it, baggy jeans with writing over the crotch. He looks exactly what you’d expect. “I already said I’d pay for your things,” he says, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and offering you one, which you take as you roll your eyes halfway to the back of your head. “You have a stick up your ass.”

You take the cigarette between your fingers, bring it up to your mouth and he cups the end, holding the flame of his lighter to it—it sparks, and you take a long pull before sighing, “It’s gotten me much farther places than you, I know that for sure.” A smile teases on his lips, and you can't help but smile back, your anger already melting away like the snow on the ground. The two of you walk a little ways down, trying to get away from the loud clubbers and failing. It’s peak business right now; you couldn't escape them together even if you tried. 

In your head, you tell yourself that it’s because of the nicotine, the smoke in your lungs, but you have to be real with yourself. Whoever the asshole who ruined your night was, whether he was a friend of a friend or the soundtrack to this club—he has pretty blue eyes and a prettier smile, and you…you are weak. And sobering up and realizing that making a scene was a bit embarrassing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, and you nod, proudly, smugly, because you'd earned the right to after the way your life has been the past few months. “Sure it has.” Mood ruined again. You walked straight into that. 

Again, you roll your eyes. “I'm not here to try and convince you of my accomplishments.” 

“‘Accomplishments’,” he says, lighting up his own cigarette. “So accomplished but you didn’t bring a coat for this weather. Smart.” 

This makes you realize just how freezing you are, one of your arms hugged close to your body for what little warmth you can muster from it—your dress is quite short, not to mention damp from this guy’s Bacardi cola spilled all over it, and you’re feeling the consequences. Goosebumps line your skin all over, the breath that leaves your mouth is not only smoke but the cold condensation in the chilly air, and you shake your head. 

“I didn’t think I’d have to come out here and yell at you, but here we are.” 

“How much is your dress? Your purse? I'll send you the money and more for your trouble.” 

“I can't just replace vintage,” you fuss, looking down at your outfit. Your purse was once pink and white and Dior-monogrammed—now it is a muddy brown. Still Dior-monogrammed, but uglier. You never thought yourself a fusser—maybe this season of your life has changed you more than you thought. “I got this at a thrift in Berlin, you know how hard that is these days?”

A heavy weight gets put upon your shoulders; his jacket that he places around them wafts the smell of expensive men’s cologne and smoke. You look at him, incredulous; he gives you a quick glance, then averts his gaze. “You're shaking like a dog,” he says, taking a puff from his cig. “You need it more than I do.”

“Thanks,” you nod, and he gives you an acknowledging hum. “You don't have to. I was an asshole to you and you give me your jacket.” 

“Don't apologize for something that was my fault.” 

“It was both our fault.” 

The night is silent as it can be—not silent at all with clubbers streaming in and out, the music and the talking leaking to the outside. The two of you are a bit farther away from all the people—everyone is walking the other way to another club or bar to continue their outings. 

“Do you want to sit down? We can exchange info and stuff here. Your shoes look uncomfortable.” 

Now that you’re warm, you realize another thing: your feet are aching tired from the dancing, the minutes of stomping after him. The curb in front of you is damp from the snow, but his jacket is so big on you that it can cover your ass—it’s not like you have much else to lose with this outfit, anyways. You sit and he settles down next to you. The sky is a deep purple canvas marred by light pollution, yet you can still see a few stars. Same stars here, same stars back home. 

Another realization: you’re sitting in a foreign country, in almost silence next to some stranger, smoking a cigarette, wearing his jacket after calling him a dickhead and after he’s implied that you’re some airhead. 

Maybe you're just boring (you're not), but life has never taken you to a place like this before. 

To the side, he stubs out his cigarette, and you take a better look at him. Pink creeps up his neck, and when he turns back, you see how vibrantly rosy his cheeks are. If you're seeing it right, his eyes are a little heavy lidded, probably as a result from all of the alcohol. He has a beauty mark underneath his lip, and his lips are just as pink as his cheeks as he brings another cigarette to his mouth. “Do you want another? Or do you just want to keep staring?” His voice is playful, enough so that you bite your tongue for the quip back. 

“I shouldn't. I’m trying to quit, anyway,” you say, still breathing yours in. He nods and you notice that you can actually see his eyes now—no douchey sunglasses, or whatever you called them in your head back there. “Why aren't you wearing your glasses anymore? The ones you wore inside?”

“I don't need to wear them now that the lights aren’t crazy. It gets very overstimulating in there, the glasses help.” 

“I assume your earphones are for the same reason?” You point at his dangling white earphone, and he nods. “I should try that. Maybe it’ll stop me from yelling at strangers.” 

“Maybe it will help you, too. Want to listen?” 

He offers it to you, tonight’s symbolic olive branch, and you take it. “Sure,” but you take it out of your ear almost as soon as you put it in, the music extremely loud and blaring. “How do you not lose your hearing?” 

“I’ll lose it anyway—YOLO,” he says, shrugging, and amuses you how serious he seems saying it. “YOLO” is a fitting mantra for him. “I'm a performer, anyway, so—YOLO! Accelerate the process.” The music turns down considerably; if you're hearing it right, it sounds like Flemish dad rock, something you'd hear on the radio if you grew up here. 

“YOLO, I guess,” you laugh, and he nods like he’s proud of you, laughing himself. It sounds more like a bark, voice now raspy because of the cigarettes, because of the cold, but it sounds nice. “You’re a performer? What have I seen you in, then?” His appearance is so distinctive—hair so bright it almost glows, eyes reflecting an icy grey from the dark of the footpath in front of you. His style is even more distinctive, all Supreme and Bathing Ape and hype beast brands you’ve never heard of. 

But it is Amsterdam. Curly blonde haired, blue eyed hype beasts are a dime a dozen here. You’ve probably seen him around somewhere, it seems like even your roommates know him pretty well through their scene of creatives—but you can’t seem to connect him to anyone you’ve ever watched or heard before. 

“Let me pull up my music for you.” 

“Soundcloud rapper?” you tease. 

“Adjacent.” 

He takes his phone out of his jeans pocket, and you peer over his shoulder, watching as he scrolls through a different playlist. He looks back at you, smiles, looks at your lips then back up at your eyes—it takes a little out of you to keep from rolling your eyes, it takes a lot out of you to keep your composure when he does it. Ugh. “I don’t know what to play you,” he admits, turning back to his phone. “Feels like you’re just going to mess with me when I do.” 

“I'll try not to. Can't promise anything, though.” 

You put your hand on his shoulder—he feels warm, sturdy, and he’s taking way too long to pick a song out of the apparently many he has under his name. 

Finally, he clicks on a title and it begins playing; 1 second in, you say, “Skip,” just to fuck with him, and it works well—he looks back at you, mouth agape and eyes wide, expression so earnestly incredulous you have to laugh. Your faces are closer than they have been the entire night, but you can't even focus on that as you laugh. “Skip?!” he exclaims, getting closer to you, all up in your face. 

“Yeah, skip,” you giggle, nodding exaggeratedly as you lean into him like he just did to you. He’s so close, and he grins at you as your noses come close to brushing. 

“This is the first song of mine I’ve played the entire time, and you want to skip it.”

Obviously, it isn't actually a skip for you—”Ome Robert,” a really fun song about…sucking dick? Being a god? Either way, it’s incredibly catchy and well produced, but you don’t want to let him know that just yet. “Yeah, I wanna skip it. You’ve gotta have better than this.” 

“I work hard on this song, I release it myself, it goes platinum in the Netherlands, I make it to impress beautiful strangers at the club just like you—and you want to skip it. All that work, what did it even get me?” 

Beautiful. This counts as a win. “I admire your work ethic and I think it’s so commendable that you set up a record label for you and your friends—but it’s a skip, I’m sorry to say.” You shrug, putting your hands in the coat pockets once you stub your cig out. The air is so cold—honestly, you worry for him, his disheveled white button-up the only thing shielding him from the weather now that he’s given you his coat. 

“Tell that to everyone in the club, you saw it back there. You probably even danced to it, too.” 

“Did you have to pay the DJ to get him to play your song?” 

“No, we’ve been friends for years.” 

“Ah, so it’s nepotism. I see,” you state proudly, and he groans.

“Nepotism? I will let you know, I established a record label myself. Fully independent, no nepotism.” 

Though Joost’s tone is annoyed, there’s nothing but an amused grin on his face; you smile back, “Is he signed to your label?” He nods, and there, just as easy, you have another piece of ammo. “Ah, so he’s kissing up to the boss.”

“You—“ he starts, eyebrows furrowing, then stops, shaking his head at you. “I've been talking to you for an hour and I don’t even know your name.”

“We’ve been busy.” 

You offer your name and he repeats it, question mark at the end. You nod and he smiles bigger, if that’s even possible. In the streetlight, his eyes shine, long blonde eyelashes almost covering them. “We’re supposed to meet, did you know that?” 

“Really?” 

“I’m Joost. Friend of Tantu and Alanis. They said they wanted me to meet…their friend’s friend? If you are that. Friend’s roommate?” 

“What a way to meet.” You didn’t think this would be the Joost that Tantu was talking about at the bar, fiery yet sweet making loud and proud music you’d never heard before. 

“We made great first impressions on each other, I think. You are unforgettable.” 

“Mine worse than yours,” you sigh, and Joost hands you his cigarette to smoke the final few puffs. You take it even though you should quit, even though you told him you’re quitting, your lipstick staining the butt. 

“We can put it behind us, yeah?” he says, holding his hand out for you to shake. “Friends?” 

“Acquaintances, for now,” you tease, but shake his hand anyway. “Fuck, dude, your hand is so cold.” Your brows furrow in concern as you squeeze his hand, surprisingly freezing, surprisingly soft save for a few callouses.

Joost laughs smaller than you’ve heard him all night, your hands practically in his lap; his cheeks are glowing pink with how long you’ve been out here—your cheeks are warm, but likely not for the same reason.  

“Acquaintances? Don’t play hard to get.” On instinct, you wrap your other hand around Joost’s in an attempt to warm it. “Your hands are so warm, I appreciate you for trying,” Joost remarks. “Very small, too, Christ.” 

“Oldest trick in the book, Joost, my god,” you laugh, exasperated, yet still, you let him move your hands so they're flat against each other, palms touching. He holds your wrist gently so he can line your hands up; his fingers are much longer and thicker than yours, and the sight brings warmth to your cheeks—it shouldn’t have the effect it does on you, but it does. 

“It’s working, isn’t it?” 

You bring his hand into the coat pocket with yours—it worked enough for you to now willingly share this tiny pocket, that’s for sure. “It’s working,” you say softly, averting your gaze now that you both know that whatever it is is something that’s felt mutually. “Do you do this with every pretty stranger you meet in the club?”

If Joost is a performer like he says he is, a big time independent record label owner like he says he is—there’s sure to be a line of people out the door, or at least a few groupies or someone. Someone in that club who recognized those songs, recognized the mop of blonde hair sitting in front of you now. Over several failed situationships and romps with people this side of Europe, you learned: there is always someone. Someone who’s less busy, less distracted, more interested. 

You know you fit the bill for the interested part, at least—less busy is something you’ll be for a short time, less distracted…well, you have your full attention on him right now, don’t you? It’s been so long since you’ve done something like this, maybe you’re just feening for an excuse to check your own boxes for him, maybe you want to do this for the sake of the line out the door or the groupies. 

Or maybe he’s just Joost. Whoever Joost is, considering you just met him. And maybe you just want him to keep holding your hand, or talk to you more, show you more of his music or go back home with you, slip into your bed, stay until the morning. 

“I can't say I have. I’ve never had a conversation like this with anyone, really, so it wouldn’t even be worth it if I did,” Joost says. Your faces are close again—you would bridge the gap if you just let yourself, but you can’t; you can only muster the courage to let your noses brush against each other, only the courage to smile. “Can I kiss you?”

It seems, he’s checked your boxes for you. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” you scoff, though you lean in at the same time. Joost leans back when you do, teasing grin upon his lips, and you furrow your brows, shaking your head. “Don’t play hard to get,” you mumble as he untangles your fingers in your coat pocket, takes your face in his cold and gentle hands and presses his lips to yours. 

He tastes like cigarette smoke; his Bacardi cola on your dress and your shoes, and now the taste on your tongue; he tastes like smiling into a kiss with a pretty stranger, the way you both do now. 

Joost kisses like he’s scared to broach you, like it’s the first time he’s been delicate in a while—you kiss like you’re hungry for him, because you are, not a single care about your lipstick on his face or the people walking past or the fact that he’s a stranger. His hand slips under your coat, gripping your hip as you pull him closer by the lapel; you beckon him to kiss you harder when you let him lick into your mouth and you lick back. 

It’s your turn to pull back, come up for air; Joost chases you when you leave, hand running down your body as you go to stand up, a soft little, “what no” leaving his mouth when you do. The look on his face—his face!!! Fuck.—is so cute, big wide eyes and hand on the back of your thigh. You cup his face (is this too tender?), rub your thumb at the edge of his lips where your lipstick has smudged in an attempt to clean it off. Turning his head, he kisses your palm, and your breath catches in your throat. 

Wordlessly, he gets up, stands next to you. “What the fuckkkk!!!” he whisper yells, gesturing wildly, and the street echoes the sentiment back. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” you say, laughing, and then stumbling because he’s gotten you in his arms again, kissing you, stumbling with you back against the brick wall of the building behind you as he laughs into your mouth to your whining between giggles about how he almost made you trip. 

Caged between his arms, you wrap yours around his neck so you can get up higher to kiss him—“I don’t regret spilling my drink on you at all,” Joost mumbles when you kiss his chin, nip at his jaw, go down to suck at his pulse point and nip at it too. “Can I touch you like this?” he whispers, and you nod as he brings his hands down to your ass, presses you harder against the wall, grinds against you as you kiss him breathless again. 

When Joost pulls away, you know—you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Breathing almost heavy, pink lips dropped open, face more serious than he’s been the entire night and scanning your features in a way that is truly disarming—you don't want to admit it, but Joost has got you wrapped around his finger, too. 

A group of people from the club pass behind—you hear a few whispers of, “Is dat Joost?” and a few wolf whistles. Someone gives him a few congratulatory claps on the shoulder which he cringes at, giving you an apologetic smile. “Don’t listen to them.” Once more, he kisses you.

“Your place?” he breathes, and you sputter for a response. This is going a bit too well. Your silence seems to speak for you, but really, you're just thinking about if your room is clean, if your everything shower was enough, if you’re ready to do this with him. “Too much?” he winces, giving you a weak smile, and you shake your head. 

“No, no, my place is fine—my roommates might be home, though.”

“I can be quiet.” 

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.” 

“It’s a half-truth.” 

“I’ll take that.” 

—

After a kilometre walk the direction of your house chock full of giggles and pauses to keep kissing against brick walls, dark store fronts, alley entrances, you finally make it back to your house. 

You hurry up the icy steps to your townhome, taking Joost by the hand as he trips his way up the flight. “Schat,” he breathes, and the pet name makes your heart skip a beat, “My house was closer the other direction.”  

“You suggested my place, Joost,” you laugh as you unlock your door and step in your warm foyer—you wave him in, kicking your heels off and stepping onto the cold wood floor as he does the same with his shoes. 

Closing the door behind you, you listen for a beat…voices. The walls are so thin here, you’re unsure if the sounds come from your next door neighbours or your potentially home roommates. Either way, you bring a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet. In his normal voice, he says, “I’ll be quiet,” and you laugh together at his volume—neither of your roommates would care, but the teasing you'll receive tomorrow if they knew it was Joost you were bringing home…endless. 

“Come, now,” you say, taking Joost’s hand and leading him up your steps, down the hallway to your room.

Your home is tiny and cozy and lived in—the three of you have worked very hard to make this feel like a household instead of just a shared living situation, frames lining the walls of your antics and travels together, baby pictures from home, posters of music artists and movies that one or all of you like. Joost lags behind you trying to look at them, but you just pull him along. Waiting any longer feels like a travesty. 

Once you get down the hallway, open and close your door, you push him up against your door and kiss him again to his surprise, your teeth clacking together from his smile and your enthusiasm. “You want me that bad, huh?” he teases, and you roll your eyes. 

The answer is yes, but you’re not going to let him know that yet. 

You room is as tiny as the rest of the house, a queen bed in the middle with off-white sheets, a desk on the far side, a dresser with a mirror when you walk in. 

“I don’t do things like this very often,” you mumble, fumbling with his angular belt buckle between your fingers, the cold metal of it and the jagged edges of the plate spelling “ALBINO” in a stylized font. 

“Me neither,” Joost breathes as he tries to help you, but ends up fumbling with it, too. “Holy fuck, if I knew this would be so hard to take off, I wouldn’t have worn it.” 

“Cool belt, nonetheless,” you say, and he kisses you thanks. 

“It’s the name of my album,” Joost beams as he finally gets it unclasped, pulling it through his belt loops. You undo his button, unzip the zipper, he does the rest, clumsily pulling down his pants slightly. “We should listen to it.” 

“Later.” From here, as you palm him over his underwear, feel his length through it, you can tell—he’s big. “You should’ve told me you were hiding this back there, maybe I wouldn’t have argued with you as much.”

“I was afraid you would’ve clutched your pearls if I did, schat, the way you yelled at me.” 

“You would be right,” you agree, knowing you would’ve probably thrown a drink in his face if he made some remark about his dick size to you in the midst of your argument. “But if you told me, we probably wouldn’t have sat out there for so long.”

“I wouldn’t have given up that conversation for the world.” 

From anyone else, these words would be hyperbole; strangely, from Joost, they feel true. it feels like you know him already, and he knows you. Perhaps it’s the result of having such a circle of a venn diagram of friends and acquaintances. Perhaps you did know him from a different time and you just forgot.  

“Me neither,” you agree softly, smiling into the kiss you give him as you reach into his boxers and wrap your hand around his hard cock. He’s just as thick as you thought. 

“Fuck,” Joost breathes into your mouth already, and you watch him and his face contort in pleasure as you jerk him lazily in his underwear just for the added sensation of the fabric rubbing against him. Gazing at your lips, eyebrows furrowing, chest moving up and down and breathing heavy, he says softly, “I haven’t done this in…a year? A year and a half? So please, have mercy on me.” 

“Go home with someone? Me too.” You figure that it makes sense—any fling he has is probably on the road, in hotel rooms, anywhere but home. You're not exactly welcoming guests on Friday nights either, but you’re holed up in it 24/7. 

“No, I mean—any of it. I don't do casual often, at all, really.” 

You scoff lightheartedly, “Yeah, sure.” 

“I’m serious,” Joost smiles as you take his length out of his boxers and get on your knees, the plush carpet cushioning you.  

You don’t do one night stands and you certainly don’t do them with self proclaimed “performers,” yet here you are. 

Now in front of you, his cock in your hand, you make complete peace with your decision, and it’s easy to do so. 

He is so pretty—all pale, the tip a delicate rosy pink and leaking wet, a vein running along the underside. It’s nestled in a thicket of lightly trimmed dark blonde hair; you give him a few pumps, running your thumb over the head for some lubrication when you do. 

“Won't listen to my music, but you’ll do this, ridiculous,” Joost says quietly, hand on your cheek as you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

“You’re still on that? Big ego, shocker.”

“Obviously not a shock, you’re holding it.”

In shock at his audacity, you gasp dramatically. “Don’t get cocky, now. You still needed to beg me for streams earlier.”

You give a kiss on the pink tip, salty precum coating your lips. A perfect moment passes when you look back up at him—he rolls his head back in pleasure, a quieted moan slipping past his lips at your tongue finally on him, just one lick to the slit but enough to get him a little louder. 

His cock twitches in your hand, and you grin, kitten licks to his shaft, “Too much?” 

Joost says breathlessly, “I think my knees will buckle sometime tonight, schat,” and you beam up at him. 

“That’s a big compliment,” you purr, taking the head of his cock into your mouth and sucking lightly, which earns a strangled groan for you, a curse under his breath. With every bob of your head, you take a tiny bit more, about half—you're ambitious, but who can blame you when Joost is so pretty? Struggling to keep it together, his stomach muscles jumping and twitching with every hollowing of your cheeks, every drag of your tongue along the underside of his shaft. 

Joost’s hand comes up to the back of your head, just resting there gently as you swallow down his cock, dripping spit on your chin; it hits the back of your throat and you almost gag, having to pull back and pump him a few times, the shiny head now a deeper pink. 

“You like it that much, hm?” he says, moving your hair out of your eyes as you lick a stripe along the underside.

“When you make those sounds—yeah, I do.” You lap at a bead of precum dripping from his slit, and it makes him hiss; it makes him groan even more when you pop the head into your mouth and suck again. 

Involuntarily, he thrusts just a little in your mouth—”Can I do this?” Joost asks, and you nod around him. He’s gentle when he starts, and you prepare to take more of him by breathing through your nose.

He makes these little thrusts into your mouth that make your eyes water, shallow as you suck around him, steady with one hand on your head. With every thrust into your open mouth, he breathes heavier, his pretty lips are dropped open. Spit pools at the sides of your mouth; one long seat into your throat, followed by another, and you gag around him, making him groan loudly. “Holy shit, schat,” Joost breathes, and you feel accomplished. “Enough of that, I think I’ll cum.”

With his hand, Joost wipes your spit from your chin gently; brings you up to meet him for a sloppy kiss, which you smile into as he reaches around to your dress zipper, pulls it down a few inches, rough fingertips against your soft back. You start undoing the buttons of his button-up for him, fumbling just as you did earlier with his belt. For some reason, you can't find it in yourself to slow down around him. 

The zipper catches and you miss a button on the way down, both of you entirely too distracted by kissing like it’s a competition, like you want to eat each other—thankfully, you get all of them undone, and so you run your hands down Joost’s chest covered in hair, his happy trail, back down to his cock again. It makes him falter as he brings down your zipper but he manages to do it, fingers light as a feather running down your spine, nudging your dress down. 

Erratic and wild as the man in front of you, your heart beats a million miles an hour, your hands in his hair as he pulls down your dress completely and it crumples onto the floor. 

Joost pulls back, a string of spit connecting your lips, pupils blown out and wide as he scans your body, your breasts and your pebbling nipples. You move your arms in front of them, avoiding his gaze. “Don’t be shy,” he laughs softly, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed—“ he moves your hand over his heart—it beats as fast as yours, and you give him a small smile. “I’m nervous, too.” A kiss that seems to calm your nerves. “Can’t believe someone pretty as you would take me home.” 

He rubs your back, and already you feel comforted—how is this the same guy who spilled his drink all over you? “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Do you forget how your dress is still very sticky because of yours truly?” 

You laugh together as he kisses your cheek, the side of your mouth, then kisses your lips slow and achingly gentle, licking into your mouth and rolling your nipple gently between his two fingers, his other hand cupping your cheek. He drags his tattooed knuckles down the curve of your breast, making your breath catch in your throat, a small whine falling from your mouth when he runs them down your stomach, fingertips down over the lacy black fabric of your thong, down more and teasing at your covered clit. 

“Get on the bed,” Joost murmurs, and you practically scramble to it before he stops you with a loose grip around your wrist. “Woah, woah, woah.” With a puzzled expression, you turn back to him. “We can’t have them watching, what?” he says, gesturing at your bed. Staring back at you with gigantic embroidered blue eyes: three of your cat plushies placed upon your pillows from earlier when you made your bed. You weren’t exactly planning on guests tonight. “Blasphemous, no? They can look out the window.” Scooting behind you and to the bed, Joost scoops up the three, climbing over it to your desk facing outside. The moonlight streams in through your curtains as he sits them in a line and turns them around. “Much better.”

“Much better,” you repeat, laughing. On your now clear bed, you lie back and lean over. Opening the lower drawer on your nightstand, you rummage around for the box of condoms you know is somewhere in here but is covered by notepads, extra pens, random pouches filled with indeterminate belongings. Under a folder filled with paperwork and old assignments, you find the box, opened but largely untouched except for one used for a 4th date Hinge guy from months and months ago who didn’t even make you cum. 

You dig the box out and hold it out to him. Settling between your legs, Joost says, “Not yet,” taking it out of your hands and placing it on the nightstand. “I want to taste you, schat, I’ve been wanting to all night.” 

…Eating it already? You’ve declared that Joost is ran through, but you find yourself caring less and less with how enthusiastic he is. Still, though, there’s a part of you that’s apprehensive about letting him see all of you so soon. 

“Joost,” you blush, closing your legs. He moves them so he can see your face, and your cheeks grow hotter as you reason, “We just met.”

“And?” Tilting his head to the side, Joost scoffs. “We’re already naked in your bed, schat.” 

He makes a good point, but still…you’ve never had anyone offer to do it on the first link. “I don’t know…You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“You just put my dick in your mouth, it’s only fair I do something in return.” Just a little, you part your legs for him; slowly, he takes a place between them, gaze disarming as he comes to lie on his stomach and rests his cheek on your thigh, giving it a chaste kiss. So convincing, but you don’t really need to be convinced, do you? “I will make it worth your while, baby.” 

Soft mewls come out of you inadvertently when Joost noses at your inner thigh, sucks at the sensitive skin. “We could just move on—that is perfectly fine, too. But I could give you even more of a good time if we do this.” 

“You talk big game, Joost,” you laugh. With his age and strange tattoos and his bleach-damaged hair and his expensive attire, you expect Joost to be bad at…all of it, really, but he’s only subverted your expectations tonight without having the chance to fully even touch you yet. 

“I wouldn’t do so if I couldn’t prove it to you.” Joost presses a chaste kiss over your panties, over your clit, and somehow, your heart ups gears, beating unsteadily. “And if I didn’t want it so bad,” he adds in a low voice. Completely different from the smiling, pink-nosed boy you saw in him earlier, Joost is hungry for you, the look in his eyes telling you everything you need to know about the veracity of his words. “If you don’t want me to see, I’ll close my eyes—for now, we can just do this.” 

Whoever had him last must have trained him well.

Lathing his tongue over you, Joost spreads his spit over the cloth of your thong, soaking the fabric even more than it already is as he holds your gaze. One arm is hooked around your thigh; the other hand, you’re not entirely sure, but judging from how heavy he’s breathing, how desperate he looks as he eats you out over your panties, the movement of his arm—he’s touching himself, and you wonder if he can feel how much more wet you become at the idea that he is. 

A few hours ago, thought yourself unshakeable in the face of him—now you’re a squirming puddle in his hands. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to—but I promise—“ Joost says, big blue eyes shining at you, hands now clasped together as if he’s begging for it—you figure that he is begging for it, technically, and who are you to deny him the opportunity? “Do you really not want it?” Though he’s giving you an out, he sounds so resigned, and it makes you smile a little. 

From the sidewalk, your front steps, the threshold of your room, you wanted Joost badly; wanted him even after considering all the outcomes of this: a waste of a free night, or an hour or two with an overconfident and underperforming boaster before you shoo him away, or a sweet but egotistical rapper in your tidy bedroom putting plushies on top of your university textbooks and leaving his clothing on your floor. 

Despite yourself, you want him. The confirmation that he wants you just as badly, too—the air in your room is charged with electricity, warm and stuffy almost even with the cold outside. You haven’t felt something so strong in forever, too distracted by work and school and life to really care about your body’s needs, even less so what it wanted. 

Joost is exactly what you want. 

“No, no, please,” you breathe, already lowering the side of your thong. “I want you, please, Joost.”

The confidence feels more like giving permission to yourself to be so vulnerable with Joost. No one has seen you this intimately in months (feels like years) and definitely not after such short time together. 

“Okay, schat. Okay,” Joost says, pressing one last kiss over your underwear before helping you pull it off. When you kick it off somewhere on the ground next to the bed, he screws his eyes shut dramatically, and you laugh. 

“You can open your eyes, you know?”

“Hey, I said I would keep them closed for you, I’m not going to break my promise.” He shakes his head, moving forward to kiss…somewhere, you’re not really sure, but it ends up being the junction between your leg and your center, which tickles you. 

“Break it, I don’t care.”

“If you say so.” Joost shrugs, then opens his eyes. Already, it’s as if he’s trying to study you, and it makes you want to hide. Against your better judgment, you open your legs wider for him to have more room, and he gives you a small grin. “Zo mooi, liefje, ik heb zoveel geluk,” Joost says softly, one tentative lick up your seam that makes you shudder. Your cheeks feel warm with how reactive you are to him. Synapses overloaded with his skillful tongue teasing at your clit through your lips, parting them slightly with his fingers—you don't even have it in you to translate what he said to English in your head. “Je smaakt zo lekker, ik vind het geweldig,” he groans, laying his tongue flat against the bud, lapping at it a few times, smacking his lips loudly against you. 

He wraps his lips around your clit, making you moan loudly at how good it feels; you tug at his sweaty blonde hair, and he laughs, he laughs with his mouth on your pussy, and the vibrations of his deep voice make you go crazy. Already, you feel your climax about to approach—in the whirlwind of your busy life, you had no time at all for any self-love, and you guess that your heightened sensitivity is a direct result of that. 

Or maybe Joost is just that good. 

You watch Joost as he devours you slowly, eyes trained on yours and unflinching, arms hooked around your plush thighs and holding you down—even if you wanted to, you couldn’t get away from him. 

When he reaches his right arm up to paw at your breast, you can’t help but notice—“You—is that Crazy Frog?” Crazy Frog tattoo?!?! On his forearm of all places?!?! Who exactly are you sleeping with? You are entirely and endlessly entertained and intrigued by the stranger you’ve picked up tonight. 

“You know Crazy Frog?!” Joost exclaims, pulling back from you with a pop that makes you moan, lips glistening as he sits up a tiny bit. 

“Yes, I know Crazy Frog, Joost.” You laugh, amused if not a little puzzled at the notion that Crazy Frog could be some niche reference for anyone who’s used Youtube in the last 15 years or born before 2003. 

“I thought you would be too fancy to know him, I’m glad you aren’t.” 

“I may have a stick up my ass, but that doesn’t mean I live under a rock.” 

“Great,” Joost smiles, climbing up over you to give you a quick kiss before you gasp at two of his fingers circling your clit. “Then we will get along just fine.” Kiss to your cheek, and he’s back on you again.

The pause in stimulation makes you more sensitive, somehow, and when he immediately sucks your clit hard, it punches the air out of your lungs—you clench your thighs around his ears, but it just makes him suck harder. In the matter of a minute, your orgasm is coaxed out of you by Joost and his wonderful mouth, your moans no longer quiet and subdued; you have to cover your mouth with your hands, but it’s no use when he keeps licking your swollen clit on your comedown, every stroke of his tongue bringing intense waves of pleasure surging through you, making you sob out his name like your neighbours won’t have it memorized by the time tomorrow comes. 

Joost pulls away from your pussy slightly when you finally release all of the tension in your thighs, your body, letting your vice grip on his blonde hair go. Every part of you feels like jelly as you try to catch your breath, sweat on your brow, the pulse between your legs strong and steady as a result of the beautiful man lying between them. 

“You want another?” Joost asks, wiping his mouth, then giving you a wet kiss on your overstimulated clit that makes you curse his name to his raucous laughter. “I can give you another, I could do this forever if you asked.”

“No, no need, that’s very much enough, thank you,” you say, shaking your head. If you could stand not to have him inside you for one more minute, you’d take him up on his offer. “That was too good.” 

“Dank je wel,” he grins, then kisses you, your own flavour on his lips and his on yours. 

“Graag gedaan,” you giggle in your crappy accent and he kisses you again. 

“Wowww, fluent. Very impressive, schat.” Joost nods, giving you a small round of applause, and you roll your eyes but pull him in for another kiss anyway. He moves to sit down so you sit on top of him—his cock is still hard as it was before, a small wet spot on your sheets next to you from where he laid down. 

The feeling he gives you, it’s inexplicable—all those days writing reports and essays, brainstorming and editing, thousands and thousands of words upon paper, and Joost has rendered you speechless in mere hours. No sound between you—no jabs, no complaints or thinly veiled flirty insults, just your shared breaths in your bedroom, just the dull shuffle of your now messed up comforter against your sheets as you reach over and rip off a condom from the sleeve, the box falling over and onto the floor. 

For once, you don’t quite care; you only care about ripping the wrapper, taking it out, pinching the tip of the condom, rolling it down his hard cock as you kiss him open-mouthed and thoughtless.  

“All fours,” Joost whispers, and you let yourself follow his lead after so long having to be in complete control of your life. It feels good being with him, feels good when he places your legs far apart and you settle on your elbows, back arching. You’re so exposed like this—you almost flinch when he dips his fingers into your dripping folds. You turn your head to look back, let him see you and your face as he teases your clit. “Who would have thought?”

“Thought what?” you breathe, wiggling your ass back against his hand. 

“Nothing to say? No teasing?” 

“I’ve done my teasing.” You already knew Joost’s hands were big—but when he wraps them around your hips and pulls you to him gently, the size of them is stark, so warm and gripping you tightly. He comes closer behind you, his thighs behind your ass, dragging the tip of his cock through your slit with a groan. “Joost,” you sigh in a small voice, so overcome by your need for him. “Please, I need you, please fuck me.” 

“Since you asked so nicely.”

With a few more swipes of his cock through your wetness, a few circles of the head against your clit that make arousal pool in your stomach and between your legs, he finally inches it inside of you just a little. 

He’s going so slow, and you—you've never been so impatient in your life. You slide back for him, loud moans coming from the two of you at the fast stimulation, his cock dragging against your walls as you  take him deeper. “Oh my god,” you whisper as he eases more of himself into you, then leans over you, chest pressed against your sweat-sheened back and a hand snaking around to knead your tits. 

“‘Ik ben een god,’ I guess,” Joost says into your ear with a laugh, and you can't help but laugh too, even with all the ego dripping from quoting his own song calling him a god while he’s fully inside of you. 

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“I don’t have to flatter myself,” he says, and the grin in his voice is absolutely diabolical; he says it with a hard thrust into you, which you moan at, the way his cock hits your spot so amazingly, your eyes almost roll back into your head. Every nerve in your body is electric, so many months without use, without stimulation, Joost is a shock to your system. “You do it enough for me.” 

You practically hide your face in the sheets as he falls into a rhythm thrusting into you at an angle so deep inside you could cry—you would never let Joost have that satisfaction, though, so you bite your lip and revel in the pleasure. Every steady seat of his cock inside you, every single breathy moan that falls from his mouth, every whispered murmur of your name accompanied by his hands roaming your back. 

The sticky slap of his balls against your clit, the wet sound coming from your pussy so filthy it could take you out of this dizzying haze. Really, it sends you in deeper, burying you in it the way he’s burying himself inside of you. 

“Fuuuck,” you drag out as you grip your sheets for any leverage, eyebrows furrowing with his hands gripping tightly on your hips to bring you back onto his cock. “Joost, like that.” The pace he's set for you both is aggravatingly perfect—you think you might want it forever. 

“You sound so pretty saying my name like that, baby, do it again.”

“Joost,” you mewl, eyebrows scrunching that you’re letting him have what he wants. You start to say it again, but as you do—he sinks into you so quickly, so hard, then starts sliding out of you so slow you let out a strangled sob. You can’t say anything else when he continues fucking into you, only letting out stifled sighs with every movement. 

“So much to say earlier, now look at you. It’s okay, I know it’s good, liefje,” he says softly. 

“So good,” you murmur, the drag of his thick cock in and out of your pussy bringing you almost to the edge as you collapse your torso onto the bed, so exhausted with the endless dopamine hit you’ve managed to score with Joost—almost to the edge until he ceases his movements completely as he’s fully inside you. 

“Schat,” Joost breathes, and you turn around and pout at him, completely (and justifiably) annoyed at the stoppage of his wonderful hips. 

“Fuck you, why'd you stop?” you ask, propping yourself back up on your elbows and shaking your head. 

Joost leans over you, lips on the nape of your neck, so you turn your head. “Fuck you,” he says, and you kiss him as he laughs. He’s so full of it—You’re so full of him, a comfortable pressure inside of you and snug against your spot. “You need me to hold you up? You can lie down if you want, schat, maybe it will feel even better.”

“Yeah, hold me up.” At your wish, he stands you both up on your knees as he supports your stomach; one hand wrapped around your waist and the other snaking down, down between your legs. 

You’re sure that this will collapse you once more—you don’t mind. He resumes thrusting into you, breathing into your neck, kissing your shoulder. The wet slaps of skin against skin, the sighs and the breaths and his raspy voice in your ear when he finally touches your sensitive clit alongside the firm movements of his hips. “Let it out, lieverd, I know,” Joost murmurs into your neck as you sob in pleasure; there isn’t a single second of reprieve he gives you, not even slowing the circles he’s making on your sloppy clit. 

You don't have it in yourself to argue; not against the ego or his wandering hands and his voice you’d deem condescending if you were still arguing on the stoop in front of the bar earlier—Joost is right, it is good, and this angle he has thrusting up into you is mind blowing, even as the rhythm becomes irregular and disjointed as he kisses and bites the side of your neck. 

Your heart beats ever faster, the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens with every languid and messy thrust inside of you. You reach behind yourself to hold onto Joost around his shoulders, gripping his hair as you bring him in for a rough kiss, all teeth and carnality—you were so composed, once upon a time. He’s given you every reason to forget that. 

“Oh, fuck, schatje,” he mumbles into your mouth. You pull back to look at Joost in his glory—he’s even prettier like this, messy and sweaty, patches of pink all along his cheeks and neck, eyes focused and almost stern. “My hand is cramping,” he says, and you laugh when he adds quickly, “And you also feel amazing, but also my hand is cramping.” 

“Keep going, I'm almost there,” you say, and he obeys, still rubbing your clit, your wetness smearing on your pussy and his hand. “Do it for me, Joost, you feel so good,” you breathe, and he nods, kissing you deeply—it hits you before you even register it, takes you off guard when you climax and you have to pull back from him to moan his name, looking him in the eye when you do. 

You’re never this loud—it’s very vulnerable realizing how much he’s coaxed out of you, Joost watching intently, soft smile upon his lips at your clenching pussy around him as the waves of your orgasm come through you, practically leg shaking. 

He kisses you quiet again; kisses you until it’s his turn, thrusting sloppily into you, the overstimulation stinging, but so good still. 

He whimpers your name, and you contemplate asking him to give you another orgasm; he whimpers again into your neck, just a soft vocalization against the still filthy sounds of the final few thrusts he can give you as he cums, the warmth you can feel through the condom flooding your pussy. 

When he stills, Joost places his forehead against yours, and you breathe together in silence—if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two of you have been with each other for years. 

“I’m really surprised I lasted that long, schat,” Joost breathes, and you laugh, watching his face as he grins at you 

“I’m surprised, too,” you tease, giving him one last kiss and untangling yourself from him; he’s still inside you, softening with every passing moment. When he slips out of you, you hiss—it feels empty, how sad. 

“Hey, mean.” You flop down on your bed, completely spent, sweaty, still wet between your legs and watching as he takes off the condom, ties it off, and throws it in your waste bin. “I showed you a good time, didn’t I?” 

“I’m not sure,” you tease when Joost comes back to sit next to you, putting his underwear back on with an annoyed rolling of eyes. “Maybe you’ll have to show me one next time?”

“Next time, huh?” he smiles, slipping his shirt on from the pile on the floor, starting to button it up. “Ehh, I’ll think about it,” he says, and you slap him lightly on the shoulder. 

“You’re a dick, Joost.” Joost cackles as you barrage him with a bunch of weak punches to his shoulder and back, getting your revenge for the dress and your purse, for him being a rapper and a fuckboy and the giver of the best dicking down of your life. You try not to let it kill your vibe—it likely will later, but for now, you can just be silly about it. 

“Where’s your bathroom?” 

“The door next to mine.” 

Closing your eyes, you lie back on your bed, half expecting him to just dip, hoping he’s not that much of a fuckboy. But a few minutes pass, and there’s a soft knock to your door, and Joost steps gently into your room again with a glass of water and a washcloth in his hands. 

“Did you think I would just leave?” Joost asks, coming around to your side of the bed and handing you the glass. “Glassie water!” he says in a singsong voice, and you look at him puzzled as you thank him. “You’ll understand when you listen to my music more.” 

“‘When…’” you laugh as he gives you an offended look and nudges your legs open. The washcloth is cold when he places it on your skin and you wince, shaking off his apologies about the water’s temperature because it’s sweet that he’d even do this in the first place. 

As Joost cleans you up, delicate and gentle as ever, he says softly, “I will send you whatever money it takes to clean your purse, I will give you my number, and I’ll send you my schedule for the next month. Okay?” 

“Schedule? You sure it’s not filled with other strangers from the club?” 

“It’s not, I swear. You’re going to come to one of my festival shows this month, and you're going to like it.” Joost leans in and you expect a kiss for some reason, but he just takes the glass from your hand and drinks from it himself. A free festival pass doesn't sound so bad. “Ruby and Marina are back. I said hi.” 

“Oh god,” you laugh, covering your face. “What’d they say?” 

“They were surprised you took me home, but apparently they won a bet with Tantu, so—we did something good, I think!” 

“You think?” 

“I know!” You laugh at his…everything, really, sinking down in your comfy bed, realizing how heavy your eyelids are, realizing that you still haven't even exchanged numbers or last names. Does it matter this far in? “I think I should get going, schat. The sun is rising.” 

In the middle of his sentence, you practically drift off into slumber, pulling your covers over your bare body. “It’s cold, stay.” You pat at the spot next to you. “But not for too long.” 

thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) askbox hereeee - juno

[cheeseceli]

When their S/o is taller than them

Pairing: skz!Ot8 × Gn!Reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, reaction

Request: what either skz or bts would be like with a tall s/o? (5’8”) and while I’m here I just want to say I really love your writing and I look forward to reading your fics <3

Warnings: one kill joke in lee know's, not proofread at all, I think that's it.

A/n: thank you so much for the lovely words 🤍 as a (kinda) tall girl I love to think about this lmao. BTS version here !

Bang Chan

Hugs all the time. He just LOVES how your hugs seem to be different (and better) than anyone else's. Maybe it's because of your height or for the simple fact that you are you but he adores how warm and safe he feels in your arms. His favourite hugs from you are the ones that you either back hug him when he's distracted and put your chin on his shoulder OR when you hug him normally but add a kiss to the crown of his head. He falls more and more in love with you after every hug.

Lee Know

You know he's never gonna admit this but he loves the height difference. Your teasing gets 200% more efficient just because of it (but he'll kill anyone who points out how his ears are getting a little too red). When you guys were just friends but he already had a crush on you, he'd get truly flustered if you got closer than usual, like you were towering him - and he still does, he just likes to pretend he doesn't tbh lmao.

Changbin

We all agreed that this man would have and love and support a taller s/o to the extreme. He's like your personal cheerleader, always making sure to let you know that you are BEAUTIFUL and he loves every single detail about you - your height included. The first to tell people to shut up if someone ever comments on the height difference with a rude tone. Like, he will NOT accept someone trying to say shit about your relationship, especially when it's something he loves so much.

Hyunjin

It doesn't matter if you're one centimeter taller or a whole ruler taller, he's in love and he thinks that your height makes you look ethereal even. If you're up to it, he'll definitely buy you high heels and encourage you to wear them on any occasion that's possible. Finds it kinda fun how he has to tilt his head up in order to kiss you and always ends up giggling over this, even after years of doing it. He's just that enamoured, can you blame him?

Han

Oh he's enjoying this a bit too much. Feel free to reach all the tall shelves for him and open every can/jar. He has the babygirl reputation for a reason lmao. Jokes aside, I think he'd really enjoy a taller s/o, no matter what your height is. Has literally no patience to outsiders "teasing" and making rude comments about this dynamic, he'll quickly shut them up. (Also, get prepared to lift him up if you're strong enough like that video of him with lee know because when I said he's enjoying this I meant it😭)

Felix

HE LOVES IT. You can't tell me that he doesn't get all flustered and giddy over the height difference, I won't believe you if you do. One thing that I believe he'd love to do would take mirror pics with you. Like, the way that you can see that you're taller in the picture just makes him smile for some reason (he's whipped). His phone's wallpaper is most definitely a picture of you two like that. I also believe that he thinks it's cute the way he has to tiptoe to kiss your cheek (it is).

Seungmin

You can be the taller one, but he's the one defending you and giving you the royalty treatment all the way. One thing that I think he'd love tho is to steal your clothes. So like, if you left a sweatshirt in his place or something like this, don't expect to have it back so soon. He actually loves how he is just kinda engulfed in your (indirect?) warmth and he has something bringing him closer to you even when you're not near. And he kinda likes to flex that "this is from my partner" lmao.

I.N

Other one to get all shy over the height difference but never let you know about it (actually, you'll know. It's just so obviously shown in his face, just don't let him know that lol). But besides the casual flustering state he finds himself on at times, he really doesn't mind it. I'd say he barely notices it. When he does tho, he finds you extremely beautiful, like those ancient greek statues, and even sexy if I may.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Moodboard (pics) by @haelyubi

Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

[asunflowerana]

a good kind of nuinsance — Suna Rintarou

summary: you have a big project coming up, and to make things even worse, you're forced to work with the most stupid, handsome moron on campus.

genre: comedy, enemies-to-lovers trope.

n/a: not me pretending i'm the best friend haha. also, good reading!

“It will be fine!” She said. “It could be worse, trust me. And it will end soon!”

You wish you could stop believing in your best friend.

College is already a nerve-wracking place to deal with it, increasing even more in junior year. You need to work on your assignments, do presentations, fight yourself everyday to not procrastinate 24/7 or call off sick ‘cause your bed is too appealing; and in the end, you always freak out with your final exams, coffee becoming your best friend and clock your worst enemy.

What you don’t understand though, is why, in such a chaotic atmosphere, you still need to do group work?

And why, of all the people on this big campus, you got paired up with Suna Rintarou?

The struggle is real.

It’s not that you hate him. No, that’s not the case at all. It’s just that spotting his face alone is enough to make you want to change sidewalks even if the traffic signal is green and Formula 1 is happening on the street.

It all started with a single bump on the cafeteria entrance. His unnecessary hard body bumped against you and your hot chocolate cup, making all of your precious drink spill and fall into your previous white All Stars sneakers, staining the fabric and burning your skin to the soul.

And that boy had the nerve to mumble a “Watch where you’re going” before giving you a cold shoulder and leaving in a hurry.

Tables turned and you had your redemption one day later, refusing to lend him your notes of an important assignment, useful for the upcoming exams. It’s not your fault that his bicycle tire got pierced on the way to class, he should have been prepared and woken up early like every poor student in this college.

This “not so pleasant but still fulfilling” war has been going on between you guys for weeks. But unfortunately, his presence became more than a nuisance to you, and you absolutely detest now the way your heart flutters when you see that punk walking on the hall with that stupid, pretty face.

Annoying, handsome, punk.

And since your “so called” best friend knows about your hidden feelings, she decided to come up with a stupid solution for it.

You, her, Suna and Bokuto Koutaro, her adorable but very much ingenuous boyfriend, were supposed to do the group project together at a cozy cafeteria a few blocks from the campus main building, known for their delicious milkshakes and pretzels.

Nowhere to escape, you accept the invite, hoping your friend could take your mind away from Suna’s intruding. That, until Bokuto shouts:

“Shoot, I forgot there was practice today!” So exaggerated, he totally has no vocation to be an actor.

And your bestie had the audacity to join the act, forcing out a grimace. “Sorry guys, but we need to go.” She announces, not sorry at all, Bokuto taking her backpack with him like the doting boyfriend he is. “Please enjoy our milkshakes, we’ll text you later to see what you guys decided!”

“Good dat— I mean…. Bye!” Bokuto takes her hand and storms away from the cafeteria.

You can only sigh, disappointed at yourself for not predicting this might happen.

“Did they really leave us?” Suna asks incredulously, noticing the filled notebooks the couple left on the table. “They even made their parts already!”

You turn your gaze to him, feeling the beginning of a migraine.“Look, I’m not thrilled to work with you either. But the faster we start, the faster we’ll get rid of each other.” You proposed with little patience, taking a sip of your friend’s untouched strawberry milkshake. “Now, take that milkshake and let’s finish this quick.”

He huffs, but your surprise doesn't fight with you on this, and you both start a two-hours circle of working in silence, bickering at each other and working in silence again, making small progress with your parts on the project. You even start to agree with each other, Suna finding your suggestions “smarter than expected”, and you finding his ideas “not so bad for a moron”.

It’s strange, the feeling of being in agreement with Hajime on something, and it's noticeable his efforts of making the process as peaceful as it can be. This friendlier side looks actually cute on him (not that you were checking him out for the past thirty minutes), so you decide to be nice too, for the sake of good grades.

It only lasts a few minutes, and soon you’re arguing again.

“The information needs to be in Z. No one will pay attention if you fill the poster with notes all over it!” He argues one more time, trying to prove his point about the best position to the notes.

“But we need to put all the information we gathered! If we do it your way, we’ll need three more posters , and that's a waste of paper!” You defend your point as well, not wanting to back down from your proposition to the project’s presentation. 

“Well, if you want to really save paper, then you should stop wanting to put everything we wrote down inside a poster, when we don’t have to!”

“We do, if we want good grades in this class. Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t really know what it's like.!”

You’re both staring at each other dangerously, breath heavy and quick, like two bulls ready to strike each other. Thank goodness you’re in a distant booth, or you guys would probably be kicked out by now for the shouting.

Suna runs his hand over his black locks, tired of this unfinished argument. “You’re too annoying , you know that?” He hisses. 

“And you’re so stubborn, argh, I can’t stand you in my head anymore!” You almost shout out your frustration, letting slip the last words by accident, but lucky for you Suna’s too angry to catch what did you mean.

“Well, I wish you could leave mine too, but you’re still there every day!”

You’re shocked. Your heart’s pace fastens and your body suddenly feels numb, completely bewildered by his confession. Suna avoids eye-contact for a few seconds, staring at the table with a terrified look, his face reddening as the seconds go by. Why did he say that to you?

“I—” He clears his throat, trying to come up with a quick excuse to cover his mistake.“ I didn't—”

“What?” But you don’t leave room for excuses. “You didn’t mean you like me?”

His eyes widens. “No! I…. I….” He sighs. “ I didn’t mean to say it like that! But if you really want to know… yes. I like you. " He moves his eyes in your direction, taking your features for a moment. "Even if you get on my nerves every single day, I can’t get you out of my head. And I know we’re not on the best terms, but I can’t just pretend anymore…” He doesn’t need to finish his line. You’re just so overwhelmed with his confession, that staying a few moments in silence makes Rintarou take that as a rejection.

“I should go.” He begins to rise from his chair, but his movements are interrupted as you quickly hold one of his wrists, preventing him from moving away. He looks at you surprised.

“Would you find it strange if I said that I can’t pretend anymore either?” You can’t say the right words aloud yet, timid of what he might do with your confession, but the growing, pretty and genuine smirk on his face tells you made a good decision by opening yourself to him.

“I guess I own you a hot chocolate, then?”

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[yanmusing]

yan!fem!barista x fem! Reader Headcanons

A/n: this one goes out to my LESBIANS SHOUTOUT TO THE LESBIANS. THE LESBIANS. /REF

Also not proofread so please ignore any mistakes LOL

Minors DNI

TWs: general yandere behavior and nasty thoughts ◇

♡Yan!fem! Barista deals with rude and stupid people all the time. But life had a way of testing her patience.

♡"I want the Daisy's teacakes & coffee with no small cakes, and replace the coffee with green tea."

♡"Ma'am, the desserts come with the order."

♡"You think I'm stupid? I know, that's why I ordered it without the desserts."

♡Yeah. You are a fucking dumbass.

♡"No ma'am, I will get your order for you in a bit, thank you for your patience!"

♡Alright. I can get through this. It's like 9:00 am right now.

♡After dealing with the customer, she hears the little ring from the door

♡She doesn't think much of it

♡Ohhh but she should have

♡That's when she hears a giggle coming from your table

♡Oh...

♡Oh my...

♡Your table is littered with open textbooks and an untouched laptop. You're sitting with your back turned to her, but she catches a small glimpse of your face with you turn to the side.

♡Focus on the coffee. Just focus on the coffee. LOOK at the cup. It's empty- Just don't be nosy. Just be normal. She's just here for some nice Cafe vibes!! That's all!!!

♡AHH but you're so pretty jffjsfjfjskdhfjja

♡"Excuse me, Miss?"

♡Good GOD you can't just sneak up on people like that!!! It's totally not because she was distracted by her thoughts

♡"Yes, how can I help you?"

♡She stops what she's doing. She turns. She looks at you. Really looks at you.

♡Your nose, eyes, soft smile?

♡It's too much for her. You're just too cute.

♡Meanwhile, you were struggling on whether to ask for one or two chocolate croissants. Would it look greedy if you ordered two?...

♡"I'll have a chocolate croissant and a latte, please."

♡Yes, say please again. She loved that.

♡"Of course. Anything else I can get you?"

♡"Uhm... actually, can you please make that two chocolate croissants? That's all."

♡"Absolutely! I'll have that ready as soon as I can."

♡Aw man she pours her heart and SOUL into making the best latte for you!(no pun intended)

♡She picks out the biggest croissants; hopefully you've had breakfast. Oh, what if this is your first meal of the day?

♡Sure enough, when you walk up to get your order, your stomach growls. And you feel embarrassed.

♡"I'm so sorry, I haven't had anything to eat yet!" You try to awkwardly laugh it off.

♡"Oh no, it's okay sweetheart! Do you want a breakfast sandwhich with your order?"

♡You can't help it. Your face flushes a shade of red and your hand goes up to fidget with your necklace.

♡"I'm not sure..."

♡You poor thing... do you need someone to take care of you? Do you need some love? Do you need her?

♡Yeah. You definitely do.

♡"It's on the house, it's okay I promise!"

♡You cave in and let her buy it for you. I mean, it's not like you could just refuse something nice like this! Plus, she seemed really concerned for you. Genuinely.

♡"Ah, thank you so much!"

♡"it's no problem, I'll have it ready for you in a bit."

♡Look at you, so kind and respectful. So mild and sensitive, too. Initially, she pushed away the thoughts of your flustered face from her mind. But she has a soft spot for the emotional ladies. You're so adorable and lovely. She needs to have you underneath her.

-------

A/n: thanks for reading! Will make a part 2 :)