#like I said. I don’t really listen to music

[thedemonofcat]

As a starving artist in a large city, Jaskier naturally took the bus. He would usually listen to music and people watch on his commute to work; however, his routine has changed.

He had acquired a nemesis of sorts. Or, perhaps more accurately, an antagonistic flirtation?

You see, he bumped into a man one day, and said man made a snarky remark about Jaskier's shirt. Not one to stand insult, Jaskier snapped back. They continued like that until Jaskier reached his stop, and they've maintained a snarky back and forth everyday since.

Jaskier wasn't sure when these exchanges started to feel more like banter than oneupmanship. Maybe once the actually-quite-handsome man snorted at one of Jaskier's comments.

There was one day though when Jaskier didn't feel up to their usual banter. He had been rejected from another potential gig, and the person judging him had been rather cruel about it. He felt raw and sensitive.

So raw and sensitive that when the man made a comment about "losing his whiny voice", he started crying.

------

Geralt fucked up!

He tried to make a jab at the pretty man like they usually did, but he was crying! Fuckfuckfuck! Geralt didn't mean it! He thought it was like talking with his brothers: like verbally play wrestling.

Had he really been hurting this pretty man's feelings the whole time?!?

"I'm sorry," Geralt stammered, clearly panicking. "Please, don't cry."

"It's fine," Jaskier said, brushing away the tears from his eyes, which were undoubtedly red and swollen. "I didn’t get the gig."

"That's why you're crying?" Geralt asked, his tone perhaps coming off harsher than intended.

"Yes, I’m crying because I didn’t get the job," Jaskier admitted. "They only offered it if I agreed to sleep with the club owner. And honestly, with how close I am to being homeless, maybe I should have."

"Don’t," Geralt interrupted firmly. "Your voice is too beautiful to waste on someone like that. Who cares if some big shot doesn’t recognize it?"

“You think my voice is nice?" Jaskier whispered, surprised. Before Geralt could respond, the bus jolted forward, sending Jaskier tumbling right into Geralt’s lap.

"I’m Geralt of Rivia," Geralt said, for some reason choosing this moment to introduce himself to the captivating stranger.

"Julian Pankratz," Jaskier replied with a soft smile. "But most people call me Jaskier."

[taelophone]

Soft Feminine˚࿔ ⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆TWs: None! Its fluff of luigi fixing your childhood music box lol ˚｡⋆A/N: This was written as an allegory for something!! If you catch it please lmk id be so so happy <33

The slow silence filled the room, pardoned by the occasional shift of clothing or the clinks of Luigi sorting the things on your nightstand. It was a quiet night with your boyfriend, simply enjoying each other's presence while engaged in silent conversation.

His hands whirled around the slowly recovering nightstand, The lids to the foggy glass candle jars and the clutter slowly finding their native places as he worked his magic. Soon enough, your nightstand was clear, bothered only by your lamp, room spray, a mini succulent, and your flamingo-pink Laneige sleep mask. 

When Luigi finished bringing order to your nightstand, he glanced at you momentarily. No reason in particular, just to bask in your features as you scrolled on the cyber-white hue of your phone.

He smiled, overcome with warm and fiery sparks of affection. He wanted nothing in the world to ever raise a finger at you in challenge— if so, he’d gladly break it just to deem himself your hero. 

When he was done staring at you, he patted your head affectionately as you lay stationery in your bed, relishing in the warmth of your smile. He whisked away from your nightstand, making his way to your vanity as he began sorting that as well.

While you listened to the glass and metal clinking over by the far corner of your room, you turned off your phone to stare up at the ceiling. Today had been a long, long day. 

You longed to continue to lay down and embrace your boyfriend with rampant lovelorn. Maybe even accompanied by some soft and quiet…music!

Music! Your music box! Oh, he can fix it!

“Lui, babe?” You spoke, shattering the fragile silence. 

“Yes, my love?” He answered, tilting his head slightly in your direction but not taking his eyes off of the things he continued to put away.

“You’re an engineer, right?” You inquired, crunching your torso to bring your body up, sitting criss-cross on top of your soft comforter.

“Depends…what are you asking me to fix? I can’t do appliances” he joked with a light smile and a boyish giggle. Cute little cornball.

“Nothing too serious…I have a music box that I’ve had since I was like…a baby. Can you take a look? It broke sometime after I turned nine, but I never got it fixed” You murmured, shuffling over to the end of your bed and leaning over the foot of your bed frame.

With your brushes, blushes, and plushes sorted at your vanity, Luigi broke his structuring trance to take a look at the little music box you began to pull from under the depths of your bed. Aged with hospitality, pink with youth, and loved with adoration, the ballerina-esque porcelain wind-up contraption presented itself in your hands.

Gold embellishments, blush roses, and shimmery gloss drew attention to the little ballerina on the front of the design. Her figure was just like you, only donned with a white tutu and bodice as she sat with her ankles crossed.

“It’s really old so it might just be an age thing, but I really wanna see if it can be fixed. I loved it so much growing up I just don’t wanna let it go” you said with a nostalgic chuckle.

“It looks really pretty! Can I see?” He gently asked, walking over to the front of your bed and extending both of his hands to seek out permission for the piece.

You nodded, carefully and cautiously handing him your innocence with benign hands. He seemed to examine it, get a feel for the material under his fingertips before he carefully flipped open the little lid to reveal the swan and the woman standing atop a pink pedestal.

He gave it a few winds, listening for any potential clicks along the way as he was met with a suspicious amount of loosened compliance. Normally it would give some sort of pressure or noise if it was working properly, but he seemed to have already figured out the problem.

“Okay…I think I know what the issue is. I’m gonna have to take this apart, baby” he stated, closing the little box with a satisfying click. “I know what I’m doing, I promise, I just don’t want you to panic. I have to take it apart to see its anatomy, and that’ll give me a better understanding of what’s wrong…is that alright with you?”

Your eyes widened with slight fear, ‘what ifs’ flooding the pipes in your mind while your heart rate spiked. This was his job, yes, and he spent a good portion of his life assembling things and putting them together. 

But there’s always a possibility, and there’s never a zero. It’s okay to be afraid of accidents, and it’s ok to keep an open mind, but where do you go if something goes wrong?

What if he breaks it further? Snaps the lid off with unmonitored strength, shatters the neck of the swan with a grip that went unchecked for too long, cracking the perfect porcelain.

Could you get it fixed then? Would your childhood pride be lost at the hands of the one you love the very most? How would you cope when the sound of shattered glass pierces your ears followed by a gasp of alarm?

“Love.”

You looked at him, half-aware of the grip you now had on your music box. The wrinkles in your knuckles as your fingers wrapped around the heavy relic. 

You hadn’t realized how hard you had been holding on, to both your breath and your childhood. There was nothing to fear as long as it was in his hands— he would treat every part of you with the same tender and merciful hands he had held you with time and time again.

“Yeah…okay,” you nodded, handing him the music box with a silent swallow of anxiety.

His eyes softened. An empathetic and understanding wiggle in his brows as he leaned over, and kissed the top of your head with a hand behind your neck. Brief and intimate.

“Thank you for trusting me” he promised.

You smiled, nodding your appreciation as you crossed your arms. 

“All of my tools and mechanical equipment should be in my closet in a white clear box. It should have blue painter's tape on the lid.”

“Awesome,” he said, placing the music box down on the empty vanity before he traversed into the depths of your closet. Rustling and jostling of clothes, shoes, perfume bottles, and unboxed accessories echoed through the silence, aches of impending doom and lingering hope gnawing at the side of your neck.

When he emerged with the clear box of tools, he sat them on the side of the white desk, flipping the music box upside down to see what type of screwdriver he’d need. When he had everything he needed, he took his time, hands cradling and supporting every inch of delicate glass.

Unscrewing each screw, tender love and hospitality possessed his hands as he took it apart. Piece by piece, little by little.

Everything was on display for him, unfiltered in its purest form. Now that he had seen each piece of the machine and what makes it turn, he quickly identified the problem and its solution. 

With expert hands carrying endless wisdom, he reconstructed the feminine melodic music like he was the very man who invented the machine. And in no time, he had the ballerina and her swan spinning on her pedestal of high confidence again.

He wound up the handle, the now familiar pressure and sounds of approval reaching his ears with smug approval. He knew what he was doing, and he’d always be there to prove it to you. 

“Done!” He smiled, flipping the music box closed and giving you a wave of nostalgia and gratitude.

When he approached your bed once more, he climbed on top of it and plopped himself down beside you. He kissed your forehead again, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you beamed with joy.

“No way, thank you so much! I literally love you,” you gasped, winding up the machine, the familiar melody of Swan Lake ringing through chimes and twinkles as the little ballerina began to spin slowly in the confines of her box. 

“Anything for you.”

[xhazzz]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

One… or a few more dates.

warnings: none, just Jake being a sweetheart.

summary: the first three dates

a/n: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE, so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

First Date:

I was sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck. We had just left the Italian restaurant where he took me for dinner. I couldn’t deny I was having a great time; the blonde was a total gentleman and incredibly handsome—and hot. We were listening to his country music playlist while he told me about his life before Top Gun.

“See? Letting me take you to dinner wasn’t such a bad idea,” he said, glancing over at me with a smile.

“I have to admit, you’re not the fool I thought you were,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m a lot more than what Chicken ‘Silly Mustache’ Bradshaw can tell you,” he added with a laugh. “Totally worth promising to cover his tab for the week in exchange for your number.”

We both laughed, and I shook my head.

“Oh, he’ll pay for it, trust me,” I said, grinning. “Bradley’s like the brother I never had. I’m glad he’s back. When we were kids, we’d spend summers together. His mom used to take us to the bay to teach us how to swim.”

“Good thing you like the beach because that’s where I’m planning to take you next time,” Jake said, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms.

“You didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, sweetheart. I’ve already got several plans for us.”

“Let me guess, taking me to the beach is part of your perfect plan to get into my pants?”

“Come on, I think I’ve already proven I’m more than that,” he said, faking offense. “Though, if it happens, I wouldn’t complain.”

I burst out laughing and playfully hit his chest.

“And what exactly are we going to do at the beach?” I asked.

“We could have a nice picnic, get some sun, and watch the sunset.”

“Who would’ve thought Hangman was a romantic?”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me, darlin’. And I’d love to know everything about you,” he said, flashing that damn gorgeous smile.

Second Date:

A few days after our dinner, Jake picked me up, fully prepared for our beach picnic. The day was perfect, and who would’ve thought the pilot could plan such a flawless picnic? He brought an umbrella, a blanket, burgers, fries, beers, and sodas.

We talked while we ate. Jake told me about his high school football games, and I shared stories about constantly changing schools because of my dad’s reassignments. Every time his hand brushed against mine, it felt like a jolt of electricity. It even seemed like he was hesitant to touch me, but through his sunglasses, I could catch him sneaking glances at my chest more than once.

After swimming for a while and competing to see who could find the most seashells, the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange. It was breathtaking.

“So, what’s next?” I asked, taking a sip of my beer.

“Next what?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows. His abs were even more defined, and I had to try hard not to stare.

“You said you had several plans for me,” I said, crossing my legs. “What’s next?”

“So, you do enjoy spending time with me,” he laughed, opening his beer. “Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you.”

“Even if I want you to take me up in your plane?” I teased.

“I think your dad would kill me,” he said, laughing and sitting up straight. “But I could take you somewhere similar.”

“Similar? Now I’m curious.”

The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully. We kept talking and getting to know each other. I could see him glancing at my lips, as if he wanted to kiss me—which, for the record, wouldn’t have been a bad idea.

“Thanks for everything, Jake. I really had a great time,” I said when we arrived at my house.

“The pleasure’s all mine, darlin’,” he replied, smiling. God, this man was charming. “Is it too soon to ask for a goodnight kiss?”

I smiled playfully, leaned in—he was standing a step below me—and kissed the corner of his lips, teasing him.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

Third Date:

“So, this is your idea of something similar to flying?” I asked as he opened the door of his truck. We were at the pier fair, surrounded by the smell of popcorn and cotton candy, mixed with the music and the screams of people on the rides.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like amusement rides. The adrenaline, the screams, the laughs—it’s the best,” Jake said, gently placing a hand on my back as he guided me to the ticket booth. He bought two tickets before I could even pull out some cash.

“Seriously? You’re not going to let me pay for anything?” I asked as he handed the cashier his money.

“Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me,” he said, grinning.

The day at the fair was a blast. We went on almost every ride, played bumper cars, marbles, and paintball, and stuffed ourselves with popcorn, hot dogs, and cotton candy.

“Hold still, you’ve got…” Jake said, leaning in to wipe something off the corner of my lips with his thumb. “There. All set.”

God, this man was starting to get to me. I felt butterflies in my stomach every time he touched me.

“Thanks again for everything, Jake,” I said as we walked toward the exit, my shoulder brushing against his arm. He even had the perfect height. “I’ve had so much fun with you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, opening the truck door and helping me climb in.

The drive home was quiet but comforting. We listened to his country playlist until a Taylor Swift song came on.

“No way,” I said, laughing. “You like Taylor Swift?”

“I don’t know how that got in there,” he said, shaking his head and reaching for the console to change it.

“Don’t. Leave it,” I said, stopping his hand. “I like that song.”

Instead of pulling away, he took my hand and kissed my knuckles. And there were the butterflies again…

I could feel my cheeks heating up, and Jake seemed to notice too.

“Well, would you look at that? You’re blushing,” he teased.

“Stop,” I whispered, rolling my eyes and looking out the window.

“You’re really something, Y/N,” Jake added, placing his hand gently on my thigh and rubbing it affectionately before turning his eyes back to the road. Without thinking, I placed my hand over his, mirroring his gesture.

When we arrived at my house, he asked for a goodnight kiss again, and I repeated the same thing as the last time—kissing the corner of his lips.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

[vqmprxz]

music i imagine creepypastas listen to

(a/n it is 5:12 AM and i cannot sleep WHY DID I TAKE AN 8 HOUR NAP)

ticci toby

he’s not super emo like ppl imagine him to be. the most emo he’ll go is like three days grace, but he prefers to stick to more popular grunge bands (foo fighters, nirvana, alice in chains, etc.) but he’s also secretly a huge blink 182 fan.

masky

this bitch is obsessed with divorced dad rock i just know it. pearl jam, pink floyd, alice in chains. sometimes he’s into heavy metal.

hoodie

either rock or rap. i don’t know why. his two favs are metallica and kanye west. that’s all i will elaborate on.

jeff the killer

jeff is not an emo boy and i will stand by that, this ho is the greasiest most pretentious metalhead you will ever meet. he’ll make fun of slipknot or korn fans bc it’s not “heavy” enough. (if im being honest idk any super heavy metal bands, but just pretend i said one and he listens to them.)

jane the killer

goth. she literally wears a mask with black lipstick. siousxie and the banshees, bauhaus, the cure. and maybe like type o negative. (she’s secretly a huge evanescence fan.)

homicidal liu

i kinda see him listening to like early fall out boy and early arctic monkeys and some underground bands like them. (and has a little obsession with the beatles). he might go to local shows. HATES new music.

ben drowned

maybe like linkin park, limp bizkit, icp, stuff with rap incorporated. but since he’s a kid/young teenager, he probably has a lot of influence from those around him (i hc that nina tries to turn him emo and jeff tries to turn him into a metalhead)

nina the killer

brokencyde and attack attack but also pierce the veil and my chemical romance. scenemo 100% (this girl has the most emo haircut in the world are we really surprised.)

clockwork

this girl is the biggest slowdive fan there is. i can also see her listening to radiohead, mazzy star, my bloody valentine (but don’t be surprised if there’s paramore on her playlist.)

laughing jack

do we really think he listens to music. (can you tell i don’t like laughing jack)

eyeless jack

he also doesn’t care for music all too much but when he’s stressed he’ll put on some to clear his head, stuff like nine inch nails, a perfect circle, tool.

sally

the mlp equestria girls soundtrack exclusively.

[whimsicalpolitical]

heyy so i had a really shite christmas/new years like hall of fame level shite so i was wondering if you could do an imagine or something where reader and matty are away from eachother at Christmas and reader has a not so great time then he comforts her when they reunite? (can be smut or not idm)

ur writings so good and i hope you had a good holidays :))

i’m so sorry you had shit a holiday and i hope you’re doing alright <33

18+ mdni, fluff, oral (f receiving)

you’ve always loved christmas—or at least you used to. there’s something about the lights, the music, the way people soften their edges for a while. but this year, it feels like you’re on the outside of it all, watching through frosted glass while everyone else is warm inside. maybe it’s the first year you and matty haven’t been together for the holidays, or maybe it’s just the weight of everything piling up at once. whatever it is, it’s heavy, and no amount of tinsel or mulled wine seems to shake it off.

matty knows something’s wrong, of course. he always does. he’s got this knack for reading you, even over the phone, even through a screen. but every time he asks, you deflect. “it’s fine,” you say, forcing a smile he can’t see. “just busy. i don’t want to bother you, you’ve got your family.”

but it’s not fine. and you do want to tell him, but the thought of pulling him away from his mum, his brother, his christmas… it feels selfish. so you keep brushing it off, even though you know he doesn’t buy it.

then one night, the walls crack.

you’re sitting on the floor in your flat, fairy lights blinking dimly around the room. the silence is louder than any carol, and when your phone buzzes with matty’s name, you almost don’t answer. but you do.

“hey, love,” he says, his voice warm and familiar, like it always is. “you alright? and don’t say ‘fine.’”

you try to laugh, but it comes out shaky. “i don’t want to ruin your christmas, matty.”

“ruin it?” he repeats, incredulous. “you’re part of it, yeah? so if something’s wrong, i want to know.”

and just like that, it unravels. the lump in your throat swells, and before you can stop it, you’re crying—proper crying, the kind that makes it hard to speak. you manage a broken, “i’m sorry,” but he cuts you off.

“none of that,” he says, “don’t apologise. tell me what’s going on.”

so you do. you tell him about the loneliness, the pressure, the way everything feels just a little too much this year. and he listens, doesn’t interrupt, just lets you spill it all out until there’s nothing left.

when you’re quiet again, he exhales softly. “only two more days, love,” he says, his voice low and steady. “then all this mess is over, and i’m with you. alright? two days.”

you nod, even though he can’t see you. “okay.”

“good. now, listen to me. i want you at my flat when i get back. you’ve got the key. just… be there, alright?promise me.”

“i promise.”

two days feels endless, but you make it. barely. and when the day comes, you’re at his flat like he asked, pacing the living room with a cup of tea you haven’t touched. you hear the door before you see him—the rattle of keys, the creak of hinges, the thud of bags dropped carelessly in the hall.

“love?” his voice carries through the flat, and you turn just as he steps into the room. he’s wearing that dark green raincoat you tease him about, unzipping it as he crosses to you in three quick strides.

before you can say a word, he’s there, wrapping you up in his arms. his coat smells like rain and travel, but underneath is that familiar scent that’s just him. he doesn’t let go, not even when you try to pull back to look at him. instead, he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“missed you,” he murmurs, his lips pressing to your forehead, your nose, finally your mouth.

“missed you too,” you whisper against his lips, and it feels like the first honest thing you’ve said in days.

“oh, darling,” he smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to keep you close to his chest. your ear is right on his heart and you can hear it beating faster than usual, probably because he hurried coming here. “feels good to be back. i’ve missed you a lot.”

you smile and allow yourself to close your eyes to fully capture the moment. you didn’t even know how much you really missed him until now.

“you alright?” he asks, pulling back and immediately holding your face in his hands.

“yes,” you nod and give him a smile. you’re alright. alright because he’s here now.

“come here.”

he kisses you again, deeper this time, his hands firm on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. your fingers curl into the nape of his neck, brushing against the soft curls damp from the rain. there’s an urgency to it—not rushed, but full of everything you’ve both been holding in over the days apart. the unspoken loneliness, the ache of missing each other. it all spills out in the way his lips linger against yours, his breath warm and uneven.

when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his nose brushing yours in the quietest, gentlest way. “you exhausted?” you ask softly, fingers still tangled in his hair.

he gives you that familiar crooked smile, the one that always undoes you. “nah. surprisingly awake.”

the next thing he does is shrugging off his raincoat and walking to the front door to pull of his shoes as well and hang up his coat.

“i’ll help you unpack,” you start, but he just shakes his head, already tugging you toward the couch.

“later. it can wait. you can’t.”

he drops onto the couch with a sigh, tugging you into his lap like you belong there. his arms wrap around your waist, and you settle against him, the weight of his hands on your back grounding you.

“i feel awful,” he starts, “i’m sorry christmas was shit, it shouldn’t have been.”

“it’s not your fault.”

“still,” his thumb brushes over your cheek and he takes in every feature of you, “i should’ve taken you with me and honestly i don’t even know why we spent days apart this year. i always want you with me, you know that?”

you sigh and want to argue about something but matty’s quick to read you.

“because i do, darling. i always want you with me. it doesn’t even matter where we are, i could spend my life with you in this shit little flat. i love you.”

his lips connect to your temple and they stay there.

“i love you more,” you smile.

“d’you know, my mum’s asked about you all the time. she couldn’t believe i’d go anywhere without you.”

“really?” you ask, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“really,” he says, his lips curving into a small smile, “and there’s something else.”

you lean your head to the side to look at him.

he gently kisses your forehead again, “always talk to me when you’re sad or feeling miserable. i’m here for you. and when i’m fucked up you’re always the best to me, s’everything and it’s only fair to even try to be there for you in the same way.”

“you are,” you quickly say, “you’re always there for me. i just sometimes have a bit of a trouble to tell you what’s up when you’re not with me.”

matty nods in understanding, “we’ll work on that, yeah? i’ll just have to remind you then every time i call you when i’m in the studio because i miss you.”

it’s true. matty’s never shy with telling you how he feels, letting you know everytime he misses you or needs you.

“okay,” you nod, “i’ll try.”

matty breaks out in an adorable grin, “that’s my girl.”

his lips meet yours again, this time with more intent. the kiss deepens quickly, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he tilts his head and presses closer. there’s a heat in the way he kisses you, his lips moving against yours like he’s desperate to make up for every second you’d spent apart.

you gasp softly when his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and he takes full advantage of it, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that has your head spinning. it’s messy, slow but deliberate, his lips and tongue working against yours in perfect rhythm.

his hands don’t leave your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as though he’s trying to memorize the feel of you. the intimacy of it—his hands steadying you, his mouth claiming you, the soft hums of satisfaction vibrating in his throat—makes your whole body feel like it’s on fire.

you find your hands gripping at his shoulders, his t-shirt bunched up in your fists as you anchor yourself to him. when he shifts beneath you, pulling you impossibly closer so you’re straddling his lap, you let out a soft whimper against his lips that he swallows eagerly.

“you’re perfect,” he murmurs against your mouth.

his lips trail down to your jaw, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the skin there.

you’re panting now, your head tipping back as he kisses his way to your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. your fingers slide into his hair, tugging slightly, and the groan it pulls from him has heat pooling low in your belly.

“matty,” you breathe, and he lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours with a look that’s nothing short of wrecked.

"what, love?" he asks, as his hands slide down to grip your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to keep you grounded.

“just- fuck,” you breathe out when matty sucks on your neck hard enough to leave a mark there.

“d’you want me to make you feel good? will you let me?”

you nod eagerly which makes matty chuckle.

“alright, lay down f’me, i’m gonna take care of you.”

the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. you slowly lower yourself onto your back and matty moves above you.

his lips find yours again. he keeps them slightly parted, giving you the chance to slide your tongue against his.

the kisses become more heated, each one a little deeper than the last. his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, the other hand resting on your side, his touch sending little sparks of warmth wherever it brushes.

you can feel the heat between you growing. "s’too warm," you mumble against his lips.

his eyes darken slightly. "yeah?" his voice is rough as his fingers lightly trail over the buttons of your shirt. "do you want me to take this off?"

you nod and he slowly starts undoing each button with purposeful care. his gaze flickers between your eyes and the exposed skin. he lets out a groan when your shirt finally falls open, his eyes taking you in.

"you’re so gorgeous," he breathes out in awe, before pressing his lips to yours again.

you respond eagerly, your hands fumbling between your bodies to pull his shirt over his head.

“fuck, i really, really missed you.”

he gently presses his body weight down on you, and you shudder at the feeling of your nipples pressing against his bare chest.

his lips delicately kiss your face, until he reaches your ear. he nips at your lobe, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "you like that?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

you answer in a soft moan, your body arching into him.

his lips slide lower, kissing and sucking on your neck, while his hand slide down to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles.

his mouth moves to your collarbone, and then he teasingly dips lower.

"god, matty," you softly moan as he places a wet kiss on your lower stomach. "feels so good."

his hand, which has been resting on your breast, trails down until it reaches the waistband of your sweatpants.

"more, please," you whimper, lifting your hips instinctively. his fingers slide around the band as he slowly pulls them down, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

he lowers himself onto his stomach on the mattress.

he puts you out of your misery when he finally drags the pad of his index to the bundle of nerves at your center, tracing light circles over the fabric of your panties.

“thought about you like this all the time.”

his finger is still tracing a line from your clit to your entrance, the wet line seeping through your panties.

he presses chaste kisses up your thighs, your breath getting heavier with each one closer to your center. the delirium hits an all time high when he presses a firm kiss to your core.

skilled fingers hook your panties to the side, revealing you in all your glistening glory, "look at you," he marvels hoarsely, "s’ that all for me?"

you nod fast, "yes, yes matty please." you whine out, you'd sound like you were in pain if it were anyone else.

"hey, hey it's alright, don't do that. i’m gonna take care of you, promise." he coos, calming your pleas, "come on, leg on my shoulder."

he quickly slides off your panties before you oblige and get used to the new angle.

slowly, his tongue flicks over your glistening cunt, and you gasp, your body trembling at the touch.

he moans in response, as if he can’t get enough of the taste of you, his tongue swirling in soft, teasing motions that have your hips lifting off the bed in search of more.

"so fucking sweet," he mutters against you, before repeating the motion, licking you again and again, while he grinds himself against the couch.

your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer, deeper, your body quivering as he continues. he alternates between sucking and licking your clit, his finger moving up and down until it enteres you gently, then slowly adding another, the stretch an overwhelming pleasure.

you gasped his name, your body writhing beneath him as the pressure builds with every move.

"matty please, don't stop..." you beg, voice thick with need.

his fingers curl inside you, pressing just the right spot as his tongue continues swirling around you.

“fuck- close,” you moan out, the pressure already right there.

matty doesn’t stop, he hums once to let you know to just let go.

it doesn’t take any more and your legs start trembling as you reach the edge.

"i’m-"you gasp, but the words dissolve into a string of moans as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. your legs are shaking as you come undone, clenching around his fingers, your hips bucking against his mouth.

matty doesn’t stop, though. he keeps going at a gentle pace, letting you ride out the intensity of your orgasm. then, he slowly pulls away, his lips glistening as he looks up at you, eyes wide and full of wonder.

“feel good?” he asks softly, licking his lips.

you laugh breathlessly as you nod.

he moves his body up so he’s exactly laying on you like before, “taste yourself,” he grins.

his mouth comes down to yours and he wastes no time to glide his tongue into your mouth, eagerly licking into you to share your taste.

he swallows a moan you let out when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he smiles proudly when he pulls back, “fucking delicious.”

you hum tiredly but your mind is with matty right now, who’s pressing into your thigh.

“let me take care of you?”

his head tilts up slightly, his chin propping on your chest as he looks at you with a lazy, satisfied grin. “it’s alright, darling,” he says softly, “it can wait.”

“but—”

“it’s alright.” he cuts you off, pressing a feather-light kiss to the base of your throat. “i just wanted to make you feel good. that’s enough for me right now.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him, though your lips twitch into a smile. “i love you.”

“i know,” he says, a cheeky little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “i love you too.”

you huff out a laugh, and he dips his head again, kissing along the curve of your shoulder like he can’t help himself.

“how about this,” he continues, his voice low and a little raspy as he props himself up on his elbows to look down at you. “i’ll make something to eat, yeah? and we’ll watch something. whatever you want—your pick.”

you arch an eyebrow at him, your fingers still toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. “whatever i want?”

“anything, love,” he says, leaning down to nudge your nose with his. “even if it’s that god-awful reality show you made me watch last time.”

you laugh, your chest lifting against his, and he grins like he’s just won something.

“alright,” you say, your voice softening as you cup his face, your thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “in a minute.”

his grin fades into something gentler, sweeter, and his eyes soften as he looks at you. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you whisper, pulling him down into a slow, lingering kiss. his lips move against yours like he has all the time in the world, and when he pulls back, his forehead presses to yours, his breath warm and steady against your lips.

“take all the time you need, darling,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it makes your chest ache.

“so,” you say, smiling as you tighten your hold on him, your legs tangling with his. “guess you’re stuck here for a bit longer.”

“best place to be,” he says with a wink, and when you roll your eyes at him again, he just laughs, his hand coming up to trace idle patterns on your side as the two of you sink further into each other.

[myreallovelymind]

Friday Date Night

We matched the day after Christmas. He’s different than other guys. He texts me in the morning, he asked me out pretty early, gave me a date and planned the whole night for us. He was up North in England over the holidays so I had to wait a week.

A week is both good and bad. More time to chat but also, I was worried both of us were going to imagine someone in our heads and be disappointed by the other when we actually met.

He gave me a restaurant to meet at. A dumpling place in China Town. He got us a pre-theatre menu where you get two baskets of dim sum and a cocktail. I look up the place, it looks pretty basic but he might know that the dumplings are amazing!

Turns out, right before I leave, he tells me we aren’t going there but he wanted to surprise me with where we were actually going. Surprises are both fun and not fun for me. So I do some investigating and figure out where we are actually going. Super stalker, I know!

I turn up, he’s all wrapped up because it’s cold but he has a hot man bun! We get up, I’m nervous. I want him to like me but I want to like him! I don’t believe in masking and pretending I’m someone I’m not so I’m just me. A little silly and weird but me.

We chat and eat. The drinks are great! Mid way through, he realises I’m quite competitive and tells me that he wants to see me again and if I did to, he had an idea for our second date. Clear communication or what??

I’m very dry in my humour so tell him absolutely not and I’m having an awful awful time. We have another drink and then he tells me he has more planned. He doesn’t tell me where we go which causes me stress but it’s quite fun. The meal was like 100 quid and he just pays. I feel bad but it’s also kinda hot.

He takes me to this Irish pub which is in a chapel. It’s really cool! We get two baby Guinness (which I had never had)and he orders me a whiskey & ginger beer. I insist on paying because equality, which I know he really appreciates (brownie points for me). It’s super busy and loud so we have to stand. That’s when I know I want him to kiss me or touch me.

I’ve said it before but my body tells me if I like someone or not. If I want them to touch me, especially in public, I know I fancy them. So I lean in a little and we laugh and drink. It’s so loud, so he decides we should go to stop #3.

It’s a fun gay bar. We get hot toddy’s and sit outside. We talk about our lives. The good and bad parts. Our knees are touching and he sometimes strokes my thigh with his hands. I’m getting really turned on. He chat until midnight and that’s when we get kicked out.

He likes to plan and the plan got derailed because he expected them to be open until later. I see him panic and asks me if I want to still hang out as he doesn’t want this to end. I obviously agree. So we end up going to a Jazz bar which is quite famous in London. There’s a long queue but he tells me we can cut in. He is a member so gets free entry for us.

It’s amazing there. We get more amazing cocktails and we get a seat. We are right next to each other and our legs are touching. We listen to some great music and chat some more. Then he tells me he wants to kiss me. He puts his hand onto my cheek and we kiss.

He can kiss! I find it’s either great and I want more. Or I know I don’t want to see them again. I also hate PDA but I want him to kiss me. We chat, watch and kiss periodically. We stay there until 2/3 am! Then he says he doesn’t fuck on a first date but he would love to keep chatting to me if I wanted to come over. I say only if we can continue kissing.

We get an Uber to his place where he lives alone which is always hot for some reason. I genuinely don’t think he expected to invite me back because his place isn’t spotless. It’s messy but not dirty. He makes me a tea and we chat about music as he put different tiny desk sets on TV.

We make out a lot. I’m straddling him as we kiss. Dry humping like virgin teenagers. I can see the conflict in his eyes but I keep telling him there’s absolutely no pressure from me. I’m teasing but I respect his boundaries. We get to bed at 5 am after chatting. He gives me a t shirt and honestly, getting changed in front of him freaks me out a little. It’s so much more vulnerable than being undressed mid sex.

I get into his bed and we cuddle. I never stay over. Since starting dating, I’ve done it two individual times. That’s it. We cuddle and before you know it, I’m straddling him and we keep kissing. He asks me if I wanted to fuck as he needs me. I say yes. I jump off and he gets a condom. I ride him. Fuck he feels good. He says he’s worried about finishing too soon as he’s still quite drunk. I don’t care. Never have. The tease of just a few minutes of being filled feels amazing. Probably linked to the denial. But he lasts. He’s grabbing my hips and I’m grinding.

I never quite realise I’m loud. I don’t fake, I just feel. He tells me I need to be quiet so he puts his hand on my mouth. I grab his hand. I love it. Then he asks me if I want I be gagged. Yes please. He gags me and I look at him. He tells me how hot I look and we just look into each others eyes.

He is getting close as I get lost in it. He holds onto my hips and cums hard. I collapse. We hug to sleep.

He comes cuddle me at 8:30 am. 2/3 hours after we sleep. We kiss a little and then it gets more and more intense.

Before you know it, I’m on all fours and he’s fucking me. He says I look way too hot and he’s going to cum. Quick fuck but again, I love it.

We cuddle. He orders us Mc Donald’s in bed. We go into the living room. I’m just wearing his t shirt with no underwear as they are soaked. I am super dehydrated and hangover so I’m not as wet as normal but it’s still wetter than the average gal as he mentions it.

We eat and watch TV all morning. I need to leave in 45 minutes but I need another fuck. I get back into bed and 10 minutes before I need to leave, I start kissing him. He fucks me from behind, pulling my hair and holding me. It feels amazing. Then, he tells me to ride him and calls me a good girl. I get so close to cumming, I need him to stop. He hasn’t quite understood denial or the extent that I need it. He tells me he would like me to cum but it’s okay if i don’t want to. I shake my head no, and we keep fucking. He’s getting close and I beg him to cum. It’s raw and sweaty and hot. He feels amazing. He cums, I jump off and get ready to leave. I make a joke about doing a shag and dash!

He kisses me goodbye before I run off to go meet my friends.

He likes me, I like him and he’s invited me to watch the NFL tonight at his ✌️

[hueningstar]

your beomgyu fic was soo good!! ur writing is amazing really. can u please write another about him being dom yandere? 💗💗

Eternal Obsession

Summary : A passionate encounter leaves you trapped in Beomgyu’s obsessive love.

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A/N : Thank you soooo much for your kind words!!!💞 Tbh,I really had fun writing this🫶 I loove getting requests so pls don't hesitate sending me more bc I'll do it

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Pairing : yandere!Beomgyu × reader

Warnings : yandere behaviour, hair pulling, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it)

I think that's all

MDNI

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The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the moon peeking through the curtains. You sat at your desk, headphones on, scrolling through your playlist for the perfect song to fit your mood. A soft knock at the door startled you.

“Come in,” you called, pulling off your headphones.

The door creaked open, revealing Beomgyu with a sheepish smile on his face. He was dressed casually, his hoodie slightly wrinkled, and his hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and disarming. “I thought I’d stop by. You weren’t answering my texts.”

You frowned, reaching for your phone. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t notice. I was just listening to music.”

His eyes flickered to your phone briefly, but his smile didn’t waver. “No worries. I just wanted to see you.”

Beomgyu stepped closer, his presence filling the room. There was something about him that always seemed intense, like his attention was a laser beam burning into you. You didn’t mind at first; it was flattering to have someone so invested. But lately, his attention had started to feel… suffocating.

“Did you need something?” you asked hesitantly, trying to mask your unease.

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Can’t I just want to spend time with you?”

You nodded slowly, but your gut churned. Beomgyu was always so attentive, always finding ways to be near you. At first, it seemed sweet. Now, it felt like he was always watching, always waiting.

“Actually, I was about to head to bed,” you said, standing up.

Beomgyu’s expression darkened for a split second before he plastered on another smile. “Oh, of course. You need your rest.”

You felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside. “Thanks for understanding.”

As you reached for the door to escort him out, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Wait,” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly.

You froze, turning to look at him. His eyes were wide, almost pleading, but there was an edge to them that made your heart race.

“Don’t push me away, Y/N,” he whispered. “I… I can’t lose you.”

“Beomgyu, what are you talking about?” you asked, your voice shaky.

He stepped closer, his grip tightening. “You don’t understand how much I need you. You’re the only thing keeping me sane. Without you, I’m nothing.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip was unrelenting. Panic set in as you realized how serious he was.

“Beomgyu, you’re scaring me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softened, but his grip remained firm. “I don’t want to scare you. I just… I love you so much it hurts. And I can’t let anyone take you away from me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to reason with him. “No one’s taking me away. But you can’t act like this, Beomgyu. It’s not healthy.”

He shook his head vehemently, his eyes glinting with an unsettling determination. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re mine, Y/N. You always have been, and you always will be.”

Before you could react, he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. His hold was suffocating, but you didn’t dare fight back.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice filled with a chilling tenderness. “Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

As his words sank in, you realized the depth of his obsession. Beomgyu wasn’t just in love with you; he was consumed by you. And in his mind, nothing would ever change that.

No matter what you did, Beomgyu would never let you go.

Beomgyu's grip on you tightens as he backs you up against the wall, his breath hot against your ear. "You think I'm obsessed? You have no idea what I'm capable of when it comes to you," he growls, his free hand roaming up your side.

Beomgyu's lips crash against yours in a bruising kiss, hungry and demanding. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming every inch as his hand squeezes your breast roughly. "Mine," he grunts between kisses, grinding his hardness against you.

You whimper against his lips, your knees going weak at his forceful touch. Despite the fear lingering in your mind, your body responds to him hungrily. "Beomgyu..." you gasp out, unsure if you're pleading for him to stop or keep going.

His teeth nip at your bottom lip, drawing a small moan from you "That's right, say my name," his voice trails down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses "Say it while I'm inside you"

He spins you around and bends you over the nearest surface, his hands roughly spreading your legs apart. "Look at this pretty little pussy, all mine," he growls, rubbing his clothed erection against your soaked folds.

With a swift motion, you feel your panties ripped away, cool air hitting your most intimate parts. Beomgyu's fingers eagerly probe your soaked entrance, teasing your clit. "So wet for me already, love?"

His fingers move in and out of you in a steady rhythm, causing you to moan and push back against his hand "That's right, baby. Make those sweet sounds for me," he whispers, his other hand gripping your hair firmly " Tell me who owns this beautiful body?"

"Y-You do," you stutter out, your voice laced with pleasure and a hint of fear. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot, and your legs nearly give out. "Oh god, Beomgyu!"

He releases your hair, standing up and quickly undoing his pants. His thick, hard length springs free, bobbing against his stomach. "That's right, you belong to me. And now, I'm going to claim this pussy as my own,"

Without warning, Beomgyu plunges his throbbing cock deep inside your dripping cunt, stretching you deliciously around his girth. He sets a relentless pace, pounding into you with possessive fervor. "Fuck, so tight!"

His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your flesh as he slams into you over and over. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by your moans and his guttural grunts. "You feel that? You feel how perfectly you take my dick?"

Beomgyu reaches around and starts rubbing your clit in fast, circular motions, sending you spiraling towards an intense orgasm. "I'm gonna fill this pussy up with my cum, mark you as mine for everyone to see," he snarls, his thrusts becoming even more brutal.

Your body convulses as the orgasm hits, your walls clenching around Beomgyu's cock as you scream in ecstasy. He follows shortly after, his thick load flooding your cunt as he roars in triumph. "Fuck, I'm cumming inside you!"

After emptying himself completely, he pulls out slowly, watching as his mixture of pleasure dribble from your well-used entrance "Look at that - my cum leaking out of my precious slut." His voice is husky with satisfaction, but there's still an edge of dominance.

Beomgyu gathers you into his arms, his touch surprisingly gentle now. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring against your skin. "You're mine, all mine. My perfect little whore. No other man will ever touch you like this again."

His lips trace down your neck, leaving a love bite just below your ear "Though you should know..." his voice drops to a dark whisper "If anyone even dares to look at you the wrong way..." he pauses, his breath hot against your ear.

"I'll fucking end them." His words are a chilling promise, filled with a fierce, possessive love and a hint of deadly seriousness. He holds you closer, his heart beating in sync with yours, a silent declaration of his absolute devotion and unbreakable claim over you.

Your heart races at his words, a shiver running down your spine at the depth of his devotion and the darkness of his threats. You nestle further into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. "I'm yours, Beomgyu. Always and only yours."

In the warm afterglow of your intense lovemaking, Beomgyu cradles you tenderly against his muscular chest, his hands roaming your curves with adoring touches. "You're my everything, sweetheart. Never doubt how much I worship this gorgeous body and the incredible woman inside it."

His hand moves to gently cup your cheek as he looks into your eyes "I can feel your heart still racing, baby. Are you okay? Did I... hurt you?" His voice is gentle now, all dominance temporarily replaced with tender concern "I need you to tell me, love..."

Feeling his gentle touch, I melt into his hand, my heart fluttering at the sudden change in his demeanor. I smile softly up at him. "No, Beomgyu. You didn't hurt me... actually, it was perfect."

His expression softens into a relieved smile, eyes sparkling with affection. "Good, because hurting you is the last thing I'd ever want to do. I only want to give you pleasure, my love." He leans in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as the room fills with the sound of your steady breathing and the soft patter of rain outside. In this moment, wrapped up in his love and warmth, you feel truly cherished and at peace.

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[yoursinisforgiven]

DESIRE ──

pairing: jonah x reader (bartender) 

cw: smut, afab reader, oral (female receiving), masturbation, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, mentions of porn (but not really), body worship, reader is stubborn, reader is slightly intoxicated (not drunk.), reader experiences a menstrual cycle, aftercare.

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

You weren’t a needy person.

At least, you liked to think so. You and Jonah had always balanced on that fine line between closeness and independence—two orbits circling the same sun, occasionally brushing against each other’s gravity but never colliding. If love were a sound, yours wasn’t a loud, constant roar but a gentle hum, like the kind you feel more than hear.

You didn’t need to talk constantly or cling to each other to feel connected. More often than not, you were sprawled out on the bed while Jonah sat at his desk, his face illuminated by the cool glow of his monitor. You’d watch him play games, the kind that seemed endlessly complicated, full of lore and choices you didn’t quite understand. He had told you the name of this one—something grand and medieval-sounding—but you’d forgotten it somewhere between his explanation and the story unfolding on the screen.

“Which door should I pick?” Jonah’s voice broke the stillness, soft but carrying a curious weight.

You propped yourself up on one elbow and glanced at the screen. The dungeon was rendered in crisp, almost tactile detail—stone walls slick with imagined moisture, torches casting restless shadows. Two doors stood before Jonah’s character, each identical except for the words that had just appeared at the bottom of the screen:

Left or right, warrior?

“Hmm,” you murmured, squinting at the image. “What’s behind them?”

“Don’t know,” Jonah said, his fingers hovering over the keys. “That’s the point.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, the question hanging between you both like smoke. There was something oddly profound about the simplicity of it. Two doors. Left or right. One choice leading to a path that would unfold, the other forever a mystery.

“Does it matter?” you finally asked, resting your chin on your hand.

Jonah glanced at you, his lips twitching in a half-smile. “Of course it matters. Every choice matters.”

“Maybe,” you said, sitting up fully now. “But only because we think it does. Once you pick a door, the other one stops existing in any meaningful way. You’ll never know what’s behind it, so does it really matter?”

He tilted his head, considering your words as he leaned back in his chair. “Sounds like a cop-out,” he teased lightly, though his expression suggested he was mulling it over

“The left,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

Jonah turned his head slightly, a mischievous glint already forming in his eyes. “Hmm, just to spite you, I think I’m gonna pick the right.”

You rolled your eyes, though the teasing lilt in his voice made it impossible not to smile. He moved the mouse, the cursor hovering briefly over the left door—almost as if reconsidering—before clicking on the right.

“Fine,” you said, the grin creeping across your face. Without hesitation, you reached for the throw pillow neatly perched at the corner of the bed. With a practiced aim, you launched it squarely at his head.

“Hey! Ow! What was that fo—”

Before he could finish, the screen lit up with sudden movement. The warrior on the monitor strode confidently through the right door, only to be met with a deafening roar. A massive dragon swooped into view, its scaly form shimmering with an unsettling, almost hypnotic, beauty. In seconds, it lunged, jaws snapping shut around Jonah’s unfortunate avatar. The screen faded to black as a dramatic game over message appeared, accompanied by mournful music.

For a moment, the room was still, save for the lingering echo of the dragon’s roar.

Jonah turned slowly to you, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and grudging admiration.

“Maybe you should’ve listened to me?” you said, your voice light but laced with just enough smugness to drive the point home.

He let out a groan, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you shot back, your laughter bubbling up as you leaned against the pillows.

Jonah shook his head, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Alright, oracle. Next time I’ll let you make the calls.”

You grinned, watching as he reset the game, his fingers moving across the keyboard with ease. The dragon’s defeat replayed in your mind, though your focus drifted to Jonah. It wasn’t about the choice of doors or the fate of his pixelated warrior. It was the way he laughed, the way he took the loss with grace, the way these little moments filled the space between you with something unspoken but undeniable.

 ──

You weren’t a needy person—so why were you acting like this?

Tonight, you’d gotten home earlier than usual. The bar had closed early thanks to the holiday lull, leaving you with an empty space in your schedule that felt heavier than it should have. After wiping down the counters, stacking the chairs, and locking up, you’d let yourself indulge in a few drinks. One turned into two, then three.

The taste of alcohol clung to your tongue, warm and heady, but it wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts. The weight in your chest wasn’t from the drinks; it was something else entirely. Something more consuming.

Your mind drifted back to the last table you’d cleaned tonight—the one tucked away in the far-right corner. Just thinking about it sent your heart racing, a pulse that seemed to echo in your ears.

You could almost see it again, the ghost of that night replaying itself in your mind like a scene burned into your memory. Jonah’s touch—warm and insistent, the roughness of his hands grounding you as they gripped your hips. His teasing words whispered against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. And his mouth, hot and relentless, trailing kisses that made you forget where you were, forget that there were rules, boundaries, cameras.

You blinked, trying to shake yourself out of it, but the memory was too vivid. You could almost feel the way his hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch igniting a fire beneath your skin. The way his voice had dropped to a husky murmur, teasing and commanding all at once, as he coaxed reactions out of you that you hadn’t even known you could give.

Your breath hitched, and you realized your body was reacting to the memory as if it were happening all over again. Heat coursed through you, pooling low in your belly, and you shifted in your seat, embarrassed by the intensity of it—even though no one else was there to see.

You ran a hand over your face, willing the flush to fade, but it only seemed to intensify. You couldn’t help it; the memory wasn’t just a memory—it was a part of you now, etched into your skin like a tattoo.

“Get a grip,” you muttered to yourself, though your voice sounded far less convincing than you’d hoped.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Maybe it was the drinks making you sentimental, or maybe it was just the quiet, the stillness that left too much room for thoughts you weren’t ready to face. Either way, you couldn’t shake the heat rushing through you or the ache that settled deep in your chest—and lower still.

You’d barely closed the door behind you when you heard Jonah’s voice drift from his gaming setup, low and smooth, punctuated by bursts of laughter. The sound sent an involuntary shiver through you, and you felt the heat you’d tried to suppress earlier flare up again, insistent and unyielding.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as you pressed your back against the door, willing yourself to calm down. Of course, he was streaming. It was his routine, and you being home early didn’t change that. But knowing he was just a room away, completely unaware of how you were feeling, only made the ache worse.

Slipping off your shoes, you padded quietly to the living room and sank onto the couch. The faint glow of his monitor cast flickering lights into the hallway, and you could hear his voice clearly now—a mix of teasing banter and focused determination as he spoke to his chat and navigated whatever game he was playing.

You tried to focus on anything else. You scrolled through your phone, turned on the TV, even considered pouring another drink to take the edge off. But it was useless. Your mind kept looping back to the bar, to the way Jonah had looked at you that night, his gaze heavy with intent. And now, the sound of his voice, casual and unbothered, only added fuel to the fire building inside you.

Time passed in a slow, agonizing crawl. You shifted on the couch, your body restless and warm. Every now and then, a louder laugh or a particularly sharp comment from Jonah would pierce through your haze, making your stomach flutter and your breath hitch. It was ridiculous, really, how just his presence—even indirect—could do this to you.

Two hours. Two long hours of sitting there, stewing in your own emotions and desire, before his voice took on a different tone. More relaxed, a little softer.

“All right, chat,” Jonah said, his words accompanied by the familiar sound of his headset being adjusted. “I’m calling it for tonight. Gotta refuel.”

You heard the stream end, the music fading into silence, and moments later, Jonah emerged from his setup. He stretched as he walked into the living room, his hair slightly mussed from the headset, and offered you a lazy smile.

“Hey, didn’t know you were back already,” he said, his voice warm and casual. “Bar closed early?”

You nodded, forcing a small smile in return. “Yeah, holiday hours.”

Jonah flopped onto the arm of the couch, leaning toward you with a teasing grin. “Hope you didn’t get too bored waiting for me to finish up.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool even as your heart raced from his proximity.

He glanced at the clock on the wall before standing again. “I’m starving. Thinking about grabbing some takeout—want anything?”

The question hit you harder than it should have. It wasn’t just about food; it was a reminder of how casual everything was for him right now, while you were sitting here, practically unraveling.

You hesitated, your mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. Part of you wanted to grab his hand, pull him back down, and tell him exactly what you were feeling—how much you wanted him, how much his presence affected you. But the other part, the quieter but more insistent voice, told you not to.

You weren’t needy. You didn’t want to be.

So you shook your head, your voice steady even as your chest ached. “I’m good. Go ahead.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. It was as if he could sense something just beneath the surface, but he didn’t press. He simply nodded, grabbing his keys from the counter.

“All right. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, giving you a quick smile before heading out the door.

As soon as it clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, your carefully maintained composure cracking just enough for you to feel the full weight of your emotions. The denial sat heavy in your chest, a knot of longing and frustration that refused to untangle.

 ──

You weren’t needy; you were just needing.

That’s what you told yourself as you padded softly to your and Jonah’s shared bedroom, the quiet of the apartment amplifying every sound—the faint creak of the floorboards, the rustle of fabric as you pulled back the plush blanket. You sank into the familiar embrace of your sheets, the faint scent of Jonah still lingering on the pillow beside you.

Your breath hitched as you unlocked your phone, your fingers moving instinctively to the familiar numbers of your anniversary. The thought of it—of that day, the significance it held, and everything it symbolized—only stirred something deeper within you.

Your thumb hovered over your photo app before pressing into it, scrolling until you reached a specific album. One you’d tucked away for moments like this, though you never admitted it outright. Moments where the ache for him felt too overwhelming to ignore.

As you continued to scroll through the album, a particularly provocative video thumbnail caught your eye. It was a video of Jonah, recorded during for you as a “gift”—you had been working extra hours that week. Your heart raced as you tapped on it, the video filling the screen.

The clip began panned down on Jonah's body, revealing his muscular torso, glistening with a sheen of sweat. He was sprawled out on the plush hotel bed, one hand wrapped around his thick, hard cock, stroking it slowly and teasingly.

 "Miss me, baby?" he purred, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "I miss you too. So fucking much."

Watching the video, you felt your core clench with need, a rush of arousal flooding your sex. Your hand drifted beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, your fingers brushing against the swollen, sensitive flesh of your sex. You were already so wet, your arousal coating your fingers as you began to explore your own needy body.

On the screen, Jonah continued to pleasure himself, his grip tightening around his shaft as he pumped it faster and harder. The obscene sound of his hand moving over his length filled the small room, mingling with his harsh pants and groans of pleasure.

Lost in the throes of your own desire and the memories of Jonah's skilled lovemaking, you let your fingers delve deeper, plunging into the slick heat of your core. You matched his rhythm, fucking yourself with increasing fervor as you watched him bring himself closer to the edge.

Your mind drifted to the way Jonah's hands had felt on your skin, his touch igniting flames of desire that still lingered, even after all this time. As you circled your clit with teasing strokes, you imagined it was his fingers dancing over your most intimate place, his touch stoking the embers of your lust into a raging inferno.

Lost in the throes of your own desire and the memories of Jonah's skilled lovemaking, you let your fingers delve deeper, plunging into the slick heat of your core. Your hips lifted off the bed, pressing into your own touch as you began to fuck yourself with increasing fervor, chasing the pleasure that only you could give yourself.

As the intense sensations coursed through you, you continued to stroke and circle your sensitive clit, drawing out your climax for as long as possible. Your free hand reached up to knead and squeeze your aching breasts, pinching and rolling the stiff peaks between your fingers until they were red and throbbing.

Lost in your own world of pleasure, you failed to hear the soft click of the bedroom door opening, too focused on the delicious sensations consuming your body. It wasn't until you heard a sharp intake of breath that you realized you were no longer alone.

Your eyes flew open, your gaze colliding with Jonah's stunned and aroused stare. He stood in the doorway, his eyes dark and hungry as he took in the erotic sight before him.

For a moment, neither of you moved, frozen in place by the raw, primal energy crackling between your bodies. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Jonah surged forward, kicking the door shut behind him with a loud bang.

He strode towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours, a predatory gleam in their depths. You could see the bulge in his jeans growing with each step, his arousal evident and unmistakable.

“Keep going.” Jonah groaned, his voice rough with desire as he quickly closed the distance between you. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his intense gaze never leaving your pleasure-glazed eyes. Jonah's hand went to the button of his jeans, popping it open and lowering the zipper in one swift motion. He shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his large, throbbing erection.

You watched, transfixed, as Jonah wrapped a hand around his impressive length and began to stroke it slowly. His breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling with each pass of his fist over his aching cock. The obscene sound of his hand moving over his shaft filled the room, mingling with your own needy whimpers and moans.

"Spread your legs wider, baby," Jonah commanded, his voice a low, seductive rumble. 

Obediently, you reached down and gripped your thighs, pulling them apart and exposing your dripping sex to Jonah's hungry gaze. The cool air against your overheated flesh sent a shiver racing up your spine. Jonah licked his lips, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the erotic sight of your glistening pink folds, flushed and swollen with arousal.

"That's it, just like that," he praised, his grip tightening around his throbbing cock as he began to pump it faster, matching the rhythm of your plunging fingers. "Fuck, you look so sexy like this," Jonah groaned, his voice strained with arousal. 

He pumped his thick shaft slowly, his thumb swiping over the leaking tip, spreading the bead of moisture around the swollen head. His eyes remained locked on your body, watching your tits bounce slightly with each thrust of your fingers into your dripping cunt.

“I—” Your voice catches, your throat tightening as you force the words out. “I need you.”

The admission feels heavier than anything else, weighted with vulnerability and unspoken longing. It’s raw, stripped down, and intimate in a way that shakes you. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back, unsure if it’s the words themselves or the gravity of speaking them aloud that leaves you trembling.

With a sharp cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Your sex clenched and fluttered wildly around your fingers, hot liquid gushing out to coat your hand and the sheets beneath you.

Jonah halts his movements and leans in, pushing your thighs further apart. He settled between them, his broad shoulders forcing your legs to spread wider, leaving you utterly exposed and vulnerable to his hungry gaze.

"I’m here. I—I want you to need me just as much as I need you" Jonah murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive, dripping sex. His eyes glinted with love and unbridled lust.

Before you could respond, he dove in, his mouth latching onto your aching clit. He sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips, his tongue flicking over it rapidly as he lapped up the essence of your arousal. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as jolts of electricity shot through your body.

"Jonah!" you wailed, tangling your fingers in his hair and holding him tight against your sex. He groaned against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core.

Jonah's hands gripped your ass, kneading the supple flesh as he feasted on your sex like a man starved. His tongue delved between your slick folds, plunging deep into your channel as he drank down your ambrosia. He fucked you with his tongue, thrusting it in and out of your fluttering walls as he savored your unique flavor.

Your hips undulated against his face, grinding your dripping cunt against his mouth as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jonah matched your rhythm, his tongue swirling and stroking your most intimate places with skillful precision.

He could feel your body tensing, your legs beginning to quake and quiver around his head. He knew you were close to another explosive orgasm, and he was determined to push you over the edge.

"Come on, baby," Jonah growled against your sex, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Give me one more."

Your body trembled and jerked as another intense orgasm crashed over you, your sex clamping down like a vice around Jonah's plunging fingers. Your voice echoing off the walls of the bedroom as you came undone.

Jonah continued to lap and suck at your spasming sex, determined to prolong your pleasure and drink down every last drop of your release. He could feel your essence gushing out, coating his fingers and chin as he worked you through the intense waves of ecstasy.

As your orgasm began to subside, Jonah slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth. He made a show of licking them clean, his tongue swirling around each digit to savor your tangy essence, his eyes never leaving yours.

Rising from between your thighs, Jonah steps out of the room, leaving you alone for a moment. You try to ignore the sharp pang that flares in your chest, telling yourself he’ll be back soon—but the ache lingers, a whisper of doubt you can’t quite silence.

When he returns, he’s holding a warm, damp cloth. Without a word, he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, his movements gentle but deliberate, a quiet reassurance in his presence. He gently began to clean your sensitive sex, his touch tender and caring as he wiped away the evidence of your lovemaking.

"Shh, just relax baby," Jonah soothed, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs as he worked his way up. "I've got you. Let me take care of you."

He continued his trail of kisses, his lips brushing over your lower belly, your ribs, until he reached the valley between your breasts. He paused there, looking up at you with a soft smile as his hands cupped the soft swells.

"I love you so fucking much," Jonah murmured, his voice raw with emotion

To punctuate his words, Jonah leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss. His mouth moved over yours with skill and passion, his tongue delving deep to stroke along yours. You could taste yourself on him, the musky, slightly bitter flavor of your arousal mingling with his own unique taste.

Jonah’s hands slid up to cradle your face, his fingers weaving gently into your hair as he deepened the kiss. There was a tenderness to the way his lips moved against yours, a silent promise wrapped in every touch. His heartbeat thudded against your own, a rhythm of longing and love that seemed to sync with yours as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re ovulating,” he murmured, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

“What?” You blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

“I have an app that tracks your cycle,” he said with an almost boyish grin, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Your jaw dropped. “Wait—you knew? And you still left earlier?”

Jonah chuckled, the sound rich and unapologetic. “Of course, I knew.” He shrugged, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips. “But I like hearing you admit it. It’s cute when you get all flustered.”

You groaned, swatting playfully at his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me.” He smirked, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Admit it, you’d miss my antics if I didn’t keep you on your toes.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe a little.”

“Good,” he whispered, pulling you closer. “Because I’d miss you more than anything.”

 

──

author's note: dedicated to @jonahsbf, this was really cute to write.

elias won poll... (it should've been asriel.)

[thesun4ndthestar]

•Stargazing•

Regulus was sitting on a bench at the end of the shore, looking at the stars, drowning in that familiar feeling of comfort he used to get when he was still a child, stargazing with his brother.

His mind in the last few weeks was restless.

As Sirius did when he was younger, Regulus had just escaped the nightmare that was his home, and now he was living with his brother’s best friend and, of course, his brother.

He couldn’t resist the tears that started falling from his eyes when thinking about how he had just betrayed his parents. The same people that he always hated, the people that ruined his childhood, that never supported him. The same people that encouraged him only when he did what they strictly wanted, the people he was growing to please with whatever they wished him to do. All things that he never really wanted to do, but always did feeling the urge to meet some expectations, their expectations, that were actually unattainable, too high to meet for anyone with at least a little bit of humanity.

“Is everything alright?” someone asked him sitting beside him on the bench.

“What are you even doing here, Potter?” he replied coldly.

“I saw you sneak out, I knew something was wrong so I followed you.” James replied giving Regulus one of his smiles, for which every girl (and non) in Hogwarts immediately melted after seeing.

“Neve heard of something called privacy?” Another tear escaped Regulus’ eye.

“That’s is hardly a thing while living with Potters and you should know that since you’ve already spent a month with us. Besides you’re crying.”

“No shit, I didn’t notice, smartarse.”

“Is that Regulus up there? Sirius taught me a bit about stars.” James asked trying to change topic, not minding the insult he had just received from the boy next to him.

“Yes, it is.” Regulus replied, his eyes up again on the night sky.

“Aren’t you cold? You don’t seem to be wearing anything warm.” James asked worryingly.

“Asks the one that’s in his pyjamas and a jumper.”

“Hey, don’t be mean! At least I have a jumper on!” said that, an idea flashed in James’ mind and he started talking off the jumper. “Here, take it, I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“If I take it, you’ll be the one catching a cold.”

“Since when do you care about me, Reg?”

“I don’t, and it’s Regulus for you.”

James smiled as Regulus reluctantly took his jumper. They spent almost two whole hours stargazing and making small talk, which both of them actually hated, but every time James tried asking something more deep to the younger one, he frowned and scolded the older saying “too personal, you don’t have to know”. What both didn’t realise though was that even the smaller questions such as: what’s your favourite colour? or do you have a favourite pen? or also what kind of music do you listen to? made them get closer, more than Regulus would have liked if he realised, but less than how James secretly wanted.

[pwblant]

17. the big day

april 17, thursday

belle pulls into the parking lot, and you sit quietly in the passenger seat.

"since when were you into nct? i thought you weren’t into their kind of music," you ask, curious why belle had suddenly invited you to an nct concert last minute.

"ah, well... you know, i try to explore new genres sometimes. it gets boring listening to the same songs every day," she replies casually, clearly trying to play it off. "anyway, we’re here now," she adds, shifting the subject.

"a riize concert would've been better," you joke, grinning.

the second you mention the group’s name, belle stiffens. goosebumps spread down her arms, and she subtly grips the steering wheel tighter. she’s determined not to let anything slip.

"hey! don’t compare them—they’re both good in their own ways," belle says, but there’s a slight crack in her voice. she pauses, and you notice her hands start to tremble slightly.

"you good?" you ask, sensing the shift in her tone.

"i'm fine! let’s just head in," she insists, quickly getting out of the car and leading the way to the entrance.

"tickets, please?" the front guard asks as you both approach.

"yep, right here for two," belle says, pulling out her phone to show the two digital copies.

"backstage passes? you ladies can head through that entrance," the guard says, pointing to a different path.

"thank you! let’s go, y/n!" belle says enthusiastically, tugging you along.

"wait—did he just say backstage?" you ask, hurrying to catch up.

"ah, yeah—no clue why he said that. i only booked us vip seats. must’ve been a mistake. haha," belle laughs nervously.

"we’re vip seated? oh my gosh, i’ve never sat that close at a concert before! thank you, belle!" you say excitedly, clinging to her arm. belle just smiles, relieved the topic seems to be over.

"here it is," she says as security pulls back the curtain, revealing the entrance.

"sunoo? minjeong..?" you blurt out, eyes widening as you recognize the familiar faces standing just beyond the curtain.

"oh... hey! funny running into you two here!" belle says, forcing a laugh as if this wasn’t the exact situation they were all planning this whole time.

“what’s going on?" you question the situation. you were expecting a lot of things to happen today, but this was definitely not on your list.

belle sighs, finally giving in. "okay, fine. we might have planned this."

"you planned for us to meet backstage at an… nct concert?" you ask, still processing.

"yes... surprise?" she offers weakly.

despite your initial confusion, you can’t help but laugh. "belle, you could’ve just told me! this is insane."

"i know, i know. but hey, can we fix everything that happened between the four of us? it’s been so long," belle says, nudging you lightly.

“we’ve been meaning to apologize to you y/n, we’re so sorry for what happened in the past. we overreacted and we realized that too late. we really miss you guys,” winter said with a pleading look on her face, genuinity seeping through her voice.

your eyes started welling up with tears. “of course i forgive you guys, i was in the wrong too y’know.” you said, rushing up to give the both of them a warm, tight hug.

“belle, join us!” you call.

the four of you hug each other like there’s no tomorrow. life really hadn’t been the same when all of you were torn apart.

minjeong chuckles, being the first to break the hug. "well, now you’re here, come on, let’s not keep the others waiting."

"others?" you echo, following as they lead you deeper inside.

belle just smiles, this time genuinely. "trust me, you’ll like this part."

—

masterlist | next

TAGLIST : OPEN (comment to be added)

@binoyu @sqh3e @antosaurius @yoursyuno @jvngw0nlvr @dorritoni @dudekiss3r @tadadw @choc0br3ad @kukkurookkoo @nujeskz

[cuteniarose]

Thanks for the tag, though you should know you’re putting me through unmeasurable amounts of mental torment (/JOKING, just so we’re clear) because I barely ever listen to music 😅

Tagging @upsettimyspagetthi this is your problem now bestie (also I have no other friends on here lmao)

Top 5 On Repeat tag game

@powdeeee @creampuffqueen @mushed-kid

[bloobydabloob]

Idk if this is ur type of music but i love listening to Talkshow Boy while drawing striders&dirkjake i think its a fun vibe. Especially Testosterone & Chop Us Out though i have a hard time picking favorites especially with the testosterone(album)

Just got back from a degree show. Check out this awesome art before I answer, sorry for lack of credit. I went near the end of the exhibition and most of the artists had no business cards left sadly. Sigh. I’ll have a look & update the alt text if I can find credit.

I’m mostly a death grips / Fiona Apple guy when it comes to music nowadays, if you are asking about taste. (My favorite song right now is coco mango diced by MF DOOM though) but I did used to listen to talk show boy when I was maybe 13 or 14.

From memory my favorite on testosterone was called something like “four breakbeats” or something. My bad, it has been a hot minute. I’ll relisten after this. I definitely understand where the Strider connotations come from with that artist though. I don’t think you’re alone either considering I’m also pretty sure there is a Dave Strider animatic to his biggest song. Ignore if I’m just lying here.

For songs / artists I associate with Dirk, I’m lacking. I have one song in my Dirk playlist and it is “declare independence” by Björk. (Don’t think he would listen to it, just associate with him). I do associate a few death grips songs with him but I think it’s purely by virtue of being a fan. (Specifically hot head, spread eagle across the block & I break mirrors with my face in the United States for Dirk / Spikes + culture shock + you might think he loves you yadda yadda for UltDirk. I recommend all songs. All good songs)

Here is a selection of songs on my DirkJake Spotify playlist though. Ignore if this is actually a sucky selection, don’t tell me if it is. I’m willing to explain any if you are curious.

Thanks for sharing this with me though. I’ll relisten to the album next time I draw Dirk… so probably soon. I draw that guy too much

[bigdickevans]

i don’t know if this is gonna make sense but i feel like Wicked’s casting is bad for like. longevity. bc sure in the Movie Theater having the Movie Theater experience my ape brain goes oh! jeff goldblum! haha cool. then i exit the theater and turn on the soundtrack in the car. then i also listen to it the next day at home with earbuds. and maybe again the day after that in the shower with a speaker. and it’s like hmm. i don’t think seeing jeff goldblum as the wizard of oz is worth having mediocre moments in the soundtrack. that you should want me to listen to multiple times. “i thought he did fine!” fine? it’s. it’s Wicked. genuinely why on earth should i settle for “fine” ITS WICKED i feel like im going bananas.

[esta-elavaris]

Had a moment today that exemplifies how my family thinks but like, in a way that’s just very sad and makes me glad I don’t think that way.

Showed a relative the amazing painting that friend did for me, and her first response was “you’d be able to sell that for some good money!!!”

Like. No????

For months I’ve discussed this creative trade with this friend, we’ve talked about what the other wants, we’ve gotten excited about it and traded progress pics as we work on it for each other, gotten stoked over making plans to get to the post office and seeing the other finally get it, and it’s just been a very wholesome and very fun project. It took six weeks for us to complete these projects, and now I have something on display in my room that makes me very happy, that’s objectively beautiful, and that I know a friend put a lot of effort into making for me and was THRILLED when I adored it.

And my family’s immediate line of thinking is “make a few quid from it lol”.

I can’t imagine the headspace it must take to go through life like that.

[good-night-space-kid]

It’s rough out here for those of us who want to listen to other people’s character playlists but don’t like indie. Stay strong soldiers 🫡

[yoohyeon]

Idk if I’m going crazy, but I feel like I hear music above, but I can’t be sure cause my dad is snoring and my aquarium is making sounds 😭