#like god. they love each other so much but they can’t have a normal conversation about it. they just show up when the other is in trouble

[kortac-sweetheart]

Im frothing at the mouth for your blog, I love the kortac boys and ghosts so much thank you for the blessings

An offering to you is how do you think the boys (any really) would feel about an oddball lover? like weird habits, prolonged eye contact or like no eye contact, touchy or not at all, rituals they like to follow, odd social habits?

I always notice that the way reader (across like a lot of fics) are usually "normal" an opposite (usually) to the character. I want some freaky little guys together in a jar to shake around

Totally okay to say no, weird request :]

hi dear, don’t worry! not a weird rq at all, i’m intimately knowledgeable about an oddball reader bc all of that describes me lol (or past me)

i think that for kortac guys like nikto and krueger, and konig then they wouldn’t care to be honest. they’re (in their eyes) a hell of a lot weirder than you are.

nikto especially bc you accepted him (and all his alters) and they don’t see that they really have any room to judge you on your own weird habits. you’ve welcomed them entirely with open arms, why wouldn’t they extend that to you as well?

he just rolls with the punches tbh, doesn’t really push any sort of boundaries you may have, whether it be for eye contact or for physical touch. all you need to do is tug on his sleeve to catch his attention so you can murmur what you feel in that moment and he’ll adjust accordingly.

can’t make eye contact? no big deal, although do pardon nikto for his own penchant for staring at you. he just likes to look at his little love.

make too much eye contact? wonderful, he gets to stare into your eyes and admire them to their heart’s content. sometimes you two will just have a silent conversation with each other through eye contact and it freaks out the other operators a bit. (freak to freak communication /affectionate)

nikto understands your feelings about physical touch very well. they also don’t like to touch others either, makes them feel gross and they have to brush off the feeling after. doesn’t stop them from being human and craving skin-to-skin with their beloved though, because it’s you.

all in all, nikto could handle it. handle you. you handle all of him just as well, and he’s not one to half-ass anything, let alone reciprocating your love. it’s just all about communication at the end of the day.

(also don’t worry about others picking on you for your weird habits, he’s built like a brick shithouse and has a mean glare to boot no one is gonna say anything to you.)

krueger… krueger is a little meaner than nikto is. outwardly he’s not as weird as you are, he likes to tease and push your buttons a little bit. but it’s always in good fun (he’s your boyfriend after all), and never truly meant to demean you.

is always ready to throw down with someone who’s actually picking on you though, that’s a privilege that’s reserved for him and him only. you’re his little weirdo and he’ll defend you until his opponent’s dying breath (yes his opponent’s, not his bc he’s not dying lol)

and konig, we all already know that he has social anxiety. he’s in the same boat that you are, so what leg would he have to stand on to call you out for your habits? it would make him a silly hypocrite so he doesn’t mind it at all.

i think he takes comfort in it actually, knowing that he’s not alone in being a black sheep in the crowd. it’s not that he encourages your habits necessarily but he’s very accommodating for you.

if you can’t speak up then god give him strength because then he’ll do it for you. yes he loves you enough to overcome the hurdle of talking to the fast food worker that got your order wrong.

you’re both weirdos in this case but it’s a happy and loving relationship regardless.

simon is also just like nikto in this case. he’s also weird as fuck and as an off putting aura around him, so who the hell is he to judge?

as long as you openly communicate your boundaries and feelings with him that day then he’s fine with going along with your habits that day and any other day. he finds them endearing actually, price, gaz and soap all seem to be put together on the surface but you, you’re uniquely you. even if that means falling outside the norm, he likes anything that makes up you and so that extends to your weird little habits as well.

johnny is also a guy that just loves you for who you are. if you completely upheaved all those weird habits that make you, well, you; then you just wouldn’t be the same, and it would make him sad.

he doesn’t have an issue with it, he’s seen a lot weirder things in his time so this is very mild actually. finds your inability to maintain eye contact and the way you hide behind him when meeting someone new very endearing.

yeah, he’s just so in love with you and everything that makes up the foundation of you that he wouldn’t change it for the world, weird habits and all.

[lgbtiwtv]

the thing about lestat and armand is that their relationship is literally incomprehensible. they are boy best friends they are codependent worsties they are archrivals they are platonic soulmates they are telepathic gossipers they are part time haters and full time ride or dies they are insane bisexuals but most importantly. they are toxic exes. despite the fact that they have never once dated. hope this helps

[munsonsmixtapes]

Mechanic Eddie? The reader is Eddie’s girlfriend or wife and she’s stopping by the shop cause they have lunch plans. While she’s waiting for Eddie one of the other mechanics (who Eddie cannot stand) starts hitting on her thinking she’s a customer and Eddie gets mad… 👀 and reader and Eddie don’t make it to the lunch plan cause Eddie goes feral 🤭

She’s back at it again with amazing ideas!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, creampie, cockwarming, reader gets hit on by one of Eddie’s employees

The shop is practically empty when you enter it and everyone stops to wave at you, making sure to do so since they all seem to want to kiss up to the boss’s wife to get on Eddie’s good side. And as long as you’re happy, he is. You’re the most important thing in his life so he takes your opinion very seriously. When he opened the shop, he let you pick out a lot of the decorations. And he can’t help but smile proudly when customers compliment the 50’s themed decor that was all thanks to you.

You’re so in love with each other and everyone knows it. All of his employees love you and they’re all so respectful, treating you like they do him. It also helps that you bring them sandwiches pretty much every time you come in.

Rod is the new guy who always flirts with the women who come in, even when they bring along their romantic partners and he’s one more complaint away from being fired. Three strikes and he’s out. He’s got one more left and Eddie really hopes he doesn’t blow it.

But when you show up in your short dress, that promise Rod made to Eddie about being on his best behavior goes out the window. He watches you move through the shop, handing out sandwiches and making conversation with the other employees and he has a one track mind now, completely abandoning his current task as you approach. He thinks that maybe his flirting will finally work out.

He leans against the hood of the car he’s working on, making an attempt to make you notice him and you do, making a beeline for him with your basket of sandwiches. You figure he must be the new guy Eddie’s constantly complaining about and now you’re interested to see if he’s actually as bad as your husband says because he always tends to be a bit dramatic.

You put on your bright smile and hold the basket out to Rod. He happily takes a sandwich then steps forward and makes an attempt to put on a flirty smile. Yours matches his, but he doesn’t know that you’re just trying to be nice.

“I’m y/n,” you smile, putting your hand out for him to shake and he takes it despite all of the grease on his hands. You give it a shake then quickly pull away, already feeling uncomfortable being near the man.

“Rod,” he says with a nod, stepping even closer and now you’re fearing for your safety. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

“I think maybe I should reintroduce myself again,” you reply. I’m y/n, y/n Munson, Eddie’s wife.” You hold up the hand you’ve got your ring on and Rod’s mouth falls open at the giant rock on your ring finger. The thing is so huge that he’s sure he could see it from outer space.

He doesn’t seem to care that you’re married because he’s stepping even closer, causing you to step back again and again until your back hits someone’s chest. Their hand lands on your shoulder and just from the weight of it, you just know that it’s your husband.

“That’s the final straw. I’ve given you plenty of chances to change but I haven’t seen any growth. You have made so many people uncomfortable and now you’re hitting on y/n? Get out.”

Eddie is normally very relaxed so seeing him so riled up is so different. He’s always so sweet to you so this isn’t something you see very often. But when you do…god, you’re nothing but a puddle. The way he’s so angry and on your behalf makes you feel the need to go clean yourself up, just knowing that you’re making a mess in your panties.

“What-”

“Did I stutter? Apologize to my wife and the fuck out!” Eddie’s pointing towards the door and you’re no longer scared but rather turned on by how protective Eddie is of you. You know he was wanting an excuse to fire the guy anyway, but still. He’s always quick to jump to your defense and you feel so loved because of it. He’s your hero until death do you part.

“I’m sorry,” Rod apologizes then makes a scene of leaving the shop, throwing different tools around while screaming expletives and how he’s going to sue for wrongful termination.

You laugh it off, not actually scared anymore as Eddie protectively wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. Once Rod is gone, his tired screeching as he pulls out of the parking lot, everyone goes back to work and you and Eddie go to his office, business as usual. It’s just a little blip.

Once safely inside his office, you sit on his desk, admiring the photo he has of the two of you on your wedding day, sharing a kiss. He has copies of that exact photo everywhere, even keeping one in his wallet to look at when he misses you, which is anytime he’s not around you.

You spread your legs and he steps between them. You grab hold of his shirt and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his as he cages you in, pressing his hands against the desk. You both know he needs to get back to work, but the position you’re in and the need is far too strong to ignore.

You watch him slowly sink to the floor, pulling your panties down as he does and once they’re off, he sticks them in his back pocket before discarding your shoes. He then grabs hold of your thighs and pulls you closer, draping your legs over his shoulders. Your dress is pushed up as he kisses up your legs, murmuring what you just know are sweet nothings into your skin.

“Shouldn’t I be the one giving you head?” You ask and Eddie can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“But I’m not the one who looks fucking hot today so really, I’m just giving you what you rightfully deserve,” he replies, peppering your inner thigh with kisses before shoving his face into your cunt.

He’s being nothing but gentle, teasing as he goes in with his tongue, putting just a little pressure on your clit as you let out a moan, making sure to get his hair out of the way so it doesn’t interfere with his work. You move it this way and that as he gets more aggressive, biting down again and again. Both of you are grateful that he had all of that soundproof material installed for exactly this reason. Let’s just say that this isn’t the first time that you’ve been in the exact position in this exact setting…

He somehow gets you even closer, pushing his face further into your cunt as your heels dig into his back, moan after moan falling from your lips. The whole thing is making you dizzy just like usual, but this time, you’re on such a high that you feel you’re seeing stars. He’s much more aggressive, more hungry than normal, acting like he didn’t do this exact thing last night when the two of you couldn’t sleep.

You’re close, you can feel it. You’re pulling on his hair and that only encourages him, putting more into it than he ever has and as you reach your orgasm, nothing but his name falls from your lips in a loud, breathy moan which makes him hard as a rock.

He doesn’t even give you time to come down when he comes up for air. He immediately presses his lips to yours, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to his chair. He sits down, letting you straddle his lap as his tongue slides into your mouth so you can taste yourself on him.

Eddie grabs hold of your hips, helping your grind against him, making him even harder as you move together. He’s bucking his own hips against yours as he moans into your mouth at the feeling. He think he’s earned a fuck after making you come like he did.

You’re unbuttoning his pants as he rolls the chair back against the wall so it’s less likely to move with your activity. His pants are somehow down in an instant and you’re rolling the condom onto him before topping him, your lips moving to his neck as you begin to ride him. Soft and slow as you kiss his neck, his hands moving up your back and curling into the fabric.

You’re moving slower than usual, not in any rush even though you’re in Eddie’s place of work. That’s not even something that’s on your mind. You’re so caught up in him and the way he makes you feel that you can’t possibly stop now, not for anything.

He’s bucking his hips against yours the best he can, watching you hover over him, showering him with compliments about how he’s your hero and how you can always count on him to save the day. He’s eating it up, both your words and the way you’re moving, wanting to take your time.

It always seems like you both are in a rush just because of how horny you are for each other, but this is different, it’s much more intimate, more loving. He wants to stay like that forever. And even when Eddie is coming, he’s still thinking about how much he doesn’t want to leave.

So you two stay like that for a while, just holding each other until it’s time to go home, your lunch plans- the entire reason you had even shown up-completely forgotten just like always. Now you suppose you just have to make it up to him by skipping straight to dessert.

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter five:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this kids), semi-public sex (don’t do this either), jealous jack, dirty talk.

➴ word count: 3.7k

💌 from me to you: you asked, and you shall receive. thank u so much for all the love you all gave to TM(HTMHC) and i hope this final chapter can make u guys happy. sorry if it sucks, though. hope y’all still like me :,)

𖧷

AS YOU put on Trevor’s jersey, you contemplate tonight's game.

It’s November again; the leaves keep falling from the trees, the wind is still cold and impersonal. You’re still tired from all the studying, constantly reevaluating yourself and staying up until late at night to write papers.

Life is still as simple as it was before everything. Before crushing on Zack, before going back to Newark in Summer, before sleeping with Jack Hughes, although— Is it really?

You and Jack hadn’t done anything in months. After fucking him for the last time, you woke up with a Trevor Zegras holding a Hockey stick and ready to break it in half with the help of Jack’s head, which made you snap at him.

“What is your problem, Trevor?!” You yell, barely awake and already pissed off at your brother’s doing. “Why are you here at seven in the morning, yelling at Jack and— is that a stick?”

Trevor lifts it up proudly, like he’s okay with beating Jack up. “Yeah, it is! And it’s about to see Jack’s pretty face.”

“Well—” Jack tries, but you’re not hearing any of it.

“Stop acting like I’m fifteen or whatever. If I want to have sex with him, then I will.”

“What— oh my God. See, this is why I never wanted you to be friends with her. They always end up falling in love, man,” Trevor shouts at Jack, who’s doing his best to hold in his laughter. It isn’t doing much, though. “Sarah, Jack isn’t the right guy for you! He’s a man whore!”

“Y’know I’m still here righ—”

“I don’t care, Trevor, geez,” you sit down on Jack’s couch, covering your face with your hands before speaking again. “I understand why you’re upset and I appreciate the fact that you’re taking care of me, but I’m an adult. I know how to take care of myself.”

“You’re twenty—”

“Besides,” Jack starts, this time his face is serious and his arms are crossed in front of his chest. “I’m not gonna hurt her, you asshole. Have a little faith in me, no?”

“No?” Trevor scoffs, putting the stick down. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking Sarah can’t stand up for herself, or that I will do anything to hurt her, intentionally. Like she’s just another one. Fuck off, Z.”

Trevor wouldn’t stop commenting about the two of you together, even when Jack wasn’t around you. It was tiring to say the least, so you decided to take the matter into your own hands and tell Jack that you were both done.

It was ridiculous, really, since you’ve grown to appreciate Jack’s company, not only as a friend, but as a possible future partner. Getting away from him wasn’t ideal, but if that was you needed to make Trevor shut up, then you’d do it.

Occasionally, you’d text each other, just normal conversations about how you’re doing, and how you’d wish you were together rather than studying for finals.

But today, the Devils were in Anaheim, playing against your brother’s team and you were going to watch them, for the first time ever. Not only you, though. It looks like all of your colleagues and friends are going— you’ve lost count of how many people texted you asking for free tickets.

You were agitated, since everything could go wrong tonight: your brother could go crazy and risk a penalty for punching Jack in the face, you and Jack would see each other after months and Zack was also going to be there.

In your defense, it hadn’t been your idea in the first place. Kiara suggested that you give the extra ticket Trevor gave to you to him, because it’d be a good excuse to talk to him and to leave the whole Jack situation behind.

But the truth is, you’re not really sure if you want to “leave the whole Jack situation behind”. You like him and you know he likes you back. Even though you had the biggest infatuation for Zack, it didn’t hold a candle to what Jack made you feel whenever he was inside you.

But, oh, well.

Now, it’s probably too late to ask Jack to try again. And even if it made you feel a little weird, you knew it was probably best this way.

𖧷

“OH, MAN, I can’t believe we lost.”

Zack’s complaints make you laugh. “I mean, it was kinda obvious. But, yeah, losing 6-2 is really tough.”

“We played well, though,” Kiara adds, trying to sound convincing. You and Zack both funnily stare at each other, choosing not to say anything. “Y’all are just mean. Sarah, it’s your brother’s team!”

“I know, I know,” you snicker. “Sorry. I’ll tell him he played well.”

“You’re seeing him tonight?” Zack asks, his brown eyes expressing curiosity. “Can I come? The Devils are fucking awesome!”

“Yes, we have, like, a little get together party, if you know what I mean,” you shrug, biting your lips. “I mean, you can definitely come if you want.”

Kiara eyes you eagerly as Zack smiles brightly at you, saying “thank you” at least a thousand times and rambling about how excited he was to meet actual NHL players in person.

You didn’t know if it had been a good idea to invite him, but you just felt bad to leave him out of the celebration— or what was supposed to be a celebration before Anaheim lost 6-2— since he was a huge Hockey fan. And even if you’re not all that interested in him anymore, he’s cool to hang out with.

Ever since you came back from Newark you’ve been spending more time with Zack. If anyone asks you anything, you won’t be able to tell them why is that, but you’re not complaining. It’s probably due to fact that you’re not that interested in him anymore, so you don’t have to worry about pleasing him all the time.

Now, you had much more interesting people to please.

You all walk to the dinner hall, where a bunch of players and coaches were talking and dining together, the Devils being loud and proud after a well played game, while most of the Ducks had pouty lips and frowns.

You walked around with Zack and Kiara, and quickly finding your brother, his loud voice outstanding everyone else’s.

“Holy fuck, that’s Jack Hughes.” Zack said, his tone not hiding his surprise and admiration.

You immediately turn your head to the side, confirming that Jack Hughes is, indeed, just a few steps ahead of you, chatting with your brother and a bunch of other players.

“Well, well, well…” Kiara whispers beside you and you discreetly shove her with your elbow, making her shove you back, playfully.

“I mean, we don’t have to talk to them right now, right?” You say, trying to find a way out. “They’re probably sad. I’d be sad if I lost a game.”

“Girl, what are you talking about?” Kiara rolls her eyes, clearly not taking a hint.

“Sarah, you can’t be serious!” Zack laughs, grabbing your hand and pulling you forward. You widen your eyes, staring at his hand covering yours and then looking back at Kiara, who just looks like she’s having the time of her life.

Zack keeps his hand around yours as you approach your brother’s group, Jack’s eyes finding yours immediately before falling to your hands.

“Oh, hey there, ugly duck,” Trevor smiles at you, and you take advantage of the opportunity so you can separate your hand from Zack’s, walking until you’re hugging Trevor tighter than you had ever done before. “What the hell, why are you squeezing me?”

You wanted to punch him. “Oh, I just feel so sorry for you guys!” You try to sound devastated. “Losing is tough.”

“They’re used to it, aren’t you, chickens?” Bratt says, making people around you laugh, as your brother’s frown deepened.

“Fuck you.” Vatrano hisses back, and you let go of Trevor, standing beside him.

Someone calls some of the guys, and you almost yell at them so that they wouldn’t leave, but they do, leaving you alone with Trevor and. Well, Jack.

“I’m a huge fan!” Zack starts, smiling at Jack like he’s God almighty himself.

“Oh, really.” Jack says, and you can tell he’s not even trying to sound nice. You frown.

“Yeah. Ever since you joined the NHL. A long time ago.” Zack probably doesn’t notice Jack’s lack of manners, or if he does, he doesn’t say anything, continuing the conversation eagerly.

“Are you calling me old?” Jack raises his eyebrows, and Zack laughs, clearly oblivious.

Trevor eyes you weirdly, already familiar with Jack’s attitude problem.

“This sassy mean apocalypse needs to stop.” Kiara whispers in your ear and you’re seriously just two steps away from shoving her again.

“I was talking to my girl over there, you guys are fucking awesome and—”

“Your girl?”

You see, usually you’d expect this question to come out of Trevor’s lips, since he’s the most annoying person in the world. But once you saw Jack’s eyes turning a deep, ocean blue shade and his face starting to get red, you realize, with surprise, that Jack was the one who asked that.

You stare at him, but he wouldn’t look at you. He was staring at Zack, with his hands in his pocket.

“Oh, yeah, Sarah.”

A year ago you wouldn’t believe if anyone told you that you would want to kill Zack Brian with your own two hands, but at this moment, it’s all you want to do.

Why the hell is he talking about you like that?

“I didn’t know you were dating, Sarah.”

You gulp, looking up at Jack’s upset face, shaking your head immediately.

“Yeah, little sis, I also didn’t know you were dating.” Trevor said, wanting to sound angry, but you knew him well enough to realize that he was holding back his laughter, just like the little shit he is.

“I’m not— Zack and I aren’t dating.” You stutter, alternately looking at Jack and Trevor.

“Oh. You’re Zack?”

Jack can’t fucking be serious.

Zack is happy and smiling again. “Hell yes I am! Can we, like, take a picture together or something?”

This time, Trevor steps in and coughs, politely interrupting the conversation and finally— finally— doing something about this whole mess. “Sorry, man, can’t do it. We have to head back to the party, otherwise our coaches will kill us.”

You knew it was a lie, Keefe and Cronin didn’t care whether their players took pictures with people or missed parties. As long as they stayed out of trouble and played well, they didn’t really mind their players’ personal lives.

But you wouldn’t say anything, not when you were already in trouble.

“Oh, that’s fine, it’s cool,” Zack shrugs, not hiding his disappointment. You almost pass out when you catch a glimpse of a smile on Jack’s lips. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of other opportunities.”

“Sure, sure,” Trevor smiles, throwing his arms around you once again. “Are you coming?”

“Oh, I—” you look around, biting your lips. “I don’t want to leave Zack alone.”

Even though you did want to leave him alone, you just couldn’t. He had been so excited when you invited him to the game, talking about it for an entire week before tonight.

“He can come too.”

You stare at Jack, not missing the way his lips curled up, and his eyes still looked darker.

“Type shit? You really are the goat, man, fuck yeah!” Zack celebrates and you stare at Kiara, who’s also looking a little bit worried now.

“Great,” you say through your teeth, stepping away from Trevor. “Let’s go, then.”

God, please help me.

𖧷

“SO, FOR how long have you and Sarah been friends?”

You wanted to smash Trevor’s face against a wall and twist his arm until he started crying.

You were sitting at his table, surrounded by other players, Kiara, Zack, Luke and Jack. Fortunately, Kiara had been successful at keeping Jack and Luke bored with her stories about college drama, so Jack wasn’t really focusing on you, or Zack for that matter.

Unlike Trevor, who’s constantly making remarks about your friendship.

“Not long.” You answer, shooting daggers at him with your eyes.

“But you seem really close.” He insists, smiling innocently.

“Sarah’s really cool,” Zack starts, and again you remind yourself that if he had said this not even seven months ago, you’d be smiling and dancing. But now, all you want is to tell him to leave. “We get along really well.”

“She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she? I’m glad to call her my sister.”

“Trevor,” you smile, kicking him under the table. “Stop it.”

“No, no, I like when people compliment you. Makes me proud—”

You get up abruptly, making at least five people look at you, Jack included. Blushing, you smile awkwardly. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Walking fast, you make your way to the bathroom, walking down an empty hallway, finding the bathroom quickly. You got in, thanking God that no one was in there.

Jesus. What the hell is going on with both Jack and Trevor?

You understood if Jack was upset with you, because if it was the other way around, you would be just the same, even if you weren’t an actual couple. But Trevor helping the fire grow? He’s just being a child.

“He’s so obvious it’s embarrassing.”

Letting out a yelp, you stare at the man you’ve been thinking of everyday since the Summer, who’s now leaning against the bathroom door and smirking at you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Well, you’re clearly not peeing,” he starts, approaching you slowly. “And I can’t stand that dick face anymore. Does he not know that complimenting you to your brother won’t get him anything?”

“Leave him alone, Jack,” you roll your eyes. “He’s just being nice.”

“He’s into you. You know that, right?”

You scoff, finding it genuinely funny. “Of course he isn’t. We’re just friends. He’s just being nice, I just told you.”

“I thought you were a smart girl.” He wets his lips and not looking at it feels like fighting against ten thousand demons.

“Are you calling me dumb? To my face?” You raise your brow, watching as he frowns.

“I’m just saying that I thought you weren’t so oblivious, baby. When I told you you’re everyone’s type? I meant it.”

“Jack,” you sigh, defeated. “Why are we having this conversation?”

“Because,” he steps closer, looking down at you. “It drives me insane to think that there’s a fuckhead sitting just a few feet away from us that thinks he’s the shit and won’t take your name out of his mouth.”

Your eyes softened, and you smile at him. “You’re jealous.”

“That’s for people who are insecure, baby. And that you already know that I’m not,” he smirks, resting his right hand on your chin, and you can feel his breath hit your face, making you hold back an embarrassing sound. “Do you need me to remind you how good I am?”

Your eyes double in size and you shake your head.

“Are you insane?” You shout-whisper. “You’re supposed to be back in New Jersey in a few hours. This is your team’s celebration dinner, for God’s sake. You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“And yet, here I am.”

He kisses you bruisingly, your teeth touching with the agressive yet extremely sweet action, and you moan inside his mouth, not realising, until now, how much you’ve missed him.

It was wrong but not kissing him felt even more wrong.

He gently pushes you further into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and putting you on the counter, making you hiss with the coldness of the marble against your exposed thighs and throbbing core.

“Jack.”

“Fuck, I missed hearing you say my name. One more time for me, pretty.”

“Jack.”

He kisses you again, and you busy yourself with messing up his hair, still a little bit damp from his previous shower. It smells nice and fresh, just like the rest of his body.

“We need to be quick,” You whisper against his mouth, his eyes staring at you, lust and desire written all over his face. “We’re not even supposed to be here and we don’t have time—”

“Put your hands on that wall over there,” he whispers, signaling to the wall on the other side of the bathroom. “I’m gonna fuck you from behind. Is that okay?”

“As long as you fuck me.” You shrug, getting off the counter and doing as he says.

He laughs. “I’ve created a monster.”

He’s quickly behind you, and you hear the filthy sound of his hands unzipping his fancy pants, as you quickly lift your skirt, putting your panties to the side.

“Spit.” Jack asks— orders—, putting his hand in front of your lips, and you do, the red that painted your cheeks deepening.

He’s inside you not long after that, and you both moan loudly, forgetting for a few seconds that there are at least one hundred people outside. You can feel your walls squeezing his cock as you try to find some kind of support on the wall in front of you.

“Jesus fuck, Sarah, how are you even tighter than last time?”

“Because, ah,” he’s pouding against you, the sound of his crouch slapping against your ass making you feel dirty and so fucking good. “Haven’t been with a-anyone else.”

“No?” You can hear the smirk on his face. “Just your little fingers then?”

You nod with your head, eagerly moving it up and down, moaning loudly and just a few seconds away from ruining your makeup.

“Baby, you need to be quiet,” Jack says, and his hand slowly leaves your waist, making its way to your mouth, caressing your entire body before it covers your lips completely. “I love it when you’re loud but have you forgotten we’re not alone?”

You roll your eyes at him, as he keeps hitting that spot inside you that makes you see the entire galaxy without needing a telescope. His dick is deep inside you, so fucking deep.

“Jack, fu—”

“Sarah?”

You and Jack both freeze as Zack’s voice echoes through the room. He removes his hand from your mouth and rests his forehead against your head.

“Oh my God.” You whisper, ready to remove yourself from Jack’s grip and leave the bathroom.

Jack doesn’t have the same thought as you, though. He removes his length until just the tip is inside you, just to slam his cock inside of you again, reaching deeper than before.

You bite your lips hardly, feeling the taste of coper fill your mouth, the pain of tearing your lips hardly noticeable— your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that it seemed too insignificant to be preoccupied with a little bit of blood.

“Sarah, are you okay?”

“Answer him,” Jack whispers, as he keeps fucking you, this time reaching down and rubbing your swollen clit too. “Sarah. Answer him.”

“I— I—,” stuttering, you try to focus. “Y-yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.”

Jack pinches your sensitive nub and you can feel the tears start to form in your eyes.

“Pretty.”

“I’m, f-fine, ah,” you shake your head, putting your hand on top of Jack’s but not making any move to stop him. “Just— headache.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want any help?”

“Fucking asshole,” Jack mumbles, your orgasm building up quickly than ever. “Tell him you’re fine, baby. Come on.”

“I’m fine, ah, thank you.” Biting your own hand, you feel your body shivering underneath Jack’s. “I’ll be b-back in just a second.”

“Alright,” Zack sounds convinced. “I’ll warn your brother.”

Even with your loud breathing you can hear Zack’s steps as he gets further away from the bathroom, and you barely have time to think properly before Jack is slamming his cock hard and fast inside of you again.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby, tell me. Does it turn you on the fact that anyone could catch us at any moment?”

Yes.

“Too bad I don’t share what’s mine.”

“Jack—”

“Fucking asshole wanted to be the one inside you right now,” he snarls. “No one will ever fuck you like I do, baby.”

“Hmh,”

“This pussy here,” he pinches your clit again, twisting it between his fingers making you gasp for air. “Will only get this wet for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“You were made to take my cock, baby. Made to be mine.”

Your makeup was most definitely ruined by now. It didn’t matter. Your mind was too focused on coming to care about anything else.

“Say it, baby, come on.” Jack whispers in your ear, kissing your neck afterwards.

“It’s yours, Jack,” you nod with your head, feeling your orgasm closer than before. “I’m yours, and I missed you so bad and—”

You come on his fingers, your thighs shaking as he continues to poud on you, not caring if you’re sensitive or not. He takes his dick out of your pussy after a few more thrusts, coming all over your cheeks.

Your uncontrolled breathing fills up the entire room, the smell of sex and sweat making you blush. Jack’s forehead is on your shoulder, and you can sense he’s just as tired as you.

“Sarah,” he mumbled, and you sigh, humming. “Be my girlfriend. I don’t care about Zegras, I never did. I’ll let him beat me up everyday if that means you’ll be the one helping me get up at the end of the day.”

You chuckle tiredly. “So romantic, aren’t you, Hughes?”

“I try my best.” He murmurs against your skin.

“I will be your girlfriend. But just know that if you cheat on me, or anything like that, Trevor will fuck you up, and I’ll let him.” You say, laughing quietly.

He moves so he can grab a piece of paper, wetting it and cleaning you, making you shiver with the cold water on your back.

“If my own brothers don’t kill me first.”

“Touche.”



[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways. 

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it. 

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him. 

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige. 

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter. 

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds. 

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—” 

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.” 

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year. 

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen. 

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia. 

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt. 

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds. 

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds. 

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds. 

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through? 

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.” 

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[controversially-young-girlfriend]

read me like a book 💌prof. spencer reid x reader

💋 office hours with your fav professor. oneshot smut with softdom spencer and praise 💋

you’re prone to skipping an occasional lecture - 9am is just too early to be up! you’re a week ahead on your developmental psych notes! but you’ve never missed a class with dr. spencer reid.

as much as you enjoy the course content (and actually do the required readings) your mind goes blank once professor reid enters the lecture hall and his words fade into the background as you admire his curly hair and soft eyes. you’re almost mad he’s so hot because your lack of focus just landed you a C+ on your recent essay. you’re embarrassed not at your own academic efforts but rather the effect he has on them.

as usual, you doll yourself up before heading to class and take a seat right in the middle where dr. reid tends to lay his eyes while lecturing.

after the heard of girls auditing the class finish talking to professor reid, you approach the front of the class to ask about your essay.

you’ve always loved talking to him after class, getting a few minutes of one-on-one time with him. he’s different when not lecturing, and has an endearing awkwardness that you’ve become infatuated with. you loved when a simple question turned into what felt like a personal lesson.

“hi dr. reid, i’m wondering if i could discuss my recent essay with you?”

“definitely, however i think the next class is starting in a few minutes. would you be okay to discuss it in my office?” he tells you and you feel yourself get hot. you’ve talked to him plenty of times but never in his office, your mind immediately fantasizing about all the things you’ve imagined him doing to you in there.

you try and remain composed on the walk there, making small talk to not let any signs of your schoolgirl crush on him show.

he opens the door for you, closing it before walking over to his desk. you hand him the essay and feel your heart flutter when your fingers grace each others briefly. you try your best to follow the feedback he’s adding in red pen but you’re transfixed on the way he’s moving his hands.

you snap out of it when he softly says your name, “i hope you’re not discouraged by the grade. you’re a smart girl.” you hope he doesn’t notice how hard you’re blushing at him calling you smart.

“i know you understand the concepts but your analysis needs to remain objective. i would have given you a B if you stayed closer to the assignment outline.”

the feedback is fair but you’re worried about your gpa. “is there anyway to do some extra credit or raise my grade?”

dr. reid tells you “come see me back here before the next assignment is due and we’ll go through it together.”

you’re grateful but dreading the end of this conversation and having to leave his office.

“thanks professor reid! i really enjoy these post-lecture conversations.” you know your words are implying something more, but you’re wondering if it shows.

dr. reid replies “me too.”

you guys make eye contact until he looks to the left and takes a deep breath. “by the way, most student-teacher relationships end horribly. not to mention they’re pretty explicitly banned in the contract i signed to guest lecture here.”

“oh my god oh um i’m sorry i didn’t mean to say anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

“don’t worry, you didn’t say anything. i think you just forgot that i make a career out of profiling people.” dr. reid tells you with a slight smile on his face

“so what gave it away then?”

“you’ve been blushing for the last 15 minutes and stumbling over your words despite being a normally eloquent student in class. you’re leaned into me talking right now and i’ve caught you staring at me multiple times.” he says while smiling. you’re relieved he’s not mad, but can’t quite identify his intentions of telling you this.

“well professor reid, you’re good at your job. but like you said i’m a smart girl, so it’s only fair i get to profile you back.”

you can tell you caught his attention with that, feeling him getting a bit nervous but leaning in to hear what you have to say. your legs are now touching as you list the little traits of his you’ve noticed all semester.

“you have a whole fan club of girls who come to your lectures and wait to talk to you. do you give all of them the student-teacher relationship talk? or am i just getting special treatment?”

he puts his hand on your thigh. “do you wear skirts this short when you talk to your other professors.” you’re shocked at how far he’s going but you don’t want him to stop.

“you’re easy to read, princess. i know when you’re sitting in my lectures and thinking about me. you subtly bite your lip and stare, and i can only imagine what you’re fantasizing about. i’d guess you get off on me being your older professor, me fucking you bent over my desk as i tell you how how you’re such a pretty little slut for me.”

is he a profiler or a mind reader? you don’t want to let him win but he looks at you self-satisfied and starts talking before you can think of a reply.

“and i’d place my job on the line that you’re wet just hearing that.”

“well professor reid, i’ll leave it to you to prove your theory.”

reid pushes up your skirt and feels your soaked panties. you watch him smile before pulling you into his lap and kissing you.

the makeout deepens as he grabs your waist, slowly guiding it to grind against him as his tongue is in your mouth. you hold him by the hair until he leans back to look at you. through heavy breaths he says “i’ve been thinking of you since i saw you in my first lecture.”

he takes your shirt and bra off, moving kissing your lips, down to your neck, and then down to your chest. you take off his cardigan and begin working on his button up shirt, leaving you both shirtless against eachother. “you’re so beautiful like this.” he tells you.

you feel him adjust your legs to take off your skirt and panties. slowly teasing his fingers at your entrance, he quickly dips a finger in just to tell you “you’re so wet, so desperate for me pretty girl.” as you try and rub against his hand for contact. he’s right, you need him badly right now.

dr. reid rubs circles on your clit and you let out a soft moan. he watches your face as he slips his fingers inside. “fuck you’re good, dr. reid.” you can tell being called by the honorific turns him on by the way he gripped you tighter and sighed. he takes his fingers out from inside you and pushes them into your mouth. you give him a show, looking him right in the eyes as you work your tongue around them. “you’re such a slut for me, baby.” you’re shocked that this sort of dirty talk is coming from your nerdy, cardigan wearing professor.

he pulls his fingers out and you unbuckle his belt. you palm him which earns a slight moan out of reid. “seems like you want me just as bad” you tell him. you pull down his boxers and he grabs your hair into a ponytail. with his other hand he lifts your chin slightly to ask, “well how bad do you want me?” you immediately begin going down on him, eager to impress.

you’re blissed out listening to the praises coming from him between the heavy breaths. “so pretty baby”, “taking me so well”

he lifts your head up, “wanna bend over the desk, sweetheart?” you gladly agree, anticipating him as he grips your hips and plants a kiss on your neck.

he’s big but you’re savouring every inch of professor reid inside of you. thrusting slowly as you adjust to the feeling. he speeds up as he talks you through it, “such a cute little slut sitting in my lectures imagining me fucking you like this. you feel so fucking good baby.” you begin to unravel with pleasure.

you can barely form a sentence but manage to ask “have a thing for fucking college girls, professor reid?” you say between moans.

he thrusts into you harder and positions his mouth right beside your ear, “just the ones who come into my office in short skirts to seduce me.”

you guys won’t last much longer, he feels your core tightening around him. “i want to watch you cum for me.” he tells you.

you unravel in his arms, with him finishing soon after. he holds you in his arms as you catch your breath. “maybe your profile was right about me, dr. reid” you say to him lightheartedly.

“you can call me spencer. although there is a definite appeal to being called dr. in this context” he says.

you help rearrange the papers on his desk that were pushed off earlier and get dressed again.

“um don’t worry about your essay grade. if you ever want to do this again perhaps i can count it as extra credit.” he smiles and tells you.

“i’d love that. i’ll be here after every lecture.” you say with a massive smile on your face.

he kisses you once more, “now go study. i’ll see you next week.”

[c0kitty]

NOW PLAYING ... NOBODY KNOWS ft. spider-women!ellie x reader

“…BUT NOBODY KNOWS MY LITTLE SECRET.”

(⭑) summary: r/reddit, when’s the best time to tell your girlfriend of three months, (who you are so desperately in love with) you are that "crazy" vigilante on the news, fighting crime in a spider-suit, and that you now shoot fucking webs out of your wrist. (⭑) content: wc 1.2k+ nerd!ellie. confessions. making out. comfort. spider-man!ellie. established relationship. suggestive. insecure!ellie. HEAVILY inspired from the roof-top scene in tasm bcs im obsessed. cursing.

you guys find yourself on the roof-top of dina’s-friend’s apartment, for a random party, celebrating god-knows what. it's slightly chilly, you stand next to ellie with her oversized jacket on you; despite ellie telling you numerous times it was going to be cold, she was not one to refuse you.

ellie wished she had her camera right now; outside’s a pretty scene with the many buildings scattered, the sky, gradually transitioning into yellow and pink hues, night unfolding, and you, looked so pretty by her side. 

the city below though remains bustling with constant movement, and ellie's mind is no different. because today was going to be the day —

ellie’s hazel-green eyes shift towards you, observing your soft expression, her heart ached with uncertainty as she wondered if you would hate her — hate her for lying, hate her for not being normal, hate her for having so much baggage. hate her for being spider-women. 

“you think dina and jesse are shagging?” you ask, randomly, breaking the comfortable silence. your hands moves to the railing, casually pushing yourself backwards on it.

“saw dina sneakin’ out at 1 am, like she was a teenager. so, yeah, definitely.” 

also due to ellie’s super-senses, she had heard so many “private,” conversations with him and dina she wished to unhear.

you nod your head, turning your attention towards ellie. “so, why do you seem so te—”

“i need to say something,” 

you guys both interrupt each other, it elicits a small giggle from you. “okay... is this about before? is that the reason you’ve been so pissy tonight?” 

you were hinting about earlier. when someone had hit on you, even with you being on ellie's lap, her arms even wrapped at your waist. it irritated the hell out of ellie, leaving her to characteristically run her mouth at em'. 

you almost had to drag her away to stop the growing commotion.

ellie sports a slight pout at her pink-lips. “it’s not my fault men can’t get fucking context clues, it’s a wonder they survive. and i haven’t been “pissy” i—” you raise your eyebrows in response, conveying a silent ‘you sure?’ ellie stops talking, only rolling her eyes.

“okay, whatever, maybe i was but, it's not about that,” ellie wasn’t sure how to start this conversation without sounding crazy or scaring you.

“...i was bitten,” ellie says, bushy brows slightly furrowing.

your head tilts, “that’s a little ominous.” ellie rethinks; maybe that wasn’t a good way to start.

“nevermind. you know, when i was sick. that whole two weeks, couple months back.” you nod your head, “yeah, you said you were sick. projectile vomit and shit. couldn’t lift a finger because it was so bad.” damn, ellie forgot she said all that.

“yeah, um sorry. i lied about that.” before you could say anything, lips pulled into a frown, ellie blurts: “i’m spider-man,” finally with a breath. you’re staring at her, but she can’t decipher your expression. unconsciously, ellie bites at her bottom lip.

silence fills the moment, and ellie finds it unbearable; suddenly, in just a second, your face relaxes. “oh, wait. you’re fucking with me. els thought you were serious for a second.”

ellie was regretting playing pranks on you so much, “i’m not fucking with you,” ellie’s arm cross, unconsciously flexing in the process, but you only a grow smile on your lips, like this was some ongoing joke. “jesus, stop smiling — it’s not a joke y/n,”

“i’ve known you all my life ellie — i think i would know if you were fighting crimes with iron-man,” you ignore her, releasing the bar. “wait just w—”

“lets go els, please. it’s getting cold and i’m tired,” you say, making your move toward the door; but in a quick reaction, ellie’s translucent webs shoots out her wrist, spinning you around til’ you're close, her hands, now holding at your waist.

you’re staring at her, eyes widened comically, and your mouth parted, seemingly trying to process what just happened. ellie's attention was drawn to something else though; light in the distance, drunken footsteps heading their way. 

“you just fucking — shot webs out your hands, ellie! you’re sp—” 

ellie didn’t have much time to think it through, because as soon as the drunkards stumble in, ellie's lips, soft and sweet, press into yours.  “..shh,” ellie whispers, faint to your lips — trying to calm you down.

a small gasp leaves your mouth. but after a second, hearing the commotion behind you; you get the message, relaxing yourself into the kiss.

ellie's kisses are usually greedy, but tender, her hands would rummage your body confidently, possessively pulling you in. but this kiss, its … different. it’s tentative, hesitant, like she was afraid to push.

at that, you try to make her feel comfortable with a subtle touch beneath her loose black-shirt. your lips, coated in strawberry gloss, glides seamlessly over hers, giving her a little push; and it works.

ellie tongue pushes in hastily, its smooth tracing from your lips to your tongue. her moppy-brown hair tickling your chin as she eases in the kiss, embracing the subtle buzzing in her chest. 

you hear the people leave, and it’s silent now, besides the busy cars. “ellie… t–” 

“one more second,” she grumbles, you wanted to keep going, but you still had a lot to say — questions cycling. so you pull away, with a gentle smack of the lips.

she lets out a small groan in response; her cheeks dusted in pink and round eyes flutter open, looking at you in a wistful gaze.

“so… you’re spider-man. well, spider-woman,” you finally say, exhaling. ellie’s eyes shift to the floor. her hands drop from you, and instead, runs through her hair anxiously. “yeah. i know it’s fucked up, and weird. i should’ve told you, warned you, but i—”

you interrupt her depressive rambles, “no, ellie i mean it’s cool, you’re cool. it’s just, fuck.” you take a breath, throwing your hands up. “i was just surprised because you’re, like, nerdy and cute, and then … spiderman, you know?”

ellie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, “relieved” couldn’t fully capture how she felt, but all she could managed to say was: “oh, okay. that’s great, yeah.”

a silence falls between you two in response to ellie’s awkwardness, exchanging glances; both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“i feel like i should feel offended though, ‘nerdy?’” you playfully nudge at her feet, “you know what i mean. passionate about space, introverted, so obsessed with your grades. it’s like a text-book definition,” ellie couldn’t really deny that, so she just playful rolls her eyes instead.

“...but you know what’s crazy, i had a small tiny crush on spider–man, well you, before we officially dated.” 

ellie’s lips curve into a smile, “so now you get the best of both worlds, huh.” ellie comes closer to you, hands finding their place to your body. "i bet you dreamed of both of us fighting over you, hm?”  

in the quietness that follows, your eyes drift away from ellie, intentionally avoiding her gaze. ellie could tell there was more story to your silence, “wait — did you have a wet dream about spider-man and m—” she begins, but you swiftly cover her mouth.

“...shut it,” you say beyond flustered, which only intensifies ellie's curiosity.

[pbandnoj]

The JjK men reacting to finding out you’re infertile. This was honestly a self-indulgent fic idea but then it won on the poll I put out and honestly I was kinda surprised people were interested! Yall picked the only fic I didn’t have finished but I do now so here it is! If you’d like a part 2 let me know! +what characters!

Toji

You didn’t tell him until years into the relationship. Sure maybe that wasn’t the healthiest thing but oh well things happened and you couldn’t change the past. And it took so long for Toji to trust you… that you just didn’t want to add another thing on top of it to deal with. I mean it took him almost a year for him to introduce you to his kids. It took him that long just to feel serious about your relationship.

And it’s not like he asked either, or used a condom. Cmon, we all know his history with women and he just kinda presumed you were on the pill, or that he’d deal with the consequences after the fact. He had two kids, this wasn’t his first time around the block. And even after he got serious with you he never brought up wanting to have another. His hands were full, and besides he wasn’t very well off. I mean you guys made it work, but that was just with the 4 of you, who knows what adding another would do.

So the conversation didn’t happen until probably 5… maybe 6 years in. Where you both had pretty much decided that you were stuck with each other. That if you lost each other at this point in life there would be no reason to restart the process of finding someone new all over again. He trusted you, and god that meant a lot coming from a man like Toji, his goal was to protect his kids and now you along with them.

Laying on the couch one night, one kid off at a sleepover the other supposed to be returning home soon. You guys trusted them… maybe a lil too much. Head resting on his chest, listening to the way his heart pounded, like it wanted to leap out of his chest and make it known just how much he loved you, how much joy he found being with you. Something he thought he’d never find again after the loss of his first wife, and the second one leaving him.

Some thriller played in the background, some movie franchise Toji was secretly a big fan of. Half empty beers sitting on the coffee table, one of his hands softly scratching your back, softer than the man had ever been before. You, aimlessly fiddling with his other hand that adorned his shiny wedding ring, one that matched yours, deciding on simple ones that didn’t cost much, but meant a lot.

“Hey Toji?” You muttered out, voice weaker than you intended, his hand on your back instinctively tightened, a simple grunt in response. Your tone of voice worried him, that tone always did, meant you’d ruin the peace with something serious, as he’d always say. But really he was just always worried it’d be something so serious that he’d end up losing you.

When you didn’t continue, he grumbled, ready for you just to spit it out. This type of atmosphere either had 1 of 2 endings to whatever conversation was going to happen, either you were super upset over something really really detrimental or it was something silly you were getting all caught up on. “What is it woman? You’re ruining the movie,” his words were harsh, but you were long past the phase of wondering if he was mad at you over simply the way he normally spoke.

“Well….Did you ever… I don’t know… question why I was so excited that you had kids?” You hummed out softly, your hand that was fiddling with the ring on his finger slowly moving to hold his hand instead. Toji had once in the past let it slip that when he had tried dating before you he often got hurt cause they didn’t want to deal with his already pre-started family. He sighed knowing you were overthinking something, “Mmm, not really, was just grateful,” that was one of the first time you had actually heard him be so openly heartfelt.

“Oh…. Well it’s cause I can’t have my own,” you hummed softly. His expression didn’t change, nothing more than an eyebrow quirking up, “Is that so doll?” He mumbled, already deciding this convo was one of the silly ones, aka option 2. You took his response as him just simply brushing you off, watching his eyes reconnect with the tv screen and his hand that was intertwined with yours, now reaching for his beer bottle, “Those kids, Megumi and Tsumiki, are just as much yours now as they are mine.” Everything he had needed to say was in that one little sentence alone.

Your eyes widened, “Oh Toji,” you muttered softly, holding back tears, “Oh Jesus don’t cry,” he huffed, resuming his hand on your back, rubbing soft soothing circles. Reaching his head down to press a kiss to the top of your head but in his head he was just glad this was one of your silly overthought moments.

Nanami

You told him on your 3rd date. Nanami was a classy man, made you feel really stupid for some of the guys you had dated in the past, so you wanted to treat him right just as he treated you.

On your first date he was stiff, and awkward even, but it was endearing in a way. You both had worked together so there was no reason for him be worried but it was nice to know that someone like Nanami could be nervous. That date was a dinner date.

Your second was a bit more relaxed, a bowling alley, an idea recommended by Gojo an annoying coworker you both shared (and bonded over complaining about). It was nice cause Nanami could get a few drinks in, relax a bit, unbutton the top button of his shirt. Strike some strikes and whatever else you did in bowling. It was nice.

Your third date was a walk through the park, a bit more impromptu but you had decided this one, invited him on it too. It was after an early mission, so you two were done around the afternoon. The sun was warm, flowers blooming, walking side by side down some path. And of course the relationship wasn’t official but Nanami knew from the first time he had saw you he wanted you.

His hand was placed respectfully on your lower back, of course after making sure you were ok with it, and trees lined the pathway you were walking on. He had haphazardly stuck a flower in your hair, one he had picked along your walk.

He was warm, comforting, made you feel like you could be you, so you wanted to be honest. “Kento… are you sure I’m the one you want?” You asked gently, eyes nervously looking up at him as you bit your lip, awaiting his response.

“Of course,” he scoffed, he may be a gentleman but he sure was sassy. “Why wouldn’t I?” He hummed tilting his head down to look at you. “Well… I just think some of are goals don’t align,” you sighed and an eyebrow raise from him was all you needed to know that he was listening.

“Well I…. Look… I can’t… I can’t give you a family,” you muttered looking away, your body becoming rigid against his, “And what do you mean by that?” His voice stern, impending, but not harsh just… curious. “Well… I can’t exactly procreate and it be successful…you get it?” You mumbled under your breath as you picked at the sides of your nails.

Oh, that’s what you meant. He nodded more as a confirmation for his inner thoughts than anything you said, he brought one of his free hands to swat at yours that were picking, “That’s fine,” he shrugged looking back ahead at the path.

“What?” You half yelled definitely hearing some bird flying away from you at the disturbance, “But you.. didn’t you wanna settle down? Have a family? I’ve heard you talk about it,” you grumbled.

He rolled his eyes, “Sure I did, but none of that would mean anything without you,” he hummed, stopping to face you. Tilting your head up by your chin, tired eyes meeting yours, “I want you and you alone. If I can’t have children so be it. You’re enough for me.”

And needless to say it was definitely official after that.

Sukuna

The king of curses was already a very scary man, and honestly talking to him could be quite… difficult to say the least. So you swore off to never tell him. And he didn’t even want the little rascals anyway.

Children were too… annoying for someone who was already so irritating himself, and a little one just like him? Hell would freeze over if that happened.

But he couldn’t deny that you made him ponder. What would it be like? Having one.. or possibly two that were a mix of you both. Or better yet he’d like it more if they were exactly like you. The world would be a better place with only one version of Sukuna Ryomen in it.

Yet he didn’t think of it often. But you knew you had to come clean soon, you could feel the way he glared at your stomach as if trying to stare straight into your uterus. When really he was just trying to figure it if you could even carry a baby from a cursed spirit like him… or if he could get a mere mortal pregnant.

He started trying to, oh so so hard to get you pregnant, every single time burying himself all the way before shooting his load. Yet you never showed any signs. Maybe he was simply incapable. That made him frown.

And that was when you hit a dry spell. He had become so worried that he was shooting blanks or that it was simply impossible to have kids because he was a curse. He was a lot more grouchy, and a lot less touchy. Sukuna already found cuddling and the sorts useless but now? Oh he’d barely look at you now.

He was always easily agitated so you often had found it easier to avoid conflict but he was making it seem like you didn’t even exist. One night you burst into his chambers, a little more attitude in the way you shoved the doors open than you usual.

“Tell me,” you called out standing firmly at the edge of his bed, fuming as your first clenched. His raspy, booming laugh resounding amongst the room. “Tell you what exactly? I owe you nothing,” he hummed remaining in his relaxed position on his lavishly large bed.

“You’ve barely spoken to me or even looked at me in a week? You used to be insatiable what is the problem!” You scrambled out. He clicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes, “Tsk, it’s none of your business how I spend my time. If it bothers you then shoo.”

You groaned, you knew him better than that, he wasn’t being truthful. “Sukuna tell me or I will leave this time, I am done playing this game with you.” Narrowing his eyes he took a good long pause before speaking, pointing down to your abdomen, “You show no signs of pregnancy despite multiple times in the bedroom. I’m confused aren’t most women your age fertile?” He jested, quirking a brow.

“Oh,” you muttered straightening up as you sighed. He sensed the noticeable change, “Your soul’s wavering, you know I can feel it, spit it out,” he said, glaring at you, but his look was one more of concern, you could always tell the difference. “Well I uh…”

You walked around to sit on your side of the bed, really he’d never call it that to your face, before you he’d always just sprawled out. Now he made sure to leave that space empty. “Look I…. I can’t have em,” his brow raised, “Have what? You’re being cryptic mortal.”

You groaned, “Kids! I can’t have kids,” that was laughable. Wait you weren’t joking? Sukuna quickly realized that, “What are you deformed?” He teased but it didn’t help the way your eyes got all dewy. He grumbled, he may be practically a demon….. but he did care enough for you to be in his bed next to him.

“So you cannot produce my heir,” and all you could respond with was a shake of your head, confirming. To Sukuna this made him feel a million times better. He wasn’t shooting blanks you simply just weren’t able to be impregnated. He was joyous if not for the tone of the situation.

“Does not matter,” you shot your head over, a confused look on your face. “You wouldn’t have been able to carry my baby anyways, I’m far too powerful for a mortal to carry my heir,” he teased, and while he had his signature smirk you could see the slight tenderness through it.

This may have been one of the only times he seemed to have understood your turmoil. And also the only time for him to have been the first one to initiate physical contact, pulling you into his chest. One hand running protectively over your back, another in your hair, the other two wrapping around you. “Do not fret, calm your soul dear,” his deep voice muttered out soothingly. And that was probably the best you had ever slept.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi! I've recently found your blog and first of all, let me say that you are brilliant! I read your fic about singer!reader x Hotch and I was wondering if you'd be open to write another fic/drabble about them? Like imagine it's Valkyrie's opening night of her tour for her new album, the entire team is there, and reader keeps looking/pointing at Hotch during the songs (like Taylor Swift is doing whenever Travis Kelce is there?) I just think Hotch would be so flustered it would be so cute *-*

No worries if you don't feel like writing this btw! Hope you have a great day!!

Opening night | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem singer!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: nothing

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m glad you found my blog and hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💕

The venue buzzed with anticipation, the low hum of conversation and excited cheers weaving into a symphony of pre-show excitement from your fans. Your opener had just left the stage, almost jumping with excitement as she relayed how great the crowd had been. You loved seeing how energetic she was coming off the stage, knowing that you'd made the right choice in bringing a newer artist on tour with you, rather than the more established one your label had recommended during the planning meetings.

The stage was dark and wrapped in mystique as your crew moved around in the shadows, changing a few instruments out and moving some positions of others as they prepared the stage for you and your band.

The BAU team occupied a cluster of prime seats up on the balcony, their enthusiasm apparent in their attire and energy as they waited for you to come out.

Despite their excitement, no one matched Garcia's energy. She sat at the edge of her seat, ready to jump out of her seat, her bejeweled glasses catching the dim light. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered for the fifth time that evening, shaking her head as if to reset her reality. “Hotch — our Hotch — is dating Valkyrie. THE Valkyrie. My favorite artist of all time. How does that even happen? What alternate dimension are we living in?” Hotch smiled quietly to himself as he listened to Garcia

“This is wild,” Morgan said, leaning back in his seat with a grin as he looked out over the stadium. “I still can’t believe we know Valkyrie. Like, know her know her.”

“She’s amazing,” JJ agreed. “This new album? Masterpiece.”

Rossi chuckled, sipping his whiskey. “I think we’re all in agreement. What about you, Aaron? Nervous to be the muse tonight?”

Hotch, seated at the edge of their group, straightened his tie and gave Rossi a glance. “I’m just here to support her,” he said simply, his tone calm, the usual stoic Hotchner tone that showed no emotion. But the slight tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement, a crack in his normal demeanor that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.  

Garcia gasped dramatically, clutching her phone like it was a lifeline. “Oh my GOD, you’re blushing already!” she exclaimed, her fingers moving quickly to snap a picture. “This is going in the vault.”

Hotch sighed, but his smirk lingered. “Garcia put the phone away.”

“Absolutely not,” she replied, grinning as she angled for another shot. “This is for posterity, boss man. You’ll thank me later.”

Morgan leaned back in his seat, shaking his head with a laugh. “Posterity, huh? I think she just wants proof she knows someone famous by association.”

“Don’t we all?” JJ added with a grin, nudging Garcia.  

Before Hotch could muster a reply, the rest of the lights in the arena shut off, and the venue was plunged into darkness. A wave of energy rippled through the crowd, the excited murmur rising into a roar of cheers that shook the room. The stage lights remained off, the suspense growing as the audience clapped and whistled.  

Then it started — a chant, low at first but growing louder with each passing second as more and more of your fans caught onto it.  

“Valkyrie! Valkyrie! Valkyrie!”

Garcia clutched Morgan’s arm, her excitement bubbling over. “Do you hear that? That’s for her!”

Hotch leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the stage. The chant grew louder.  

The first note of the opening song rang out, clear and strong, echoing through the venue like a call to arms. The stage erupted in light, beams of gold and white cutting through the darkness as the music built to its first crescendo. Suddenly, a platform at the center of the stage began to rise, smoke swirling around its edges.

And there you were, emerging from the floor, your silhouette framed by the blinding spotlights behind you, creating a halo-like effect that made you look angelic. The crowd’s cheers exploded into an uproar, the sheer volume rattling the balcony where the BAU team sat.

You stepped forward with effortless grace, your breathtaking costume catching every flicker of light. It shimmered with each movement, the intricate detailing making you look like a constellation. The energy you radiated was magnetic — electric — and it pulled every eye in the room to you.

Hotch’s gaze never left you, although he could sense several men in the pit staring at you with hungry looks — he couldn't lie, it made him a little jealous and perhaps even a little overprotective, wanting to jump in a hide you away.

He’d seen you perform countless times, but tonight felt different. It wasn’t just the crowd or the grandeur of the venue; it was the unmistakable pride that welled in his chest watching you command the stage as you did.  

As you launched into the second song, your voice soaring effortlessly through the lyrics, you began scanning the crowd. Your smile widened when your eyes found him. You paused for the briefest moment, microphone in hand, before pointing directly at him.  

The reaction from the audience was deafening, a mix of cheers and laughter as people tried to decipher who the gesture was for. Hotch, however, stiffened in his seat, his normally composed self giving way to a look of wide-eyed surprise.  

“Oh no, she didn’t!” Morgan barked out, laughing so hard he had to brace himself against Rossi. “Hotch! You’ve been claimed!”

“She’s bold,” JJ whispered, grinning as she nudged Garcia.  

Garcia fanned herself dramatically. “Forget Hotch — I’m in love.”

Hotch shook his head, a small, embarrassed smile playing at his lips. He tugged at his tie, adjusting it more out of habit than necessity, and kept his focus on you.  

And you didn’t stop.  

As you moved through your set, you stole moments to lock eyes with him, a sly smile or a quick glance that sent the team into fits of laughter every time. During a particularly sultry number, you sauntered across the stage, letting the lyrics drip with honey as you zeroed in on him. The crowd saw a confident performer captivating her audience — although you were sure a few fans had caught on by now, and that you'd find edits and clips from tonight on social media in the following days — Hotch only saw you teasing him mercilessly.  

By the time you reached the final song, Hotch’s usual exterior had cracked. His tie was loose, his cheeks faintly pink, and his lips tugged into an almost constant smile.  

“She’s singing to you again,” Garcia teased, leaning over to snap another picture.  

Reid tilted his head. “Well actually, she’s pointed at him approximately seven times now in this song alone. That seems statistically significant.”

“Statistically significant” Morgan repeated in a mocking tone, laughing. “Reid, it means they're whipped for each other.”

Hotch leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving you, and shook his head. “You’re all ridiculous.”

But when you sent one last wink his way before stepping off stage before returning for the encore, even he couldn’t deny the truth.  

[freshxsturniolo]

4th July - Part 5 - chris sturniolo x femreader

pt1. pt2. pt3. pt4

so, how was it?” tara asks, taking a sip of her iced coffee. you can’t hide the blush.

last night had turned out … exactly how you wanted to. somehow you weren’t afraid to admit it but you knew it was quick. you weren’t a prude and it wasn’t the first time you’d slept with someone after not knowing them long but with chris it felt different. usually you fucked, left, and never spoke to them again. you found yourself excited to be in his presence again and he hadn’t left your mind once over the short hours away from him.

you had spent the rest of the evening with his brothers. he had tried to ask them to leave, but you gave him an eye. you enjoyed all 3 of their presences and you weren't about to throw them out of their own home to spend alone time with him.

he was different around them. the same chris but more energetic. a love for his brothers you had never seen between siblings before. but if anything it had only made your feelings for him higher. he was sweet. he was funny. he got on their last nerve. but he loved them dearly and that you could see. the conversation had flown beyond easy with all 3 of them, nick especially. he was the one who you text the most after chris and you could genuinely call him a close friend, and you were not going to pretend you couldn't see his excitement in his eyes and his voice at the prospect of you being there with his youngest triplet brother.

chris had sat with you the whole time, his thighs against yours before he got more comfortable and his hands were thrown over your shoulder, you edging closer to him until you were cradled under the crook of his arm. when he was talking to you, his fingers were rubbing circles around your shoulder before he eventually grabbed hold of your hand, and like two lovesick puppies you played with each others fingers whilst you chatted away.

chris was happy. he'd never bought a girl back to their place and the way matt and nick spoke to you so normally and so freely let him know he wanted more from you than just the odd date and the odd fuck. he felt something for you he hadn't felt before and seeing you so comfortable in his home had only heightened that.

"it was great" you chuckle, and tara lets out a little squeal as she does a little happy dance in her seat. the people behind you turn around to look at her, but she doesn't care.

"i need details." she presses, and you roll your eyes.

"we didn't manage to even eat our food" you admit.

"oh. my. god." she laughing again. "you have to invited him out tonight."

your eyes widen. "fuck" you whisper, picking up your phone immediately.

“what?” tara asks.

“i asked him to top golf later”

theres silence as you type out another messages to chris, but the silence makes you feel uneasy and you divert your eyes to tara. the look on her face tells you everything you need to know.

“don’t start” you whine. but she starts.

“you asked him to top golf? tonight? after seeing him last night?”

you roll your eyes. “you literally just said to invite him out tonight”

her eyes widen. “in a SOCIAL setting.”

you had completely forget about the casual drinks that has been planned for today. there was a group of you and all your friends that like to go to a small bar every month, a place to sit and chat and get casually drunk. in the excitement and lead up to jake’s party for 4th of july and the obvious reasons for chris, it had completely skipped your mind.

"you really like him, dont you" she presses, and you put your phone down before you even finish typing out your message.

you look at your best friend for a second, turning a shade of red. "am i doing too much?" you ask, fear in your mind now that maybe this was quick, and maybe it would end badly. but chris wanted it as bad as you. didn't he?

tara smiles. "no. not at all."

you smile back and let out a breath of fresh air, before you groan and put your hands to your face. tara erupts into laughter.

yes. you were down bad. you WERE pinning for him.

"what where you just about to text him?" she presses on, and you sigh as you pick up your phone again.

"just that i forgot i had plans and if we could do tomorrow, maybe."

"NO" tara shakes her head, mouth full of coffee. you stare at her whilst she composes herself. "absolutely not. go"

"are you sure? i dont wanna blow you guys off for a guy"

she rolls her eyes. "hes not just a guy tho is he, he's chris sturniolo and my best friend is in love"

you hold your finger out to her immediately. "too fucking far"

she erupts into laughter. "put the damn phone down," she says now. "go, and if it goes well, tell him we're all out and come join us"

you look at your phone, message half typed out, before blowing out a sigh and deleting it.

"okay. yeah. okay."

tara squeals again, and you can't hide the rush of excitement that rushes over you.

TAGLIST : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss @slut4chriss @valkatriee @sturnsjtop @viiiwwwee @gwennysturniolo @melanch0lybby @sturnioloblues @mattstrombolii @sturnsbella @hearteyes4chris @le4hsblog @nervoussagittarius @chrissypook @sarosfilms @somegirlfromasgard @carringtonsgirlfriend @h3arts4harry

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Enemies to lovers, period sex and dirty talk with james potter please 🥹

yay a kinktober request! this is why i love these things, i would've never put those together (this request gave me some saltburn vibes ngl but dw i didn't take it that direction)

mdni obviously, fem!reader wc: 3.8k - sorry i got a bit carried away; hope you enjoy!

Bloody Hell

Damn, it was like your period was on a schedule to come when as inconvenient as possible recently. You weren’t supposed to get it for a few days. You groan, clutching your achy back, considering whether this meant you had to change your Halloween costume for tonight. You were going to Sirius’s party as witch. It didn’t involve white trousers or anything ridiculously tight or short, so you felt fine wearing your fancy dress with your now necessary period pants. 

As the day dragged on, pain killers helped the cramps, but definitely not the moodiness. It’d been a while since it made you this grumpy. But, Halloween only came once a year, and you’d been excited for the party, so you try to change your attitude as you’re getting ready later.

The witch’s costume is a bit typical, but you’d loved the colours and liked the classics. Besides, it fit unusually well. Tight and loose in all the right places, the perfect skirt length, and not to mention what it did for your… bosom. You looked hot. The first person you see upon arriving at Sirius’s does not help your mood: James bloody Potter. Looking gorgeous as ever… Wait, what? No. Not gorgeous. Annoying. Yes, that was it. Annoying and smug and irritating and fit. Ugh, okay, whatever. He looked really fit. 

He hadn’t dressed too far from his normal self. Still wearing his typical leather jacket and jeans, but he’d cuffed them differently and had arranged his usually very messy luscious head of hair differently. 

“A witch, Y/L/N? Really?” God, why did his stupid, gruff voice always have such an effect on you?

“Not very creative.” “At least I dressed up, Potter. What are you supposed to be? A twat?” 

“Har-har. So witty. This, for your information, is a 1950’s look.” “Oh, is it? I thought I saw you wearing it last week.” 

He just glares at you. “Alright, alright, you two. Should’ve dressed as vampires; hasn’t even been five minutes, and you’re already at each other’s throats,” Sirius comes interrupting, giving you a quick greeting hug and shoving James a bit along the way. 

“Hi, Siri,” you hug back. “Blame your bestie. He’s the one who doesn’t know how to be nice.” “Oh, because you’re always a ray of sunshine?” James retorts. “Fucking hell,” Sirius sighs, already walking away, busy playing host. He’s already turned his back but you — both of you — clearly hear his exasperated, “Just fuck already, and stop torturing the rest of us.” 

Your wide, mortified eyes snap to James, whose expression mirrors yours. Then he just scoffs and walks away. Typical. 

The party goes on and is actually quite fun. The place is completely covered in Halloween decorations, and some of the costumes are amazing. It’s working wonders on your mood, especially when Remus arrives, but the grumpiness has a way of sneaking its way back into your system whenever Potter approaches. 

You catch him looking over at you frequently, and it gets on your nerves. What does he want? To pick a fight? And why do you care? You try to ignore him as you keep chatting to Remus.

But it becomes impossible when he comes to stand right next to you. “Alright, mate?” He claps Remus on the shoulder, completely ignoring you. 

“I’m standing right here, Potter,” you can’t help but say.

“Yes, I noticed.” “Did you? Because, you see, most people when they notice someone is having a conversation, don’t just interrupt it and ignore them.”

Remus is off with a sighed, “Not this again.” “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot how much you love my attention,” James says smugly, finally turning to you and smirking. You roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m desperate for it,” you deadpan. “Though don’t think I haven’t notice you looking at me, Potter. If I did want your attention, I wouldn’t really be left wanting, would I?”

He seems a bit flustered by this, and you love it when you actually manage to get to him, to render him speechless even if for a mere moment. So, without a clear idea of where it will even lead, you pounce on the opportunity that seems to be presenting itself. 

“Am I wrong? Why have you been so interested in what I’m doing tonight then?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, take a step closer. This really throws him.

“Pfft, have not.” He crosses his arms defensively. “Wow. So witty.” You cross your arms, mirroring him. 

This draws his gaze down to your chest, and it lingers there. He seems to catch himself after a few seconds, but it was still a few seconds too many. Interesting. 

God, was there any way Sirius was right? It was bound to happen some time. 

And even if he was… if James was… what? into you? as into you as you were him? was that what you wanted? Actually admitting the feelings sounded much scarier than relentlessly arguing with him forever. 

You’ve gotten lost in your thoughts (and, ugh, feelings), so you don’t notice how long has gone by. Nor do you notice that your demeanour is changing, shifting from teasing and challenging to reflective and slightly worried. 

“What?” James asks, noticing.

“Nothing,” you panic.

“You’re definitely thinking something.” He waves an accusatory finger around your face. “Pfft, am not.” “Wow. So witty,” he repeats, and it’s filled with glee at retaking the upper hand. 

This annoys you to no end, but you still can’t think of anything to say, so you just push past him with a “you’re so annoying.”

You try for a while to enjoy the party, to ignore James Potter — and the many thoughts and feelings about James Potter that won’t stop hounding you. You keep looking over at him, unable to help yourself. 

The seemingly millionth time you do, his eyes catch yours. You want to look away, but something keeps you from doing so. Not wanting to give him the upper hand, again? Not wanting to look away from his beautiful orbs, possibly? 

You just stare at each other from across the room for what feels like the heaviest few seconds of your life. Then his gaze drops, and rather than victory you feel… disappointment. You want him looking at you. Want to look at him back. Your disappointment doesn’t last for too long, though, as you realize he’s walking over to you.

He stops right in front of you, extremely close. He doesn’t say anything. You watch each other intently. “You’re staring at me,” he finally says. “You were staring at me first.” 

Expecting him to deny it, you’re stunned when he responds, “So what if I was?” Then he checks you out shamelessly, his eyes dragging across your whole body, lingering on your chest, exploring your face, before landing back on your own.

That’s it. Stupid, shameless Potter. You do the only thing to do: you take a tiny step forward and smash your lips against his.

He’s kissing you back ardently before you even truly realize what’s happening. His hands grasp you desperately, pulling your body into his; his mouth contorts over yours, devouring you hungrily. He moans deeply enough for you to hear it over the loud sounds of the party. When he gropes your arse, you moan back. But you also realize what the fuck is happening. In the middle of a crowded room. So you pull back from him. 

His mouth chases yours desperately, not wanting to break apart. 

“Wait, James, wait.” He does. And he’s looking at you funny. “Are you alright?” you ask him. “I like how you say my name, sweetheart.” His sincerity surprises you, melts you. So even though you can’t help yourself as you respond, “Whatever, Potter,” it’s much softer than usual, warmth where there’s usually snark. He smirks at you.

“So can we keep kissing now?” “We’re in public, James.” 

You don’t miss his lips quirk at the word. “So?” “So? I’m not a bloody exhibitionist! I have some standards…” “Toilet, then?” “Yeah, toilet,” you nod frantically. 

His hands don’t release your hips the whole way you chase each other to the bathroom. He catches the back of your neck in a couple of quick kisses, and it’s sending tingles down your whole body.

You’re extremely grateful it’s empty when you reach it, rushing in in a frenzy. James slams the door shut and wastes no time in pushing you against it. He picks up where you had left off.

His mouth is hot and delicious against yours, his tongue dancing against yours in its explorations. He enjoys your mouth but soon traces down your jaw and starts sucking on your throat. You shiver at the sensations and pull him to you, your fingers winding into his gorgeous hair. He moans at this and the vibrations directly against your skin make you whimper.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, his lips still tracing your throat. “I love the sounds you make.” 

You hum, and he grazes his teeth across your skin, morphing your voice into a soft yelp. “Yeah, like that,” he chuckles gruffly.

The next time his mouth makes it to the base of your neck, he continues downward. He starts kissing the tops of your tits desperately, bringing his hands up your body to grope them as he does. 

“Fuck, I’ve been going mad all night looking at these. You should wear this every day.” His hands move to your hips pulling you from the door over to the sink. “C’mere,” he says as he lifts you to sit on the small counter.

You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. You play with his hair as he kisses you fervently.

“I’ve always wanted to pull your hair,” you confess, surprising both of you with your honesty. “Oh yeah?” He looks so turned on, you throw any last inhibitions out the window. “Yeah. Fuck, you have nice hair.” You tug harshly on it, and his reacting groan is almost animalistic. His now black eyes stare directly into yours for a charged moment before he dives back into you. 

He kisses wetly down to your throat and chest, and this time when he gets to your breasts, he unceremoniously pulls your dress and bra down. 

“Fuck, you have nice tits,” he echoes and grins. He plays with them, kneading them and tugging on your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before shoving his face between them. He licks across your chest and circles your nipple with his tongue. He switches eagerly between them, puckering them both up before taking one into his greedy mouth and sucking. You let out a loud, strangled whimper at the intense and exquisite sensation, and James hums around your tit. You cradle his head against you.

Rubbing his face against your breasts, he pleads, “That’s it, baby. Keep making those sounds. I love hearing how good you feel. It’s so fucking hot.”

“Jaames,” you whine as he sucks your nipple again. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” Groping them hard one more time, he brings his hands down from your tits, massaging your sides before grabbing your thighs. He squeezes them harshly, jiggling them and running his nails across your skin. 

He’s running his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, toward your center, whispering “You wet for me, baby?” when your stomach drops and you remember, panicking. You’d been so caught up in James, you’d entirely forgotten. 

“Fuck!” you yelp, pushing James away suddenly. He stumbles, then takes a steadying step back. He looks completely confused (and unreasonably sexy, all scruffed up from making out with you). “Fucking hell, Y/N. What? You alright?” 

“I — fuck, yeah, I’m fine — I just — fuck.” You cover your face with your hands and squeeze your thighs shut. “Hey,” James says much more softly. “What’s up, love? Y’alright? You’re kind of freaking me out.” “Ugh, ‘m so sorry,” you slur into your hands. He grabs your wrists gently, pulling them away from your face. “It’s alright, whatever it is. Just… can you tell me what’s wrong?” God, how you wish you could vanish in that moment. Or better, not have had your bloody — literally — body betray you like this this morning. Why this fucking time of all times to come early? 

You’re mortified, embarrassed as hell, wishing there was some way out of this without having to explain the truth and put James Potter off, probably for good. After all the time and tension it’d taken to get you here at all. 

“Y/n?”

You take a steadying breath but still can’t get the words out. So you cover your face again, only able to utter them while feeling hidden from him. “‘M on my period,” you confess. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, so you brave moving your hands down and looking up at him. You’re not sure how to read his expression. Then he grins lightly and brings his hands to your cheeks. He tucks your now messy hair behind your ears on both sides before holding your face. 

He’s surprised you several times tonight, but this next one takes the cake. “If you don’t mind, I don’t mind,” he says simply with a shrug and a caress of your cheeks. “What?” You can’t believe it. Every other guy it’d come up with before had treated it like the most disgusting thing. “I don’t mind,” he repeats, chuckling, moving his face closer to yours to look up deeply into your eyes. 

“Are you serious?” “Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine, obviously. Like if you’re not feeling well or whatever, but if it’s just about the blood… I can handle a little blood.” “It’s more than a little,” you whisper embarrassedly.

“I didn’t mean it literally,” he laughs. How can he seem so lighthearted? Could he really not mind?

He brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling them slowly apart, giving you time to resist the motion, stepping between them when you don’t. He messages them on either side of his hips. “So?” he asks seductively, clearly eager to continue. “You really don’t mind?" “Really. Fuck, Y/N, I’ve been wanting this so fucking long, I’d be a madman if I waited longer just because you’re on your period.” 

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you open your legs a bit wider at his words. The dark smirk that usurps James’s expression as you do makes your cunt pulse. God, you want him. Blood be damned. 

Slowly, so slowly it’s driving you insane, he ghosts his hands over your skin the rest of the way up your legs. When they finally reach your underwear, they snake under the waistband and tentatively pull. You lift your hips, and he yanks them the rest of the way off. 

Instinctively, you try to shut your legs. James standing where he is only lets you do it part of the way. Pushing the insides of your knees open again, he says, “No need to hide, gorgeous.” “I — “ But words fail you. So, you simply let him open your legs. 

Sensing your tension, James kisses you again. He starts softly, but you’re both so hungry for each other, so worked up already despite the interruption, that it’s only a few seconds before you’re ravaging each other again, moaning and grasping and pulling each other close. With his mouth still on yours, one hand holding your face, the other comes between your legs, grazing where your thigh meets your cunt.

You shiver, a combination of nerves and pleasure. He breaks your kiss, but rests his forehead on yours, looking straight into your eyes. He lifts his eyebrows in question, and you nod hesitantly. 

He finally brings his fingers to your center, ghosting over it. When you feel the string of your tampon under his fingers, you ashamedly let out an “Oh, god” then “sorry.”

James tssks at you and whispers, “’S alright, sweetheart. It’s fine. Maybe let’s get rid of this, though, cos it’s where I want to be, yeah?” Fuck, how could he keep turning you on even more? You nod and bring your hand between your legs. You pull out the tampon and toss it over into the rubbish bin.

Without further ado, James touches you properly. His fingers slide up and down your wet folds. Your slick and blood mix under his ministrations, but it feels so fucking unreal that you finally start not to care.

You’d always been sensitive during your period. But no one else had ever touched you during it. Nor had it been after ages of sexual tension and lustful fantasies. Every graze of his hand is divine, and when his motions become proper strokes, the full length of his fingers rubbing against you, you squeal as your head falls onto his shoulder. One hand clutches the sink, the other James. “Feel good?” he teases. “Yes,” you sigh desperately.

“How about this then?” he asks as he plunges two fingers into you. You scream. 

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he laughs. “I mean, keep screaming, but maybe not so loud. Don’t want anyone to come knocking when I’m finally this close to fucking you.”

“Fuck.” “Hmm, that’s it. Just relax, love.” His hand thrusts as his fingers curl inside you, and you clench in utter pleasure. “Fuuuck, you’re squeezing me so bloody tight, love. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” You let out some kind of strained affirmative groan and clench again. “Yeah? Want to feel me fill you up?” “Yes, fuck, yes, please.” 

“Who knew you could be this nice, Y/L/N? That all it’d take was my fingers inside you.” “Shut up, Potter.” But there’s no bite to it. “We both know you don’t want me to shut up. I can feel how much you’re enjoying this.” You just bite your lip and whimper when he pushes his thumb against your clit. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You can bring the snark back after I make you cum.” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the thought, and you nod, giving into him. “I know I could do it like this, but I can’t wait any longer to feel you, baby.”

He pulls his hand out of you, and you whine. When you see how entirely covered in blood it is, any further sounds die in your throat at your mortification. 

“I —“ you start, but James just shakes his head and kisses you to shut you up. Not breaking apart from you, he reaches blindly for the hand towel and cleans his hands when he finally finds it. There’s still dark red traces of you on the fingers that then hurry to his trousers, opening them in a rush. He pushes them down and pulls his cock free. Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight. “James,” you whine. “Yeah, sweetheart?” “Please fuck me.” With a deep groan, one of his hands roughly pulls your head to keep making out with you and the other grabs his cock and lines it up with your center. He pushes in fast. His mouth devours the sounds yours makes in response. 

He starts pounding in and out of you, not bothering to start slow. You’re sure you’d be wet enough regardless, but as things stand, he’s gliding in and out of you. A loud squelching sounds as he thrusts, but before you have time to be embarrassed, James moans, “Fuck, you feel so fucking amazing,” and pounds harder.

He has to bring one hand to the sink just behind you to stabilize himself from how roughly he’s going; his other hand takes a vice-like grip of your hip. His head ends up in the crook of your neck, and he kisses and sucks. Your hand comes to his hair, your other arm clinging around his shoulders clutching him as your whole body reverberates with his movements.

He slows down only enough to lean his head slightly down to where your tits are bouncing. He sucks your nipple and keeps it in his mouth as he keeps fucking into you. At the harsh and unexpected suck, you scream again. He makes no effort to quiet you. 

With his face at your chest, he’s opened a bit of space between your bodies, and he brings a hand to where he keeps disappearing in and out of you. He starts rubbing messily on your clit. 

With that sensation on top of all the others that have your body on fire, you cum violently around him with strangled yell. 

He thrusts through it, but a few clenches of your pussy later, he can’t help but cum too. Your clutching cunt milks him dry. 

He’s panting loudly when he finally stops moving, his hips still, his face resting on your chest. An aftershock ripples through him, and his body gives a quick shake. Then he gives your breast a quick peck before moving to kiss your mouth. It doesn’t last; he’s so out of breath, but he rests his forehead on yours as he recovers. His arms rest on the sink on either side of you, caging you in. You feel warm and safe, and you stroke up and down his strong arms. He smiles and pecks your lips. 

“Not bad, Potter,” you finally break the silence. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“You cannot possibly act nonchalant after the sounds you just made, Y/L/N. I’m surprised no one burst in here thinking someone was getting murdered.”

You laugh together. It’s concerningly nice.

When you settle down, James looks between you. He pulls out gently. And it’s a fucking mess. 

“I don’t think the words ‘bloody hell’ have ever been so appropriate,” he jokes, staring at it. “Oh god,” you say, covering your face in your hands again. “C’mon, Y/L/N. I thought we were past this bit.” It’s harsh but encouraging as he pulls your hands from your face and quickly kisses your forehead. “C’mon,” he offers as he helps lift you off the counter in a way that lets you hop over the… puddle. 

You both stand there staring at the crimson crime scene of a sink. 

Looking at it but leaning toward you, James asks, “D’you think we could get away with saying it’s Halloween decorations?” 

You burst out laughing again.

“The blood, maybe, but… there’s some of you there too…” 

“Well, at least our first time is certainly memorable. Happy Halloween, Y/L/N.” 

Your heart does something funny at “first time.” So, you ignore it for now and simply say, “Help me clean this up before Sirius actually does murder us in here.”

[ncityprincess]

Forever Home 🏠

Smut | MDNI

WC: 2.7K+

Plot: Long-term couple Johnny and Y/N share a delicious dinner and reminisce about all the good times they’ve shared in their soon-to-be old apartment.

*This couple is from the same universe as Nighttime Routine, the Big three-oh, and the Dad Johnny series so feel free to read those too, but they’re not required reading 🙂‍↔️*

Mentions: dirty talk, oral fixation, breeding kink, strength kink, size kink (come on it’s Johnny)

“Woah!”

Your fiancé did a little happy dance as he tasted the chicken he’d been working on for the past 20 minutes. Tonight, you two were trying a new chicken thigh recipe, and judging by the tall man’s enthusiasm, it was a hit.

“It’s good huh,” You teased, glancing up from your salad prep.

“Here, come try.” Johnny speared a piece of chicken on his fork, blowing away the steam. You paused, eager for a taste test, and bounced over, always up for sampling his cooking.

You savored the perfectly seasoned bite. “Mmm…” you hummed, delighted. The chicken was juicy, and tender, with just the right kick of spice. “Oh my God, this Harissa seasoning? Definitely staying in the rotation.”

Johnny grinned, nodding in agreement as he turned off the stove and started plating the food. Meanwhile, you resumed tossing the salad, whisking together a quick homemade dressing.

Peaceful moments like these made you appreciate the relationship you and Johnny had cultivated. It was the mundane, casual moments that truly warmed your heart the most. Not needing to fill silence with fluff and noise—just enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.

“Red or white tonight, my love,” Johnny asked, interrupting your quiet thoughts.

“Mm, let’s do red tonight.”

After the table was set and you both had everything you needed, you finally sat down to dig in. The two of you engaged in some light conversation, gushing over how good the meal turned out, as well as what types of things you both got up to at work.

“I only had one client call today, so luckily I was finally able to finish cleaning out the hall closet. Thank God for remote work, one less thing we have to do this month.”

“Wooo, you rock babe thank you. That project took way longer than it needed to. How can two people rack up so much junk,” Johnny laughed before taking a bite of salad.

“Well, we had our suitcases, old college junk, your skateboard, my yoga mat, your endless supply of nerdy tech stuff, my totally not out of control shoe collection…We had our whole lives in that closet babe. That, and we’ve already lived in this building for six years. That’s a lot of time to collect a bunch of junk.”

“Well, I for one very much enjoyed accumulating all that junk with you, m’lady. And I can’t wait to collect even more junk with you in our new place.” Johnny punctuated his statement with a heaping bite of chicken.

You shook your head at his silliness. “Wow, how romantic honey. But I’m honestly so ready for our forever home. This market is so volatile,” you pouted. Johnny looked at you with warm eyes, wanting to kiss the pout right off your face…

You both had been house hunting for a lot longer than you had anticipated. Turns out, buying a house wasn’t as simple as they made it seem on HGTV. It wasn’t a straightforward choice between three gorgeous homes, it was sifting through piles of renovation nightmares and out-of-budget fantasies.

Each house was either too small, too outdated, didn’t have enough character, or had too many zeros attached to the price tag. Each viewing left you more disappointed than the last. Johnny, ever the optimist, always assured you that the right one would come along eventually. “What’s meant for us can’t skip us, baby.”

After dinner, you continued your normal routine of washing the dishes and putting the leftovers away. The faint smell of chicken and spices lightly lingered in the air. The calming energy of the kitchen filled you with a sense of peace.

“Oh, by the way, I picked up a little something from your favorite bakery on the way home. Check the fridge.” Johnny nodded toward the refrigerator before sitting back down. Even though your tummy was stuffed, your ears perked up at the thought of your favorite treat patiently waiting for you.

Johnny smiled fondly at the way you skipped toward the fridge and all but broke the door off its hinges to retrieve the dessert. You grabbed two spoons and plopped down onto Johnny’s empty lap. His strong hands moved to massage your hips and upper thighs while you opened the pink dessert box, eager to dig in.

But to your surprise and mild disappointment, it wasn't your delicious strawberry cheesecake, but instead, a silver key that you had never seen before. The key sparkled beautifully under the overhead light.

You stared at the box dumbfounded, turning to look at Johnny. His eyes held lighthearted mischief and he chuckled yet again, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked gently against your ear.

“…not my favorite strawberry cheesecake in the whole wide world?”

“Remember the place we looked at a few weeks back? The one we had our hearts set on, but another family placed a higher bid? Turns out their offer fell through. The house is ours, baby. We move in at the end of the month.”

The realization finally hit and you squealed, wrapping your arms around your lover’s neck. “You mean the one with the gorgeous sunroom and the little koi fish pond!?”

Johnny squeezed your hip. “Uh-huh, that’s the one. The one with just enough space to get started on that family we’ve always wanted. It all worked out perfectly baby.”

“Oh honey, I love you so much. Thank you! I can’t believe we’re gonna be homeowners!” You peppered a million smooches all over Johnny’s face, overcome with the joy of what the next chapter will bring.

“I love you. I’m so lucky to be able to experience this moment with you.”

You nuzzled yourself deeper into Johnny, suddenly feeling sentimental. “We’ve shared so many memories in this little apartment. It’s kind of bittersweet to be leaving”

“Yeah, we sure have…remember the time you flooded the bathroom. Maintenance was pisssssed,” Johnny teased.

You gasped and lightly pressed your pointer finger into his chest. “Well, do you remember the time you burned our Thanksgiving turkey?! We had to leave our windows open in the dead of winter to air out the smoke,” you teased right back.

“How could I forget, my mom never lets me live that one down.” You laughed and ran your hands through his silky strands absentmindedly.

“Remember when we got that terrible snowstorm that knocked the power out of the whole city? We were snowed in for days, and had to snuggle for warmth.”

“Goodness, I swore my fingers and toes were going to fall off,” you reminisced with a light laugh. “The electric bill was cheaper that month, but at what cost?”

You both chuckled at the memory, the glow of shared experience warming the space between you. The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft hum of the dishwasher.

Johnny’s gaze lingered on you, a quiet contentment settling over him. The longer he sat there, the more he became aware of how warm your body felt pressed against his. The memory of huddling for warmth now had a different meaning — not out of necessity, but out of comfort. He liked the way you instinctively nuzzled into him every so often, your soft curves fitting perfectly against his body.

His fingers traced idle patterns along your side, as though savoring the present moment. You felt the subtle shift in his energy, his touch growing more intentional, lingering.

“What kind of memories do you wanna make in the new house baby?”

Something about the way the tone of his voice hit your most sensitive parts lets you know that the energy of the moment was about to shift.

“Hm,” you pondered, letting the statement linger in the air.

Johnny wasted no time letting you know where his mind was at. “Because I think I wanna make some really dirty memories in our new bedroom. What do you think?” His hand slid up the front of your soft stomach, making you squirm.

“I guess we could make that happen. But who says we have to wait till we get to the new house?”

Johnny looked down at you pleasantly stunned, while your eyes held sensual mischief.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh Missy? You gonna be my bold girl tonight?”

You answered his question with a kiss on his pillowy lips, letting out a gentle moan when he pressed his tongue against yours. Johnny deepened the kiss and placed a strong hand on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to get on your knees right under the dinner table and get to work.

“Baby. Take me. To bed,” you breathed out in between kisses. Those were the magic words Johnny needed to hear.

“Say less.”

Johnny pushed the chair back and gathered you into his arms, making a beeline for the bedroom. You squealed as he tossed you back onto the bed, taking your breath away in the best way possible.

You gathered your bearings and flipped onto your hands and knees, crawling to where Johnny stood at the foot of the bed. You pawed at his sweatpants, silently gesturing him to pull them down and reveal himself to you. He smirked down at you and gladly fulfilled your request.

“You gonna suck me off real good baby? Huh?” You nodded and took his half-erect member into your hands. You began to stroke him slowly, closing your eyes in pleasure when he let out a guttural groan. Johnny gently rocked his hips against your hand a few times, throwing his head back in relief.

Your hand roamed along the length of his cock, and you admired how warm and muscular it felt against your hand. Your mouth watered at the thought of feeling the heaviness of him against your tongue.

You couldn’t wait any longer and bent forward to take Johnny into your mouth. “F-uck baby that’s it,” he stuttered out. His affirming words encouraged you to give him the best head you could muster at the moment.

You let your tongue swirl around his tip for a few more moments before taking a deep breath through your nose. You took his length deeper into your throat, the action making you gag and produce little messy slivers of saliva. Johnny bit down on his bottom lip and gently pet the top of your head as if to say, good girl.

It brought you so much pleasure to satisfy your man like this. He always poured so much love and attention into you, and this was one of your favorite ways to pour it back into him. Each of his grunts and groans filled you up with exhilarating pride.

You wrapped your fist around the bottom of his shaft while you let your mouth do the rest of the work, suctioning and brushing your lips against him. Your back was fully arched, and you swore you were getting more wet by the minute…

Johnny took one last look into your wide, lust-filled eyes that were silently begging for more praise. His hips stuttered insatiably, then he pulled out of your mouth completely. Entranced and reeling, you sat back onto your heels and pouted up at him. Already fucked out and needy.

“Don’t look at me like that. You were gonna make me blow, woman.”

“Yeah well that was kinda the point, buddy.” You wiped the residual saliva and salty precum from your lips breathlessly, proud of your literal handiwork.

“Calling me buddy while my dick is out is crazy.”

“Ok John, just fuck me already please, and thank you,” you whined, growing uncomfortable at the way your panties stuck to your dripping pussy.

Johnny grinned, stepping out of his sweatpants completely and tossing his shirt over his head. “That can be arranged.”

Johnny grabbed your ankle and yanked you closer to him, peeling your tiny pajama set and panties off. You lay underneath his looming figure, feeling submissive and completely at home all at the same time.

This was the man you were going to spend the rest of forever with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, pretty girl?” Johnny slowly parted your thighs, bringing you back into the moment.

“How much I love doing life with you,” you answered sincerely.

Johnny’s heart swelled, and he pressed an affectionate kiss against the arch of your foot. He took his throbbing length in his hand and slid it against your slippery folds. You let out a soft sigh, bucking your hips greedily. Your body was more than ready to take him in.

He finally slipped into you, letting his jaw drop in sweet relief. “Agh, fuckin’ love you so much, babe. You don’t even know.”

“I do,” you quipped, wrapping your legs around his midsection. You arched your pelvis up against his, letting him get as deep inside you as possible.

“Do you though,” Johnny teased, building up a nice steady rhythm. He loved the way your needy hands traveled up the front of your body to grab onto your bouncing boobs.

“Mmm, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you moaned with a twinkle in your eye, enjoying the way his tip kissed your walls. Johnny shoved your hot body down onto his dick with each harsh thrust.

You always loved how athletic and strong Johnny was. He never made a big deal about it, but his natural athleticism always came out in the bedroom. He was so sweet and gentle with you normally, but you loved being tossed into whatever position and going along for the ride.

Johnny gently caressed your cheek, admiring your gorgeous, flushed face and the way it displayed a look of pleasure. The small, but romantic gesture juxtaposed the way his hips crashed into yours.

Something indescribable washed over you as Johnny brushed his thumb against your soft lips. You were overcome with erotic feelings and eagerly took the thick digit into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste.

You held onto his wrist with both hands as you moaned around his thumb, letting your tongue swirl around it like you did with his cock earlier.

Johnny thought you looked picturesque like this. He didn’t know how he got blessed with someone as gorgeous as you, but he thanked every single higher power known to man.

He silently wished he could capture this beautiful moment with his film camera, but nothing could ever truly capture how stunning you were like his own two eyes. You looked up at him with a half-lidded gaze, the seductive look making him slightly falter inside of you.

“My pretty baby, always such a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned out in agreement. He made it so easy to be a good girl for him. He gave you everything you wanted and always spoke to you so gently…

“That’s the first thing I wanna do when we move to the new house you know? Wanna fuck you nice and deep. Just like this. Do you want that too?”

Your grip on his hand tightened as your jaw went slack, moaning out a whiny “yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be kind of crazy if I got you pregnant the first night we moved in? Fuck—“ Johnny groaned before taking a strong hold on your hips, picking up the pace to send you both over the edge.

Your breathy moans picked up in time with each harsh snap of Johnny’s hips. “Fuck baby I’m right there,” you moaned desperately, digging your heels into his toned back.

“What do you think will come first: the wedding or the baby? Guess we’ll find out won’t we?”

You were still very much on the pill, both of you agreeing to stay semi-safe until the wedding day. But the sexiness of the fantasy and the way Johnny was talking had you ready to go to the courthouse tomorrow morning.

Johnny slipped his hand in between your bodies to play with your clit, making you finally tip over the edge. You let out the prettiest sounds as you let go, and moments later you heard Johnny let out some deep sounds of his own.

Johnny pulled out and grunted as he tugged his dick a few more times, sprinkling milky droplets of cum onto your lower tummy. You both caught your breath and came back down to earth. The hot, steamy atmosphere of the room felt like warm satisfaction on your skin.

You looked down at the residual product of your love on your stomach and scooped some of the liquid onto your pointer finger and into your mouth. Johnny caught the dirty action and groaned, exhausted but still so turned on by you.

“Jeez, babe what’s with all this finger stuff today? You’re killing me.”

You giggled and shrugged, showing off the finger you just licked clean. “You deprived me of my strawberry cheesecake, I needed something sweet. What’s a girl to do?”

A look of remembrance flashed over Johnny’s face and he suddenly sprang out of bed, naked as the day he was born.

“What are you doing, weirdo,” you exclaimed and plopped back against the pillows. You heard faint movements coming from the kitchen, followed by quick footsteps coming back to the bedroom. Johnny emerged from the kitchen with one of your Tupperware containers and two spoons. He jumped in bed next to you and opened the container.

Your beautiful strawberry cheesecake was staring back at you in all of its deliciousness.

The end 💋

[dorotheataylor]

You are in Love

Pairing- Gojo Satoru x fem!Reader

Summary- The three times he realised he loved you, and the one time he said it. Inspired by You are in Love (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift.

Warnings- Its just fluff, a little angst if you squint? SATORU IS WHIPPED (hes so cute😭), best friends to lovers romance, Shoko and Suguru playing cupids, whipped satoru (yes this warning again), swearing (its only one word but still), no curses!au, modern!au, my poor english :p

Word Count- 3.5k words

A/N- Whenever I listen to Taylor, either this guy or his best friend pop up in my head. Like the amount of times I think about them is so insane and I can’t help it anymore. Anyways, here’s another songfic (is this even a surprise atp?) based on another Taylor’s song coz i love that woman so much. Alsoooo it’s my birthday today! And what is better than writing a fic abt your man on your birthday? So I hope y’all enjoy this little birthday gift from me!

The first time Satoru realised he loved you was when you were in college together. It was the last day of the semester before everyone bid farewell to each other and went home for the holiday season. You and him were walking along one pathway coming back from your Christmas shopping, snow falling softly around everyone’s body, and a chill in the air that made everyone want to snuggle up beside the fireplace in their houses.

Suguru and Shoko had joined you both too but then excused themselves to leave you two alone, hoping that the romantic ambiance of the holiday season would finally give Satoru the confidence to tell you how he felt.

To say he was a nervous wreck was an understanding. He had spent the whole afternoon talking to himself in the mirror, practicing what he would say so that he won't stumble on his words and ruin the moment.

He didn't have a problem talking to you as he normally does; you were his best friend after all, like Suguru and Shoko, but once he tries to tell you that you make his heart beat faster, make butterflies flood his stomach, it makes him lose all his senses. Suguru had to drag him out of his room, complaining about waiting for 'thirty fucking minutes' already.

Eventually, he met you and Shoko at the front gate of his house and walked with you towards the mall. The entire day, he felt so jittery, like he couldn’t stay still. You remained oblivious to the fact that Satoru was about ready to burst from the inside from how nervous he was.

Suguru and Shoko, on the other hand, couldn’t contain their laughter. By the time the sky began to fade into the night sky, Suguru and Shoko decided that now was as good of a time than ever and made up an excuse to leave the two of you alone. 

Now here you were, walking beside Satoru, bundled up in your white scarf, and the cutest red blush on the tip of your nose. You readjusted your beanie, looking up at him to start conversation. Satoru felt his words get stuck in his throat, unable to remember how to speak with you staring up at him with the twinkle of oblivion in your eye.

"Toru?" you asked bumping your shoulder with him, noticing his uneasy expressions as you wrapped an arm around yourself to get some warmth as the snow had started to fall little more harshly, "am I that boring that your mind had to drift somewhere else?"

"God no." He blushed, finally able to say something without stumbling. Without thought, he wrapped one of his arm around you, bringing you closer to him. You sighed in content, melting into him and Satoru swore his heart swelled three times its size.

The snow crunched under your boots as you walked up the path. The lights lining the cobblestone street gave a yellow tint to the sight. He walked with you in silence but in his head, he was going over exactly what he wanted to say. This was the perfect time.

The snow falling from the sky, little snowflakes tangled in the strands of your hair. You were pressed up against his chest, so close to him that he could smell your perfume, sweet and addicting. There were no other people around, all too eager to find sanctuary in warmth that their houses brought. It was the perfect time.

He stopped walking, halting you with him. He let you go for a moment, taking a deep breath in and slowly let it out. You watched as the cloud of fog escaped his lips and dispersed into the air. His white hair poked out from under his hoodie, matted on his forehead. Satoru looked down at his wet boots, kicking around snow that pooled around the soles.

Finally, he looked up, taking your two hands into his palms in the process. 

You smiled at the gesture, your heart fluttering in your chest. You looked at him, offering a comforting look as you raised your eyebrows up in suspicion, “What’s up, Toru?”

And just like that, all of the words he worked so hard to conjure up, slipped right out of his mind. When he saw you looking up at him, eyebrows raised, cheeks and nose tinted with a light shade of pink, and your lips plump and red, he realized that there were no words to describe what it was he felt about you.

You watched him in silence, studying the way he gave you a lopsided smile when you tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. He leaned into your touch, letting out another sigh of relief. 

“Nothing,” he finally spoke, letting go of your hands. He wrapped his arm around you again, hoping you won’t hear the marching of his heart in his chest. “You’re my best friend.”

-

The second time he realised he loved you was when he found you crying on your couch. He had came to check on you when you didn’t come over for the routine movie night. Every Saturday, you, him, Suguru and Shoko got together at each other’s places for movie nights. Laughter, jokes, entertainment, talks, drinks and what not went on full night and the next day all of you were passed out on either couch or the floor.

Today everyone was coming over at Satoru’s place. Suguru and Shoko were already there but when it kept getting late, Satoru became worried about you. Shoko tried assuring him you were okay, just stuck in some work but he wouldn’t believe it. Because you were time punctual and never missed the movie nights.

So he came over to yours and opened your door with the spare key you’d given him only to find you curled up in your couch, crying.

He immediately rushed over to you and wrapped his arms around you tightly as you held onto him. He didn’t say anything but stayed there, holding you, feeling his heart break as you sobbed into his chest.

A few moments later, when he felt you relaxing a little, he took your face in his hands as he asked, “better?”

You just nodded as you snuggled into him. Neither of you two said anything, a comfortable silence, just sitting there on your couch, engulfing each other, enjoying each other’s company.

“Now tell me what happened?” he asked softly when your crying had quieted down, afraid you might break again.

“It’s nothing. I just- its too much. Work, studies, family, everything. I just got too overwhelmed and just couldn’t keep it in anymore. And I had nobody present here for me to tell me that its okay or listen about what I felt.” You said now realising what mess you had made and quite embarrassed that Satoru had to see you this vulnerable. “God this is embarrassing! I’m so sorry.”

“Hey look at me.” He said, cupping your cheeks to make you look at him when you didn’t. “Everyone in this world has a vulnerable side. Everyone on this planet has things which is maybe too much overwhelming for them that they might just break at any point. Just like you did. But don’t ever apologise for this. Because none of it is your fault. Okay? And I’m always here for you. Even if you’re far away, I’ll always be there. You’re not alone, okay?”

You just nodded and gave him the smile he adored so much. And without saying anything else, he wrapped both of his arms around you once again, letting you rest your head on his chest. He kissed your forehead and hummed in content as you snuggled even closer to him if possible.

And as he looked down at the girl in his arms, he realised this is what he wanted for the rest of his life. He loved you. 

-

The third time he realised he loved you was after summer. He hadn’t talked or heard from you since 4 months.

You left without a goodbye or a message to god knows where. He'd tried searching for you but always ended up getting disappointed. Suguru and Shoko missed you too. They had helped him to find you too but to no avail. It was like you’d disappeared into thin air.

Satoru often wondered if you ever thought about him like he did, if you missed him like he did. He knew you were probably out there pursuing your dream career, which you'd always talked about and wanted to do, but a part of him wanted to be there with you. To support and cheer for you at every step you take, to give you advices, to have late night celebration for your achievements. Call him selfish and everything. Everyday that passed, he cursed himself for not telling you how he felt before you left. Would it have made any difference? He’d like to think so. Even if it didn’t, he, at least, wouldn’t have to live every single day thinking: “What if?”

He kept a picture of you in his office. He often looked at it whenever he was free, always wondering how you were doing, if you were okay or not. Suguru and Shoko always found this sight pitful. They had tried to get him to move on, but all of them knew that Satoru was so in love with you and you were special to all three of them and that nobody could ever take your place.

It wasn’t until six months later when you stumbled into the building, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. A part of you knew you didn’t have the right to be there because you left them with no warning. You wouldn’t blame them if they asked you to leave the premises the minute their eyes landed on you. You knew you deserved the cold shoulder. Because if they were the ones who did that to you, you knew you wouldn’t be so forgiving.

The receptionist had told you to wait while she checked if the three of them were free or not. As you waited, you smiled sadly at the memories of last six months. You had gone for higher studies, as your dad had promised, for your dream career. You knew you should’ve at least informed someone before you left but everything happened just so fast that one moment your dad had agreed on your consent and the next moment you were on the plane.

Surely you enjoyed the studies and training period there, Paris being busy in days and nights, but having really nice places to visit. You would always go to the Eiffel tower, watching the sunset, half expecting for Satoru to wrap his arm around your waist but whenever you turned your head you’d always met with empty space. Whenever you came home exhausted, you always expected Satoru to be there with dinner ready and him greeting you with a welcome home kiss.

That’s why you came back. To be in his arms. To be able to kiss him. To be able to call him yours. Because you’d realise that your life was nothing if Gojo Satoru wasn’t in it.

The receptionist told you to go upstairs at floor 5 but as you were about to click the lift button, you heard someone running on the stairs. You turned to look who it was and your eyes locked with a pair of blue ones which were close to home. He just looked at you and slowly stepped towards you as you did the same.

When you were both closer to each other, he brought his hand up, touching your cheeks delicately as if making sure you were real.

Satoru couldn’t believe it. When the receptionist called him and said that someone named Y/N L/N was here to meet him, he left all his works and ran downstairs. And now that he’d seen you, he was mesmerised and shocked. Shocked because you were really here and mesmerised because you looked even more beautiful than before. He touched your cheeks delicately, making sure you were really here and not another one of his hallucinations. And then without another thought he took you into his arms and held you tight and closer to him, now promising himself to never let you go. All the feelings he still had for you, tripled. His heart rumbled in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Even after all this time, he was still so in love with you.

“No need to tell me where you were. Because I already know.” You were tearing up as you finally felt complete in his arms and realised how much you loved him.

“Don’t ever leave me like that again.” He said as he was starting to tear up too. He loved you so much and the thought of being apart once again was killing him.

“I won’t. Ever again. I promise.”

-

It didn’t take long for Satoru to tell you how he felt after you came back. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Every moment that he didn’t get to call you his, chipped his heart. Both Shoko and Suguru were growing tired of it, encouraging him to just say it because they were sure you felt the same. He tried to ignore them, not wanting to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help but think about how amazing it would feel if you told him you loved him back.

You came over to Satoru’s for dinner that night, Suguru insisted that they all missed you too much to go out to a restaurant. After dinner and catching up with everyone, you and Satoru excused yourselves and walked out in the garden. His hands were in his pockets, unable to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time. He’s been practicing what to say to you since years and yet, he still felt unprepared.

You were walking silently beside him, taking in the silence and calmness of the life you’re living now. You no longer had to worry about anything, just the day to day necessities, and your feelings for Satoru. Subconsciously, you intertwined your fingers with his snuggling up to his side for some warmth.

He froze for a moment. This is it, he thought, this is the perfect moment. So before he lost his confidence, he spoke, “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes, Toru?” you asked, rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. “What is it?”

There it was. He missed it. He missed the way you called him ‘Toru’. And now finally hearing it from you made his heart skip many beats.

He held you in your place, stopping in the middle of a field of flowers. The moon illuminated one side of your face, showing off your perfect features. Satoru smiled, reaching over to caress your cheekbone. With tears in his eyes, he said, “I love you.”

You gasped softly, looking up at him, “What?”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Satoru sighed, connecting his forehead with yours. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a breathy laugh, “I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

You slowly brought your hand to his face and cupped his cheek as he melted in your touch. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I was afraid of what you'd say. I didn't want to ruin our friendship and lose you. I just thought that maybe if you didn't love me like that, I'd still have you. Even if it's just as your best friend."

"Then why now?" you asked, you voice getting even quieter. He kissed the palm of your hand as he met your eyes.

"Because after all those years of crushing on you, all those months of not being able to see you or be in your arms, made me realise how much in love I was with you. All those six months, you consumed all of my thoughts, your laughter was all I could hear in my silent nights, your smile was all I could see everywhere I went. And not being able to tell you how much I loved you was killing me." He finished, tears flowing uncontrollably from his eyes.

You didn't know when your eyes started tearing up. All you knew was how much you loved him at this moment. Him confessing all his feelings for you, so vulnerably. It made you realise how much you just wanted to hold him and never let him go.

So you said, "I'm in love with you too, Satoru."

At first he thought his ears were playing tricks on him. You loved him back? His eyes shot open, pulling away from you as he stared at you in disbelief. “Y-you love me?”

"Yes, you idiot." You chuckled through your tears, pulling him closer. Your lips ghosted over his, causing him to shiver. "I've been in love with you for a really long time as well."

"I'm really an idiot, aren't I?" he said, laughing a little.

"Yes, you are. But you're my idiot."

And with that, he kissed you. All those years where he hid his feelings came pouring out in this one kiss. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his like there was any more space between the two of you to close. Your arms looped around his neck, his one hand snaked down to your waist to steady you while one still remained on your cheek. He kissed you, pouring in all his regrets, mistakes, apprehensions, into his love, no longer wanting to pass up an opportunity to love you for the rest of his life.

And when he pulled back for air, he had the biggest smile on his face. "I'm the luckiest man on this earth." You pecked him again as you gave him your biggest grin.

On your way back home, you could feel it, you could hear it in the silence, you could see it with the lights out in the garden. It lingered between you two, suffocating you but it was the best feeling ever. Gojo Satoru is in love with you. You are in love.

[awkwardandeccentric]

I love the idea of Blitz, Stolas, Angel Dust, and Husk all meeting, but it’s even funnier because Stolas and Husk are more similar and Angel and Blits are more similar.

Stolas and Husk are both functional, depressed alcoholics. They both are too old for your nonsense. They both enjoy the performance arts, particularly, ahem, classier than what Hell usually has to offer. They’re both subdued and introverted. Both are very smart, Husk emotionally and Stolas intellectually. They would have a lovely conversation over jazz music in the human world with a whiskey neat and a questionable amount of absinthe.

If Blitz and Angel Dust ever meet…oh god. No one is safe. No one. Run for the hills, because the unhinged chaos duo is coming and they don’t take prisoners. The “Blitz is a jealous freak” crowd was right- we’ve seen him literally growl like a possessive dog over a “bird-stealing cockbag” and I imagine Angel would be just as unhinged, if not even more so, if he thought someone was coming into Husk.

I want to see Blitz get so upset at this cat-griffin thing for being able to sit down and have a conversation about books he and Stolas have both read or black-and-white films they enjoy (‘how dare that stupid fucking pussy with wings think he’s smarter than me’) and I want Angel to lose his shit over a tall, skinny submissive with an accent speaking with Husk about jazz music and fancy cocktails (how dare that pompous fucking bird think he’s sexier than me’)

Meanwhile, Husk and Stolas have, like, zero sexual or romantic interest in each other and are just happy they can info dump about their interests to someone who won’t make it weird. Bonus points if Blitz and Angel get mad at each other for insulting their respective crushes.

“Who does that motherfucking pussy think he is?! He looks like he shot out of a blender and talks like he has a refrigerator level IQ! He can’t hold a conversation about anything that isn’t goddamn magic tricks or how much he likes cheap booze!”

“Excuse me?! Your lanky fucking bird is LUCKY to be talking to someone as smart and sweet and sexy as Husk! Your bird brain of a man can’t string a normal sentence together because he’s too busy showing off! By the way, that slutty romper?! Ugly as sin!”

Meanwhile, Stolas and Husk are both deeply confused and a weird combination of insulted and turned on.

[midmourn]

break ups with nct dream

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre angst warnings break ups, unhealthy coping, insecurities, some members dont think of themselves very highly, unintentional manipulation maybe ?? ( library )

mark who can’t stop pretending like everything’s fine. mark who is for once thankful of his busy schedule. because when his mind isn’t preoccupied, he finds it always going back to you. now, you only come to his mind late at night when he’s about to fall asleep only to wake up in four hours for yet another schedule. there’s a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes the heartbreak is just as fresh as it was the moment it happened. thinks he let you go to easy but also respects you too much to argue. at this time, he’d be too busy talking to you on the phone to fall asleep. something he used to momentarily regret the next day, but now something he yearns for. he turns around and begs hypos to let him sleep.

renjun who wants to scream at the world and god and ask why is this happening. renjun who refuses to talk about it. he doesn’t understand what happened. he thought you guys were doing perfectly fine. you seemed happy, anyway. he can’t tell if he was just too blind to see that you actually were unhappy or if you were just a good actor. he finds himself thinking about what you’re doing, even when he’s busy. he misses you so bad that he’s so angry that you left. he gets even angrier when he sees you with another guy a couple weeks later. but he’s more angry at himself for letting you go. he thinks it’s easier to be angry than upset.

jeno who cries and then gets his emotions out at the gym. jeno who hits the punching bag so hard it manages to fall off the chain. he moves onto the wall next. he ignores the concerned stares from others about the bruises and split knuckles, but is the exact same otherwise. he thinks he’s doing okay, getting his emotions out in the form of his fists, because at least he’s still doing what he needed to do, right? he’s fine, he swears. when he’s laying in bed alone, he can’t help but wonder what you’re up to and type up a message that accidentally seems too much like a booty call. u up? wyd?

haechan who doesn’t have the energy to be his normal self. haechan who is too quiet, blends in with the walls when he’s normally the life of the party. his voice is literally hoarse from crying and begging you to stay for so long. he sends countless messages to you, enough to the point where you blocked him. people wonder where he is only to find out he’s been right next to them the entire time, thoughts consuming him. he spends time overthinking every decision he made in the last six months that led you to break up with him. he can’t find one. it must be him, though. you’d never break up with him without a reason, right? he wasn’t good enough for you, so he has to be better. and with that, he gets off his ass and forces himself into the conversation. he will be better, for you.

jaemin who is so mature when you bring it up. jaemin who doesn’t cry or act like he’s upset about it in front of others. people think he never loved you with the way he acts. that couldn’t be far from the truth. the only way he’ll grieve over your relationship is in his room, alone, with his babies. he accepts your decision, but the what if’s consume his thoughts. what if he hadn’t done that one thing you got angry at him for? what if he hadn’t missed your anniversary date? but he knows he was a good boyfriend, too. he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you, doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to. he can only hope that you two will find each other later in life.

chenle who fights harder than he’s ever fought. chenle who wants to work it out. ultimately, you win. he cannot help but be a little bit pissed on how difficult you’re being, how you refuse to talk it out and avoid him. he doesn’t even know what happened. he doesn’t think you’re going to stay broken up so he doesn’t even bother shedding a tear. he thinks it’ll be something you two will laugh and then bicker about in fifty years. thinks you’re trying to make him jealous when you try to move on, and it works. doesn’t think before finally cornering you. he gave you your space, now it’s time for you to give him the answers he wants.

jisung who doesn’t understand the concept of space. jisung who has attachment issues. he’ll text you “good morning” and “good night” and tell you about his day without thinking about it because it’s like a routine for him by now. feels so bad and accidentally makes you feel bad for him with his countless apologies. will tweet about you on his priv and forget you’re still on there. doesn’t even want to think about you moving on, and him moving on is out of the question. he truly thought you were his soulmate, but he wanted you to come back to him in your own terms. he’ll spend forever making it up to you, anyway.

[ashton-sano]

Addicted to you, Dontcha know That You're toxic~?

Now Playing🎼♬ ♪ ♫: Blue Lock boys as boyfriends: Red/Beige flag edition

(Beige flag, if you’re not already aware, is someone whose behavior isnt exactly toxic but not entirely healthy or normal either)

Characters Included: Oliver Aiku, Micheal Kaiser, Otoya Eita, Tabito Karasu(Lowkey my man), Ryusei Shidou with Bonus! Sae Itoshi

*Note: these all happen to be characters I'm a bit bad at writing for so do bear with me :3

Been a while, hope ya likey! Tell me whatcha want more of. I'm gonna keep up the Blue Lock content because season 2 has me in a chokehold :3

Oliver Aiku (His is kinda cheating since it focuses more on before you were dating, my bad)

%Oliver Aiku, who was a highkey weirdo when you first met him, his person surrounded by a myriad of women after a particularly good game when his gaze landed on you. He approached and was stunned at your indifference, provoked to get your number regardless. It took a lot of asking Groveling to get it from you, a jab at his pride but he’ll live. Even after the first couple of months of meeting him, you can’t say your opinion of him would stray much 

%Oliver Aiku who can’t stop staring at you, just locked onto your features. You’re such a vision, the thought of you can’t leave his brain even as he sits with someone else. He spends hours awake just letting his mind wander to you, envisioning what you’d look like in his arms, what you’d look like under him, what face you’d pull as he’s taking you in this very bed

%Oliver Aiku with a Mountain of pride, that shakes and buckles at the idea of you rejecting him. The thought of someone else having you does more to him than you not feeling the same way. He’s determined to have you, even if he forsakes parts of himself for you. He’ll make himself seen around you more often, he puts more thought into how he speaks and acts around you, and he's more protective when it comes to the men who speak to you, even going as far as to flirt intensely. You mindlessly brush it off as his usual antics so much that you miss the way his eyes fixate on you as though you’re the only thing in his world

% Oliver Aiku who is a pretty sweet boyfriend all things considered. You consume so much of his time that he can’t find any to look at others, although he still has his Casanova ways. He teases you for your jealousy but never agrees with you, always stating that his heart is as good as yours, no question. Which he ends up proving in more ways than one. (Freak -.-)

Micheal Kaiser (Clap it up for me guys, I can’t stand this man but i’ll write for him for your enjoyment)

%Micheal Kaiser who has severe affection issues and effectively avoids any from you. It's confusing since he always initiates but at a safe distance, so he’ll flirt and play prince by kissing your hand and junk but can’t cope with the thought of holding each other tenderly and just existing for one another. It takes a lot of unpacking and patience to get him to be more comfortable with affection so intimate and raw with you. 

%Micheal Kaiser who only tones down his superiority complex when you come to watch his practice/games. This comes with a story.  At first, he was about as stuck up as usual with his respective teammates and you decided to visit his practice since you had the time. Unaware of his rivalry, you strike up a conversation with Isagi between breaks. Safe to say he wasn’t happy. God forbid you two exchange numbers; all hell breaks loose. After that petty fight, you swore you’d never come to visit him if he kept harassing his younger. His team thanks you for rounding him out with that threat as practice has gone much smoother since then

%Micheal Kaiser who talks to you in German when he’s sure you can't hear him i.e. sleeping, distracted, etc. It's weird because he knows you aren't listening and still can’t bring himself to say it in English. It’s typically romantic rambles or sweet l love you’s. Either way, it's always cute when he mutters a string of his native tongue to you. You won't tell him when you can hear him, or that you’ve picked up on what he’s saying, no way he’d admit it

%Micheal Kaiser who is iffy about how you interact with Ness in particular. Mainly because you aren’t fond of how he treats the poor boy and end up doting on him. That in turn makes him harsher on Ness which keeps biting him in the ass. After months of this merry-go-round, this stubborn king finally concedes to easing up on Ness as long as you quit giving him so much of your time. He might explode from the bubbling jealousy when you even mention your worry about another

(I believe in pathetic! and whipped! Kaiser because he radiates that energy, argue with the wall-3-)

Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu (…..yes, I believe in Bi! Karasu and Otoya, they just seem like the type to be gay for each other specifically. I just feel like they’d be better as a throuple rather than individually, they already get along well so why not.)

=3Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu! who have such a weird compatibility overall, god knows how they landed a stable relationship. Karasu carried when it came to confessing cause Otoya is no short of a moron with it. Karasu had been conditioning the albino for a month now to keep him from saying anything dumb and ruining the whole thing with his foolish womanizer ways

=3Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu! who love on you in such drastically different ways. Tabito’s affection is warmer and gentler as he applies more thought to his moves and speaks in turn, he lacks technical experience but makes up for it with attentiveness, finding weak points isn't his strong point in soccer alone ya know. Otoya takes on a less careful route, he does what comes naturally, some from what worked in previous relationships. It has earned him a few berating sessions so he strays away from it these days.

=3 Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu! who get along typically but nearly always fight over you. Insisting their methods are better than one another, you've been caught between several of these battles before. Then again, getting sandwiched between them as they please you from both angles wasn't a bad place to be, they'd even compete to see who makes you louder. It was akin to a game to them, which almost makes you wonder how much they actually care to compete. Perhaps they just need an excuse to manhandle you as a tag team.

=3 Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu! who decimate any guy that dares to approach you. Karasu will make certain to pick out each flaw he spots and poke fun while Otoya eggs him on with a smirk; the both of them looking down on the man with disgust and heckle him till he screws off. This has in fact gotten you kicked out of several restaurants, which then leads to you scolding them and they insist it won't happen again….did that guy just stare at your ass? 

Ryusei Shidou

=3 Ryusei Shidou! who is 16 shades of insane right down to his feet. Nothing he says is classified as normal, no matter his true implications. You’re subject to filthy jokes whenever, god forbid you wear anything particularly eye-catching to him; It's all over. He's certain to let you know how fine he finds you and if that means ass smacks or pervy comments, he’ll do it without question.

=3 Ryusei Shidou! who has a weird obsession with Sae that you're not sure if you should bring up. You don't mind the redhead and as a matter of fact, you two get along swimmingly since you both remain on a similar degree of apathy that (gets him off) he enjoys. Most time spent with him is Sae sending his regards and applauding your resolve. The three of you together is heaven to the blonde, it's actually weird. You two could be berating him and his smile would be a mile wide. Please don't ask him what he’s picturing, it's not worth knowing.

=3 Ryusei Shidou! With bonus: Sae Itoshi! A Threesome with the three of you would be like; it makes him explode? just thinking about it. Perhaps he’d want you two to have your fun while he watches, just forced to watch and watch till it aches. Then again he’s too impatient and would get hasty. The look you two would give him makes him shiver down to his toes. No doubt you'd edge and force him to the brink over and over without relenting just to teach him to be patient if he wants to be rewarded. This freak would never learn and do it again just for the attention. Someone sedate this man…and me for writing this ig.

=3 Ryusei Shidou! w/ Sae Itoshi! who somehow became a throuple without realizing it??? Like neither you nor Sae are quite sure when but soon enough you all were exclusive and naked in bed covered in each other's marks. You two mesh well, it's just annoying how big and smug the perv’s grin is when he wakes up, was the bastard planning it all along?! The morning after was some harsh whiplash, especially with how natural it felt. 

Bonus (no, I don't have favorites…)

 Ryusei Shidou! who just can't get enough of having his two favorite people around. He doesn't have to play soccer just to harass Sae, he can do it right at home! Best of both worlds if you ask him. With Sae Itoshi! who puts up with it because you're so sensible, he almost wants to date just you at times with how pestering Shidou gets. He actually makes good conversation with you which is a breath of fresh air from the demon attached to his hip. And Y/N! who learns to grow fond of Sae, it's easy to see why Ryusei likes him. One thing for certain, you know to never tell Shidou that, you’ll never wipe the smile from his face and no amount of glaring and harsh comments from you two is rocking him off his high horse.

(I definitely got carried away. I like Ryusae Throuple a lot, it scratches my brain. If you want more of it, maybe I could make some exclusive headcanons?)

Property of ©ashton-sano; Don't post my content on any other platform without credit; much love^^