#real sappy established relationship? it's more likely than you think

[brayneworms]

gouge away (if you want to) | johnny joestar

kinktober day ten: kissing

word count. 2.4k

content. disabled johnny, but like his prostate works, anal fingering, prostate orgasm, kissing, johnny cries after sex it's canon, gender-neutral reader, fluff, mentions of ableism, established relationship, this is sappy

♪ gouge away - pixies

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

For a while—a long while—after his accident, Johnny thought he'd never be with someone again.

A part of it was the paralysis. Okay, a big part of it was. He learns after using the chair for a bit that he sorta stops becoming a real person to most people, that their eyes just sorta slide past him. Oh no, how sad, that guy in the chair must have it so bad. Don't be rude and stare, now. Sometimes he wishes they would stare at him, like he knows they wanna. He almost finds their determination to ignore him totally more jarring.

And that's only half the problem. The other part is that even if he could find someone, his goddamn dick doesn't work anymore. Which would for sure pose a problem. So Johnny resigns himself miserably to a sexless and potentially loveless life, and pretends it doesn't make him want to die.

Still. Anyways. It all seems kinda redundant now, 'cause he's lying under the sky in the dirt with his pants halfway off, and you're—you're doing something, or you're tryin' something that Johnny is extremely skeptical about. A bit of time travelling with Gyro had taught him many times that there was a lot of things about the human body he was ignorant of, but he still can't help but be dubious of the claim you made to him a few minutes ago.

I'm gonna make you cum.

At once, a protest had risen to his lips. You can't. Almost a reflex. You'd cocked your head in inquiry, and Johnny had gone redder, down to the tips of his ears hidden by his hat. It's my—it doesn't work. Down there doesn't...

You seem to consider this for a few moments. Then you say, there's something else we can try.

You disappear inside the tent and come out with the bottle of aloe vera they'd been using to treat the burns that had blistered as a result of the unforgiving desert sun. He had red peeling skin all up his shoulders and the bridge of his nose.

He watches dubiously as you squeeze a clear, cold glob onto your fingers. "Wh—where are those goin'?"

He's pretty sure he has an idea.

"You know what a prostate is, Johnny dear?" You always call him that. Johnny dear, like it's all one word. Johnnydear. He always gripes and groans about it and then has to turn away extremely quickly to hide his flush. He's going to examine the reaction he gets when you baby him sometime, he promises himself, just not right now. He's got a lotta shit on his plate, okay? Corpses to find and such.

"N-no," he answers, stammering when you kneel between his legs and spread his thighs gently apart. He sucks in a breath; one of your fingers leaves a cool trail of aloe along the skin there.

"A prostate," you tell him patiently, like you're not situated between his naked thighs, "is a gland that people with your particular reproductory set are born with."

"You sound like Gyro," he mutters. "Kinda killing the mood a little."

"I just want to make sure you're fully informed." You roll your eyes. "It's just that you're leaking precum, see?" To his mortification, you swipe your fingers over the tip of the dick he can't feel and hold them up; under the starlight, they gleam, and he burns with embarrassment. "Means you might be able to feel it. Means I might be able to make you cum."

Johnny swallows hard. He wants—it sounds good. Sounds great. But with the hope comes that fear, an ever-present shadow. What if it doesn't work?

"Hey." You lean over him, and before Johnny can protest you've captured his lips, a slow, deliberate cling. Johnny loves kissing you. He thinks it might be his favourite thing to do, other than jockeying and he can't do that anymore, so this takes an automatic first place. He sighs and melts against you like softened butter, his hands winding themselves over your shoulder and jaw. He loves everything about it. The closeness, the slow gentle intimacy, the way you smell. That last part is probably weird, 'cause you mostly smell like sweat and leather, but Johnny likes it all the same.

You kiss for a while; one of your hand strokes soothing shapes into his ribcage. When you pull back, the panic that had been rearing up inside him has faded to a dull murmur.

"Don't get in your head about it," you whisper. "If you can't feel it, then that's that. You know I won't think less of you."

A lump rises in Johnny's throat, and he shields his eyes from the burning sun of you seein' right through him. "I know," he says, almost petulantly.

"So? Wanna give it a try?"

A part of him doesn't. A part of him is so, so scared. But a bigger part of him, the one that likes kissing you and likes the way you smell and the way you touch him and look at him and everything, really, is nodding before that first part can protest. You kiss him again with a smile, a little faster, a little dirtier this time. This is another thing Johnny likes about kissing—it can take so many different forms. Even if he did find the corpse pieces and get the use of his legs back, Johnny reckons he'd still like kissing more than real sex.

Your mouth starts moving down, sweeping the sensitive skin of his neck and collarbones, the valleys of his pectorals, a nipple. The last one makes Johnny gasp and you giggle, and he splays a palm over his face in embarrassment. You coax such stupid noises outta him. But you seem to enjoy it, so whatever.

Down, down, down. Somewhere between his navel and his pubic bone he stops feeling it. But it still somehow feels sorta nice, which doesn't make a whole lotta sense but it does to him, so. He watches you between his fingers as you reach between his legs, he thinks prodding.

You look up at him. "I'm going to put a finger in, okay?"

Johnny nods eagerly. "Don't gotta tell me. I won't feel it."

You roll your eyes. "I'm still gonna tell you. We can stop whenever, okay?"

"Okay," Johnny says impatiently, and wiggles his hips. You smack his hipbone playfully, which does nothing to temper his brattiness on account of him not feelin' a fuckin' thing. Then you get a quiet, serious, concentrated look on your face that Johnny usually only sees when you're fighting. Or when he's making you cum. That expression, more than any of your words or hesitation, it what makes him quiet down and take it serious.

There's a silence that stretches on. Johnny supposes you must be doin' something, considering the slight furrow he can see between your brows and the achingly careful, gradual movement of your wrist. Finally, after about a minute, you look up at him.

"My finger's in," you tell him, and Johnny bites his lip.

"Can't feel it," he says. He's starting to think this was a really bad idea.

"Just lemme—hold on," you say, and your wrist moves a little, and then—

Johnny keens. He feels, he fuckin' feels so much that it lights him up from the inside and sets his nerves alight, some part deep inside him that he didn't even know existed 'till five minutes ago and it's so good it immediately brings tears to his eyes.

"Oh," he says like he's surprised, and he is, apparently so much so that it's all he can say. "O-oh, oh, oh—"

Your finger retracts back into nothingness, and Johnny bites back a sob. "Johnny?" you ask worriedly. "Did you—is it too much?"

"No, no," he babbles, feeling incoherent already. You brush his hair back from his face with your free hand, the one that ain't inside him, your thumb stroking over his cheek. "It was—fuck, felt so weird. But good. Really, really good. Can you—are you gonna do it again?"

"Will if you want me to," you answer lovingly, and Johnny is biting back another sob for a whole different reason. "Might be a bit intense, Johnny dear. You sure you wanna?"

"Yes, yeah." He stares up at you beseechingly, feeling a bit pathetic but also too far gone to give a shit. "Please, I wanna—I wanna feel it again."

You nod, leaning over to kiss him again. Johnny relaxes into the embrace, losing himself in the familiar touch of your lips, the smell of you, taking the bite out of his surge of panic—and then with no warning you're brushing against that spot inside him again and he's moaning into your mouth, loud and unrestrained. It's pitchy and startled, and your free hand cups the back of his head as he pulls away in shock.

"Fuck, Jesus Christ," he swears, slamming his head back against the dirt. "O-oh, oh god, ohgodohgod—"

"Still good?" you ask, and your fingers made a weird sort of curling motion and it occurs to Johnny that you're movin' them in and out, sort of like you would if you were actually fucking him, and the thought makes him flush so hard he feels feverish. You're fucking him. You're fucking him.

He nods deliriously. "Mhm, yeah," he gasps out, feeling breathless, feeling giddy. "Don't stop, feels so fuckin' good, oh my god."

Your fingers press into him over and over like you're ringin' a bell, and all the while you kiss him and for the first time in ages Johnny feels that both parts of his body are equal. The bottom half has come alive under your jackhammering fingers, the top half consumed by you and your kiss. The kissing makes it so much better, 'cause Johnny reckons if anyone else had their fingers in his ass he'd probably hate it even if they were touching his whatdidyoucallit like that and making him feel amazing. He'd hate it 'cause they wouldn't be you.

The kissing reminds him it's you. The chaps on your lips, the smell of you, the feel of your face and skin, your body pressing into his. It's so all consuming it makes him wanna cry, in a good way, in a weird way. Your fingers move faster and weirder, and Johnny starts making those stupid oh! oh! noises again, stifling them against your mouth, and your tongue presses in and you swallow them whole.

All too soon, Johnny feels a weird tightening, one he hasn't felt since before the incident. He feels a constriction of panic, his fingers clutching at your clothing. "I—hah!—I f-feel weird."

"Bad weird?" Your fingers slow down, nearly stop, and Johnny whines.

"No, no, good weird, good," he pants. "Move again, fuck."

You pick up the pace; Johnny shudders, tensing in your hold all over again. He feels like he's burning, like he's sweating out everything bad he's ever felt.

"Do you mean you're gonna cum?" you ask, your voice lower this time, so close to Johnny's ear it makes him shiver. The harsh brush of your chapped lips against the soft skin there makes his body feel electric.

"I think," he whispers, eyes screwing shut. "Sorry—oh—I think, yeah."

"Don't feel sorry," you tell him almost sternly. "I want to see you cum, Johnny. Wanna see you cum so hard your pretty little head goes blank. You deserve it, yeah?"

"Yeah," he gasps out. "I deserve it."

What you do next with your fingers is almost brutal in the wracks of shivering pleasure it sends simmering through Johnny's body; every curl of them has him writhing and gasping and moaning, he must sound so stupid but you seem to be liking it and fuck, he's liking it, he likes feeling a little stupid and helpless while you take care of him and he's definitely gonna have to unpack that, but later, 'cause—

"I'm gonna cum," he gasps, hands flying out to curl in your clothing. "Baby, baby, I'm gonna cum, I—kiss me? Kiss me, okay, I wanna, oh, oh oh oh—"

You crash your lips together, and your fingers curl up one last lingering time and Johnny shatters. White stars explode over his vision, shatter inside his head, and for a split second it feels like every cell in his body freezes up and screams and dies. He's vaguely aware of some long, drawn-out, breathless noise he's making and the way you swallow it with your mouth.

It takes several seconds for him to come back down to earth. When he does it's to the sensation of you running your fingers through his hair and pressing soft, feathery kisses to his cheeks.

He pants like a dog. When you see his blue eyes on you, you sit up, seem to retract your fingers from between his legs. Your image starts to blur, and Johnny sees your expression crease in concern. He realises he's crying. Not like, actually, not like he's got something to be upset about. He's just... tearing up. Like someone's turned a faucet on behind his eyes and just left it there. He pushes the heels of his hands into the sockets and presses down, willing it to stop, willing the overwhelming feeling blooming in his chest to deflate.

"Hey, hey." Your voice, low and soothing, pressed into his hair, your arms holding him tightly. "You okay?"

"Yes," he says almost angrily. "I'm fine. Dunno why I'm—fuck. Sorry. I'm good, I promise I'm good. That was... so, so good."

Your expression of concern gives way slightly. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Johnny sucks in a shaky, wet breath. "Thanks. Thank you. I didn't even... I didn't even know I could feel like that anymore. Not just 'cause of—you know." He gestures vaguely to the lower half of his body. "All of it. Like, I didn't think anyone would wanna—while I'm still like this. And I—I figured I didn't deserve it, or something. But... it was really good."

Your smile is a little sad. "I'm glad, Johnny dear. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now that we know it works, we can do it again. And again, and again." He flushes, and you laugh sweetly, and Johnny could just die to the sound of it. "Still, we should get some rest for tonight. Gyro will skin us alive if we oversleep again."

You're right, of course. Johnny lets you maneuvre him onto his sleeping skin, and you unroll yours right next to him. When you do, Johnny reaches for you, clinging like a damn insect. But you don't seem to mind, 'cause you wrap your arms around his waist and bring him in even closer. He tucks his head into your shoulder.

He thinks that he'll get to kiss you tomorrow, too.

His sleep is dreamless and deep.

[tipofthemountain]

actress

tags: biker!Simon “Ghost” Riley x actresses!Afab Reader, Fluff, Established relationship, reader is a famous actress. Mentions of sex and sexual acts but no action is taken. Minors should still take extreme caution reading!

word count: 1.5k

summary: Reader is on set of her newest movie and Simon comes to visit!

a/n: First story I’m posting! I’m a little nervous for what everyone will think but I hope you enjoy it!

ps. biker!Simon is my current hyper fixation so bare with me if there’s like a million more biker au stories :}.

edit: adding this in but my requests are open!

༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻ ༺𖤓༻

It was a warm Tuesday inside studio lot B. A beautiful facade of a two story house stands in a field of white daisies. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes when you walked onto the set. It looked so real! An exact replica of the real house you’ll be shooting on in a week.

The role you are playing is that of a farm wife with her three children, except your husband is having an affair with the barns keeper and your sleeping with the maid. Neither of you know you’re both cheating of course but the children do. The entire plot of the movie is the children trying to get the parents to find out about the double affairs. It’s a LGBTQ+ romance set in the early 1950s. It’s filled with steamy sex scenes and overly dramatic fights.

It’s the exact kind of movie you love doing. Sappy period pieces. In fact the movie that put you in the spotlight was almost exactly like this except it was the 1860s and you where a young unmarried queen with a “live in maid”.

Your boyfriend of 5 years Simon, or as his biker group likes to call him “Ghost” for the skull bandanna he likes to wear around his face, dropped you off on set on his newly refurbished 1980s Harley Davidson. You swore sometimes you thought he was more in love with that bike than he was with you.

“Make some money baby.” Simon told you after a steamy kiss early this morning.

Simons always been supportive of your career. The two of you met on the set of a Tv show when he was hired as a last minute extra for for some bike scene you can barely remember. For Simon it was love at first sight, but for you it was ‘I’ll wait and see where this goes’. Spoiler: You fell in love and are engaged, set to be married later this year.

“Where is my Anna Marie?” You hear your director yell out as you sit in your makeup chair getting touches done to your character’s signature red lip.

“Over here Clark! I needed my lips retouched. I think Amy got a little excited!” Clark Russel. You’ve worked with him a few times now and he’s always been a joy and a pleasure to work with, not something you find comes easy in this industry.

“Your needed on set in five. We’ve got to have this last shot of you and Blanche in the kitchen. We’ve got one week of shooting left here in the studio before we all go out on location.” Clark quickly spills out with you barely catching any of it.

Blanche is played by your costar Amy Heart. A talented actress 3 young years older than you. You’ve done several movies with her by now. You consider her one to your best friends and even plan to ask her to be a bridesmaid.

“James, Finn and Blanche are all on set. We just need you.” Clark makes direct eye contact with you as your makeup artist finishes the last touches on your makeup. He always insisted on calling people by their character names and you never questioned it.

James is played by Arther Godwin. The man that’s supposed to be your characters husband. You’ve never met him before this project but a quick IMDB search led you down a rabbit hole of bad low budget horror movies that you and Simon later binged watched. Finn is played by Roderick Grant, a fresh face. This would be his breakout role after a stream of hit indie movies.

“All done.” Your makeup artist releases you and you stand up from your seat grabbing the jacket that goes with your costume. You throw the jacket on around your shoulders and loop your arm in Clarks.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” You say in an over dramatic southern accent to which your director roles his eyes at.

༺𖤓༻

After 3 more hours of grueling take after take of Clark just having to get the tear sliding down your cheek just right, to which you where ready to rip his head off. Your just about to pass out on your trailer couch in nothing but a robe and very thin 1950s appropriate lingerie, when you hear 3 gentle knocks on your door. You get up with a puff of air leaving your lips putting your hands in your hair.

“Who is it!” You yell not really wanting to get up to answer the door.

“Open the door and find out!” You hear that oh so familiar thick Manchester voice behind the thinness of your trailers door.

In no time you’re rushing to the door and pulling your bulky fiancé in to your trailer and lacing your red lips with his. Simon closes the door through your sloppily sweet kisses. He smells of expensive leather and gas but you still drink all of him in.

“You miss me tha’ much?” Simons thick accent lets out through a smirk.

“Always.” You smile up at the tall man resting your chin on his chest.

“How was today? Make anyone else cry today?” Simon jokes but you take serious offense.

“That was one time and I didn’t even mean to yell at the poor guy.” You slap his shoulder as you both take a seat next in the oh so comfy couch in your trailer.

“I was only joking love.” Simon laughs and places a gentle kiss to your temple. He has one hand around your shoulder and the other rubbing up and down your thigh softly. You with one of your hands on his much bigger thigh and the other holding the hand that’s around your shoulder.

“Long day. Completely closed set. Only Clark and the main cast where set to shoot today.” Closed sets are usually indicators that you where filming your sex scenes today. You had one with your on screen husband and one with Amy. You almost never liked doing sex scene with men. It was never because Simon didn’t want you to or that you ever hated your male costar. You had this respect for Simon and you felt like the sex scenes could get too real sometimes. Personally, you never wanted for Simon to watch a scene of you sharing a bed(or even sometimes a kitchen counter) with another man. But every time you would ask Simon he would always just say some form of ‘This is all make believe. It isn’t real. I know you love me and some fake sex scene isn’t going to change that.” You still sometimes denied it though.

“When are you off?” Simon ask softly moving his hand further up your thigh.

You knew the game he was playing, he always did this when visiting. He always got you worked up and sweating before you had to go back and shoot a scene.

“30 minutes my love. We have to finalize a few things for today, but nice try honey.” You push Simons hand down slightly and look up towards him. Of course he has the cheekiest smirk on his face.

“I miss you at home.” Simon says kissing down your neck this time and creeping his hand back up your thigh.

“Simon.” You whisper scold him as he makes his way onto your shoulder planting sweet kisses.

“I miss the way you smell…” He grabs your hips and lays your back flat against the couch hovering over you as he plants kisses down over your collar bone. You inhale sharply when he moves his hand under the thin bra provided by the costume department.

“I miss the way you feel…” He moved his other hand to finish untying to robe from around your waist. He slowing starts kissing his way down your stomach stopping at the hem of the very 1950s lingerie.

“And I certainly miss the way you taste.” Simon has a giant smile planted on his face when he plants open mouth kisses down your thigh.

And just when he’s about to touch your center 3 harsh knocks are placed on your door.

“Miss, Mr. Russel said he needs you.” The voice calls out not even waiting for you to respond.

Simon lets out a laugh and you sit up and push him lightly.

“That’s not funny!” You whisper yell at him only to make him laugh even more. You stand up and tie your robe back around your waist and walk to the trailer door.

“It’s a little funny.” Simon says watching you with a panicked look on your face.

“I’ll be back in 20 minutes. I love you.” You place a gentle kiss on Simons lips and him returning the kiss.

“I love you too.” He says back placing one final kiss to your forehead.

Before you leave however you whisper into his ear “I think you owe the costume designer.” and bite the end of his ear playfully.

Simon watches you with his his cheek drawn inside his mouth as you grab the door handle of your trailer and leave him alone with his nothing but his thoughts for the next 20 minutes.

༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻ ༺𖤓༻

final thoughts: i definitely got carried away while writing. I tend to do that. I get caught up on details that most likely don’t even matter all that much. I feel like somethings definitely could have been left out and more things added in but in the end it’s just a story and if you don’t like the first few sentences, just skip the story and move on.

@gauloiseblue for you friend <3

[sunlightwoo]

the perfect two

pairing: soobin x gn reader

genre: extra extra sappy fluff, established relationship au, nothing but pure love for the other person, reader is shorter than soobin but lets be real, he’s a giant no warnings | rating 16+

wc: 1.2k

a/n: tis inspired by the glue song by beabadoobee since it’s literally soobin coded, but this is dedicated to @fairybinie​! here’s your strawberries hinted fic hehe and i hope everyone enjoys this!!

“Are we almost there yet? I think my knees are-”

Soobin’s words get cut off for a second as another sunflower stem smacks him in the face gently, making both you and his figures stop momentarily. You stifled a laugh as you could feel his cheeks get pulled in from him blankly blinking into your cupped hands that were over his eyes, with his dimple slightly poking out. 

“Sorry Soob.” You grinned before he proceeded to walk once again. 

Today had been one of the few days off that you both had that aligned with the other, and you made it a mission for it to be the best one yet. So with that in mind, you had to make sure that you planned the best date for the day and after getting in touch with a few extended family members and their friends, you knew what had to be done. 

But you didn’t want to let him know what it was since it was a surprise, which was why you had been covering his eyes for the past five minutes. His tall, lanky figure had been crouched down a bit so that you wouldn’t have to reach so far up to do so, but that required him to shift a good majority of his weight down to his knees where he was practically waddling. 

“Babe, I-”

He gets hit with a fully bloomed sunflower this time, and you couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped your lips as you let go of his face. Warm yellow sunlight was slowly filling his eyesight as he looked down to see that you were crouched to the ground trying to catch your breath from laughing so hard. 

“Haha, you did that on purpose-”

Another wack. 

“See that one was on purpose.” You giggled as your hand had let go of one of the taller sunflower stalks that was closer to his face. 

It was almost as if you had been able to read his mind that you started sprinting in the direction towards the part of the sunflower field that was more open. Maybe it was the sound of your laughter in the wind that was blowing into Soobin’s hair and ears, but he thought that life couldn’t get more simple than just this. 

“Gotcha!”

He playfully tackles you successfully into the picnic blanket that you had set up hours ago, and for a moment, he doesn’t realize that things were set up until he blinks for a moment. His eyes had been pouring into yours, but that doesn’t cover up the little picnic that you had set up for him as he looked around to see that there was an assortment of different treats and snacks involving what all looked like. 

“Welcome to my granduncle’s mini strawberry farm!” You grinned as you sat up from where you had been previously pinned down by Soobin, being able to escape his embrace when you noticed that he was distracted by your setup. 

“Do you like it, honey?” 

Strawberry cream sandwiches, chocolate covered strawberries, fresh strawberry milkshakes with whipped cream… even a mini strawberry cake. In a field that was filled with sunflowers, and from a distance away now that he notices a strawberry patch, he grins to himself while wondering in what past life did he save someone so important that he deserved all of this. 

Probably you, he thinks to himself as he takes his hands to cup your cheeks to pepper kisses all over your face, making you squeal from the ticklish action and push him away. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this though, when we’ve both been so busy.” He says, before you hold up the glass of milkshake up for you both to share out of two straws. 

“I wanted to do something special for you though, Soobin. Here me out,” You say while sitting on your knees and he nods in response as he settles himself onto his side with an arm holding up his head to look at you properly. 

“When we first met maybe 3 years ago, I didn’t think that you’d like me back given our circumstances…” 

“I really thought that you were in love with Yeonjun!” He pouts in protest, but you hold up a hand to cover his mouth and giggle in response as you continue on with your little speech.

“He’s literally like another brother to me. However, before you I never knew someone that could be so kind… and considerate and so passionate when it comes to loving and taking care of a person that wasn’t themselves. I think you bring out the best of me, Soobin, more than I realize it myself, and I’m so appreciative of you all the time. We’ve both worked so much these last few days, and you always put me before yourself, which is why this picnic was me giving back those moments you’ve done that and put you before myself this time. You’ll always be the one for me.” You say all in one big deep breath, feeling tears pooling at the corners of your eyes but you couldn’t help it. 

Thinking about the overwhelming feeling of love from the person in front of you all the time made you so happy all the time, and there was never a time that you didn’t want to come home to just him. He was your steady rock that you could just sit there in peace with, and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

“Baby…” The sound of Soobin’s voice brought you back as you noticed that he was also tearing up from your mini speech dedicated to him. 

There’s a small chuckle that escapes from both of you as he reaches up to wipe your cheek, but you could tell that he was on the same side when it comes to pretty much almost crying. The two of you held so much love and care for the other where it overwhelmed all of your emotions, but here you were in the middle of what felt like a simple moment that was welded for the two of you; just like glue. 

“I love you, Y/N. You’re my home that I love coming to at the end of the day.” He says and places a small kiss against your lips, making you smile into it for a few seconds before you pull away to look at him with nothing but love for the boy that you wanted to hold onto forever. 

Forever sounded nice, in a field full of strawberries and sunflowers. 

“I love you too, Soob. Now let’s eat this before the sun sets and it gets too dark for us to see, but first let me check to make sure those stems and flowers didn’t hurt your pretty face too much.” You say as he laughs at the memory of him being wacked in the face by those sunflower stems early while you climbed onto his lap to make sure that there was nothing on his face jokingly. 

Yet there was obviously nothing but the love of your life hidden behind those pretty eyes that you stared into every morning and night, and that was all that mattered to you at the end of the day. 

Even if you did purposely hit him with a sunflower. 

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[andheresthething]

I Got So Fucking Romantic, I Apologize

Summary: Cute lazy morning (afternoon) with Nightowl.

[No use of y/n] [Lazy Mornings] [But it's really 2 pm] [Cuddling & Snuggling] [Kissing] [Love Bites] [Pet Names] [Dorks in Love] [I cannot stress it enough you act like teenagers in love] [Implied Sexual Content] [You're smaller than him] [Established Relationship]

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Notes:

I recently played Blooming Panic and absolutely fell HARD for Nightowl. This is the first time I've ever posted any of my writing and it's been a while since I've written at all so this will probably be rusty. I might write more (could make a spicy follow-up) if people like this one, though it might be delayed because carpal tunnel is a bitch.

Gender-neutral reader for yall :)

I wrote this while listening to my character playlist for him

Reposted from AO3

Also, I haven't used Tumblr since MIDDLE SCHOOL so I apologize for things being strange to the platform

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Rays of light shone through the drawn blinds of the bedroom you and Nightowl shared. The small beams laid across the two of you sleeping well into early afternoon. You slowly blink and let out a yawn, taking a moment to come into the conscious world.

Once your eyes adjusted you finally get a look at the blonde sleeping on his side next to you. His chest slowly rising and falling and an arm draped over you. Lips slightly apart, just enough to show a sliver of his front teeth, and his neck and collar bones covered in spots that ranged in shades of purple. Though a familiar sight for you to see each day, it never grew old. Each day, without fail, your heart would flutter the same way it did when you spent your first night together. You cracked a smile, just watching and waiting for your partner to wake.

Sometimes it was still baffling to you that clicking on a discord invite led to this. How fast everything moved between the two of you was unexpected, but not unwelcomed in the slightest. You recall all the nights the two of you would spend up, talking about anything and everything until you fell asleep. Nightowl would follow shortly after, but would never hang up the call. Some of the time right before he’d turn in as well, you were just conscious to hear him say, ‘I can’t wait until we can do this in person. Goodnight, Cutie. Sweet dreams.’

Your smile grew thinking about those early times of your relationship, though soon enough you were broken from the little daydream with the feeling of Nightowl lifting his arm off of you, stretching himself awake with a yawn.

“Mornin, sweetheart,” you said as he lowered his arm back to hold you. He sleepily smiled, then placed a light kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning, cutie,” he smiled, “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Impossible, plus I lost myself in thought, so I doubt I would have noticed an hour going by.”

“Care to indulge me?” Nightowl asked while moving his hand to hold yours.

“I was just thinking about our old late-night calls before I got to move in with you and how sometimes when I was half asleep I’d hear you say how you couldn’t wait for this to happen for real and wished me goodnight”

Nightowl squeezed your hand, eyes lighting up slightly. Your little story seemed to help wake him up from his groggy state, “Awe, I love you getting all sappy and nostalgic on me first thing in the morning, cutie.”

 “I always felt all stupid and happy whenever I heard it.” 

“You know,” he scootched as close as he could be to you without being completely on top of you, “I did it every. Single. Night.” he hummed, peppering a kiss on your face between every word, and you giggled with each one.

“Really?”

He put on a serious face, sharply nodding, “Without fail. I still do actually. Granted, I’ve changed that first part a tiny bit considering you’re now actually here with me, in the flesh.”

“Awe, sweetheart, you’re literally the best. How’d I get so lucky?” you reached to hug him. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically, though, as you managed to push Nightowl over on his back and put yourself on top of him, burying your face in his neck in the process, “Seriously, I could have never imagined having someone who does stuff like that for me all to myself.”

“ You can’t believe you have me all to yourself?” Nightowl laughed, “I should be the one saying that. I was such a hungover ass to you after knowing you for, like, five days, and you still wanted to be with me after that night. You’re the one here that's the best,” he refuted, placing a kiss on the side of your head, “To have someone as precious as you makes me the lucky one here, darling.”

“Mmm, I’d have to disagree with you.”

  “Incorrect and unfactual statement.”

You lifted yourself enough to meet your eyes with his, “As much as I’d love to continue this to prove I’m, in fact, correct on this matter, I think I’m a little too tired to try.”

“So what you're saying is that I win?” he said with the biggest shit-eating grin. You groaned at his playful antic and started to push yourself up, now straddling his lap as he still laid underneath you, which also effectively pushed the blanket once covering the two of you off and behind you. 

“Sure, you win, dumbass. What shall your prize be?”

“Can it be anything?” he said excitedly.

You knew you might regret the answer you were going to give, but went through with it anyway, “Sure, anything you want, sweetheart,” with that, you sealed your fate.

“Hmm, what a tough decision to make,” Nightowl exaggeratedly pondered while pushing himself back slightly to be able to sit up with his arms supporting him from behind. You also moved so that you were sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around his bare lower waist, and brought your arms around his neck. Your arms sat on the soft fabric that was the straps of his crop top, “The possibilities are endless, cutie. How could I ever just choose one thing?”

You giggled at his complaint, “You better, the offer is going to expire soon. Then you just get bragging rights.”

“Oh, how cruel! How could you?” he moved his arms from behind him to hold your hips.

“I know, I’m such a horrible person,” you said, matching his sarcastic and playful tone.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, you took the time to admire his face. The small beams of light highlighted his softer features. They made his messy hair shine and his brown eyes sparkle, revealing all the little flakes of different shades that resided in them.

The light also reflected off of his cartilage piercings. Nightowl had a bad habit of not taking out his earrings before bed. No matter how many times you reminded him, he always forgot. It wasn’t the end of the world that he didn’t, though. At least he remembered to take out his statement piece each night.

In that time, Nightowl did the same, soaking in the sight of you. Hair just as messy as his own, a stupid wide smile, and a pair of beaming eyes staring into his own. But your shirt, God it was killing him. It was one of his own that you’d steal regularly to wear almost anywhere. While purposefully somewhat oversized on him, you were swimming in it, allowing your neck and collar bones, covered in marks (courtesy of him), to be exposed. Maybe it was his somewhat possessive nature, but the mix of the shirt and hickies fogged his mind with a myriad of thoughts ranging from wholesome to extremely sexual.

“Have you made a decision yet?” your words snapped him out of his short, albeit very vivid, daydream, “Or are we just going to settle for bragging rights?”

“Nope! I’ve come up with my prize.”

“That would be?”

“One super lazy, stay-in-date day complete with stupid horror movies and possibly some more… intimate affairs later on,” he paused, “Please.”

You pretended to think it over, despite the arrangement of this prize. While you, of course, got tasked with a pile of work for the weekend, you couldn’t care less about it. Getting ripped by your boss on Monday would be worth it, especially with the not-at-all-subtle proposition for later in the day. Knowing Nightowl though, it would probably come way sooner than nightfall. “You, sir, have yourself a deal.”

You gave him a small peck, but Nightowl being Nightowl, was having none of that. He immediately put his lips back on yours, tightening his grip on your hips. While it took you slightly by surprise, you gladly accepted the act, kissing him back. Quickly things became heated, pulling each other closer, the movement of your lips becoming desperate. Your hands drifted to his hair, lightly grabbing at it, which Nightowl responded to by letting out a small moan into your mouth. That noise of his set you off, eager to continue the sudden act of intimacy. 

Unfortunately, as quickly as it picked up, it stopped. Nightowl pulled away and loosened his hold on you, causing you to let out a small whine of disappointment.

“As much as I don’t want to stop this right now, cutie, I’m starving for some actual food, not just you.” 

You let out a chuckle, arms going back down to rest on his shoulders, “You’re such a tease.”

“Says the one wearing nothing but my shirt,” he flirted, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face once again. “Looks great on you, by the way. Makes your ass and thighs look fantastic. Especially your thighs.”

“I do, in fact, have something on under, mister,” you retorted, “But if you’re that hungry, I guess we could go scrounge up something, but by we, I mean me. We both know you can't cook for shit.”

“Ouch, that one stung.”

“It’s not that bad if I like cooking and you like eating it. Plus, you get to stare at my thighs all you want while I do so.”

“A win is a win,” he lifted one hand off your hips to cup your cheek. “Shall we then?”

“To the kitchen!” you giggled. 

Nightowl gave you one last kiss on your forehead before putting his hand down, allowing you to get up off of him and the bed. He followed suit, loosely holding your hand. With that, you led the way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to start your long date day at 2 pm.

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

What Would They Think?: Vergil X G/N Reader

SUMMARY: The both of you are lying together in bed; however, Vergil can't sleep. As he sits there with only his thoughts to keep him company, his mind wanders aimlessly until he finds himself thinking about his parents--or rather, what his Father and Mother would have thought of you.

BEGINNING NOTES: G/N reader. Pre-established relationship 🌻🌻🌻 >I don’t know but I wanted some sappy fluffy(?) Vergil. Also, in this he is wearing the outfit I referenced in his H/Cs (linked here)--so that’s how he has a tie lmao >Since Sparda doesn't exactly have a cannon personality, I tried to figure out how I wanted him to sound--forgive me if it is rough. Just to be clear: Sparda is NOT hitting on the reader--you’ll know what I mean when you see it. It is an old-fashioned way of showing respect and stuff, not romantic. >Also, I come from a family that (used to) hug a lot so there is hugging between family members--I know that some folks don’t hug much so I thought I would add a note about it lol.

==

     Warm. A comforting feeling you had gotten used to when sleeping. The snug feeling of toned arms wrapped around you; the sounds of light purring and breathing, only added to the cozy space. It was strange how someone so stoic and curt could be reposeful with you. He brought you peace and you brought him the same: keeping at bay his insomnia and nightmares. 

     Tonight, however, the man of your affections lay awake staring at your sleeping form. He ran one of his hands gently up your arm then lightly pet your head. Vergil involuntarily shook ever so slightly, fearing that he would wake you or that, perhaps, you would fade from his arms like a dream. 

     Thoughts like that made him feel foolish. Here you were laying happily on his chest and he couldn’t shake the fear of this not being real; that all this is just a desperate daydream from a man trapped in his Hellscape of a mind. A gust of wind would come through and you’d be gone and he’d be back in the Underworld, alone. No one in their right mind would lay with him this way, not after what he’s done; and yet, here you are. Completely unaware of the world around you, enveloped in his arms; trusting him not to harm you as he has to so many others.

      A slow steady breath left Vergil’s body as he pushed those thoughts away: not wanting to dwell on such depressing thoughts. He allowed his eyes to close and relaxed his body the best he could. Mindlessly his brain wandered through many different topics, unable to rest. Eventually, his mind ended up on the topic of his family--or rather, his parents. 

      “I wonder,” Vergil thought, “What would Father and Mother think of you?”

     He scoffed at his thoughts, how stupid a question. They are dead. Gone. Never coming back. So, why would he think about something that can never happen? 

     Despite this, Vergil couldn’t help but entertain the idea,  “Father would be surprised that I did not wed Nero’s mother; not taking her hand despite what happened. However, your excitement to learn about him and the history of Hell would surpass that sore point.”

     The eldest son smiled, “You interacting with Father… that would be a sight to see--you already find Dante and me intimidating. The look you’d give me upon seeing him. You would've hid behind my coattails upon meeting Sparda--would he have found it as amusing as I?”

     He indulged himself further as his smile widened, letting his mind picture things. What life could have been if not for that one day, if not for his arrogance as a young man, if not for his time apart from himself; if life had been normal.

==

     It was mid-December. His parents had invited you both to their home for the holidays. Although you had been dating for quite some time, it would be the first time that Vergil had brought you home with him. 

     Upon arriving, you commented on the size of the home, “I knew that you were well off, but this is much more than I expected…”

     Vergil laughed, “It is even better inside, I assure you.”

     The both of you entered the house. It was cozy; a gentle smell of firewood with undertones of cinnamon adorned the air. There were cute holiday decorations all around: Eva must have decorated with Nero and Dante already. A loud thud of boots drew both of you out of your thoughts; in front of you, stood Dante--who jumped off the stairs and down onto the foyer’s wooden floor. 

     The youngest brother wasted no time in squeezing his twin in a large bear hug; which, Vergil protested quite loudly by shoving Dante off of him. A warm smile found its way to your face as you watched the pair. Even though it had only been a week since Dante had seen Vergil, he always acted as if it has been decades since they had been together. 

     You noticed Nero come out from the doorway on the right--wearing a God-awfulsweater. He had his phone out and took a picture of the unknowing brother’s reunion embrace. 

     Nero pocketed his phone, “Glad you two made it,” he stepped further into the room, “was worried you got lost or something.”

    Vergil, finally free from Dante’s grasp, shook his head and sighed, “Our flight was delayed, forgive us for our untimely arrival.” 

     Nero laughed, “I ain’t the one who needs to hear that--swear Grams was gonna have Gramps start a search party to find you two.”

     Finding that Eva was so worried about Vergil made you bite your lip to stifle a laugh. Dante, however, decided to help you further by turning his attention to you; giving you the same bear hug he gave Vergil. 

     You swear you could hear every joint in your body crack from his grip, “Too-- Tight--”

     Dante loosened his grip slightly; still making sure to constrain you--his signature way of showing platonic affection, “Whoops, sorry; forgot you ain’t like us.”

     Although your grip wasn’t anywhere near as hard as his: you squeezed as hard as you could back, “ It’s alright--nice to see you too, Dante.”

     You could feel Vergil seething upon seeing Dante so close to you; however, before Vergil could bark at Dante, Eva walked out and stood by Nero. 

     She was finely dressed in a dark--almost black--red dress with a snowy white-blue shawl draped around her shoulders. Her golden hair had begun to grey in the middle--a reminder that she was just as human as you. 

     She walked over to Vergil and gave him a warm hug, rubbing small circles on his back, “I was worried you weren’t coming--”

     “I wouldn’t dare break my word,” Vergil leaned into the hug as he felt pangs of a happy sad feeling pull at his heart, “It is good to see you, Mother. Have you been keeping well?”

     “Yes, even better now that you are here,” Eva leaned back, her eyes creased at the edges as she smiled.

     Vergil widely smirked; he turned and stuck out his hand, asking for you to come over to him. You left Dante’s hug and grabbed the eldest twin’s hand, sheepishly coming to stand next to him.

     “Mother, this is my partner,” Vergil took on a strangely shy tone, “The one I have been telling you and Father about.”

     Eva smiled opening her arms for a hug, which you did not object to, “It is good to meet you, Vergil has told us much about you,” although you knew she was being nice--you couldn’t help but freeze a bit at what she said, “You make him quite happy, you know?”

     “M-Mother..!” Vergil’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he stiffened his posture.

     Eva let go of the embrace, “It’s true Vergil--you have been much better since they came around.”

     Vergil sputtered, trying to find a response. Nero and Dante were both laughing at him; only adding to his inability to think.

     A loud voice called from the landing on the staircase, gathering everyone’s attention, “Vergil, my boy, I’m glad you made it.”

     The man began to descend the rest of the stairs; it was Vergil’s father, Sparda. You swallowed hard and, unknowingly, began to move back a bit. 

     If you looked up the word “ Intimidating ” in the dictionary, you’d find his picture: he was around 7 feet tall (2.13 m) and wore very fine dark-velvet clothing. Upon his face sat a brass monocle which helped emphasize his piercing blue-eyed stare. Although he was much older than anyone else present; he didn’t look older than his late 30s. His hair was slicked back (just like Vergil keeps his, you noted) and you realized that the twins were spitting images of their father. 

     “Father,” Vergil formally bowed his head.

     Sparda stood in front of his eldest son with a raised brow, “What’s with such formalities? You are here on holiday, are you not?”

     “I am, however, I thought it best to--”

     Without letting Vergil finish, Sparda pulled his son into a large bear hug--just like Dante did earlier. Unlike Dante’s hug, however; Vergil allowed his father to clasp him tightly and even reciprocated by lightly wrapping his arms around the large man. 

     After a few moments, Sparda broke the hug and held Vergil by his shoulders, “You look good; your partner must be treating you well.”

     Dante busted out laughing once more. Nero snorted trying to hold back from laughing at his father’s wide-eyed red-faced expression. You also had gone quite red in the face at the comment.

     Sparda’s gaze found its way to you; who had backed up to stand a few feet behind Vergil. He let go of his son and walked over to you. His stature was beyond impressive; his height alone made you feel minuscule. What happened, however, left you abashed.

     Sparda, Vergil’s father, The Legendary Dark Knight was kneeling in front of you. His hand was outstretched asking for one of your own. Curiously, you obliged putting forth one of your hands. He grabbed it and gently kissed your hand. It was clear by your expression alone you were confused and very embarrassed at such a motion; especially since, in every regard, Sparda is of a much higher “respect” than yourself. 

     “It gives me great pleasure to welcome you into our home,”  he stood back up, “Vergil has told us much about you. You seem to keep my son on his toes, not an easy feat--I assure you.” his voice reminds you of Vergil’s, but less sharp; more smooth like Dante’s (It is truly bizarre how much the boys really are just their father split in twain), “Finally having a face to the name of Vergil’s affections is quite nice.”

     You had no response--what could you say? It blindsided you how overly cordial Sparda was being: Here you thought Vergil was overly formal, especially when you first met, but his father blows that out of the water. 

     “Sparda, dearest,” Eva broke the silence, “Perhaps you are being a bit too formal with Vergil’s lover?”

     The behemoth of a man turned to his petite wife, “Hm? Oh--” he turned back to you smiling, “Forgive me, it has been quite some time since a new person has entered our home; let alone a partner of my son's. I have not upset you, have I?”

     You shook your head and sheepishly mumbled, “No, I don’t mind--just didn’t expect it.”

     A loud bang came from the doorway behind Eva and Nero; Nero pivoted quickly as Eva followed.

     Dante jogged following the pair, “My damned fuckin’ dog--”

     Sparda laughed and shook his head; addressing both Vergil and you, “Your room is ready upstairs--it is your old bedroom. Once settled, please join us downstairs it is nearly supper time,”

     “Of course. Thank you, Father.” Vergil nodded and with that Sparda headed through the door that everyone else had gone. 

     You followed Vergil upstairs, your bags in hand. The house was huge inside and was easy to get lost in so you made sure to stick close to your lover. Once in the room, Vergil shut the door behind you both; letting out a sigh. 

     “You will have to forgive Father, he is old-fashioned that way,” Vergil turned towards you making his way over.

     Sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed, you looked up at your boyfriend who was now in front of you, “It’s okay--was kinda nice, if I’m honest. Reminds me of how you were when we first met.”

     Vergil laughed and leaned down towards you, hugging you--rather awkwardly due to the position, “They both seem to like you very much. Do you--” he pursed his lips, “What do you think of them--if you do not mind me asking?”

     A loving smile appeared on your face, “They seem very nice; you are a lot like your father. Given’--” you pushed back on him slightly so you could look into his eyes, “I am glad you aren’t so damn tall.”

     Vergil rolled his eyes slightly and leaned in giving you a gentle kiss. He felt your hands wander over his body. A tug on his tie pulled him closer to the kiss; both of you pushed against each other, each kiss filled with a sweet loving feeling.

     If Vergil were to die right here and now, he would die the happiest man on Earth--or in any other place that may exist. You both shared a laugh--life couldn’t get better than this.

==

     “--Vergil?” a voice pulled him from his utopian dream state. 

     Brought back to reality, Vergil looked at you in confusion. You were wide awake, sitting up, grasping Vergil’s shoulder intensely. 

     “What-?” Vergil’s voice cracked, and that’s when he realized what had happened: he had been crying. His face was damp, his skin clammy, and his pulse was racing. 

     You removed your grip on his shoulder and firmly grabbed one of his hands, “You started moving around a lot and I got worried when you wouldn’t wake up…”

     His eyes softly examined your face; you were wide-eyed and had a look of distress. He felt guilty that he woke you and made you worry, “I am alright love. It is nothing to worry about,” Vergil squeezed your hand trying to show his sincerity.

     “You sure?” your thumb mindlessly began to glide over his fingers and knuckles, “I won’t push you to talk but,” the two of you tenderly locked eyes, “if you want, you can tell me Vergil--you know I am always here for you.”

     A pang of sadness twinged at his heart; he knows that you mean it and yet, he was hesitant. It wasn’t the first time that something like this has happened; night terrors are nothing new for the eldest twin, however, this wasn’t a nightmare. Rather, a sad dream of what can never be. 

     Swallowing his fear, Vergil closed his eyes and took a slow shaky breath, “Okay,” he sat up fully and you followed suit, “It was about you-- or us-- or,” he stumbled over his thoughts slightly agitating him, “about my parents��”

     Upon seeing his growing frustration; you sat close to him and intertwined your arm with his, holding his hand again.  

     Your touch grounded Vergil’s mind a bit, allowing him to continue, “It was about my parents… meeting you,” he felt a lump begin to form in his throat, “It is foolish, I know; however, I do wish you had met them,” Vergil forced the sad feeling back down by closing his eyes as hard as he could and letting the crown of his head hit the headboard, “They would have loved you--you would have liked them too, I feel. It-- It is a trivial thing to cry over, I know,” he opened his eyes staring at the foot of the bed his voice not much louder than a whisper, “Sorry, I did not mean to wake you.”

     “Vergil,” you leaned into his shoulder, “don’t apologize--there’s no need to…” you gently placed your other hand on top of his--holding his between both, “What you’ve been through, especially with your family life, is far from normal and,” you could feel him staring down at you; however, you just continued to look at his hands, “it’s okay to cry and be upset--to mourn what you have lost. It’s okay to be sad over things like that, okay?”

     You heard his breathing hitch; you knew he had started to cry again. This was the first time Vergil had ever mentioned his parents in this way--only ever telling the stories of his Father’s glory days and such. If you acknowledged it, Vergil would stop and freeze up again; so, you just gently rubbed his hand and sat with him. 

     A few minutes passed as your lover’s breathing calmed into a normal state. You heard him take a slow shuttering breath as he attempted to re-ground himself. 

     “Vergil,” your voice was meek and you pushed your head slightly harder into his shoulder, “Can- can I ask you something?”

     He moved his head and placed it upon yours, “I don’t see why not.” his voice was a little hoarse but it confirmed to you that he had stopped crying.

     “What were they like?” 

     “Who?”

     “Your parents; Eva and Sparda… If you don’t want to talk about them that’s okay, I just was curious.”

     He exhaled audibly through his nose and smiled, “They were…” he leaned his cheek on the top of your head and looked down at your hands, “They were complete opposites and, yet, they were seemingly made for each other,” his voice trailed off as his hand tightened around yours, “Father and Mother did well raising Dante and me, for the eight or so years…” 

     You felt the sadness in Vergil’s voice; to be so young and to have no one but yourself, you couldn’t imagine the pain that he had endured--not to mention everything else that had happened. 

     Vergil continued, “Father was similar to Dante; however, he was more mature and less brain-dead.”

     You tried to hold back a chortle at the sudden jab at Dante but were unable to.

     “It is semi-ironic,” Vergil stopped leaning on your head as he sat back up straight, “Dante is like our Father: and V was much like my mother.”

     Sensing Vergil’s mood beginning to shift to a lighter one, you raised a brow, “So… Eva was an emo poet?”

     Vergil looked over at you and scrunched his face in thought, “Perhaps, in some regard; she did marry and start a family with a devil. However,” your eyes met his own, “she was very much a gentle soul with a burning fire behind her convictions in life… and she also liked cats.”

     You laughed but stopped upon seeing Vergil’s emotionless expression, “What?”

     “When explaining it like that,” he broke eye contact and looked down as a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, “I suppose you have met both of them, in some regard.”

     “And I enjoyed interacting with both; although,” you took one hand and set it on his cheek, “if that’s how you’d describe your Mother--I think all of you fit that description just fine. You are a very gentle and kind man; well, at least to me anyway.”

     Vergil let out a breath of amusement and leaned into your hand, looking you in the eyes, “Only for you, my love…” he kissed your palm meekly and whispered into it, “Maybe I am more like my parents than I thought.”

     You giggled in response--and at the feeling of him slightly tickling your palm with his breath. His eyes moved to yours again: they were filled with a coy-loving softness that he only could or would allow you to see. 

     Vergil and you exchanged sweet nothings as you slowly laid back down for the night. Deep down he knew that you were the right choice; he may not believe in fate or soul mates but you make him want to. Vergil held you as tightly and as close as he could as he drifted back to sleep knowing that he will never be alone again.

==

ENDING NOTES: Won't lie--I had a hard time finding how to end this, so sorry if it is kind of abrupt lol 🌻🌻🌻 The next story I have (almost) done is going to be another Vergil sappy story thing… So stay tuned for that! (It's a doozy) 🌻🌻🌻 Figured maybe I should share this here since I haven't posted much. Hope y'all like it! Please let me know if you have any thoughts or comments; I am still relatively new to Tumblr so I am still getting a grasp on things lol

==

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[rarepairronpa]

an ideal date

The people are yelling, copycats of her beloved and crude. Nothing like them, nothing like the real thing. Imitating both her beloved and their group, but inferior to both. Not worth her time. She ignores the screaming, ignores the pleas. People in pain are everywhere. That never changed from the start. She, chosen and holy for it, could only shake her head in disgust and a little pity. She ignores their cries, clutching her phone as she turned up her headphones. (Blocking out them begging for help like they ignored her.) Junko’s voice, bright and peppy and out of place, comes through like music on the other side. “Mikan-senpai, Mikan-senpai, aren’t you excited?!” They squealed, and Mikan smiled fondly. “Of course,” she murmured into her headphone’s subpar mic. “I’m with you, after all.” - Mikan and Junko hunt down her past bullies. [Dangan WLWeek day 5: The Tragedy/Ship With A Trans Headcanon.]

Junkan for day 5 of @danggirlronpa 's WLWeek! This is actually an idea I've had for a long time- Junkan hunting down Mikan's past bullies. I originally wanted to write it for my BNHA/DR crossover (with Izuku tagging along), buuut I don't think it'll work for the already established timeline of that work, so I had to scrap the idea. Still! I was super fond of the idea of it, that when I saw the prompt "Tragedy", my mind immediately went to that. This is Junkan, so they are an unhealthy relationship in this, BUT they're also very sappy and cute, in a morbid way- so I think people who like fluffy Junkan might like this one too, along with people who like the more toxic yuri aspect. It is ultimately unhealthy, because Junko is encouraging Mikan to be her worst self, buuuut there's definitely moments in it that I go, "oh, that's sweet". It has layers! Is what I'm saying! Sometimes what makes toxic relationships so hard to get out of is that they have moments of tenderness and genuine love.

This one is also, obviously, a no brainwashing video AU. I leave Chiaki's fate ambiguous; whether she's dead, never existed as human Chiaki, or is a Remnant that will eventually betray them isn't... known in this. I feel like any could be applicable, so go crazy with whatever interpretation you want. I don't go into detail how Mikan became a despair, either, just that it's not through brainwashing. I also mention that she knew about Yasuke- in my head, she had him kinda had a Greg and Pearl (from Steven Universe) dynamic. Which she thinks she's "won", as Yasuke was killed by Junko.

As for Junko, they're nonbinary in this- I'd say close to a demigirl, though she's never defined it. They use she/they pronouns and feminine terms such as "girlfriend". I explain it a bit in my notes. If she doesn't read as feminine aligned enough, I will be willing to edit it to make this more clear.

Also- there's no actual graphic torture in this. Because. I didn't want to write that for a fun ship week. And that would also involve a lot of OCs to fill out Mikan's bullies. It's more of a lead up to Mikan finding her past bullies than her actually confronting them. So, if you're faint of heart, you'll still probably be fine with this one as it's mainly implication.

Over all, this is my favorite of what I've written for this week (with my first day nanamiki one being my second favorite). It has a concept I've been wanting to do for ages, mentions of Yasuke and Mikan knowing each other (which I eat up), and has nonbinary Junko, a headcanon I love. I also think the Junkan has a nice mix of being both disturbing and cute. So, if you're going to read any of what I've written for this week, I definitely recommend this one!

[raccoonfallsharder]

Thank you so much for responding to my ask, I found myself nodding my head in agreement to every point you made. I still feel bad for those who continue to overlook Rocket, but yeah, it doesn't really matter. Would love to hear those Loki thoughts as well if you don't mind!

ahh, i’m so glad to hear my five-thousand-page rant made sense and resonated with you! i also feel bad for those who overlook rocket. they truly don’t know what they’re missing.

so my thoughts on loki (below) are ALL over the place. i guess i’ll rant a little about the mcu and then talk about how i view loki in terms of character complexity, and then rant a lil more before i get really sappy. ready? ready.

i’m gonna go ahead and double-down on what i said about the mcu as a whole, and how much we need stories told by writers who love the characters they’re writing for. i think loki in the movies is a good example of a character who had, like, signposts of complexity and development with no actual exploration. we would see his behavior shift at critical moments, and we could interpret change and growth, but we never got to spend enough time with him to really see his thoughts and feelings and motivations. fanfic writers have done more to establish loki as a character with depth than the movies ever did. (hire them, disney!)

to be fair, those were thor’s movies, i suppose. but the dynamic of the movies really relied on this sibling relationship, while only really exploring one sibling’s perspective. like, how do you base a whole section of a franchise on two characters, but treat one as a person and the other as a prop?

then we move into the show.

honestly, i fuckin loved the show. i know you described it as loki getting to speedrun his redemption arc in a youtube video (a description which made me giggle btw), but i personally never thought of it that way. i never thought of loki as really learning anything from that montage of his other self’s life — except, perhaps, that being a better person and having a real relationship with his brother was possible. i always thought of that scene as just a slap in the face to get him to start paying attention.

what unfolds over the following two seasons is, imo, where all his growth happens. still begrudging at first — still eager to double-cross the people holding him captive (no shade; they didn’t deserve his loyalty). ready to use his variant to accomplish his goals. we get to see him start to develop empathy by literally reflecting on himself (hi sophie), and we get to watch that empathy spread — slowly, but surely. (so slowly, by the way. that sequence at the end where he spends a million years watching his friends unravel again and again and again and again and again and again and again? like, the audience may have gotten to speedrun that — but there’s no reason to think he did). by the time loki does what he thinks is the right thing — “for all of us” — it’s incredibly believable to me. whereas in the movies, it often felt like a cointoss — tails i save an orphan and heads, i act like a little shit — this decision to preserve self-determination seems deliberate and conscious and effortful. and he now considers himself part of the universe instead of superior to or separate from it. for all of us.

so. what do i think about the complexity of loki’s character? i think he is very complex and developed, and that his character growth is shared just as masterfully as rocket’s, but — i think this is exclusively because of the tv show.

and i think, again, that this is because the writers of loki loved him. like gunn did with rocket, they held the character of loki very tenderly, found all the places that made him mean, and asked, but why? and what does healing look like for you? and how do we make that happen?

and you know, even though rocket and loki are very different, and their stories “end” in very distinct ways, i think it’s fascinating that so many of the stories we find that have been told with love also include love as a central tenet. i think it’s just so beautiful that when we recognize a character as fundamentally good but deeply wounded, we so often want to reshape their universes to be exactly what they need to make them feel whole and seen and unbroken. we want to give them found families and community and connection, because having those things is always better than not, even if that means you have to be trapped in a tree for the rest of eternity.

i dunno, i just think people overall are really loving, and at their core, they want to put more love in the world. and i think loki (the show) and guardians (the movies) are perfect examples of people actually doing that.

blah blah blah, hire writers who love the characters.

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚⸜(♡ ॑ᗜ ॑♡)⸝ ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

thanks for inspiring this rant lol sorrryyyy

[tfisathoughtfulnickelbakeryfire]

Awesome because I love writing questions :)

Ok so when I first read the question I couldn't quite put my technique for developing relationships into words because I just kind of do it, but I think I figured out how.

When I want to show the beginning formation of a relationship, it's the dialogue and the conversation itself that's the most important to me, because even when I'm putting my characters through a hard time and bonding them through trauma, they still talk to each other and learn little things about each other. All these little bits of information and interactions sort of just stick together, and the characters start to trust each other with more than just information. Add a little original character spice, like a bunch of inside jokes and shared experiences (be they casual or traumatic) and the relationship kind of just appears by itself. The key, I think, is in showing the way the characters change each other, whether in good ways or bad. Seeing two or more people adapt and mold themselves around each other slowly and gently is always what sells a relationship to me, whether the plot of the story itself is slow and gentle or not. And this isn't to say that the characters need to change drastically at all, but there is always change when two people get closer, whether it's becoming a better person or just remembering to buy an extra snack at the convenience store.

If the relationship is negative, then, instead of sharing things, the characters exploit or irritate each other instead. This is a lot easier to do when the baseline of a character is already formed, I've found.

If I want to show an already established relationship, the thing I try for is consistency. I try to show repetitive behaviors. I think mostly do this through more subtle methods, like dialogue and the more subtle interactions, but there are the bigger things, like how they react when the other is hurt or happy, or how they go out of their way to express that they care in a way they know the other character will understand. (AKA, how they've changed each other.) I also tend to reference shared experiences, both happy and not, as if it's something that everyone already knows about so I can drop bits and pieces of information here and there for a little extra drama for whoever might be reading. I try to keep it a dirty little secret between the characters and their pasts until the time is right, because if I reveal everything at once it just feels like an emotionless dump of information that leaves you wondering if there's gonna be quiz at the end of the story. I do the same thing with worldbuilding, but that's a post for another time.

I think my favorite types of relationships to write are the idealistic ones that make you feel a jealous sort of longing when you encounter them in real life, which is basically just a really long way to say that I write a lot of found family and disgustingly sappy romance because I'm lonely on all levels of affection. But I put humor in there too, so it's ok.

I'm not sure I have any concrete tips for writing because I've sort of just been freestyling my way through most of my Word documents, but for relationships I suppose the first step is to look around you for patterns in real life people. Watch how people interact with each other, watch how they love each other, how they care for each other, and if there's no one around who you see the loving side of your character in, then watch how people hate and hurt each other and reverse it. And if you have trouble with writing realistic dialogue, try to just listen to real people speaking to each other. It helps, trust me, I've been doing it my entire life, and while it hasn't helped me in too many real-life situations, I think it's contributed to my dialogue writing abilities.

Also, PSA: The answer to nearly every single problem in any relationship, both in writing and in real life, can be solved by COMMUNICATION. This isn't to say that the solution is always a happy one though. Sometimes the solution is to get out of a situation and the communication needs to happen between a person and themselves or a person and a trusted adult, but my point still stands.

Today let’s talk about…

Relationships!

How do you go about developing character relationships?  What are your favorite type of relationships to write: friendship, family, romance, partnership?  Any advice on how to build a well-written relationship?

Taglist (ask to be +/-): @rydykg, @elgringo300, @13shadesofanni, @faithfire, @pluvia-b, @t-lane-writes

Writer’s Round-Table

[thetriggeredhappy]

61 for heavy and medic, pls??? 💙 -blu-

today we’re gonna play a fun game called “spot the starkid reference” ft some very domestic and sappy heavymedic content. (warning for passing mention of medic doing medic-y things)

#61. Hands On The Other Person’s Back, Fingertips Pressing Under Their Top, Drawing Gentle Circles Against That Small Strip Of Bare Skin That Make Them Break The Kiss With A Gasp.

“Doktor did not eat dinner,” Heavy observed, standing in the doorway of the infirmary. Medic didn’t even look up at him before he hummed dismissively, which made Heavy sigh.

Medic loved experimentation. Everyone on the team knew that. Absolutely every chance he got—every time Miss Pauling had a spare, fresh cadaver—he would spend his time going to town, experimenting with electricity or chemicals, with replacement organs, everything. What he didn’t love was the paperwork surrounding it, the amount of effort it took to get black market exotic animals or their organs—made easier through Mann Co. and their suppliers, many of whom were already just black market with additional bureaucracy, but that bureaucracy was frustrating and tedious—and the amount of notes that followed, writing down observations as quickly as he could remember them when he was finished so they wouldn’t be forgotten, then spending large spans of time trying to write them a second time in a more organized fashion so they would actually be useable.

Heavy wasn’t entirely sure what Medic was working on just then, the ordering or the revising, but he knew he’d missed dinner because of it, and that was a bad thing. He understood Medic missing a meal because he was getting his hands dirty, but the paperwork could very much wait.

He left the infirmary again, going and stacking some amount of the leftovers on a plate and wrapping a layer of plastic over it to keep it warm, taking a fork and spoon as well before walking back over. Medic hadn’t moved an inch when he got back, too laser-focused on his work.

Heavy set the fork and spoon down on the piece of paper Medic was writing on, which was enough to get him to look up, at least. Then he quickly shuffled the paper aside as Heavy put down the plate.

“Eat, Doktor,” he instructed gently.

Medic’s eyebrows furrowed. “Heavy, I am working,” he said, a little shortly.

“Is not important. Eating is important. Doktor will waste away at tiny desk,” Heavy replied, tone gentle.

Medic looked like he was going to argue more, but Heavy unwrapped the plate and presumably he smelled the food and realized how hungry he was, looking down at it with some amount of surprise.

Heavy pulled over the chair Medic kept nearby to sit down with him while he dug in. When they’d first arrived, it wasn’t actually big enough for Heavy to fit in correctly. But then one day it had been broken during some incident, and when Medic replaced it, he’d gotten one of a size that Heavy could comfortably use. Once he was sat down, he started speaking quietly, if haltingly, about everything that happened at dinner. An argument, a second argument, and a joke that Demo made at Spy’s mild expense was apparently very good but that Heavy didn’t quite understand.

“It is a pun, but Heavy is not sure for what,” he said when he recounted it.

Medic raised the back of his hand to his mouth for the sake of politeness until his mouth was clear, then spoke. “Well, Charlotte is a name, and the word charlatan sounds similar to it. It usually means, er... like a con artist. A more, er... more extravagant word to use for a liar or fraud. And often nicknames, especially in English, are just shortened to the first part. So the alias Spy had used was Charlotte, short for charlatan, ja?”

Heavy followed along, and laughed when understanding finally hit, loud and unabashed. Medic chuckled as well, returning to eating. “Thank you for explaining, Doktor. That is very good joke,” he said, extremely pleased.

“It’s a shame I missed it,” Medic agreed, taking a moment to ball up the plastic wrap and drop it into the trash can, putting the fork and spoon back on the plate to set aside. He looked aimlessly over his desks, apparently only just then noticing the wide spread of papers and not sure where he’d left off.

“Doktor has worked hard, should take break,” Heavy said, tone dropping down to something quieter.

“Out of the question,” Medic said shortly, managing to find his pen from within the piles of paper and searching for whichever paper he’d been working on. “There is too much that needs doing.”

Heavy took Medic’s wrist in one massive hand, and Medic didn’t startle so much as go alert, looking up at him. He kept his expression serious. “Should take break,” he repeated, more slowly, more firmly.

Medic deflated, even if he still didn’t speak for a little while. Hesitated. “Ten minutes, then I’m getting back to work,” he said.

Heavy smiled. “Good,” he agreed, and stood, guiding Medic to his feet and a half-step in, then promptly pulling him into a ginger embrace.

After a moment or two of returning it, Medic exhaled heavily. “All you are going to do is hug me?” he asked, tone pointed, and Heavy laughed, moving back to instead pull Medic up into a kiss.

Medic’s arms went around his waist. Heavy was a large man, and often in the past his lovers hadn’t quite been able to get their arms all the way around him. But Medic was no small man himself, and could generally at least lace his fingers together around Heavy’s back when they embraced, and could make it around his waist when they were kissing.

Long, lazy minutes were spent that way, exchanging gentle kisses, Medic humming happily between each of them. He felt his thoughts drifting, his breath starting to get away from him a little, and he was snapped back into reality when he suddenly felt Medic’s hands dip below the back of his shirt where it often rode up when he was leaned forward like this, starting to draw circles against his skin in terribly pleasant little motions.

He broke the kiss with a gasp, having not realized how deep it had gotten when he wasn’t paying attention. Medic was grinning, some part of it a bit sharp in a way that others sometimes found unsettling.

“Doktor,” Heavy said, and a shiver went up through his back when Medic’s motions widened rather than stopping. “Said ten minutes.”

“I know,” he replied lightly, the barest shade of defensive.

“Door is unlocked,” he said more pointedly.

Medic huffed, leaning up to nip at Heavy’s jaw in lieu of pouting. “If someone comes in here and doesn’t like what they find, that is their problem, not mine,” he said, the tiniest bit testy.

Heavy gave him a Look.

“Fine, then I’ll go lock it,” Medic said next, an edge of complaint starting to creep into view, but he was stopped when Heavy didn’t let go of him to let him move away.

“Doktor will complain at Heavy if he gets very much distracted,” he chided.

“When have I ever done that?” Medic asked, brows furrowing.

“This morning. Also morning before. Also during weekend, and weekend before that—“

“Ja, alright, fine, I get it,” Medic mumbled, leaning in to kiss at Heavy’s neck a few more times, then sighing. “Fine. At least just...”

Heavy waited for Medic to finish his sentence.

“At least sit with me,” he finally requested.

Heavy nodded without even really needing to think about it. “Heavy can do this,” he said easily.

“Vielen Dank,” he said, relaxing a bit.

Heavy dipped into Medic’s room briefly to get the book he’d left there, returning and pulling the chair even just slightly closer and sitting down to read. After a few minutes of Heavy and Medic’s reading and writing in silence respectively, Medic stretched a hand forward across the desk. Heavy reflexively closed the gap, lacing their fingers together on the tabletop. Turning pages became a bit of an issue, but that was alright. He would deal with a lot of inconveniences for his Doktor. Heavy loved him.

From the fact that Medic stopped writing several long moments before he stopped kneading little circles against the back of Heavy’s hand when he finally drifted off, falling asleep right there over his paperwork as he so often did, well, that was what told Heavy that Medic loved him too.

[angry-geese]

Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

[hlficlibrary]

There are lots of great long fics in this fandom and it’s time they get some more appreciation from us readers! This is part 3 (wc: 129K - 120K)

🖤 I Love The Very Blood Of You by @chloehl10

 “I don’t like him …” Harry muttered, fiddling with the string at the waistband of his jogging bottoms that had definitely seen better days. “I love him, Zayn. I’m in love with Louis. With a vampire.”

 He looked up just in time to see a small smile on Anne’s face, and she reached out with a hopeful look. Harry couldn’t resist, and put his large hand in hers, letting her squeeze him for a moment.

 “I could tell there was love between you,” she confessed softly, a light blush on her cheeks. “When I met you, I knew you were smitten with each other. I won’t pretend it doesn’t make me nervous, but … I can’t tell you who you can and can’t love, sweetheart.”

A vampire. A human. A broken arrangement. A love long since forbidden. Hunted by hate. Destined.

129K / Vampire Louis / Human Harry / Strangers to Lovers / Forbidden Love /

🖤 We Are Only Just Beginning by @afirethatcannotdie

In the dim light of a dorm kitchen, Harry Styles meets a boy who flips his life upside down. Three years later, he's a senior in college, ready to take on the world with the love of his life by his side. And then Louis Tomlinson admits he doesn't know what he wants to do after college after all, and Harry's world flips again, this time not so pleasantly. He can't imagine his life without Louis, but he's starting to worry he might have to.

A college AU featuring lots of domestic sappiness, waffles, tattoos, late nights and early mornings, and above all, Louis and Harry against the world.

129K / College AU / Friends to Lovers / Established Relationship /

🖤 For As Long As I Can Remember (It's Been December) by @greenfeelings

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

128K / Amnesia AU / Friends to Lovers / Angst W a Happy Ending /

🖤 hymn for the wretched & divine by @wlwmermald

Death loses a bet with a mischievous and lively mortal by the name of Louis Tomlinson, who loves his old cat too much, the price being he must unconditionally befriend Louis. Death ends up getting more than he bargained for. 

126K / Forbidden Love / Supernatural Elements / Magical Realism /

🖤 Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by Toomanytears

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

126K / Enemies to Friends to Lovers / Slow Burn / Pining /

🖤 forever is in your eyes by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

Harry looks fragile in the moonlight, and Louis stands there, pondering, not even sure what it is that he’s thinking of. It’s all just noise in his head, a mix of melancholy and desire, of longing for something that he doesn’t even have a name for.

He wants-

He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

His lips press against marble, against something cold and unforgiving, and it’s not until his hand comes up to rest against a sculpted neck that his eyes fly open and he stumbles backwards, nearly falling off the stepladder that he’d stood on.

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, shaking his head and resisting the urge to brush the back of his hand against his lips, erase evidence that isn’t even visible to the naked eye. Harry stands there, as though nothing’s changed, and of course he does, because he’s a statue.

A statue that Louis has just kissed.

125K / Fantasy / Sculptor Louis / Supernatural Elements / Slow Burn /

🖤 There's Such a Lot of World to See by @crinkle-eyed-boo

 “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Harry asks, thumbing at Louis’ hip.    “Like what?” Louis asks breathlessly.    “Like you’ve seen a ghost or summat,” Harry muses. “You did it all the time the other day and you did it just now.”    Louis swallows hard, studying him intently.    “You remind me of someone,” Louis says softly, tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear. “Someone I lost.”

Louis has seen a great many things throughout his travels in time and space, but only one he can’t explain: He keeps meeting the same boy, who says the same thing to him each time. The boy should be impossible.

Maybe he is.

A love story that defies the boundaries of space and time. Doctor Who AU.

125K / The Doctor Louis / Baker Harry / Happy Ending /

🖤 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

124K / Alpha Harry / Omega Louis / Fake Dating / Slow Burn /

🖤 Just a Walk in the Park by comingbackhometoyou (orphan_account)

It's 2015, the first time dinosaurs walked the earth in over 65 million years. The multi-billion dollar company, Twist Corporations, is planning a summer opening for their world changing attraction, "Jurassic Park".

They take an interest in the history making duo of Dr. Louis Tomlinson, a stubborn paleontologist, and his partner, paleobotanist Dr. Liam Payne, giving them the chance of a lifetime to work for the new theme park. Louis is apprehensive, but Liam has a "gut feeling" that it will change their lives. He isn't wrong.

Featuring Niall as the top engineer to get the park up and running, Zayn as the raptor expert, and Harry as the grandson of one of the most influential men in the world.

124K /

🖤 Amor Vincit Omnia (Love Conquers All Things) by Only_theangel

“Fine. I’ll make you a deal.” He mumbles, digging in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. This gets Harry’s attention, causing him to raise an eyebrow. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Louis who he’s going on a date with, because he does. He hates keeping secrets from his best friend, absolutely hates it.

“If you show me who he is, I won’t say anything. Ever. For as long as you are seeing him, I won’t comment on him.” Louis says, bringing his cigarette up to his lips. Harry watches carefully as Louis’s lighter flame catches on the end of the stick. Louis inhales a long, shaky breath, his eyes closing.

124K / Mpreg / Friends to Lovers / Mutual Pining /

🖤 got the sunshine on my shoulders by @hattalove

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

124K / Exes to Lovers / Slow Burn /

🖤 Wild & Unruly by @100percentsassy, @gloriaandrews

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

123K / Cowboy Harry / Paralegal Louis /

🖤 California Sold by @isthatyoularry

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

123K / Friends to Lovers / Fake Relationship / Demisexual Louis /

🖤 these bountiful silences by tommoandbambi

they live in a world where they can only say four words per day. harry meets some people that don't want to live that way. 

123K / Dystopia / Slow Burn /

🖤 KINGS & QUEENS by lovemylarry

Louis is part of the most famous band in the world: One Direction. A mistake lets Louis' manager come up with an idea that turns his life upside down. Damage control has a name: Harry Styles.

123K / Hate to Love / Model Harry /

🖤 I’ll fly away by @juliusschmidt

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

122K / Friends to Lovers / Childhood Friends /

🖤 my heart's a stereo (and this melody is meant for you) by FangirlFlailings

Louis Tomlinson, an ex-boybander now stuck in the rut of a comfortable has-been, gets the chance to resuscitate his career when a pop star asks him to write a duet for her highly-anticipated comeback album. Through a chance encounter, he finds a quirky lyricist in Harry Styles, the curly-haired baker and former writer with an above-average sense of rhyme and inexplicable interest in personal questions.

Or: the Music & Lyrics AU that no one asked for, in which Louis is Hugh Grant, and Harry is Drew Barrymore, and the slow burn is (hopefully) worth the wait.

122K / Slow Burn /

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed! It can make an author’s day!

[anghraine]

Not to be super sappy or anything, but I was just thinking about fandom vs meatspace friendships, how they're discussed, and how they form—

And it struck me that some fandom friendships don't just live up to the substance of meatspace friendships, but in some ways, can actually be more substantial, because they form under relatively consistent conditions.

In "real" life, people can become friends for a huge variety of reasons, but an intrinsic part in general is being in fairly close physical proximity at some point. Sometimes you become friends because you were roommates, or your parents were friends first and you played together as kids, or you met in college, or at work, or whatever. But you do have to meet in person for some reason or another, and usually that meeting is a happy byproduct of some coincidental reason you happened to be in the same place at the same time.

But being a friendly neighbor in fandom terms isn't precipitated by physical proximity, but by caring about the same kinds of things.

And sometimes it's really nice not to have to justify why X matters to you, because even if your fandom friend has moved on, they usually remember caring about the thing, and are familiar with a lot of the details that you'd have to explain (or often, would choose to never explain) to a friend you met because you walk your dogs in the same park.

And part of it is the basic fact of being in fandom, even if it ends up being different fandoms, because you don't have to—you know, justify writing/reading fanfic, tone down your investment in certain characters or dynamics, or pretend to be cool and fun (some people in fandom try to be cool, but uh. lol). It's not that you know a more "real" side of fandom friends than the people you know in person, but you do often know a different side they aren't always going to show many others in their lives.

I was thinking back, and it was fandom friends like @brynnmclean and @ladytharen and @incognitajones who encouraged me when I was writing a f!Cassian Andor fic in which the core Rogue One cast are all queer (Cassia herself is lesbian). That project was what I'd work on when I was dealing with the homophobia of my Mormon/Catholic families and background, but also felt Not Gay Enough pressure from more progressive types in my life.

It meant a lot to me to hear awful shit and then be able to turn around and write an emphatically gay fic that culminates in a clearly established romantic relationship and marriage proposal. But also, I wasn't about to talk about it with RL friends who don't get fanfic, much less genderbending fanfic, much less gay genderbending fanfic.

Like, the last and most substantive part was written mostly for myself but also for a prompt from @ladytharen and with that encouragement from other fandom friends—it was tied up in processing homophobia and with online friendships with people who could understand why doing this mattered so much to me, and who intrinsically cared about at least roughly similar things.

And sometimes irl friendships or relationships are with people who Get Fandom, or maintained by having equally substantial common interests or whatnot, for sure. But for me, at least, that's really nice when it happens, but definitely a perk, while I virtually never become fandom friends with people unless we actively shared interests and activities at some point. And ... idk, I think people who dismiss online and especially fandom friendships don't get how significant common interests can be for some of us.

[ggukkiereads]

What are your favorite established relationship jk fics? Can u recommend me? ❤️ Maybe husband or dad jk too haha

🌷 Hello! Sharing fics that are memorable to me. Hope it satisfies your Jungkook needs 😉.

Please note that the fics are NOT mine. Please show these authors love by reblogging their fics, giving them feedback, and engaging in any positive interaction you can think of! 🥰

Established Relationship | Jungkook

@angelguk ’s drabbles + scenarios 

Jock!jk drabble series

On My Mind

Breakfast in Bed

In Your Arms Tonight - the one where he has a thing for you in his clothes).

She also has a dad!jk drabbles (just Jungkook with his daughter)

@kpopfanfictrash sequels or drabbles - read the original fic first

The Art of More Sequel + drabbles -  L is for Lunacy +  The Party + S if for Sexy - ^

Over the Edge - sequel to Ruin the Friendship

The Next - Dad!JK + pregnant reader

Taming of the Flu - sick OC

Click 

Together (boyfriend series) @httpjeon - collection of their “firsts”  

And a Hard Place drabbles (ongoing) @minloop - angsty, idol!au

Appetence @jiminimoon - idol!au, imagine boyfriend!jungkook dancing for you

Aurora @/mintseesaw - secret love affair, princess!reader, general jungkook, historical au (I really love this)

Bare Necessities @gguksgalaxy - Disneyland date

Bicker @littlemisskookie - sequel to Banter; Superhero AU

Bounce @jeonsweetpea -  workout session 😉

A Call + All Mine @follovvthelight - idol!jungkook, secret relationship, OC gets hit on by others because they thought she is single, fluffy smut but real relationship talk

Come & Come Again @/jjungkookislife - drabbles based on real time jungkook (Not Today!JK & Blue-haired Drummer JK)

Doxology @dark-muse-iris - pwp in a church (sorry 🙈)

Dungeons and Dick @jungkookiebus - OC killed his character lol (cute)

Edacity @jjungkooksthighs - college au, jungkook making food 😋 (I actually read this on AO3 and was checking my bookmarks when I remember this)

Empty Stalls @bts-bookstore - boyfriend au, pwp, public place

Everything’s Alright + Sweet Saturdays @guklore - quarterback!jungkook who is so sweet and reassuring. Plus, the use of the sappy Still Into You by Paramore as a ringtone is a big plus 😂 Let’s not mention whipped cream slight smut 🤤

Falling @starshapedkookie - about two soulmate-less people in an established relationship (angst)

First Love, Last Love drabbles @floralseokjin - long-term relationship

Game Over @joonsgalore - tattooed gamer boyfriend kook

GCGUK  and IDCILH @bubmyg - youtuber!au 

GCGUK - drabble series. a nonchronological series of adventures of the most sickeningly in love vlogger on the platform.

idcilh (these have been done before but I don’t care I love her) - a series on gcguk in which jeongguk tackles old, cheesy YouTube couple challenges [4/?] 

Getting Railed @dearlytea - omg this is just pure pwp but boyfriend!jk

Good Day @ilikemesometaetaes -  calling in sick just to do smutty stuff 😅

Good Girl series @bonny-kookoo

Good Girl | Sweet Girl | Smart Girl | Brave Girl | Pretty Girl | Charming Girl | Enticing Girl | Bad Girl | Tempting Girl | Strong Girl

Historic Moments @moyochu - drabble. college professors in a secret relationship

Hearts on Fire by @winetae - dragon!jk

Through the Flames (and into the Lava) | Third Degree Burn

Honeycomb @joonbird - one year anniversary (ahhh this is 🔥 and cute)  

Hotel Nights @ikonrobert -  more of a drabble but this is just sweet and soft 🥰

In Your Heart drabble series @sweetaesuga - fratboy, ex-fuckboy, friends to lovers (this is the couple from In Your Eyes so you have to read the one shot first. I personally like the drabble series more than the one shot; it’s fun to see their relationship in action)

Laundry Fairy @bulletproofbirdy - domestic!koo doing chores and laundry #idealman #perfectman

Lifeline @mygsii -  shifter au, witch au, supernatural au, established relationship (I really love this it’s such a comfort fic)

Little Mouse (ongoing) by @jjungkookislife - Fratboy AU

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 | Christmas Special |  Valentine’s Day |Spin the Bottle

Little Swan @jimidol - prince!jk

Loved by You drabble series by @underthejoon - on ao3

Mask + Unveil  @dulcetvk - I received an ask about this and this is a favorite among readers because I also see others looking for this from time to time. Established Rel that gets threatened by the presence of Jungkook’s evil (joke) bestfriend 

Mix-tape @moon-write - ah this is wonderful! It’s a love letter from Jungkook through a mixtape 😭

Moonflower @bangtanpromptsfics - 3am date; adulting. a cute drabble

Nasty @jeonsweetheart - drabbles; actually best to check author’s drabbles based on Ari’s songs. They are really good (and right kind of smutty fluffy)

Netflix & Chill series @1kook - relationship journey of JK and OC who met on a blind date

Nochu Unsolved @minflix (deactivated but linking the AO3) - tattooed, cryptid hunting, comedy

Of Games & Sex @youremypride - gamer au, boyfriend, hilarious comparison to gaming consoles

Open When drabbles (ongoing) @iluv-hobi  - Idol!jungkook created letters for OC and she can only open when ____

Possession @bngtanah - angst, jungkook is a bit of a jerk 

Press Start @softyoongiionly - they have other boyfriend!jungkook fics like Talk to Me in Korean and Banana Pancake (so please go to their masterlist)

Protection @blkjmn - thunderstorms x bf!koo to distract

Puffs and Touches by @/mintseesaw - a cute and hot drabble

Plot Hole @feliix  - it’s 1.6k words so it’s a quick read but so funny that suddenly turns hot?

Quiet, Baby @bratkook - pwp, smutty teasing on the train 🥵

Ripped Jeans @kookiesjoonies - idol!au x seeing him in ripped jeans 🥵

Ruin the Dress...Shirt @fortunexkookie - new relationship

Sex Education 2.0 @extravaguk  - sequel; asked best friend’s brother JK to teach her about sex

Stay Quiet @hobidreams - college au, public place -library (I forgot to add this gem!)

Soft Nights @softguks - stressed Jungkook and OC comforting him drabble

Stay With Me @svenotes - I got this ask about fics where “pretty girl” is used as an endearment and coincidentally I was reading this on AO3. This is just sweet =)

Swinging by a Fine Line @mimikookie - spiderman jungkook and girlfriend!reader, action, slice of life (this is great because it’s something different)

Take Your Time @marginalmadness - oh how I love this how it starts out mysterious “what is kook doing?!?!” and OC here is just tired after a stressful day at work and My Time Jungkook (well in my mind) is here to make it all better 

Theory of Power by @untaemedqueen -  hello, taekwondo kook? Jealous kook? 

Twister @lolethlovesbangtan  - a game of twister that turned smutty

Ultimatum @wonhopeswitch-blog - this is just funny! bf!jk insisting he’s Spiderman during smut 

Wherever You Are @suhdays - ugh vampire ceo Jungkook being all cheesy sweet drabble *swoons* 

Wildflowers and Sunlight @promisesox - royalty au, prince!jungkook x enchanted reader, jungkook will eventually leave the enchanted place

Wildflowers @koyamuses - fantasy, romance, faerie au

Husband AU | Jungkook

Bunny Do @/softyoongionly - domestic life in a cottage and some fluffy goodness

Black Card @minsprings - crazy rich asians, ceo

Concealed Weapon @gimmesumguga - this is just the hottest mafia? assassin? Koo 

Contentment by @btsqualityy - not really married but they’re mated; talks about being content/secure in a relationship and using the werewolf au as context; 

Desperate Housewife @kimnjss - lol jealous husband Koo of hot trainer Taehyung

Fierce and Delicate + Felicity  by @/mintseesaw - rich!OC

Granite Glow + Pretty Thoughts @namjoonchronicles - also a comfort fic (they have a masterlist of domestic jungkook aus)

Grain of Sand @jungkookiebus - blind!jungkook, slice of life, this is really great (I added it to the fic recs based on request for members-with-disability and I am grateful for fics that tackle such scenarios)

It’s Enough @/dark-muse-iris - 😥 themes of poverty

Jaded by chasinghorizons (ao3) - a good angst with happy ending

JORTS + Back and Forth + The SPEEDO @gukslut (also read Every Kind of Way)

Mon amour  @/angelguk

PITTER-PATTER OF THE HEART drabbles @koorara -  just tooth-rotting goodness. Newlywed domestic moments of professor Jungkook and wifey

Put Your Head on my Shoulder @/koorara - brought husband to hometown

Rain by nijoon (ao3) - angst tw: infidelity but it ends well

Stress Relief @/hobidreams - I read this on AO3 but it’s also on tumblr; argument x smutty making up session

Snowy Hills @kooks3uphoria - Surgeon!Jungkook x Surgeon!reader + accident (angst)

Sweet Talk @/bts-bookstore - ceo au (both of them), originally trophy wife and jungkook helped her get out of that situation, just domestic bliss

Too Close by @cutechim - boxer, husband Jungkook and dilf!koo in the drabbles

Dad in Established Relationship | Jungkook

These are all dad!jk in an established relationship; I didn’t include fics with singledad!jk like Rattled by gukslut or accidental pregnancy/expecting parents fics.

Dilf Kook Drabbles @himbojk (author deactivated)

Dilf!Drabbles @taesinferno

Interruption by @/untaemedqueen - haha poor Koo

I Lost our Baby drabble + prequel @lamourche  (cute!)

Knockout @gamerguk - boxer au, sub!jk, they have a 3-yr old, pwp

Young One @bts-reveries - photographer dad!jk, social media au

Wishing for You @kookiestarlight - new, not a dad yet but they’re trying (part of my reading list!)

🌷 There was an ask for dilf!jk and Single Dad Jungkook so you may check the links too.

Posted: 2021 Feb 05 | Updated: 2021 Mar 21 

Note: if link to fic doesn’t work, click on author and go to their masterlist

Ficswithluv actually had an Established Relationship category few weeks ago! Please check the list too

[spnbangbang]

Title: Unadventurous

Author: Tossukka

Artist: Klayr

Primary Ship: Castiel/Dean Winchester 

Other Ships: N/A

Length: 5700

Warnings: No archive warnings apply, minor non-graphic violence, homophobia, sexist language

Tags: college/university au, established relationship, comfortably bisexual Dean, public sex, sex toys, some very mild D/s, humor/fluff, shenanigans

Posting Date: August 16, 2022

Summary:

Dean overhears some people making fun of his relationship with Cas and their assumed unadventurous, boring sex life. Cas suggests they just haven’t been scandalous enough in public and should give people something real to gossip about.

Semi-public erotic foreplay with his hot boyfriend just to arouse some rumors? Count Dean in.

Shenanigans ensue.

Excerpt:

“Do you think I’m becoming more boring since I’ve known you?”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Some guys I used to hang out with before I met you were talking shit today. Not to my face, I overheard it on my way to class.”

“Dean, you’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. If by boring they mean not partying or sleeping around anymore, then I guess, but I think you’re getting more interesting every day I know you. If those people think you’re boring, they don’t know you or deserve to know you.”

It should have been sappy and cliché, but everything Cas said, he said so sincerely that Dean just couldn’t help believing it.

“That’s not what bothered me. They talked shit about you too. About you making me boring. They can fuck right off, of course, because you’re anything but boring. They thought we’re just having vanilla, missionary sex once a week.”

Cas grinned.

“Didn’t we kind of do that just now?”

“Yeah, because making a guy come three times is just the regular, boring sex,” Dean rolled his eyes. “I just hate that they think about you like that. They haven’t seen this side of you at all.”

Cas looked thoughtful.

“Are you saying we haven’t been scandalous enough in public? You want to give them something else to talk about and erase the thoughts of us being boring?”

After almost a year of being in a relationship with Cas, Dean knew better than to trust Cas’ plans to be completely innocent.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Mmm, maybe we should have some more adventurous trysts and give everyone else some reasons to gossip about or ‘boring sex life’,” Cas said, doing the air quotes with his hands. “Nothing bad enough to get either of us thrown out of college but maybe something a bit more public. Get some rumors circulating.”

“You want us to have public sex?” Dean sat up.

“I’m not saying I’m going to bend you over and fuck you in the cafeteria queue at lunch time,” Cas said. “That’s an idea too if you want to, although I’d rather not be kicked out from my master’s program. I’m saying we could leave out hints that our sex life has some variation and let people draw their own conclusions.”

“So basically semi-public erotic foreplay with my hot boyfriend just to let out some rumors? I may be convinced.”

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Not a prompt, I wanted to ask you and your followers how tf to write romance without making it really sappy

Hi :)

Here is a link for showing love without telling.

How to write romance

Love at first sight: this rarely ever really happens. Think of it more like interested in or attracted to each other at first sight. You can let your characters fall in love easily, but real love between them would still take some time and a lot of good writing.

Connection: it’s all about the connection between your characters. The bond between them is what makes the romance realistic and keeps the reader interested and invested. For this connection to develop you need to know your characters very well. You need to know their flaws and their strengths and what they admire in another person and maybe what they don’t like about themselves. And then you can start their connection. They can feel attraction for each other for different reasons in the beginning.

A few things they can be attracted to:

looks

humor

wit

intelligence

charm

kindness

independence

strength

This depends on your characters and what they would admire in a partner. But as we established, a connection needs to be deeper than a spark of attraction. The characters need to bond with each other and build trust and sometimes grow into the person they need to be for this relationship.

You can show this by writing scenes in which they:

learn more about each other

have to do or face something together

see each other’s flaws and come to accept them

show each other what they really enjoy

see the other person with the person’s friends or family and how they act with them

help and support each other

be vulnerable together

see the other person let loose

Drama: Friede, Freude, Eierkuchen* (love, peace, and harmony) – it’s neither realistic nor interesting. Every couple fights about something or has their ups and downs. There is also the matter of outside influences that can create conflict. Don’t shy away from drama, but also be careful how you do it. In romance it’s important to not cross the line, where it’s just not realistic or healthy anymore for the characters to get romantically involved. You need to find the right balance. That being said...

Stay away from negative behavior: to be realistic, a character needs to have flaws and it’s important to show them. But if you want your readers to fall in love with the romance in your story, you should stay away from tropes that make for an unhealthy relationship. Writing abuse as romantic can be very dangerous for your readers.

Examples of an unhealthy relationship:

unwanted advances/harassment (physical or other)

emotional manipulation

extreme possessiveness or jealousy

extreme dependence on partner (emotional or other)

verbal or physical abuse

Partnership: people do not all come from the same background and in a lot of places and situations people will be put into hierarchies. But even if they are not equal in some aspects of their lives, they should always be equal partners in their relationship with mutual respect, trust and understanding.

Sharing commonalities: while a romance needs some conflict and the characters need to see their differences and accept, love or overcome them, it wouldn’t be a lasting relationship if they don’t have a few things in common. Make sure that before they commit to each other that they are on the same page with the most important things, like opinions, habits or ideologies that the other person couldn’t accept or live with.

Happily ever after: like I said, it’s not realistic to always be happy. But when you finally write about your characters coming together and bringing well-deserved closure to their romance, leave the reader with the feeling that it will last. They witnessed how your characters got to know each other, their flaws and strengths, they overcame conflict together, they grew and learned from each other. After all this they want to leave the beautiful romance with a good feeling.

Good luck with your writing!

- Jana

(*actual translation: peace, joy, pancake)

[bangtanfancamp]

∴ summary: After spending a gloomy afternoon  trying to get out of your own head alone , you finally seek out your boyfriend for help

∴ masterlist

∴ one shot

∴ pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

∴ word count: 2k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: soft angst, comfort, established relationship

∴ warnings: oc is struggling with something akin to depression, it’s alluded to but not explicitly stated

∴ author’s note: this is incredibly self indulgent and was written in one go. I’ll edit later. I’d rather have it here to share sooner in case anyone needs it as much as me.

─────────────────────

“Joonie, what are you doing? Are you busy?” Your voice comes out small as you peak around the corner into his office, sweater pawed knuckles sneaking around the edge of the door frame.

He doesn’t look up at first. Perhaps you really were too quiet. Or maybe he’s just that immersed in his book. It’s not a cover you’ve seen before so it very well may be the latter. You know how he is when he has a new thing to get lost in. Ever your astronaut adrift, exploring the moons just beyond whatever new world he’s found.

He looks so at home now. Cozy in his den of words and letters. Perfectly domestic amidst lofty thoughts and paragraphs. His skin is mostly bare today, his coordinated tank top and shorts exposing a golden expanse of toned arms, long legs . They’re folded up and crossed, a little boy lost in wonder as he sits on his futon.

His hair is a warm chestnut this week, fringe too long around the lashes but too short to pull back. The way it refuses to cooperate when he brushes it out of his eyes, trickling silkily, stubbornly back into place, exactly where it wants to be, makes you want to chuckle.

He still hasn’t noticed you’re there. Too far gone in whatever his newest philosophy is to notice the way you study the dip of his furrowed brow, how it juxtaposes against the relief of his shadowed dimples, smiling even as he frowns. He finds so much pleasure in being studious— just for fun. No matter how much concentration it takes. You’ve always admired that about him. Admired everything about him really.

Clearing your throat, though you hate to interrupt him, you try again. 

“Joonie?”

 Somehow it’s even quieter than before, and as he turns another reverent page, you know you’ll have to physically intervene to interrupt him. You sigh. You hate to break the spell. He loves days like this—with the rain trickling down the window’s glass casting shadows on his focused face— he’s so happy to read when it rains.

He leans forward then without looking up to take a sip of his Earl grey, bumbling when the steam unexpectedly fogs his glasses. He laughs at himself, folding his book so it splays across the seat to mark his place and removing his glasses. It’s the first time he’s looked up. He spots you then, his face splitting into the smoothest “there’s my girl” smile you’ve ever seen.

“Hey… how long have you been standing there?” His voices comes low, warm, soothes something in you that desperately needs rest.

“Long enough to see you blind yourself with tea, it seems.” You try to smile back, but it’s a weak, floppy thing. Your cheeks can’t seem to commit so it falls a bit too flat. His brows pinch when he sees it. Something’s amiss.

“Hey… are you okay?” His inscrutable eyes analyze you, and you let him. Too tired to resist or put up a fight.

“It’s not my day, joonie.” Your voice is pitiful, even to your own ears. You’d normally wince at sounding like this in front of anyone else. But honestly, it’s okay. It’s Namjoon you’re with. You don’t have to play games or hide things. Not here. Not with him.

“Yeah?” His eyes catch yours as his palms rub the tops of his thighs. It’s an invitation. You know the gesture by now.

“Yeah… again. There have been so many of these lately,” you say, crossing the room to him, his arms unfolding to welcome you into them. “They come too often and stay too long. They’re terrible house guests. I’m tired of them, joon. I can’t seem to get rid of them.”

You’re scooped against him now, head on the space between his neck and his chest, fingers twisted into his tank top, bum in his lap, knees tucked up til you’re as small as you can get. There’s a broad palm of his on your back, fingertips on his other hand traveling the length of your arm in tender caresses as his cheek rests atop your head.

“Maybe we should start charging them rent. I bet even they can’t afford to pay that in this economy.” He offers the idea solemnly, fully committed to carrying out the metaphor that your mental health really is just an unfortunate airbnb plagued with hideously mannered squatters.

“You know, I love that about you, Joon.”

“My inability to pay rent?”

You nuzzle a sappy no into the heat of his neck,” dummy, your very real ability to never minimize things that are hard to me.”

The dip of his chest as he exhales is oddly soothing. It makes you feel like you’re being rocked and god if you don’t need to be cradled right now. “Things  have been really hard lately, haven’t they?” He wonders aloud.

“It isn’t just my perception?” You look up, eyes entirely too pitiful, too round to belong to a functioning adult. No, Namjoon’s heart goes soft as he realizes he’s looking at the eyes of a very scared four year old you. The haunted gaze of an innocent girl who never got told everything would be alright. Even without knowing any more than that, it makes him want to cry.

“No, my sweet girl, it’s not.” Closing his eyes, he presses somber lips to your forehead, scooping you close to shield you— from the world, from yourself, from all the insidious things that took root in you so long ago you’re not even sure how they got in. His wide hands grip you tighter, a feeble attempt to help hold you altogether.

It’s silent then. A few beats of quiet, only disrupted by the clumsy clatter of irreverent raindrops on glass. His caress stays steady against your soft sleeves, his languid fingers perpetually in motion as he attempts to soothe the wounds that sit just beneath your skin.

You look up at him again, unsure what you’ll find. 

You almost cry when you see the gentleness in his eyes. No judgment anywhere within them. Just something kind that stretches into the lines his eyes carve as he smiles. How you itch to gently peel his horn rimmed glasses off the tip of his button nose and kiss it. Bless him.

God, you don’t know why he’s so nice to you, but you’re so glad that he is. The smile you give back to him is wobbly, trembly, poorly constructed— but so so sincere that it makes your sad eyes shine. He bumps your nose with his, burying himself against your forehead as you cocoon into him.

You want to ask him what he’s reading, listen intently to him as he tells you all about it, but you know you can’t. You can’t decipher anything today. It all feels too heavy. You can’t carry the weight of anything new with hands already full. At this point, you’ve lived in this soft hoodie of his , the one you stole after his tour two years back because it smelled like him, for the past 3 days. You don’t even have the energy to change. With that kind of retention rate, seems there’s no point in asking your brilliant professor to explain anything.

Still, it’s always so nice to hear his voice. Especially with your ear to his chest like this. 

So you ask anyway.

“Will you read to me, Joonie? Life always feels better when you’re reading.” You press your face deep into the copper of his neck, an open mouthed kiss placed against his pulse.

“It’s all kind of theoretical,” he chuckles. He’s bashful. If holding you weren’t occupying his hands, you know they’d be nervously fiddling with the back of his neck. A nerdy boy with a too big brain hesitant to share his discoveries.

“Is it good though? You’ve already read Jung to me, and I stayed awake through that. I think I deserve more credit.” You poke his throat with your nose. You’re not genuinely affronted, it’s just nice to remind him you're competent too. Sometimes.

His sweet chuckle then is earthy and rich, all dark molasses. “True. You actually gave pretty good feedback for that too. Fine. Didn’t mean to underestimate you. Just… bear with me if it feels odd? I haven't read it before. I can’t vouch for it all yet.”

“Fine by me. I’m just here for the cuddles and my Kim Namjoon audiobook.”

He can feel your smile against his skin. It makes him press you just that extra little bit tighter against him, exhaling soft through his nose when he feels you return the gesture.

Scooping up his paperback, he adjusts his glasses where they’ve slipped down his nose, clearing his throat to project like the narrator he claims he’s not but loves to be. He’s quiet for a few more beats. You can hear pages rustling as you sink against his skin. You imagine he must be trying to find where he was when you interrupted, or perhaps searching for a passage that seems apropos. Which he chooses, you don’t know, but you can feel when he settles, just before his caramel voice sweetens the thin air of the room.

“It's the same with the wound in our hearts,” he begins. “ We need to give them our attention so that they can heal. Otherwise the wounds continue to cause us pain. Sometimes for a very long time. We're all going to get hurt. But here's the trick - they also serve an amazing purpose. 

When our hearts are wounded that's when they open. We grow through pain. We grow through difficult situations. That's why you have to embrace each and every difficult thing in your life.”

You aren’t sure when your eyes opened, not sure when they began to glaze over or when you started to cry. But you did. And you are. The salty things dripping down against Namjoon’s silken skin. Your sweatered knuckles try to knock them away, but to no avail. Your cheeks are still a wet mess and now his collarbone is too.

“Joon, what is this? What are you reading?”

“Oh… um, it’s— terribly long title but— Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon's Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart. Isn't that a mouthful?” his laugh is self deprecating, small, but still the most beautiful sound.

God, you hate how sensitive and soft you are right now. You don’t want to be sitting here at 4pm in your boyfriend’s lap crying over a paragraph in a book you've never even heard of before, but here you are.

“ is that… what the whole book is about ?”

“You know, I don’t know. I haven’t read it all yet. Jackson recommended it, I’m just now getting to it. Why - do you not like it? I can put this down. Read you something else if this is too heavy. You always like the poetry. I can grab that one anthology you like.”

You can feel as he starts to shuffle beneath you, eager to track down new reading material for you, afraid he’s scared you off, when the fluttering weight of your palm tethers him to his spot.

“No, stay. Keep reading. I want to hear the rest.”

You can practically hear him smile. Relieved. Can feel his dimples manifest without even trying. He kisses your hair, tilts your chin up to kiss you too. The complexity of bergamot and black tea making his supple lips even more bewitching than normal. The window in the corner is cracked open, the humidity it leaks in making your skin sticky as you lean against him.

He’s lovely like this. The rain soaked air mixing with his natural scent, a broad hand on your chin, warm thumb beneath your lip as you mold pliant into his kiss. He ends it with a peck to your lips, a tap of his nose to your nose, before hoisting you so close against him you just may fuse together.

And he reads. He reads until he’s exhausted. Til the rain has stopped, and you’ve drifted to rest pressed against the skin of his chest.

He folds the book shut once your breathing has stilled, his thumb marking the page as he tips you both to lay down sideways. As he extends his pinprick tingling legs for the first time in ages, you hoist yourself around him in your sleep like a koala, and he chuckles. That’s usually his move.

He kisses your hair then, traipsing fingers tenderly through the escaped bits of it that brush across your cheeks. He wonders if you know how madly in love with you he is. How often he’s wondered what he’d do without you. Today, like most days lately, your light was dim, but still kelvins brighter than anyone else’s.

He sends a silent thank you to whatever deity arranged things in such a way that he can hold you to his chest like this as the daylight saving’s darkness floods his studio office. You seemed so sad today, but he knows it won’t last forever. It’ll pass. It always does. He’ll just hold you until it does. And then some.