#secret number wallpapers

[kpop-locks]

꒰ ˀˀ ↷ secret number ; doxa ”♡ᵎ ꒱

like/reblog | @jynani

don’t repost our work or claim it as yours

[soulmateszedits]

⌜ Minji × Secret Number ⌝ ᓚᘏᗢ

┊ ❀ Girlfriend Material

[prplocks]

♡☆♡ soodam wallpaper

reblog if you save ▪︎

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[ourdadai]

✿ dita ꒰ secret number ꒱ lockscreens !

[fuckyeahk-popping]

[ace-turned-confused]

spin me around | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying

The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you don’t recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.

You’d found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided you’d just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.

Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.

What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter — unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.

“Mornin’!” He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. “Anythin’ in particular you lookin’ for?”

You greet him shyly as you enter the room, “Just came to look around, thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to his newspaper and you can’t help but stare, stuck in place as you think you’ve found far more than you could’ve imagined.

-

The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others — a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.

Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. You’ve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost — or it led you here for that man.

You’ve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate — crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.

Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than you’d planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.

“Fan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy… You’re cleaning me out here, darlin’.” You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.

“Yeah, uh… couldn't help myself,” you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. “I did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?”

He fans the records out on the table to see each one.

“Yeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one… Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of ‘em.”

“A girl like me…?”

“Far too pretty.” He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.

“I saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon… do you uh, still have it, by any chance?”

“Full of surprises… I’m afraid we sold that one already, noticed it’s a bit of an elusive find ‘round here.” He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.

Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. “I can keep an eye out for you, if you’re okay giving me your number? Won’t bother you, just business.”

“Yeah, sure.” His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, “Wouldn’t mind if you bothered me.”

“Well then, maybe I will. I’d love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesn’t want you to leave.

“There’s actually this nice restaurant—” he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, “—they have uh, live music on Friday nights… if you’d be interested.”

“Sounds fun…” You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. “Can I let you know?”

“‘Course, no pressure, here,” he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.

“And you are?”

“Joel Miller.”

Joel Miller. You quite like that.

-

You’d stared at Joel’s number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, you’ve seen just enough of him to be well intrigued… 

You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day — it’s Friday afternoon and you’re pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.

You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess

Smart casual — arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.

You: That doesn’t help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect

Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isn’t impressed by material things, and isn’t phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and you’re hoping he’ll repeat it tonight.

-

Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.

Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself — black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You can’t help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

You fall into silence as you take each other in — a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.

“Shall we?” He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.

Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as you’re led towards the back of the restaurant — this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.

Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase. 

“Do you mind if I take the wall?” you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.

“Not at all.” His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.

“I just— I like being able to see, it’s uh…”

You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding he’s already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.

“You look gorgeous, by the way — if you don’t mind me sayin’. Knew you would, of course, but…”

It seems your outfit choice has paid off — gorgeous?

After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, you’d finally settled on a black, mid-length dress — a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. There’s nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.

You don’t dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The night’s barely begun, and you hope it doesn’t end any time soon.

-

There hasn’t been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls what’s left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.

“How’d you get into all this record business?”

“Started workin’ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and I’ve never looked back.”

A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.

“And you get to meet all kinds of people — loud, friendly, aloof… pretty ones, too.” He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you aren’t burning across the table.

-

Sometime during the night, he’d moved to sit next to you, claiming he ‘wanted to see the band’ — the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.

He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights — the one thing he didn’t mention? That tonight’s particular band was a jazz quartet — the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.

“Joel, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. “Is this a date?”

“It can be, if you want.” You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I was hopin’ for a date. I wasn’t really sure how to ask, didn’t wanna come on too strong.”

You’re silent for a beat, considering how to respond. “I mean, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well then, you wanna go on a date?” He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were already on one.”

He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.

As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.

“And?” His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, “Has it been a good one?”

He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.

“Y’know the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasn’t sold, I kept it for myself. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“You’re gonna talk about music? Right now?”

“What should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet they’re getting?”

Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.

“Would love to see ‘em, if you’ll let me. I’d really love to see what’s underneath though. Pretty girl like you’s bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.”

He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.

His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel. Please, I need you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[rockstarhaechan]

jeno boyfriend headcanons

bf!jeno, who sneaks out in the morning to get you two breakfast.

bf!jeno, who whispers sweet words into your ear while hugging you from behind.

bf!jeno, who always dedicates a song on stage for you.

bf!jeno, who has his own playlist for the two of you.

bf!jeno, who secretly uses your shampoo.

bf!jeno, who likes degrading you but also praises you right after.

bf!jeno, who has your number on speed dial just to call you whenever he misses you.

bf!jeno, who likes arguing with you over small things just to laugh about it afterwards.

bf!jeno, who fake cries whenever you eat his last piece of food.

bf!jeno, who loves physical touch with you.

bf!jeno, who always sleeps with you in his arms.

bf!jeno, who keeps repeating 'i love you baby', whenever you two are back together after being separated for a long time.

bf!jeno, who loves having you on his lap fucking his thigh.

bf!jeno, who adores you when you're drunk cause you're clumsy and clingy.

bf!jeno, who needs your affection and touch 24/7.

bf!jeno, who calls you 'doll', whenever youre down on your knees for him.

bf!jeno, who keeps your nudes in a secret folder on his phone.

bf!jeno, who has a picture of him and you as his wallpaper.

bf!jeno, who got you two matching rings & phone cases.

bf!jeno, who gifts you a lot of material things for you to cherish.

bf!jeno, who picks out your new nail designs.

bf!jeno, who couldn't imagine a world without you.

bf!jeno, who knows that you're the love of his life.

[rninies]

✮ roses

౨ৎ gojo satoru x reader. fluff, gn!reader, gojo loves flowers (like... he loves them a lot) — wc: 1171

notes. finally had time to publish a new fic hi everyone

gojo satoru loves roses.

when you first became friends with satoru, you were immediately bombarded with little facts about roses almost every day — ranging from what each color means or even how long they grow. to be completely honest, you found it really cute. the way his eyes sparkle when talking about them, and his hands getting excited, flailing around.

that is probably one of the reasons why you started having a crush on him. not like he would know anyway. you had no plans on confessing your feelings to him anytime soon — you’re too afraid of breaking your friendship with him. a cliche reason, but it’s true. you don’t want to throw your three-year friendship with satoru down the drain.

these past few days, however, you notice satoru has been super focused on his phone lately, much more than usual. at first, you thought he was just admiring his new phone wallpaper he boasted to suguru around twice per day, but when you find out he’s been texting someone secretly, you got curious (and slightly jealous).

“toru, what’re you looking at?” you asked, trying to look at his phone. satoru immediately hides his phone, placing it inside his pocket. you raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “why’d you hide your phone? are you… watching something weird?”

“what? no!” satoru exclaims, sounding offended. “i’m not watching anything weird, you weirdo. how could you even think that? i was just-” he sighs. “you know what, never mind.”

“huh? come on, tell me!” you poked his shoulder multiple times, earning a groan from him. satoru grabs your hand and stops you. 

“do that again and i’m going to throw your favorite plushy out the window.” satoru threatens and you immediately stop. he smiles, satisfied. “good. you stop pestering me with questions and i’ll treat you to anything you want.”

“deal!” you exclaim. did he get a girlfriend? was the only thing on your mind because what else would he be so secretive about? you’ve been best friends for three years… so that’s the most plausible answer.

it was finally the weekend, the day you’d been looking forward to this whole week since you were able to relax without anything or anyone bothering you. as you scrolled through your phone, you hear the doorbell ring.

you weren’t expecting anyone, so this is a total surprise. regardless, you still went downstairs and opened the door, thinking satoru was here to annoy you again.

instead, you were met with a delivery man holding a… bouquet of roses in his hands. “are you y/n l/n?”

“oh, um, yes,” you reply hesitantly, staring the bouquet. “i-is that for me?”

the delivery man smiles. “yes! here you are,” he hands the bouquet over to you and you can finally notice that they are a gorgeous color of red. “and here’s the note from gojo satoru.”

you freeze, from satoru? why would he send these to me? is this a joke? you quickly regained your composure, smiling at the delivery man. “a-ah, really? thank you for delivering these to me.” the guy quickly leaves after giving a small comment about how cute satoru is for delivering these to you.

you closed the door behind you and immediately inspected the flowers, counting six roses in it. you open the note which is only filled with ���call me when you receive these :P” taking your phone out from your pockets and dialing satoru’s number.

it took three rings for satoru to answer. “hello-?”

“toru! why’d you send me these flowers out of nowhere? is this a joke? are you playing a trick on me? what is the meaning of this?” you bombarded satoru with questions, not even giving him time to say hello.

“hello to you too, y/n.” satoru chuckles. “you received them already? that was quick.” that was the only thing satoru said to you, and you swear your heart was about to burst.

“gojo satoru. i’m being serious right now!” you exclaimed, desperately wanting an answer. “why did you send me these flowers? roses to be exact. six of them!”

“if i tell you the answer it won’t be fun now, is it?” satoru replies teasingly. you swear, if you can just jump inside your phone and magically appear inside satoru’s room, you would just smack him.

“gojo satoru if you don’t tell me the reason right now i’m going to personally come over to your house and smack you.” you threatened, though it is basically an empty threat to satoru, knowing he can easily stop you using his damn infinity.

“oh, i’m so scared,” satoru sarcastically say, which annoys you even further. “look, how about you research the meaning behind these roses and let me know, yeah?”

you groaned, mentally slapping yourself. “if i find out it means something terrible i’m never talking to you again.”

satoru only laughs and says a quick “good luck!” before ending the call. you immediately open google, quickly searching up the meaning behind six roses.

6 Roses: The perfect way to say, “I want to be yours”.

the whole world seems to have stopped, your face turning a bright shade of red as you almost drop your phone. your heart was beating so loudly and your hands were shaking that you can’t even press satoru’s number.

so, instead of calling, you ended up walking to his house (after a few minutes of calming down). you let out a shaky sigh and pressed the doorbell.

satoru opens the door and you immediately pull him closer to you. “what is the meaning of this?” you immediately shove your phone in front of his face.

he gives a quick read on what was on your phone and smiles. “yeah, what about it?”

“i-” you can’t even speak. the mere though of saying you like him back seems like it was too much for you to do. “what the fuck, satoru! h-how’d you know i like you?”

“you aren’t necessarily good at hiding your feelings, you know.” satoru says with a small laugh and you wanted to bury a hole and stay there forever. “but i find it cute. you have this lovestruck look on your face whenever i start talking about flowers. i initially thought you are in love with flowers just as i am.”

“h-huh?! i do not have a lovestruck look on me!” you exclaim, embarrassed that he actually noticed something like that. “i can’t believe you sent me flowers instead of directly confessing to me,” you glance at the flowers in your hand and a small smile appeared on your face. “though i guess it is something you would do.”

“right? aren't i so romantic?” satoru says with a proud tone and you laugh. “so, do you like the flowers?”

“yes.” you reply. “can't believe i fell for a cheesy, romantic flower boy.” you teased.

“you love this cheesy, romantic flower boy though.” satoru replies with a teasing grin.

you laughed and took his hand in yours. “yeah, i do.”

[lesbianpepsi]

'Cause I love, to love, to love you

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!reader

Summary: Ever since Wednesday had been gifted a phone you decided to steal her phone to play a prank on her. But much to your surprise you see something unexpected on her phone.

Warnings: bad writing, some swearing

Words: 1.833k

A/N: i wrote this on my phone since my laptop is having a mental breakdown on me rn. not proof read since it's 3am and it's exam season lmao. sorryyy. also this is my first 'fic' post here. hope this isn't too bad lmao, enjoy:)

One of your absolute favourite hobbies, if it even counts as a hobby, is to "borrow" someone's phone for a few minutes and do something to the phone.

Whether it be quickly change their ringtone to something embarrassing, take a ungodly amount of selfies in thirty seconds, or even send yourself a message complimenting yourself or agreeing to do something stupid.

You always found an annoying trick to play. But you always had one that was your absolute favourite. A classic, some might say.

"Borrowing" someone's phone and changing their wallpaper to something incredibly stupid.

If you were lucky the persons phone would already have unattractive selfies they took as a joke, or a friend would send them one of themself that would automatically save to the phone.

You've done that over a thousand times to all of your friends and family members, and to you it never gets old.

Enid has always been the easiest victim because, one, her passcode is literally '2929', two, Enid always has a grip on her phone but in your or hers dorm room that grip instantly weakens and she always leaves her phone around the place.

The hardest victim to play this prank on is your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams.

Although the goth is not often using her actual device, she always makes sure to keep it close to her person.

The rare times you've managed to snag it while she's in the bathroom or during her writing time, if she isn't looking, for the life of you, you cannot guess her passcode.

Hers has to be much more complex than Enid's simple four digit passcode, since you've tried everything you could've thought of as a six digit passcode, yet to no avail.

You've tried birthdays, important dates to Wednesday, her favourite numbers, secret messages using numbers.

Nothing works.

You've been patiently waiting for the day to finally play the harmless prank on your girlfriend for weeks, and on a quiet Saturday night, it finally happened.

_____________________________________

Saturday had always been your favourite day, who doesn't think Saturday as the best day?

You especially loved Saturdays since the fact the following day follows is Sunday, a day with also no school. Which meant Wednesday was allowed to come over to your dorm room and stay over for the night.

The school had a rule where sleepovers weren't permitted unless it was on the weekend, something that annoyed you greatly, but it was better than nothing.

This particular Saturday you and Wednesday decided to have a simple day. Both of you wanted to have more of a relaxing day rather than one full of plans for once.

It was ten in the evening and you and Wednesday had just finished the first episode of Criminal Minds, a show that took you a while of begging to get Wednesday to actually agree to watch with you.

With a smile you turned your head to look at her, her head already turned to look at you.

"So, what did you think?" You asked eagerly, hoping the goth actually enjoyed one of your favourite shows.

She gave a blank expression as she answered the question. "It was tolerable at best." You grinned at the response; pride filling in you since in Wednesday language that meant she actually liked it.

"I knew you'd like it!" You had the urge to add 'I told you so' but you opted to leave that out. "Whose your favourite character?"

Wednesday's raises her brows slightly at that. "A favourite character? I've only seen a singular episode and don't have a good enough concept of each character's personality to answer that question." She replied in a monotone voice as she glanced back at the screen before back at you.

You stared at her in silence for a moment before a slight smirk replaced the grin on your face.

"It's Hotch isn't it?" Wednesday gives you an annoyed stare as she crosses her arms over stomach. "Just because you've watched this show a myriad of times doesn't make you a profiler." She grumbled, confirming the answer to your question.

You chuckled as you teasingly nudged your shoulder with hers. "I know. I just know my girlfriend so well."

The corners of Wednesday's lips quirked up for a moment before they returned to their normal straight line. "Don't get too cocky, Y/n."

You chuckle once again as you moved your hand to holds Wednesday's, knowing the simple display of affection was one she didn't mind much.

Your smile only grew when Wednesday didn't hesitate to interlock your hands.

"I wouldn't dream of it. But I do know when we watch season two you will definitely love Emily but say otherwise."

Wednesday let out a scoff at your words. "I only remember agreeing to watch one episode of this show, not an entire season."

You shrugged your shoulders before saying. "Fine, I guess I'll have to watch the next episode alone while you sleep then."

Her dark chocolate brown eyes narrowed the ever slightest at that, as if she was trying to profile you to see if you were lying or not.

You stated back with the same amount of intensity, using it as an excuse to admire your girlfriend's beauty.

Wednesday uncharacteristically broke the eye contact first as she let out an angry huff.

"Only one more episode then." You grin at her words, already knowing that meant there were a lot more episodes ahead of you two.

"But I need to empty my bladder first." She states before she let go of your hand to stab up. Once she was out of the bed and standing she gave you a menacing glare before saying. "Don't start the episode without me."

You nodded your head.

"Go piss girl." You said as you let out a small laugh at your own words, still finding the meme enjoyable.

Wednesday stared blankly at you for a few seconds before she turned around and headed towards the bathroom.

She never understood the joke no matter how many times you told her the meme.

Once you heard the shutting of the door you didn't hesitate to roll over to Wednesday's side and retrieve her phone.

Pressing on the screen her lock screen appeared, her lockscreen wallpaper simply being a black background.

Very Wednesday, you thought to yourself. Was the chances of you actually figuring Wednesday's password slim? Yes. Impossible? No.

You were determined to change the girl's wallpaper to something stupid at least once.

Swiping up the phone presented the password screen to you, the circular numbers taking up the entire screen.

Your thumb hovered over the numbers as you thought of what possibly could her password.

Your first guess was '233267' since under each number was one letter that in order spelt 'Addams'.

Much to your disappointment the phone vibrated as the password emptied, telling you that the password was incorrect.

Knowing you didn't have much time to waste you quickly thought of another password you hadn't tried before.

'782378' This time the letters under the numerals spelt Pubert, the name of Wednesday's youngest brother.

Once again the phone vibrated angrily, taunting you that you got it wrong once again.

You sighed as you glanced over at the bathroom door knowing Wednesday would walk through them any minute.

Accepting your defeat you decided to give one last attempt before giving up. This time you just mimicked Wednesday's blank expression as you entered a six digit passcode you hadn't tried before.

'111111' You rolled your eyes as you entered the final digit expecting to hear the vibration once again, especially due to the fact how simple the password was.

But to your surprise you didn't feel a vibration in your hand. Instead you heard nothing.

Your eyes snapped back towards the screen and to your utter delight and shock you were in Wednesday's phone.

You actually managed to guess her password!

(You decided to ignore the fact it was literally more hackable and easier to guess than Enid's passcode)

A smug smile appeared on your face as you straightened your posture, pushing yourself slightly up as your mind rushed with different things you could change her wallpaper to.

Your eyes glanced at her home screen and you fully expected her home screen to be the same as her lock screen.

But it wasn't.

Her wallpaper was a picture of you two on your first date.

You were not expecting that.

The picture itself was a selfie you took, your face closer to the camera with Wednesday sitting behind you. You had a wide smile on your face while Wednesday had her iconic death stare.

In the background of the photo was the gorgeous forest of Nevermore. It was where you had your first date with Wednesday.

Wednesday had prepared a picnic and mapped out the best spot in the forest where she apparently knew the two of you wouldn't be interrupted. It was truly magical.

The longer you stared at the home screen the harder you found it to go actually change the picture.

Suddenly, you heard the obnoxiously loud taps from behind the bathroom door, indicating Wednesday was going to come out any second.

You glanced at the door before back at her phone. Even if it was a few seconds before Wednesday emerged that was still plenty of time for you to change it.

You smiled slightly to yourself as you shut the phone off and placed it back to its orignal spot before shifting back to your side of the bed.

As expected the bathroom door opened a few moments later and silently Wednesday walked over to the bed and got in.

She skilfully sneaked under the blanket you two were sharing and entered your personal space before she turned her head to look at you.

"Are you going to put the continuing episode on or not?" She asked impatiently with a tilt of her head.

You didn't reply at first. Instead you leaned down to kiss Wednesday's cold lips.

The shorter girl took a second to notice what was happening before you felt her kiss you back, you couldn't help but smile against her lips at the feeling.

The kiss itself was brief but it still managed to take away your breath as Wednesday pulled away.

She looked up at you with the smallest tint of pink tainting her ears, something you so desperately wanted to comment on.

"Although that was pleasurable why did you kiss me?" You shrugged your shoulders weakly as your grabbed Wednesday's hand with your hand. "I just wanted to kiss you." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The rare small smile slowly appeared on Wednesday's face as she turned to look at the TV screen at the foot of your bed. She shifted closer to you as she did so.

You pressed one final kiss to Wednesday's head before you grabbed the remote with your free hand and pressed play for the next episode.

Although your prank was a failure this time you didn't mind.

[verysium]

ACT 1, SCENE 4: blue lock headcanons

shidou would view traditionally ugly creatures as strangely cute. it's not a disgusting cockroach, it's a silly little bug with eyelashes as long as his. no, he's not going to let go of that scraggly one-eyed cat that likely has rabies. it looks too sweet to be abandoned on the streets. his dream childhood pet was definitely a piranha.

aiku wears band t-shirts without knowing the actual music group. no, he does not listen to sex and the pistols, he just thought the design looked very cool. would also wear lana del rey merchandise just to impress the ladies. the only song he realistically knows is west coast, and even then he's only heard it at a random sushi restaurant.

reo would have stereotypical rich people problems. he can't decide if he should bring his chauffeur and valet or actually drive the car himself for your upcoming date. also spends at least one hour seriously pondering over which gucci silk pattern tie looks better on him. trick question, they're both the exact same shade.

shidou steals your covergirl perfect point eyeliner because he thinks it looks way better on him. also a big fan of body glitter and super vulgar eyeshadow palette names. his favorite hue so far is that one hot pink fuchsia that literally burns your eyes with its brightness. nothing is too neon with this man.

ness is the epitome of the sunshine-turned-unhinged-maniacal-killer trope. he would be the bestest boy, but if someone even lays a single hand on you, he’s already plotting their murder. eerily good at hiding bodies but would never divulge his secrets in fear of scaring you off.

shidou would walk unashamedly to the women’s clothing section of the general department store. would never be embarrassed by the bra sizes. you have a double D? he’s already trying three of the cup sizes on just to see if he can get you a comfortable one. if you’re part of the itty bitty titty committee, he wouldn’t judge either. this man loves femininity in all its full glory.

aryu exclusively uses dior beauty. he would rather die than use a generic drugstore makeup brand. sometimes you wonder if he's secretly a dermatologist because this man knows the exact shade, tint, and quality of product for every possible skin tone and type. also very passionate about the controversies behind animal testing and parabens. would be exceedingly picky when it comes to anything he smears on his face (think jeffree star but without the problematic issues.)

sae has his phone screen set to default wallpaper. he only has the translator app downloaded, and that's about it. his personal trainer takes care of all the rest of his stats. after he started dating you though, he kept pictures of you in his private photo albums.

noa cannot tell a white lie to save his life. if he doesn't know something, he will not know something. he doesn't see the point in hiding that. sometimes has trouble reading the room, so you need to remind him that brutal honesty and pure rationality aren't always the way to go. he does become more conscientious after that.

bachira used to draw crayon portraits of all the imaginary monsters he saw at night. scared the shit out of his parents because they thought he was hallucinating (he actually was.) nowadays, he's a lot tamer because you force him to take his meds.

isagi is, in fact, the number one mind reader and manipulator throughout the entire series. this man is clairvoyant, psychic, and telepathic all packaged into one. sometimes his right ear twitches, and he just knows someone is talking about him behind his back. unfortunately, all of this occurs in his head, so no one on the outside world actually knows about his sixth sense.

rin was absolutely bombarded with valentine's chocolates last year, but when he sorted through the entire pile and realized you hadn't given him one, he returned them all to their respective senders. will refuse any form of sweets unless it came directly from you. you need to be there physically to hand him the box.

kaiser writes, thinks, and speaks entirely in german even if no one else can understand him. he secretly can speak english but chooses not to because he absolutely hates anglicization. refuses to compromise his own language and culture just to fit in with the rest of the world. it's degrading. if he had it his way, german would be the new lingua franca. definitely thinks translation is for dummies. what do you mean you're not already bilingual? you better run, not walk, to that little green owl app. does use his foreign accent to make you feel flustered though. has a voice kink but in a non-traditional sort of way. you have to be the one turned on by his voice. only then will he start feeling it.

yukimiya loves it when you lose your shit. one time a jerk cut you off in traffic, and you started aggressively cursing. he fell in love with you right there on the spot. it was something about the fire in your eyes and the way you refused to take any attitude from the other party. that self-assertiveness you exhibit is so empowering.

aiku takes you out to karaoke bars just to hear you sing. you look so pretty under the purple disco lights, belting your little heart out to the rock lyrics. sometimes he has to take a minute to just appreciate how lucky he is to have you.

nagi didn't know that you have to actively check and update your email inbox. he had no clue school even started until one day the principal called his parents over his thirteen student absences. he thinks it's a headache to even get out of bed and put his fingers on his laptop keyboard. since when was the distance between his arrow cursor and the search bar that wide? it looks too long for him to reach. maybe he should just do this tomorrow.

reo does not know what saving money is. the first time you asked him for a promo code, he looked at you as if you had just spouted a strange language. when you showed him your little wallet full of cut-out coupons, he literally had to hold them up to the light and closely inspect them. it was definitely a moment of enlightenment.

sae likes anklets, especially the super thin gold chain ones. something about the way it brushes against his bare leg when you sleep beside him drives him out of his mind. he's also a sucker for subtle jewelry as evidenced by his necklace and wrist bands.

otoya practically lives for instant gratification. he would be guilty of love bombing. loses interest quickly, but sometimes wishes he could actually commit for once. football is important to him because it is one of the only activities he has consistently practiced for over a decade.

karasu is down bad for anyone who can actually outsmart him. you got a higher mark than him on the recent exam? damn, his heart just beat a little faster. spaces out in a love-filled haze whenever you ramble on about your nerdy little subject interests. he is a sapiophile through and through. intelligence just does it for him.

loki is the type of person who absolutely demolishes your self-esteem, and yet you still cannot bring yourself to hate him. when people say god has his favorites, they mean this man right here. he would be an innately talented genius while simultaneously being the most humble human being in existence. at this point, it's not his problem. it's a you problem. try harder next time.

chris is very similar to a neurosurgery resident. he has the largest self-entitled ego in existence. not a single day goes by when he doesn't remind you that he is, in fact, one of the highest ranking football players in the world. you can't say anything about it though because he has rightfully earned his arrogance. i mean, what are you going to use against him? his grueling hours of blood, sweat, and tears? this man works harder than the devil himself. in fact, he is the devil.

rin is the type to get emotionally attached to the most ordinary objects ever. he collects batteries and keeps a separate drawer as a graveyard for them once they die. the triple A ones get a special funeral since they're so hard to find. he just can't bring himself to let go of objects that no longer serve a purpose (just like his relationship with sae, sorry not sorry.)

hiori cannot go to bed unless it is absolutely dark. the curtains have to be closed. the door has to be locked. everything has to be drowned in pitch black. the reason he does this is because he still has flashbacks from that tiny strip of light underneath his bedroom door. his parents would argue all night when they thought he had gone to sleep. it still haunts him to this very day.

nagi wishes he could be a cat. sleeping all day and sunbathing on the rooftop seem like great ways to spend his life. unfortunately for him, he is not a cat. when he dies though, he wants to be reincarnated as one. either that, or a rock.

rin snores like a whole power drill at night. sae secretly hates his brother for that but can’t bring himself to wake him. whenever the itoshi family goes on vacation, ear plugs are not an option but a necessity.

chigiri knows ventriloquism. he used to play with his sister's dolls and make up character voices for each of them. definitely uses it as a party trick or as a way to make you laugh when you've had a bad day.

sae always keeps his feelings to himself. sometimes he finds it easier to rant to you than others, but then he almost always ends up retracting back into himself after realizing just how much he's revealed. he hates being emotionally slutty.

ness is the big scary dog in his relationship with kaiser, not the other way around. everyone thinks kaiser is the intimidating one, but ness wears a leash for a reason. one of them is the chihuahua, and the other one is a rottweiler. you can already guess who is who.

reo was having a mental breakdown in his limousine one time, but he ran out of his usual luxury aloe vera lotion tissues. instead of buying more, he took out his cheque-book and ripped out the pages to dry his tears. money is just paper to him. it can be recycled (no, it can't.)

loki is the type to show you a sweet and heartwarming smile before pulling out the most atrocious uno card combination in existence. i'm talking reverse, wild card, skip, draw 2. you sat there for twenty-five minutes trying desperately to draw a green. by the time you were done, he only had one card left. (screw you, loki.)

niko draws his own manga whenever he doesn't like how the official plot ends. if the canon ever diverges from the way he imagined it in his own head, he will draft his own fan fiction instead. one time, he rewrote an entire shonen jump series just to bring his favorite character back to life (*cough cough* said character wears a blindfold.)

karasu is definitely the "um, actually..." type of student. he will always have a rebuttal on hand. the truth is never black-and-white with this man, and he will argue both sides if it furthers his own agenda. he reads the encyclopedia front and back every night just so he can pull out a random arbitrary fact to win an argument some time in the near future.

shidou had a bad habit of chewing pens as a child until one day it finally exploded in his mouth. from then on, he vowed only to chew glittery gel pens. that way when it exploded in his mouth, his tongue would be stained a bright, shimmery purple. if you ever got him a scented gel pen pack, his life would finally be complete.

rin cannot differentiate between colors. if you asked him to find the difference between bubblegum pink and cotton candy pink, he would not know. to him, seven colors is already a lot to memorize. when he was a child, he only drew pictures with a single color because it was less of a hassle that way.

otoya used to think lime green was the most aesthetically pleasing color in existence. almost considered dying his hair that shade until karasu told him that girls don't actually like guys who look like neon highlighters. still wishes he did it though. he wants to glow in the dark.

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

[kpop-locks]

꒰ ˀˀ ↷ secret number ; tap ”♡ᵎ ꒱

like/reblog | @jynani

don’t repost our work or claim it as yours

[soulmateszedits]

⌜ Léa × Secret Number ⌝ ᓚᘏᗢ

┊ ❀ Girlfriend Material

[prplocks]

🎄❤🎄 zuu wallpaper

reblog if you save 🎆

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

[webslingingslasher]

is trouble ever frat!peter’s lock screen? Either before or after the whole situationship thing or secretly during both eras? If so, what picture?

yes! relationship!peter does it proudly, situationship!peter is a bit more stealth. iphones have a wallpaper feature where if you hold the screen down you can swap between photos and i imagine that’s how it is.

peter went home for a week and really missed you and went through his photos and he saw that picture he snapped of you at a party. the background is blurred, proof that the liquor was flowing heavily. you’ve got a smile that shows off almost every tooth and a vice grip on a liter of rum. he doesn’t know why, but he made it his wallpaper for the week and would pick up his phone every five minutes just to look at it.

relationship!peter has a picture of the both of you. something he looks at and is reminded of what he has and how much he truly loves you. it was from a double date night you both had a few months into being official, your friend pressured peter for the photo, he rolled his eyes and gave in. he’s glad he did. it’s his favorite.

you’re wrapped around him in a side hug, peters got a grip on your shoulder. he’s laughing at something your friends date said, he’s wearing the grin you tell him you love. but the reason he has such adornment for the photo is because of the way you’re looking at him.

your eyes are bright and shining, your smile matches his, not because you found anything funny, but because peter’s joy was contagious for you. each time he looks at it he feels warmth radiate, a visual reminder of how much you love him.

—

(you know i had to add a bonus of trouble finding peter’s wallpaper!! -situationship!peter obv)

‘just sit here and look pretty, i’ll be thirty minutes tops.’

peter had pulled you away from date night with the promise of stopping at his chapter meeting. he had negotiated the first hour, trent, the chapter president, wouldn’t break on the last thirty minutes and demanded peter be there. or else.

you wouldn’t mind but peter didn’t tell you until last minute and now you’re sitting down at an empty table at the library while they fill up a rented room across from you.

‘it’ll be longer than that and you know it.’

‘you’ll be fine. give me a kiss.’ you meet him with one, you grumble down at your phone. ‘my phones about to die, what am i supposed to do?’

peter feigns shock, ‘oh no!’ he looks around, ‘i hope you’ll find something to do in this big, empty library. it might be hard.’

your eyes narrow, you hate his sarcasm. ‘the library doesn’t have instagram reels, peter. how am i supposed to entertain myself while you’re talking numbers and business?’

there’s a miniature battle of silence, you win when peter groans and hands over his phone from his back pocket. ‘here. use mine.’ you reach forward, peter’s giving you unbridled access to his phone, you’d be dumb to say no.

‘nuh uh. you promise me right now you won’t fuck up my algorithm, i spent months perfecting it.’ you make grabby hands, ‘promise.’

the sleek, black screen is in your hold in seconds. your thumbs fly over the screen, you’re in and on instagram in a second. peter looks back once more, ‘thirty minutes.’ you nod, the first video already playing, you wish you could send it to peter. you send it to yourself to send back to him when you’re at a full charge.

ten minutes and you need a refresher, wandering around towards the bathroom you grab a water from a vending machine. cracking the cap, your left thumb pressed into peter’s home screen and his wallpaper separated, another photo right next to it.

you can recognize the edge, you swipe and feel your heart melt into a puddle. it’s you and only you. smiling and posing just for peter. he snapped the pic and saved it, he even went one step further and put it as his screensaver. a backup one, but something tells you he doesn’t want you knowing it exists.

you can keep a secret.

you can’t stop smiling at his phone and the short videos playing aren’t even that funny. you perk at a kiss on the top of your head. ‘told you i’d only be thirty minutes… what? why are you looking at me like that?’

‘no reason. it was very nice of you to offer me your phone, thank you.’

another kiss, you can’t wait til you get him alone. you might be the only one in on the secret, but he was going to be treated very nicely for it.

‘no problem, trouble. what’s mine is yours.’ your heart thumps louder. ‘and now,’ peter gently pulls you up with him, you’re along for the ride.

‘i owe you dessert, let’s go.’ you don’t walk with him, you stay until his hand tugs yours, peter looks back at you confused. ‘i wanna have dessert at yours.’

peter pouts, ‘tarrent polished off the ice cream.’

‘i know.’ peter knows that tone, now he’s standing straighter and acting casually. ‘oh? alright, yeah, let’s go home.’

[lancerslover]

Prima Nocta

Pairing: John F. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: While looking for some romantic experience, you find yourself turning to President John F. Kennedy, a friend of your father’s, for help.

Further Information: 18+, smut (occasional dubious consent), angst, infidelity, antiquated ideas of sex/marriage, swearing, 22-year age gap

Word Count: 3k

You’d been sitting on the edge of the bed for exactly 12 minutes and 47 seconds, your eyes twitching ceaselessly between the little white clock on the nightstand and the round-top bedroom door, when finally, the doorknob started to turn. The brass glinted in the silver-blue moonlight beaming through the sliding glass wall behind you. You felt your tongue dry out and stiffen in your mouth like a towel in the sun.

John Kennedy—or “Jack,” as he’d once told you to call him—stepped into the room, materializing out of the pitch-blackness of the hallway. “Hello there,” he said. With that charming New England accent, he pronounced “there” like “they-ah,” and beneath your heart’s frantic sparking and sputtering, a little spot deep in your gut groaned with affection.

“Hello,” you said in return. You were locked practically motionless in the dark searchlights of his sleepy gaze as he guided the door shut behind him.

His shoes clicked on the wooden floor as he began striding slowly towards you. You cleared your throat and pushed yourself to speak again: “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Why, it’s my pleasure,” he said as his shadowy shoulders blocked out more and more of the floral wallpaper around you. The sharp, forest-y scent of his cologne made your nostrils feel cool and crisp. Your hands tightened their grip on each other where they lay folded in your lap.

Jack’s mouth twisted into a gentle smirk as he swayed to a stop right in front of you and brought one of his big hands to cup the underside of your chin, his long callused fingers curling up around your head. Instantly, your spine twinged with the urge to pull backward and away, but you clenched your stomach and held yourself still. You wanted this, you reminded yourself as you gazed up at Jack through mascara-caked eyelashes. You can’t be chicken now.

“I have to admit,” Jack said then, with a huffing chuckle, “that I’m frankly a little surprised at your timing.” He sounded staticky and distant over the dizzying clang of your heart against your ribs. “I can’t help but feel guilty, uh—” (his eyes flicked briefly to the side, seemingly searching for the right word) “—spoiling you for your husband,” he continued. “Poor kid’s had the patience of a saint.”

You felt your throat press against his warm palm as you swallowed. He surely thought you were some sort of lunatic for waiting until the week before your wedding to finally dial that number his secret service agent had slipped through your fingers at Frank Sinatra’s birthday party, which was almost half a year ago now. But there was, actually, a perfectly reasonable explanation. At least, you thought so.

You could’ve explained to Jack how your future husband Jimmy, the world-famous heartthrob singer you’d been practically betrothed to since you were children and who you were marrying in just 7 days (the tabloids had been very generous in making sure every single person in America was aware of this fact—including the president, apparently), was secretly homosexual and had no intention of ever being romantic with you. The feeling was perfectly mutual, of course; you both saw each other as more of siblings than anything else. But, naturally, that still did nothing whatsoever to satisfy your ever-burning desire to find someone who could help you simulate the fairytale wedding night you’d always hopelessly dreamt about—one where, in a pink haze of passion, you’d finally hand over your virginity and roll around in the sheets till the sun came up with someone who was masculine and dashing and strong.

But, obviously, you could never betray Jimmy by telling anyone any of that. However, you also weren’t content to just waste away at home while Jimmy got to enjoy his revolving door of classified lovers, so you would just have to settle for Jack assuming you were some kind of newly-emerging sex-crazed adulteress—which he of all people would have no right to judge you for, anyway.

You felt the skin of your throat stretching as Jack tilted your head up and rotated your face slowly to the left, then to the right. You followed him with your eyes, watching him study your neck and collarbones like they were an expensive piece of machinery he was looking to purchase. You did your best to set your trembling shoulders back, wondering if this was typical behavior of a man before he made love.

“Speaking of Jimmy, I’ve been wondering. Is he the reason you called?” Jack asked while he conducted his examination, as if he was simply discussing the weather. “You think he’s liable to disappoint you on your first time? Or you just can’t possibly wait another seven days for him?” He phrased them more like teasing accusations than actual questions.

“Oh, n-no,” you said. The firmness of his grip on your jaw caused your words to come out clipped. “I just. . . .” You could feel your eyes bulging as you tried to scrap together some semblance of a reasonable explanation as to why you were here. You’d been hoping he wouldn’t bother with this line of questioning. “Well, Jimmy’s just so young, you know,” you sputtered, “and maybe—maybe I want to know what it’s like being with . . . an older man.”

Jack blew air out of his nose in a half-formed laugh. “An older man, huh?” He brought your head back to center and gave your cheeks an affectionate squeeze between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re cute, you know that, sweetheart? I’ve wanted to be alone with you since the night we first met.”

Your heart spasmed at that, and you could feel your mouth twisting as you tried not to break out in a giddy grin. Gosh, he could be so sweet.

The night you both met was two whole years ago now. Jack had been just a senator then, and you’d been just 19 when he, his wife, and several of their friends came backstage after one of your father’s glitzy Rat Pack shows in Las Vegas. You still remembered how, while your father was introducing you, Jack's placid blue eyes had slithered up and down your dress. Inexplicably, blood had gushed pleasurably between your legs while you watched him eye you like this, smoke from his cigar furling around his lip.

Jack's hand dropped from your chin then and moved to start unbuckling his pants. Your head suddenly felt too light, like your brain wasn’t there anymore, and the skin around your jaw prickled with the absence of his fingers. This was it. You were moments away from having the full experience of being a married woman and—if the rumors you’d heard about Jack Kennedy’s sexual aptitude were true—all of the mind-melting pleasures that came with it. The anxiety you’d been feeling ever since you decided to call that secret number a little over a week ago was about to be entirely worth it.

Jack let his belt slap to the floor, and his hands slipped under your armpits to pop you up onto your feet. You sucked in your lips to stifle what would’ve probably been a pathetic, whimpering gasp. His face was mere inches from yours now, and as he looked down at you, you were almost overcome by a strange, aching pull to stand up on the very tips of your toes so you could squish your nose against his. The leader of the free world was just a big dreamboat softie, really, and he could be anywhere on Earth with anyone he wanted, but he chose you.

You didn’t really have time to consider these unusual whims of yours, however, because then Jack bent his head and fastened his mouth to your neck. You could do nothing but stand there dumbly as he covered your skin with sloppy kisses, his buttery brown hair tickling your shoulder. The gentle clicking of saliva between his lips buzzed in your ears.

All of a sudden, as if you’d blacked out a few seconds ago and were now coming to again, you noticed your dress had been unzipped and was in a puddle around your kitten heels. Goosebumps sizzled up your bare arms and legs, and your shoulders folded in on themselves as Jack's hands appeared on both sides of your vision, one tossing your bra to the floor and the other moving to clasp both your wrists tightly behind your back.

He yanked your wrists downward with surprising gruffness, forcing you to arch your back and thrust your bare chest out toward him. A stuttery inhale hissed through your teeth, and you squeezed your legs together, blushing furiously as your nipples prickled and hardened under his gaze. You knew this would be part of it. You knew he would have to see you naked.

“God damn,” he said, his voice dark and rumbling, before bowing his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth like a hungry dog. A low, needy whimper trembled in your throat and as he moved from one nipple to the other, viciously biting and sucking. The stiff tent that had sprung up in the groin area of his slacks collided with your clit, wracking you with a full-body shiver. For a quick moment, you were awash with a lush, golden feeling of pride. You were making the president hard.

He hooked a finger in the waistband of your cotton panties and leaned back from devouring your chest as he pulled them down, the tip of his nose brushing on your forehead as you both watched—to your piercing horror—an elastic string of wetness stretch between your vagina and the spot on the crotch of your panties where it had attached itself.

You noticed, too, how slick and glossy the insides of your thighs had become. “Oh, no.”

“Now, now.” Jack spoke in your ear with a brisk tone like he was impatiently reprimanding a child. “There’s no shame in getting a little excited.” He brushed a finger over the smooth slit of your labia, and you practically squealed, “Jack!”

Your little cry seemed to ignite something in him. Suddenly, you were whirled around to face the twinkling Chesapeake Bay shoreline and its tumbling black water and navy blue sand. And then there was a wide hand between your shoulder blades. “Bend over for me, doll,” Jack instructed you pointlessly as he went ahead and shoved your upper body into the mattress.

With the heel of his palm, he slid you forward so you had to clamber up onto the bedspread on your knees. The electric crackle of your nipples against the rough old fabric caused a loud “ah!” to spill from your mouth. You craned your neck as far over your shoulder as it would go to watch Jack’s eyes pick their way down your body just like they had the night you met. But now, all splayed out for him like this, you suddenly felt sick and dirty enough to throw up. This sort of position seemed more suited to a common whore than a bride. Your face burned like someone was shining a heat lamp on you. And yet, your clitoris pulsed with an almost painful voracity, causing your hips to twitch slightly with each pounding beat.

Outside in the living room, you heard the muffled laughter of the two secret service men who, when you’d first arrived at this rented beach house about 20 minutes ago, had told you President Kennedy would arrive shortly, and then casually led you to the bedroom like you were going to a meeting in the White House. You clenched your teeth against the toe-curling humiliation of it and forced yourself to shuck those guys from your mind. You were going to pretend that you were completely alone with Jack, your handsome powerful husband, and that this creaky Cape-Cod-style house was your lovely newlywed home.

The quick screak of Jack's zipper snatched you out of your thoughts. In the open fly of his pants, you caught a brief, heart-softening glimpse of his blue-striped underwear—And then, suddenly, there was a real-life penis whacking against the small of your back.

“Oh my!” you shrieked, and Jack's Adam’s apple bounced with a small laugh. The anatomical diagrams you’d studied with your childhood tutor had utterly failed to capture how big and messy-looking penises really were. The veiny skin on Jack’s was wrinkly and loose like an elephant, and the whole thing looked almost thicker than your forearm.

He began pumping his hand up and down the length of his long erection in a lazy, thoughtless motion, swiping his thumb across the shiny little hole every time he reached the top.

“Do you—do you think it’ll fit in me?” you asked. It was hard enough sometimes just trying to get a little tampon to settle in right. Glancing up at the ceiling, you prayed that, by some magical trick of biology, you would be able to accommodate Jack's size.

“Oh, sure,” Jack assured you as he palmed your buttcheeks and spread them apart, allowing himself to drag the tip of his penis down across your puckering butthole and line it up with your vagina as he spoke. “A young cunt like yours might require a little, uh, tough love, but it’ll fit me by the time I’m done.”

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant by “tough love,” but it didn’t matter because suddenly he was easing his big round tip inside you with a low, sonorous groan. You grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheets. Already, your “cunt” felt stretched beyond what was healthy.

“Fucking shit.” His voice sounded from far back in his throat. “You’re tiny.” And then, without further ado, he forced himself inside you, crashing his hips against yours with an echoing smack.

Your vagina ripped open. You screamed at the blistering sensation. Your stomach felt like someone had removed your intestines and replaced them with a big metal pole. The area around your belly button was bloated out and pulled taut.

A single tear was knocked out of your eye and down the side of your nose as he pulled all the way out and ruthlessly slammed back in again. He began moving you back and forth at a rapid rhythm, jerking you around like a rag doll. Your head was ringing as you buried your face in the bed, bracing yourself to take this for as long as Jack wanted you to. You wondered if it was typical for a man to be so harsh with his partner.

“Fuck.” The words were tumbling out of his mouth. “Fuck. You feel damn good, you know that?” His hand came down with a hard slap on your buttcheek and, instinctively, you bucked your hips away from him.

With his hands on your waist, Jack jolted you back into place in front of him. He smacked your butt again, like he was punishing you for fleeing, and you let out a panting whine as the sting shuddered through you.

“I know it . . . hurts, sweetheart,” he said between guttural grunts as he continued to pound into you, “but this is . . . what it takes . . . to break a little body like yours in. This’ll be . . . much easier next time.” He flashed a quick, cheeky grin.

Then he scooped one of his hands around your throat and whipped you upwards so your back thunked against his chest. He mumbled into your ear, “Now let me take another look at these pretty tits, huh?” He cupped your breasts in his hands, squeezing them together then pulling them apart, and your head fell back onto his shoulder with a tortured moan.

“God, look at you,” he murmured, pinching your nipples. “Maybe I should just take you home with me, huh? How does that sound?” He was a mumbling mess; you wondered if he even knew what he was saying. “I could ruin your little cunt so Jimmy won’t even want it anymore, and I’ll hide you away in my house up in New York. Keep you all to myself.”

As he spoke, one of his hands slid down your stomach and began to rub slow circles on your clit. This was met by another watery yell from you, and you felt Jack's teeth on your cheek as he chuckled. “Ooh, now that feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed. “Fuck, I love it when my girls scream. Let me hear you again.” He swatted your clit with his hand and, like clockwork, you cried out for him.

He sped up the pad of his finger on your clit, rewarding you for your obedience. “Just like that,” he said. “Let those fuckers out there in the parlor here you.” He slapped you between the legs again, and that’s when, seemingly without warning, the brutal throbbing you’d been feeling tumbled over into an explosion, like a hot water balloon bursting in your pelvis. You wailed and rolled forward, your bones gelatinous.

Jack caught you by the shoulders before you could flop onto the bed and lowered you the rest of the way down. “There we go,” he praised as your orgasm rocked through you. “That-a-girl.”

You offered him a weak smile and then realized he couldn’t even see it because your face was in the blanket.

As soon as your climax fizzled away, Jack grabbed ahold of your knees and turned you over onto your back. Then he pulled out of you for the very last time with a lewd squelching noise. Your entire lower body felt shriveled and deflated as you watched him give his erection a few self-indulgent strokes.

He rolled his head back with a loud “mmm,” and several long strings of white, mucus-y liquid began shooting out of the tip.

“Oh my gosh,” you gasped to the ceiling. Air was getting caught in the emotional stickiness of your throat as you tried to catch your breath. Jack’s semen was splattering across your stomach. “Oh my gosh.”

[redtsundere-writes]

Last Time | Nanami Kento

nanami kento x fem!reader

Sypnosis: Nanami and you have monthly getaways to see each other in secret. Contents: Forbidden/secret relationship. Modern AU. Smut/Angst. Praise kink. Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. +18 MDNI.. Word Count:1386 words. Author's Note: So I tried doing something with fewer dialogues. Hope you guys like it.

His eyes roamed the height of the building. A grand, majestic hotel standing tall amidst a bustling cityscape. Its exterior was a striking blend of modern elegance and timeless architecture. The hotel's facade was adorned with ornate details, featuring large windows that reflect the sky and the surrounding city lights, creating a captivating play of light and shadow. His lips curled in a smile in excitement as he made his way to the inside. 

Shiny marble floors, bright chandeliers and fancy furniture surrounded him. It was your turn to pick the hotel where you would see each other after a long month, and you made a wonderful choice, as always. His picks weren’t bad, but yours were better by far. He really liked the one you picked by the beach last getaway. It was a wonderful oasis with a bubbly jacuzzi, piña colada scent candles and the smoothest sheets he has ever felt. A five-star experience indeed. 

Up the elevator, he messaged you that he was on his way to the suite you picked. This was a fun twist to the kind of rooms you pick. They are often elegant rooms with great views and amazing king beds, but a grand suite? You were going all out this time. This must be a special occasion.

These small getaways were perfect for both. Nanami was a busy stockbroker with a stressed lifestyle, and you were an impatient teacher at a private high school full of rich kids. This was a very much needed pause from reality so you could relax and relieve each other in a small cocoon of pleasure away from everyone. This last part was very important for both. 

The elevator door opened. Nanami followed the numbers to get to the designated room along with the fancy wallpaper and works of art. He tied his tie tightly, made sure his blonde hair looked well, and his beige suit didn’t have any wrinkles. His knuckles knocked on the Grand Suite door, which announced itself with a nice silver plaque under the peephole. You answered the door in a white silk robe. You looked stunning as always. 

“Come on in,” you greeted with a smile as always. Nanami looked as handsome as always. You stepped aside so he could come in. Once you close the door, you hug him tight. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, he was stripping away his suit and ripping the white cloth from your body. You led him to the bed while kissing him in a chaotic tango routine to not lose a single second of your precious time together. 

His lips roamed around your body, slowly and steady, taking his sweet time but making sure he did a good job pleasing you. You loved how his lips felt against your sensitive nipples, the teasing and sucking felt like heaven on earth. His hands grabbed you tight by the arch of your back to pull you closer to his built body. He loved every curve in his body, it was like a rollercoaster for his finger. 

His cock was hard and big as usual, twitching in excitement to be inside of you after a long time no see. Last week, you canceled the getaway because you had an important school event to attend, so you rescheduled. He thrust in you without losing a beat. Your soft moans and grunts mixed with soft music playing on the TV filled the passionate room in a lust symphony. He was in love with your body, feeling the need to open up a church to worship it every single day. Every time he admired your naked body, he believed god is a woman. 

You rode his majestic cock without losing a beat. His arms hugged you tight while his hands gripped your ass to make it bounce at his desired rhythm. Your skin slapping against his at the perfect rhythm was motivation enough to not break the satisfying cycle. Nanami got close to your neck to leave a small hickey on your collarbone, sneaky enough so you could hide it easily but public enough so you could see it every time you showered. 

Your bodies were in synchronization, they were perfect for each other. It was too bad you couldn’t just go outside and have normal dates, but this was fine, as long you were only his. Nanami pounded against your pussy with a fire of youth he forgot he ever had. It was powerful and deep, you were about to climax, your poor kitty couldn’t take it anymore. That wonderful feeling came around when you felt that thick milky consistency that you love to have in your insides. With some huffing and puffing, Nanami pulled out and flopped next to you on bed. 

Eyes closed, wrapped in each other's arms and playing with his perfect blonde hair, you were talking about each other’s week and how was your family. Nanami was your father’s old friend from college that appeared in your life three years ago. He just showed himself at a BBQ gathering at your parent’s house. Your dad was really excited to introduce his little girl to his friend to show him how fast time has passed since their good days in college, you never imagined you would catch feelings for him after talking about work and life during that evening. 

Nanami kissed your forehead tenderly. He wanted to tell his old pal that he loved his daughter more than anything in the world, but you were so afraid he would take it the wrong way so you decided to hide it and have casual getaways. You always kissed his forehead back, but this time was different, you didn’t reciprocate the kiss. Something was going on. 

After some nagging and demanding coming from Nanami, you sighed as you decided to spill the beans. There was another man in your life, a new hot coworker that you met recently. There was no important school event last week, only a date with the lovely man. Nanami was in utter shock, he couldn’t believe you picked another man over him. You defended yourself saying that you weren’t in a formal relationship and this whole situation was more of a friends benefits thing. 

“I am a grown woman, Nanami. I need someone who actually takes me seriously. I hope you like this, but this was our last time,” you said before yanking yourself from his arms to go take a shower. He laid there without understanding how everything happened so fast. A gulp went down his throat trying to control his wild emotions from lashing out. He was naked, cold and sad, the worst thing a person can experience. 

So this was it? A quick fuck and you're done? Nanami dressed himself to get going, he couldn’t stay much longer in the room. He opened the door, but he regretted it. If this was the last time you were going to see each other, he would do it like a gentleman, with a proper handshake. He closed the door and a crying sound reached his ears. 

His heart sank as he heard you cry out loud, thinking you were alone in the suite. Your eyes poured out all the love you felt for that man, who you think left already. He was perfect for you. You loved how he tucked your hair behind your hair, how gentle he was around you and how he made you feel so special every time you see each other. You wanted to be with him, but you were tired of feeling hidden. 

After dressing up, you finally got out of the bathroom with puffy eyes. Nanami wrapped his arms around your body in a surprise attack. You let out a sob after the realization that he didn’t leave. Your arms wrapped around his body in a tight hug, you didn’t want to let him go again. Your hearts were building up again in the sacred embrace. Nanami hid his face on your neck so you wouldn’t see him cry. You whisper “I am sorry”s in each other's ears before kissing in desperation.

“I don’t want this to be our last time. I want to last a lifetime,” he whispered before kissing your forehead, which you kissed back.

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