#shoot fucking rainbows

[kentstartt]

jamie tartt on social media / my royjamie social media au

i started making jamie social media posts and seem to have accidentally created all this lore so here it all is hehe

roy & jamie come out on ig - read on ao3

jamie just posts whatever he wants on twitter & it gives keeley a stress headache every time

some misc jamie ig posts

interview in attitude magazine one year after they came out

roy & jamie celebrate christmas

jamie and colin are interviewed about coming out for gay times magazine

roy & jamie announce their engagement on instagram - read on ao3

[triglycercule]

ok ok you dont need to threaten me here's some art ☹️☹️☹️

appreciate now while you have it because doodles are rare coming from me (only tri-yearly. i cannot doodle for the life of me its hard 🙁)

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

🏳️‍🌈Just tasting your bro for the vibes🏳️‍🌈

[the-good-luck-anomaly]

IT WAS IN A MOMENT NOT OCCUPIED BY MUCH. WANDERING THE TREES IN SEARCH OF SUPPLIES, BENEATH THE BRIGHTEST, BLUEST SKIES. IT WAS THEN THAT A STARTLING CAVITY HAD OPENED IN MY CHEST, RIDDLING ME WITH THE MOST UNNATURAL OF HUNGERS. I COLLAPSED, AS THIS YEARNING FOR FLESH UNEARTHLY TWISTED MY INSIDES AND BLURRED MY MIND. BUT THE ONE THING THAT SHOCKED ME MORE THAN THIS HORRIFIC AILMENT, WAS THAT THE BLUE SKY WAS NOW ROSEY RED, AND IN ITS CRIMSON DEPTHS WRITHED TENDRILS UNCOUNTABLE. BLANKETING ACROSS THE SKY, THE CLOUDS NOW PULSING IN TANDEM WITH THE BEAT OF AN UNSEEN HEART. THE HORROR OF THE SIGHT GRIPPED ME UNLIKE ANYTHING ELSE, EVEN MORE THAN THIS ABHORRENT HUNGER THAT HAD OVER TAKEN ME. AND THEN after a million ticks. and four more heart beats. its gone. and the sky and my stomach return to what they once were. and i have no choice but to continue the day.

as usual.

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

[vanyafresita]

actually, you know what ? im glad my ex gf ghosted me, i dodged a bullet it seems

[korusalka]

.

[gonzodangerfeels]

Yeah I lost my taste for those things for some reason.

Perhaps the Promise of better things than that to come

[buckyalpine]

A one shot where Bucky doesn’t like the reader and makes her life at the compound a little rough? Like enemies (maybe to lover or friends?) and she is like the sunshine personality 🥺🥺🥺

I live for this shit This type of angst where he's mean and finds her annoying even though she's a sweetheart, ugh, yes. YES.

Bucky groaned, trying to ignore the shooting pain that seared in his abdomen, clutching an old t-shirt to stop the bleeding from the stab wound he'd received during his latest mission.

"You good there, terminator?" Sam cocked an eyebrow watching Bucky unconvincingly nod, grunting a half assed yes before squeezing his eyes shut and flopping back on the seat.

"You're gonna need stiches" Steve snorted, shaking his head at his stubborn friend.

"I'm fine" Bucky gritted out, preferring to bleed out on the jet instead of going to the med bay where he'd be surrounded by doctors and needles and if he was really unlucky, you.

"Seriously? That's the second shirt you've bled through, I don't think the serum's gonna cut it, punk" Steve sighed, knowing how Bucky felt about getting medical care but it wasn't like he had a choice. As soon as the jet landed, Bucky was shoved in the direction of the medical wing, pouting and grumpy as he limped with Steve supporting him. Bucky frowned when Steve pushed him to lay down on the examination table, grumbling and wincing under his breath.

"You stay here. I'm gonna finish writing up our reports, don't go sneaking off" Steve chuckled, giving his friend's shoulder a squeeze before leaving. The soldier stared up at the florescent lights, his eyes anxiously darting about the room, hoping and praying that at the very least he wouldn't have to deal with-

"Good afternoon Bucky!"

For fucks sake.

Bucky groaned at the chirpy voice that piped up from the door, his brows knotted together from frustration.

He hated it. You'd ask about his day as if he wasn't there go get sewn up. You'd talk to him like you'd known him for years, almost oblivious to the fact that he was a former brain washed assassin. Every time he saw you, you were so giggly and pretty and bouncy and cute and happy and it irked his soul because it was to the point it was unnecessary. I mean you were just so kind and sweet to everyone as if everyone deserved such amazingness from such a wonderful person, okay that's enough Bucky.

The world wasn't fucking sunshine and rainbows and he had no idea why you acted like it was.

"Steve said you needed a few stitches so-

"Where's Dr. Cho" Bucky cut you off, hoping anyone else would help him so he could get on with his day, willing to take the needle and thread himself instead of having you do it while talking his ear off.

"Oh, she's with another patient right now but it's fine, I promise I'll get you out of here soon, do you mind if I remove your vest-

"Yeah, I got it" Bucky huffed, wincing to get his gear off but you stopped him, urging him to stay down.

"No, it's okay, I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it, I'll cut it off, don't worry"

Bucky nodded, lying back down while you grabbed a tray with medical supplied, carefully cutting around the blood soaked material and discarding it. You cleaned the area, mumbling apologies incase the alcohol caused any pain, moving on to closing the cut.

"I heard about the mission you all went on. I can't even imagine going through all that, it sounded terrifying. You're very brave Sargent" You smiled, tossing your gloves aside after patching Bucky up. Bucky grunted as he hopped off the table without a word, ready to whack Steve on the head for telling you of all people he needed help.

"If you need anything else, let me know! Just get some rest for a few days, it'll heal soon-

"I know" Bucky walked out of the room without looking back, his shoulders relaxing when he was far away from he med wing. There was truly no reason for him to be this annoyed but he was tired, in pain and he knew for a fact there would be a pile of papers for him to fill out in the conference room.

You didn't take Bucky's grumpy attitude to heart, understanding the stress that came with going on missions, getting injured every time coupled with the fact that he was probably still healing from his own past. You put away the supplies before taking a coffee break, running into a very excited Tony along the way.

"Hey cupcake, just who I was looking for, do you like chocolate or vanilla"

"Tony, I told you, you don't have to-

"That doesn't answer the question. Pick one or the other or both or another flavor, all the flavours, but give me something"

You giggled at the way he looked at you expectantly, sighing seeing as he wouldn't let up until you answered.

"I'm not picky, you know I'd love anything. Get something everyone would like, seriously, I don't even need all this, I'm just the nurse-

"Stop that right now, there's no one else like you" Tony huffed, planting a quick kiss your head before texting his caterers about everything he wanted, ensuring everything was perfect, especially when it came to you.

-

You woke up to the sun streaming through the curtains, stretching before getting out of bed and padding over to the bathroom to go through your morning routine. You had the day off, throwing on your joggers instead of your typical scrubs and making your way down to the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for baking.

You hummed, scooping out spoons of cookie batter, plopping it onto the tray and throwing it into the oven, cleaning up the area in between, waiting for the oven timer to go off. You set the chocolate chip cookies onto a tray, piping the last bit of icing onto the top and sweeping away the smidges of frosting that got onto the counter.

Bucky blinked at the smell of baking, making his way to the kitchen for some water after a run. He groaned, nearly walking right back out when he saw you singing to yourself, arranging cookies in a circle, each one decorated for a different person in the tower.

"Good morning Bucky" You smiled while he mumbled, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, "I-I made made cookies for everyone, did you want one?" You asked hopefully, looking at the little dog tags you'd piped on the cookie you made for him while he shrugged in response.

"Why do you keep trying so hard, do you not have any friends?" Bucky scoffed, ignoring the fresh plate of cookies that sat on the counter, not caring that your face had fallen. He wanted to strike a nerve, feeling a sick satisfaction at the way you silenced yourself, giving him the peace and quiet he wanted.

"S-sorry, I just thought-

"You thought what?" Buck cocked an eyebrow, the tick in his jaw making your stomach churn.

"Nothing, sorry" You mumbled, turning back to continue cleaning while he chugged the rest of the bottle. "I've just leave them here if you want one later on-

"No, I don't want one now and I don't think I'll want one later either" Bucky glared at you, tired of you always trying to do things for others as if anyone asked.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't-" you bit your lip hard to keep from crying, not wanting to annoy Bucky more.

"Why do you always act like everything great? Like we don't come back from almost dying, risking our lives while you go about like the world is perfect"

"I just-I didn't mean-

"You didn't mean what, to be annoying? Did anyone even ask for this?" Bucky nodded to the cookies while you shook your head, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed, not realizing others also probably found you annoying.

"I-it was my birthday, I thought-" you sniffled, choking back a whimper, "I wanted to do something nice - never mind" You bit your lip to keep from breaking down, blinking back tears as you scurried off to your room, without looking back.

The initial satisfaction Bucky was short lived as he stood in the now empty kitchen, tossing the bottle aside. The plate caught his eye once more as he walked by, reluctantly stopping to look at each one, your skilled hands decorating each one with clean details. He instantly spotting the one you made for him which had been dusted with silver just like his tags; he had no idea how you managed to get his name and number piped to precisely.

Not that it mattered.

Bucky continued to make his way to the gym, feeling a little bad that he made you cry but he figured you'd get over soon enough, after all that seemed to be your strong suit, you were always happy and smiling anyway.

-

"You're coming tonight, right?" Steve dropped the weights he was curling while Bucky frowned, unsure of what the captain was referring to.

"Why, what's tonight" Bucky grunted, still in the middle of his set.

"Seriously, Tony told us like a month ago"

"Yeah, fine" Bucky huffed, not really caring what it was about, knowing he'd be dragged to go regardless. He finished the rest of his workout, retreating back to his room to shower. He flopped onto his bed after, grabbing a book from his bedside table seeing as there was still plenty of time till he had to get ready.

The book had been a Christmas present from you and as much as he hated to admit it, it was perfect and one of his favorites. He tried to focus on the words, feeling bad again thinking about how your face had fallen earlier when all you did was offer him a cookie.

Maybe he went a little overboard with his reaction...

Bucky shook the guilt he felt, hoping that you'd be running around somewhere getting ready for whatever tonight was.

-

"Where's y/n" Sam looked around the room seeing everyone else present but you, the night in full swing seeing as Tony had gone all out as usual "I swear she said she'd be here, this is literally her birthday party"

"I didn't see her" Nat frowned, putting down the drink she was sipping on, scanning the room again, "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen her all day"

Bucky felt a deep pang in his chest when he realized the party was for you, his stomach twisting in knots.

"Where's our birthday girl" Steve asked as he joined the others, the guilt making Bucky feel even more sick. He ran a hand over his face while the others continued to wonder where you were. "I hope she isn't working, she deserves a day off, she already worked over time for 3 months straight when we were running back to back missions"

Bucky remembered that.

They'd all been sent out on missions spread across different months and you'd been the one on call to patch them up the entire time. You hadn't complained once even through you were thoroughly sleep deprived. At the time Bucky was annoyed you were in such an upbeat mood when they were all scraping by but you had been struggling yourself.

"I fucked up" Bucky groaned, feeling awful for how he'd treated you in the morning and for how he'd been acting towards you in general.

"Why, what did you do" Steve's face twisted in confusion while Bucky's face reddened in embarrassment. Steve was aware Bucky complained about you but he figured it was because his bestfriend got flustered around the pretty nurse, he'd seen Bucky get tongue tied plenty of times whenever you walked by.

"You were a grumpy asshole to y/n, weren't you" Sam frowned seeing Bucky's guilty face. The soldier didn't say another word, leaving the group to find you instead, debating on getting Steve to clock him in the jaw first. Bucky ran to the elevator, pushing the button to your floor, hoping he'd see you making your way down, only to find the hallway empty. His heart broke hearing the soft sniffles coming from your room, the door closed. He gently knocked on the door, your cries quieting down as if you'd silenced yourself to pretend you were asleep instead of opening the door.

"Y/n?" Bucky called for you only to be met with more silence, "Can-can you please open the door?" His heart started to beat faster when he head your footsteps approaching the door, clicking the lock open; you were still in your joggers from earlier, your face puffy from crying.

All because of him.

"Sorry, I fell asleep" you lied, keeping your face trained on your feet, worried Bucky had come to yell at you about the party Tony had thrown for you, "and I'm sorry about the party, you didn't have to go if you didn't want to, I promise I didn't tell Tony you had to come, I know you don' like me-

"No, no baby no, stop" Bucky hushed you, his heart breaking when your voice cracked, rambling out apologies. His body moved on its own, wrapping his arms around you while you started to cry again, rocking you while holding you to his chest. "Please don't cry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you have nothing to apologize for doll, nothing at all"

Bucky held you tightly while your body shook, feeling sick with himself for how he'd been treating you. You'd never been anything short of sweet and he'd made a point of always letting you know he couldn't care less. He lifted you in his arms, walking over to your bed, sitting down with you in his lap, ready to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

"I didn't mean to be so annoying" You shrugged, fidgeting with your fingers, the light that always made your eyes twinkle dimmed from Bucky's words.

"Y/n, please, no" Bucky whispered, pleading with you to stop. "Don't doll. It was never ever you, please let me apologize. I've been awful to you, you've done nothing wrong. You've always been an angel, sweets, it's me whose been an annoying asshole. I don't deserve your kindness but that's never stopped you from giving it to me when I least deserved it"

"You deserve kindness Bucky" you gave him a small smile, one that didn't meet your eyes and Bucky felt his eyes sting. Even when he was the one in the wrong, you were still comforting him with your sweetness.

"Y/n, I don't know anyone that deserves the sort of kindness you give. I don't know anyone that would deserve someone as wonderful as you. You're a light for everyone when its dark. I was a fuckin' idiot for everything I've ever said to you. That isn't an excuse for how I've been treating you doll, I know that. It's just- I've been awful to you and you've never done anything wrong. I'm truly sorry sweets"

"Its okay Bucky" You whispered, reaching up to wipe the tear that streaked down his face, your cheeks heating up when you realized you were still in his lap, "S-sorry, I didn't realize-

Bucky shook his head, holding you securely in his lap, not wanting to let you go.

"You have nothing to apologize for, pretty girl" Bucky shrugged, loosening his hold in case you wanted to get off but your doe eyes darted around instead, settling further in his lap. "You really are like sunshine"

"You're very charming, Sargent" you smiled bashfully while Bucky chuckled, his heart beating erratically in his chest when your hands came up to toy with the tags that hung around his neck.

"Would it-would it be if I kissed you?" He whispered shyly, blushing when you nodded, pressing his soft lips to yours. Bucky took his time kissing you, pouring every ounce of his feelings with soft touches, holding onto you like porcelain.

"Everyone's waiting for you sweets" Bucky gave you a gentle squeeze, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, hoping that you'd still want to go to your own party. "Would you like to go downstairs?"

You slinked off Bucky's lap to get ready, the soldier watching you with heart eyes the entire time you did your hair and makeup. He knew he had a lot to make up for, starting with the fact that he'd never hurt you again. He was still upset with himself for ever hurting you in the first place but he was ready to protect your innocent heart for the rest of his life. His breath hitched in his throat when you finished applying the last of your gloss, blushing when you slipped your hand into his so he could lead you down.

"Theres our cupcake!" Tony grinned when he saw you approaching, the rest of the team cheering making you giggle. Steve smirked seeing Bucky follow closely behind you in protective mode, keeping his hand around your waist. He spent the entire time, doting on you, following you like a lost puppy.

By the end of the night, he had you in his lap again, shamelessly looking at you with heart eyes while the rest of the team watched curiously, his sole focus on you.

"Happy birthday sweet girl" Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek while you nuzzled into him with a shy smile, "My little sunshine"

-

Now imagine Bucky doesn't quickly get over the fact that he was a dick. Sure you forgave him because you're an absolute sweetheart but Bucky can't even deal with the way he'd acted, especially when he had a crush on you the entire time and just refused to acknowledge it, acting like a cunt instead.

He's the most lovestuck boyfriend to ever exist. Your office is always full of fresh flowers. He's a clingy little puppy, outside of the medwing until your done, always finding excuses to sneak in and see you. You had to tell him a papercut wasn't a good enough reason for him to request your services.

Neither was a stubbed toe.

The time he nicked himself while shaving was the worst because he was pouty until you kissed him better.

He slips his dog tags around you, his possessive/jealous side occasionally sneaking out.

He doesn't even hide the fact that he's a simp for you, knowing he's the luckiest person on the planet to get the sweetest person in the world. He shows your off like no tomorrow, proud of the angel he gets to call his.

He absolutely loved his sunshine.

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter

|Summary: Your first encounter with Armando; based off of that one scene from bad boys ride or die. | Warnings: Getting shot at/slight suggestive language/Curse words/Slight Movie Spoilers | Trope: One sided interest or Enemies to Lovers| Notes: Hopefully you guys enjoy it's my first-time writing a x reader. | (Y/N/N=Your Nickname)

Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6

______________________________________________________________

After seeing the news about your dad, Uncle Mike, and some guy, you decided to leave work early. Confused on why there all the sudden wanted fugitives,you quickly drive over to Dorns place knowing that he’ll have answers.

Parking your car, you grab your purse and make your way towards his lake house. Since you hang out with him and Kelly 24/7 outside of work, you just walk in without knocking.    Which was a mistake on your end because not even a second later you’re being shot at, and you could hear a few people yell in shock.  Dropping to the floor you curse and yell "It's me stop fucking shooting it’s me Y/N!”  Looking up you see Kelly pointing the gun at the place you were just standing at with a shock expression.  “Girl what the hell you got going on” you said, scared to stand up.  Lowering her gun she said “OMG, Y/N, I’m so so—” Before she could finish you hear “Oh lord, you shooting at my baby!", recognizing the voice you look around to spot your father Marcus, running towards you with a worried look.

As he’s checking over you, you hear him sigh with relief after seeing you were fine. " Dad? what the fuck is going on!", standing up you dust off your nurse uniform, with a confused expression. 

Looking around the room you noticed shocked expressions from Dorn and Kelly who had put her gun down. Spotting Uncle Mike and the man that was with him on the news your eyes squint even more, Tryna put two to two together.    “Y/N/N, aren’t you supposed to be at work, "Marcus says confused on why his daughter was there.  Still shaking up from being shot at you say, “I was at work but when I was making my rounds with my patients, I seen you guys on the news ......but shit! I should be asking the questions! why are you, Uncle Mike and this dude, wanted fugitives …. matter of fact," turning towards the man, "Who are you?”.    Seeing the man smirk he says," Someone you can get well acquainted with.”  Just as you’re about to say something smart, your dad cuts in dramatically "Aye hell nah man! No hitting on my daughter, Mike get your son!” 

Shocked you run your eyes over the Latino man which you can now see have some of Mike's features, “Uncle Mike since when you have a son, and why the hell is he dressed up like a redneck.”  Running your eyes frantically over their forms you back up while pointing your hands at them and say, “matter of fact why are you all dress up like that.”  Feeling your dad pull you aside to calm you down, he explains everything that happened these past few days.    After getting the run down on what was going on, you rub at your eyes with a stressed sigh." So that’s Armando," you said shaking your head "I would’ve pulled my gun out as well if I’ve seen him, dad didn’t he almost kill you and Uncle Mike!", you said feeling frustrated about the situation.  “Y/n,I know this is awkward, but he has evidence to prove that Captain Conrad is innocent.”  Sighing again “Okay, fine but if he tries some shit just know Imma make him taste the rainbow.”  Hearing laughter you look back to see the Latino leaning against the kitchen counter looking at you with a smirk on his face.  Seeing your father look at you with a don’t do it expression made you huff and ignore Armando’s laughter.    Before you could move to grab your purse off the floor your dad stops you again and whispered, "How long Kelly and Dorn been messing around, "letting out a short laugh you say, “For a minute now”  Seeing your father smirk, and send a look to Mike, you knew they were up to no good but chose to ignore it.

Walking to the door to grab your purse and its spilled contents you feel eyes on you, gazing up you see Armando watching you with an unreadable expression. Rolling your eyes you pick up the rest of your stuff, but as you reach for your lip gloss, a hand grabs it.    Looking up your face to face with the Latino himself, annoyed you extend your hand out, while raising an eyebrow.  Watching his amused expression, you sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Boy if you don’t give me my stuff,Imma punch you in the throat." Hearing him chuckle made you more agitated, but you kept your cool. As he holds out the gloss to you with a smirk you huff and reach out to snatch it, only for him to pull it back in a teasing manner.

Looking at him as if he’s grown two heads, you’re about to cuss him out when he says”Demasiado bonita para una boca como esa”.  Furrowing your eyebrows you say “What?”    Armando’s smirk widens as he says, “I said to pretty for a mouth like that.”  Scoffing you snatch your lip gloss out his hands, putting it in your purse as you stand up and say, “First of all, my mouth is only like this because you almost killed my dad not too long ago, and secondly I can say whatever the fuck I want cause last I checked imma grown women.”  Watching his eyes glance down at your body, you hear a low whistle, "You sure are, but if you ever wanna fix that mouth of yours, "he pauses allowing his pretty brown eyes to trail back up to yours,”aquí estaré mami” (I’ll be here mommy) 

Shocked slightly at his boldness, you say “Boy if you don’t get out of m---,” but before you could finish, he was called over by Mike. At first Armando ignores him and continues to admire you until your dad says, “Boy get your ass over here," which made you break eye contact with him and look away.  

Glancing back up you couldn't help but admire his physique as well but as he reaches the others by the computer set up. He glances back to see you staring which resulted in him sending you a wink. Rolling your eyes you turn away with a smirk," You your daddy son for sure," you say to yourself with a smile.

_____________________________________________________________

Notes: Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :) and pls go see the movie it's so good

[avelera]

Sometimes in genre fiction stories, you’ve got magical characters talking about their magical lives in public or wearing their superhero costumes out in the regular world.

Often times, the magical characters feel they need to hide or whisper about things like magic or immortality or fighting demons or like pretend they’re going to a convention to explain their superhero costume.

These are often lovely and charming scenes but let me be clear:

Nobody in a major city would give a fuck.

Just as one example of many, I was literally in line for a book signing in NYC and a man walked by stark ass naked wearing only body paint and basically after the initial surprise, no one did or said anything about it.

The amount of crazy you encounter on any given day walking around a major city makes you basically immune to surprise or taking any kind of action about weird shit happening around you.

If I heard someone talking about their magical powers next to me at a cafe back when I lived in NYC, I’d assume either 1) they’re rehearsing for a play, 2) playing/discussing D&D, and/or most importantly 3) it’s none of my fucking business.

I’m always curious what exactly people think would actually happen in the real world if a supernatural or magical character was overheard by someone who wasn’t actively hunting them or who wished them harm.

If you overheard a time traveler or an immortal or magical person in general candidly speaking about their life at the table next to you, what would you actually do about it?

Would you call the police?

Tell the whole world you just sat next to a real magical person and your evidence is that you overheard their conversation?

Report them to their nemesis? How would you even find them??

Seriously, besides telling your friends about the weird conversation you overheard at lunch or the strange looking person you saw, what exactly would a normal person do even if they really did overhear someone like a time traveler speaking candidly about their travels for anyone to hear?

I ask because I see so many stories set in a superhero or urban fantasy setting worrying about being NOTICED. Noticed by WHO? With what result?? What do you actually worry is going to happen? What would any average person actually do besides shrug and go back to whatever they were doing?

I’d accept that maybe in a smaller town you could become a topic of conversation and even widespread notice.

But let me assure you, friends, in any major city, no one would fucking notice much less say anything about any level of weird shit they saw. The whole point of a big city is that everyone basically ignores the weird shit happening around them at any given point.

So let the fairies and ghosts and time travelers of your fantasy story relax. If they’re in a big city, they could literally fly around downtown with rainbows shooting out their ass and the only comment they’d probably get is from people wondering what movie is being filmed nearby.

[highvern]

Waited

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+)

warnings: mentions of mental health/poor self image, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, cheating, violence (nothing explicit), oral, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, degrading, spanking, marking, jealous Yoongi, rip Namjoon, bi Taehyung

Length: ~4.2k

Note: this originally was gonna be a short FWB smut but alas nothing turns out like i plan hahahahahahahahah shoot me thank you @the-boy-meets-evil and @onlyhuis for subjecting yourselves to this mess.

Summary: Best friends since childhood means you can tell each other anything. Right?

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Yoongi enters your world three days before you turn six years old. His parents buy the house across the cul de sac that's sat empty for months and show up with a moving truck and their two sons. While they're unpacking your mom walks over to welcome them to the neighborhood and you hide behind her leg to stare at the boy with a choppy bowl cut who stares right back from behind his own mom’s leg.

You dub Yoongi your best friend in fourth grade. It’s a silent declaration but one he quickly falls in line with. He’d always been the smallest in class, easy cannon fodder for bullies that want to push around the quiet kid. One time too many people called him stupid under their breath and you snapped. After school detention for three weeks and a handwritten apology addressed to the boy with a broken nose is the price you pay but no one messes with him again after that. 

The first time you realize your best friend is handsome is senior year of high school. An hour before prom your date decided he wanted to go with someone else and Yoongi, who had zero interest in “cliche, organized humiliation rituals” trugged across the pavement to your house in a borrowed tux too big in the shoulders.

He posed for pictures while both your parents cooed, hands respectable at your waist as you both smiled through the awkwardness. His brother drops you both off and slips a contraband flask full of shitty alcohol in Yoongi’s hand before taking off. 

You pretended not to notice when Jisung and Yoongi both simultaneously disappeared, only to reappear twenty minutes later; Yoongi sporting bruised knuckles and the traces of what would become a black eye come the next morning along with a split lip. Instead, you take another sip of what must be gasoline and pull him to the dance floor. During the singular slow dance he allotted, with your head against his shoulder and the reak of his older brother’s after shave burning your nose, you realized you wouldn’t mind if he kissed you. 

The rest of the night is spent emptying your guts in Yoongi’s ensuite because your parents were so confident nothing would happen between the two of you that sleepovers at Yoongi’s were too common.

The first time you kiss Yoongi is also the night you lose your virginity. Your sophomore year boyfriend broke up with you two days before finals. Yoongi couldn’t stand Taehyung or the way you apparently believed he shit rainbows so you expected him to find nothing but joy in the news. 

But when you showed up outside his apartment, elephant tears streaking down your face as you gasped around an explanation, Yoongi said nothing. He simply walked into the kitchen, pulled out the bottle of liquor he saved for special occasions, and passed it to you along with a shot glass. 

He let your drunken sobs stain the collar of his shirt until you laughed yourself hysterical at the irony of it all. How Taehyung claimed he wasn’t ready for anything serious when he pursued you first, how he broke up with you after you told him you weren’t ready for anything physical. 

“Fuck him,” Yoongi grumbled, burrowed between the pillows of his bed.

Your head lulled onto his shoulder with a snort, “I think that was part of the problem.”

Then you kissed him and Yoongi kissed you back. And when you planted yourself in his lap and touched him, he took the chance to touch you too. At some point your clothes were gone, allowing your best friend to take as much liberty as he liked. But even though the details are fuzzy you know he was gentle and devout. Yoongi took all the time in the world, pushing and pushing until you almost broke and melted to the floor.

And after all was said and done you cried while Yoongi held you until your eyes swelled shut.

The next day Taehyung called and asked to work things out. Like a naive fool you agreed and then two years passed in a blink before you caught him fucking the doe eyed underclassmen from his fraternity the night of graduation. 

You wanted Yoongi but the last time you ran crying to him about Taehyung sat in the back of your mind. Since that day he’d taken a step back, missing your calls or dodging plans. Still your best friend but not present like before. Half your own fault because he warned you getting back with Taehyung was a bad idea but rather than listen, you told him to fuck off and mind his business. So he did and managed to get a girlfriend in the process.

But the universe has a weird way of shoving people together. Sipping from a bottle on the steps to the should-be-condemned house you rented with six other girls, eyes glassy and unfocused, you didn’t realize someone was calling your name until he sat down beside you. 

“I heard,” Yoongi says, snagging your drink and downing his own mouthful before going back for seconds.

Your lips bruise under your teeth, the pain barely managing to consume your focus away from the new wave of tears threatening to crop up. “That I’m an idiot?”

Cold hands find the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, pulling it back up in the places it's dropped before curling around your frame and wrangling you into the boney side of his. 

“That Taehyung is still an asshole.”

It's too familiar. Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his neck wet with your cries. Yoongi barely managed to get you upstairs and in bed without fuss, a plethora of pathetic cries none of your roommates are around to hear blurring your vision. 

“Where’s Tiffany?” You ask, fumbling into the mattress. You’ll ask him anything to get your mind of the hurt.

Yoongi fought to tuck you in, shoving you back into the pillows everytime you tried to get up and attempted to convince him to go to the bars where your classmates are currently celebrating. Where Taehyung is probably strung out across whoever will give him the time of day.

He lets you pull him into a hug when a new wave of sadness erupts. It’s the first time you get a good look at him in months despite the blur in your vision. Silver in the streetlights flooding through the slits of the blinds, the dark dye he used to appease his mom washing out at the fried tips of his hair. Any more to drink and you’d convince yourself this is all some cruel dream. A ghost of the past haunting you in misery. 

Yoongi might as well be. Nearly two years gone from the face of the Earth, only to be caught in short glimpses at parties or between class changes. Both of you spent the time reserved for each other with new people.

You missed him. 

He turns to leave too soon; already halfway to the door before you speak.

“Stay?” 

Even in your double vision you see the crack in Yoongi’s mask, the regret swelling to the surface. “She’s waiting back at my place.”

The summer comes with the suffocating muggy heat of your childhood home. Your parents fail to stifle their thrill Taehyung is out of the picture, more content to pretend he never existed in the first place. 

Everyday blurs together, a routine you’ve maintained since you can remember. Hot days by the pool in your parents backyard (without Yoongi hiding in the shade), dinner at the greasy restaurant by the river with friends (but not Yoongi), and packing your room one last time (which holds too many memories of Yoongi).

The news comes from your mom. 

She probes for information about the last time you heard from your neighbor turned friend turned stranger, complaining she misses having him around like when you were kids, asking what he’s been up to lately. It’s evident by your short response you haven’t heard yet.

He’s on the dilapidated swing set in his parents backyard when you find him. Shoulders slumped, toeing in the dirt, while he gazes beyond the treeline. 

Silently, you take a seat in the second swing, ignoring the way the wood creaks under your weight. Without a word he hands you his phone. The screen is bright with the last messages.

Tiffany: you just seem to have a lot going on…

Tiffany: i don’t know if I can handle all of it

You hand back the device. There's nothing to say. Cursing her till you’re blue in the face won’t make him feel better and neither will platitudes. Yoongi won’t believe anything contrary to what she said, at least not right now when he’s reeling from a blow to his most vulnerable parts.

So you sit in silence until the moon swells in the sky. He isn’t ready to talk about it when you both fumble down to his parents basement. Or when he hits the Rick and Morty bong Seokjin bought him for Secret Santa years ago. Definitely not when he tries to kiss you and you let him. And not when you end up in his lap, both naked and fighting to detach from what exists beyond the tattered upholstery of the couch. 

Yoongi finally speaks hours later, shoulder to shoulder in the comforting murky darkness of his room. You both still have the heated glow of bare skin sticking together where you touch but it turns clammy when he spills his guts.

He told her those three words after meeting her parents the week before. The first girl you’ve ever seen him be serious about. She said them back but Yoongi didn’t believe her. And the proof he was right sits immortalized in texts messages.

Each word cuts like a knife. Admitting his hurt, his vulnerabilities and weaknesses before shifting the focus to something safer like your break up from May and if Taehyung has tried anything.

He softens when your lips crest his shoulder. The lingering franticness fades with each peck as you move across his chest, then his throat, then his lips. Because you know Yoongi wants to talk about this once and never again. Needs to put it behind him before it becomes too real.

You leave for the city two weeks later and Yoongi follows after managing to snag a shitty IT job. He spends more time at your apartment than his own and when the girl you met through a roommate group moves out, Yoongi moves in.

Maybe it becomes too common of an occurrence. What was once reserved as an escape from the crushing weight of rejection, a way to find comfort in each other more than before, turned into a quick fix at the slightest annoyance. When you’re too pent up or Yoongi had a hard day. If you were feeling insecure after another failed date, or he simply wanted an easy lay with someone who knew how to get him off without the awkward pauses of learning.

Now, Yoongi bends you over the counter at three in the morning, lapping at your cunt like he didn’t have you sitting on his face before leaving for Namjoon's apartment to pre-game. The dig of the marble edge in your ribs is less alluring than the comfort of your bed; but what Yoongi wants he more often than not gets, so how do you refuse when he shuffles you into an Uber with hunger in his gaze and possessiveness in the grip on your thigh. 

“Yoongi,” you sigh. Reaching back, one of your hands anchors in the short tufts of his hair, pressing him firmer into the ache of your pussy. 

The tug of the cool counter top against your nipples works in his favor, leaving you desperate with a hitch in your throat each time you rock back into his waiting tongue. It dips into your opening, wedged between his fingers that dig into your walls just right after years of practice. Yoongi knows how to push all your buttons, he’s sewed half of them on. 

Your forehead meets the marble on the next swell of his tongue except this time is across your ass and punctuated with a bite you’ll feel next time you sit. A harsh clench around his fingers grants you sinful drag of his tongue across the hole only ever explored by him. 

“Fuc–Yoongi!” 

Sloppy kisses follow your spine until he’s at your ear with his cock resting against the meat of your ass. You're bent back at the waist once again so he can pluck at your nipples the way he likes, until you're shuddering away and pleading for mercy in a way meant to spur him further.

“Bet Namjoon wouldn’t do this,” Yoongi grunts with a tease of his cock inside, bare.

He’ll never let you forget the semester of freshman year you drooled for his friend's dick while Namjoon remained none the wiser. Every unconscious shut down sent Yoongi into a sadistic fit of laughter until you cut your losses and called it quits. 

You know why he’s bringing it up now. Namjoon looked good tonight. Newly single with a buzzcut that ruined most men’s allure. Maybe you contemplated re-igniting the old flame when he first showed up but now there's history and comradery that didn't exist in your younger days and it's too complicated just for the chance to satiate your curiosity. They’re all the same reasons you shouldn’t be fucking your best friend since grade school but none of it seems to have the same weight.

It didn’t matter what you decided because Yoongi saw enough temptation in your gaze to bring it up like he isn’t the one fucking you regularly.

Your pants fog across the marble. “Should we call and find out?” 

His palm stings into your ass, heating the skin on impact. The opportunity to neg him into another smack passes too quickly. You’re already at the mercy of Yoongi’s mouth on yours, the taste of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and your pussy less than appealing but his tongue is hot when he licks behind your teeth.

A hand takes up the work between your legs, rough and rushed as you trapeze down the hallway towards the bedroom. Yoongi thumbs at your clit with intent. You nearly collapse against the wall with buckled knees from the onslaught of too much stimulation.

Breaching the bedroom door proves too much a struggle. Yoongi bounces off the door jam from a rough grope against his zipper which leaves you flailing before catching in the corner of the mattress. His room is too damn small for the king bed he insisted on but it makes for a great backdrop to your fucking. Miles better than the more practical queen hidden in your room further down the hall.

You manage to push him off long enough to dig your knees into the sheets, crawling to the pillows with an arch you know he’ll rib you for later.

“Coming?” You ask over your shoulder, eyeing the flash of his boxers creeping through the opening of his zipper.

Flopping on your back, you splay across the over abundance of pillows like a queen while Yoongi works off his pants. His hair is a mess and a bruise the size of your mouth blooms high enough on his neck he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next two weeks. “Spread your legs.”

“Do you one better.” It's a goad in the most obvious sense. He likes to watch you huff, failing to get yourself off until he intervenes and gives exactly what you need. So you throw your legs wide, bent at the knees just to make it clearer in the faint light spilling from the window, and sink a hand down and play with the mess he caused. “Mmmm, Yoongi.” 

“Finger it for me,” he drawls.

Muscles melt at the first pass inside your already battered walls. Not as deft as his fingers but you won’t tell him that unprompted. Yoongi’s ego is big enough when it comes to your sex life, fueled by the knowledge he’s collected many of your firsts. But the way he palms over his underwear in mimic of your rhythm tempts you to break that rule.

“Come here.” 

Yoongi just smirks at the demand, pushing the mess of his pants off until he’s bare and the maroon head of his cock makes you drool.  “You come here.”

“I’m not playing naked chicken.” You growl. “Come fuck me before I get my vibrator.” 

Flipping on your front with your ass in the air, you drive a hard bargain Yoongi’s never been capable of saying no to. The bed dips behind you, knees between your own, shuffling them wider so he can stretch you until you’re pliant and aching.

His chest melts to your back, sticking uncomfortable but you don’t care because it feels good. Like he’s consuming you. “How bad do you want it?” Yoongi bites into your shoulder.

“Yoongi, fuck.” Your arms collapse under the first rush of his hips, spin dipping harshly to take every inch until he’s flat against your rear.

In a blink, you’re parallel to the mattress, pinned under his weight. It’s pathetic for so early in the game but Yoongi is the same man who gave you so many orgasms you’ve cried so it only stands to reason he crumbles your bravado like it's nothing. 

Sniffling in his hold, you turn to nose at his cheek over your shoulder. “Please, fuck me.” 

“Shit,” he spits with a harsh thrust. “You’re so fucking tight for me.” 

The next press of his hips leaves you heaving. Your hands scramble when he cants a bruising pace against your ass. Hard. All while every noise he tries to hide sings straight into your ear.

With immense effort, you wiggle onto your back. Yoongi meets you with a kiss, tongue to tongue while he works back inside where you both need him most.

The callous of his palm rakes against your throat, not squeezing, just a possessive firmness.

“H-harder,” you beg, nails leaving crescents in his shoulder.

Yoongi hitches your thigh over his; slowing so he can fuck you deeper, crushing every noise hiding in your gut out. 

Shocked from the sudden rush against your clit, your leg kicks out straight. It’ll leave you sore in the hips come morning but right now you don’t even register the discomfort. “Oh, oh, oh!” 

“Like that?” Somehow he manages to drag the head of his cock deeper from the praise.

“Just like that,” you pant into his mouth.

He leans back to watch your decay into desperation but stops when you tug him back by the sensitive roots of his hair. Cracking open your eyes, you find his brown ones inches away. Forehead to forehead while you both synthesize into a heap of flushed skin and need.

Fingers intertwined, Yoongi pins your hand on the pillow. Then he stares. Not at your face as you crest the first wave of an orgasm but your fingers curled between his. Like he’s never done it before, like he doesn’t know exactly how you two got in this position. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi.” 

You cum hard. Nearly managing to drive him out from the force to your insides. Every muscle twisting tighter and tighter until it breaks and when you pull his mouth back to yours all you can do is shake under his lips with cracked mewls.

Yoongi might be shaking too but he swells inside you with a groan, collapsing into your neck before your brain catches up to consider the idea.

Dodging an attempt at a final kiss, he favors his lips on your throat. Fleeting wet pecks that get you choking on air. Then your breasts where he takes up his abandoned work on your nipples, teeth flashing across the sensitive peaks until your shoulders cave and you're desperate for him again; grinding into the fingers he’s so readily supplies.

He’s fucked you like this before. When he has something to prove to the non-existent entity constantly creeping on his subconscious, when he feels he isn’t good enough in some intangible way. Asking him what's wrong won’t do anything. Yoongi will tell you when he’s ready; if he ever is. Years of friendship and the fear you’ll see a part of him capable of scaring you away still eats him alive. So you’ll give him whatever reassurance he needs this way and hope he understands.

Your second orgasm comes faster than the first. Trails of the previous pleasure pushing you swiftly along. Yoongi latches his lips around your clit and sucks until spots flash and your thighs nearly crush his head.

“Fuck, Yoongi. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cry, threatening to fold in half under his fingers. “G-gonna cum again.”

Flares of lightning in your blood explode. Throat raw from wailing, Yoongi works you through until you dig your ankle into his ribs and kick him off.

The cold air in the room helps cool your feverish skin unlike the dark haired man flopping next to you. It’s quiet around two sets of gasping breaths and the rain tapping at the window.

Shoulder to shoulder, you calm in the drum of the overhead fan. Yoongi’s fingers tangling and untangling with your own confirms your suspicion. Whatever he needs to tell you bubbles below the surface, swirling until he finds the safest words to share his feelings. There's no point in guessing but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling through the possibilities.

The major suspects lack any clear indication. His date last weekend ended with mutual disinterest. Nothing concerning his job registers in your vague memory. Both your parents were fine the last time you visited months ago. Yoongi’s nephew is fine—

 “I told my mom you're my girlfriend.”

Well that's new. “Oh.”

“It was an accident but—”

“What’d she say?” You cut him off. 

Yoongi hesitates. Your voice doesn’t betray disdain or hope, only reluctant curiosity. If you set too many expectations he’ll clam up and avoid you for months like when he lost his virginity at a party freshman year. Yoongi shares on his terms and you listen.

“That it was about time I got my head out of my ass.”

You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Yoongi’s palm slick against your own betrays his nerves, the ghost of squeeze begs for some kind of reassurance he isn’t crazy. 

“Huh.” You exclaim to the ceiling. It’s not the worst idea. And its definitely not the first time you’ve entertained it.

He lets you go the second you tug on your connected hands, anticipating swift rejection that leaves you feeling sour. But you’re rolling into his chest, the now free hand protecting his sternum from the dig of your chin so you can stare him down until he finally blinks your way. You won’t let Yoongi wiggle away from this ten year overdue conversation.

“Is that what you want?”

The answer is clear in his eyes. Yoongi’s mouth rounds over the words to tell you, floundering silently because he’ll admit he isn’t good at things like this. But if it’s worth it to him then you need to hear him say it. 

Rising up, you sit bare in his lap while he works through his nerves. Finally, when your hand cups his cheek and his eyes sink closed, leaning into the warmth, he tells you.

“That’s what I want.”

Your nose wrinkles with a shy smile. “Kinda cliche.”

Yoongi snorts when you kiss him but melts the cold facade swiftly.

“Yeah well,” he huff. “So is losing your virginity to your prom date but let's not talk about that.” Yoongi may spit the words but his hands, gentle where they trace the curve of your sides, betray his euphoria.

“We can talk about that too if you want.” You whisper into his jaw, lips prickling from the shadow growing there. “Prom me probably would have let you fuck her.”

“Yeah?”

You choke on a laugh at the pleased shock on his face. “Yeah, but not after that black eye came in.”

“Cheap fucking shot.” He grumbles under his breath, but you’re already there kissing the words from his lips. Yoongi indulges, melting further into the bed when his tongue timidly slips along yours. After you dip away to press more languid pecks where his cheeks round, he speaks again.  “If I asked you out then what would you have said?”

“Well the only reason I said yes to whats-his-fuck was because someone else was too stubborn to ask me himself.” You hum in his ear. “Does that answer your question?” 

You're on your back in a flash, pinned under your boyfriend who smiles as you flounder and fail to push him off. 

“You need to be nicer to me,” he grunts when you knock out his arms and collapse his chest to yours.

“If you wanted someone nicer, then you had years to figure that out.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[rinadragomir]

[Edit today we know that more than 100 are dead, including children, oh and it took police an hour to do sth, great!]

In case you don't know yet, hundreds of people were in a famous concert hall with their children when terrorists entered the building, killed security, went on a fucking stage and started to shoot at people. They threw grenades, set fire to the building. And it basically happened in Moscow.

At least 60 people died, more than 140 people are injured. One child died for now and lots of kids are still in the hospital with severe damage. We still don't know the exact numbers.

And it turns out that our government and some other kinda knew about some planning attacks. Which is absolutely great and cool and awesome.

Armed people are walking on city streets and nobody cares, they would certainly care if they saw a rainbow sign on someone, cause it's an absolutely valid reason to send special forces on them. But armed people? What harm might they cause

Goodnight indeed. My family and friends are safe, but we don't feel safe anymore.

[hysteria-things]

U SHOULD MAKE A SMUT W CHRIS OR MATT INSPIRED BY THE SONG CARNIVAL BY KANYE AND CARTIII

bonus!

CARNIVAL

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s always a fun time at the carnival, but what happens when you and your boyfriend have a little too much fun at the top of the ferris wheel?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, oral (male receiving), p in v, spit kink, choking, finger sucking, public sex

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,058

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i sincerely apologize if this sucks i struggled so hard on it for no reason😃

ib: @guccifrog you can check theirs out here :)

the giant teddy bear that chris won for you is held tightly under your arm. it’s almost as big as you for christ sake. usually, the carnival would freak you out because of the clowns and loads of people, but tonight was going rather smoothly.

he pointed to the ferris wheel, his hand gripping yours that isn’t holding a stuffed animal. “let’s do that.”

you groan. “chris, you know i don’t like heights.”

in boyfriend fashion, he ignores you and drags you to the growing line for the ferris wheel. you sigh, getting jittery as chris smiles like a fool beside you.

waiting very (im)patiently, it’s your guy’s turn to get on. you go first and he sits next to you, the worker locking the door and making sure the two of you are sealed in.

slowly, the ride starts going up, your heart becoming faster the closer it gets to the tippy top. this isn’t some small ferris wheel, it’s one of those big ones that are scary.

with your luck, you guys stop abruptly at the very top. the rocking of the passenger car doesn’t help with your jitteriness.

although, the view is breathtaking. people from below look like aunts as they walk around the concrete and grass. the stars and moon shine just above your head, mixing in with the rainbow flickering lights illuminating from the carnival rides.

voices and laughter flow around the air, and the sound of the carnival helps you relax. having fun with your boyfriend is the key for tonight, not getting anxious over a silly ride.

he admires the way you look right now, staring in awe at the action happening at all angles. scanning your body, he can’t help but think how good of an opportunity this is; being that nobody can see you.

you’re surprised when his lips press firmly on yours, moving in sync like he’s starving for your taste. you don’t stop him. instead, you pull him closer by the face.

both of your tongues swirl in each other’s mouths, saliva quickly coating your lips. moaning at the feeling, he pulls his head away to breathe. some spit is smeared on your chin.

he smirks. “get on your knees for me.”

your teeth are caught between your bottom lip with excitement, happily seating yourself on the ground. chris’ boner peeks through his pants. “well don’t just stare at it.” he mumbles, rolling his eyes.

you pull down his pants and underwear in one go, the way his dick springs out has your mouth watering for more.

starting to move your head to his tip, he grabs your hair to stop you. “spit.” he demands, and you look at him through your eyelashes.

you listen, spitting on him as he groans. “fuck yeah.”

he moves your head down his dick, gagging the further you go. once you’ve fit it in your mouth, he lets go and lets you bob your head.

each time you reach his tip, you smear more of your saliva to drive him insane. it’s sloppy, but it turns you on either way.

his chest heaves, groaning lowly when his dick twitches inside of your throat. the choking and gulping noises have him chuckling. “i’m— shit.” he pauses, rutting his hips upward. “i’m g-gonna cum down your throat, ma. you’d like that, yeah?”

you hum, the vibration shooting through his cock. he grabs your head once again and forces you to stay there when he cums. he bobs your head a little more to make sure you swallow all of it before pushing you so your lips aren’t around him anymore.

you waste no time to stumble to your feet, pulling down your bottoms until they’re in a pile with chris’. he cocks a brow at this.

straddling his lap, you align yourself with him while looking into his eyes with lust. “you have to be quiet. there’s still people on the ride, you know.” he teases, grabbing your hips to pull you down.

you moan loudly at the way he fills you, and he grabs your throat which causes you to stop immediately. “what did i just say?”

you pout, grinding your hips in desperation. “god.” he whispers, pulling you in to kiss you open-mouthed. you whine into the kiss, messily moving your lips on his as if this is the last kiss you’ll ever have.

“open your mouth.” he whispers against them, and you obey. “wider,” he says through gritted teeth, opening open as wide as you can go.

he spits on your tongue, shoving two fingers into your mouth, the three other ones still wrapped around your throat.

your hips now bounce up and down on his dick, rolling your eyes back at how fucking great it feels. your moans are muffled around his fingers, drool making a mess on his digits and the sides of your lips.

it doesn’t take long for his tip to reach your g-spot which has you moving at a more rapid speed.

he removes his fingers and drags them on your bottom lip, looking at how well you take him. either whimpers or high-pitched moans leave you. it gets so bad that chris now has to put his hand over your mouth. “shut up.”

“i-it feels so fucking good!” you whine in his hand. “cu-umming soon.”

because his hand covers your sounds more, you moan as loud as you can once your body starts to shake.

the whole upper half of your body leans back, chris having to hold you so you don’t fall.

he waits until you cum all over his cock to release inside you, slowing down the movements of your hips when he does so.

you collapse on his chest, but it doesn’t last long when the ferris wheel finally starts to move. in all honesty, you forgot you were still on the ride.

the both of you curse, gathering your clothes before the ride reaches the bottom.

when it does, the worker gives you a weird look before opening the door. you grab the bear that you placed across from you guys and walk down the ramp that leads to the ground.

you guys still look dazed, but try your best to hide it.

people may or may not have heard you, but one person saw you…

that poor teddy bear.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon @elliesturniolo1

[leeknowsnot]

kinktober — the god of love (minho)

genre: smut (minors dni), fluff

content: minho x reader, god of love minho au, reader is a hopeless romantic because i am too, greek god themes, he is eros the god of love, modernized greek gods, body worship, vanilla, just pure love, mature themes, mention of p-rn

oh my god, this is my first smut on this page. i hope i did okay though, it's been a long while since i wrote smut. anyway, i'll try starting on the others soon! read at your own risk

kinktober masterlist

Piles of paperwork laid before him. His eyes scrutinized every paper, dreading the sight of the amount of work he'd have to do. What was he doing here anyway? Right. He was called in for some extra work because the amount of stuff that the employees under him had to do was overwhelming.

Piles and piles of paperwork. "Over what?" his colleague would ask him and he would roll his eyes.

"Some dumbass woman who can't stop falling in love and getting heartbroken over every goddamn man," he would complain.

For Minho, being the God of Love wasn't all arrows and rainbows. Oh look, a girl crushing on a guy. Let's shoot an arrow to his chest so he could fall in love with her too! No. He wasn't highschool cupid. It wasn't as easy as that, unlike what most people would actually think. If he was going to be honest, there wasn't much field work to begin with. The only field work he'd do is to sit on his chair, observing people as they fall in love with each other, only to deal with multiple paperwork as soon as couples start falling out and breaking up with each other. He hated how people treated love as if it was something so dispensable. Like a one-time thing. Well, mostly because it gave him so much work to deal with.

And you, on the other hand, was one of those types that he hated the most: a hopeless romantic. He never really believed in hoping for love despite being the God of Love himself. Stop falling in love multiple times in a year. He always wanted to drill that into your brain each time he'd come down from HQ to observe you and your stupid attempts at pursuing whoever you were onto at the moment. He would lie if he said he never cringed everytime you'd blush at the smallest things. He was annoyed at how you always fell so hard over the bare minimum.

He types away angrily at his keyboard, cursing under his breath. "12th time this fucking year. I swear, if that shithead falls in love with the wrong guy again, I'm gonna shoot myself."

His fingers stop typing, eyes staring into the screen as his eyebrows rest on a permanent scowl on his face. He stared at your image through the documents, analyzing every feature on your face. He wouldn't deny the fact that you were attractive in a way, which made him wonder for a moment why you'd always fail at your attempts on finding love.

Minho sighs, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before he stands up from his seat. "Better pay her a short visit. I need some amusement after all that headache she's been giving me," he mutters to himself.

...

Minho sat there, eyebrows raised. You weren't the type to wear revealing dresses and yet here you were, a scissor away from being practically naked. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating since you only opted to expose your shoulders but you never really showed much skin before. Each time Minho would drop by secretly to observe you during your dates to see if they'd finally succeed, you were either wearing cute floral dresses, or anything that was wholesome. But then again, he had to remind himself where he had to go just to check on you.

A nightclub.

In all honesty, some shoulderless blouse was just the tip of the iceberg compared to how the others dressed. Some were practically naked but Minho didn't pay much attention to them. His eyes were focused on eyeing you at the other side of the room, through grinding bodies.

Though, his gaze on your faltered as soon as a woman sat beside him, brushing her arm on his that was rested on top of the counter. "Hey there, pretty boy," the woman winked at him.

Minho wanted to puke then and there and his expression said it all. He eyed the woman from head to toe, immediately disgusted at her mere presence. He brought his eyes back to you but as soon as he did so, he saw you swaying by the dancefloor with some guy.

Now, Minho wasn't the type to be fazed by such a sight, but the way the man roamed his hands around your torso and attempted to grind his hips towards yours slightly annoyed Minho. Especially with how your face would contort and twitch in discomfort. You were trying your best to hide it and make light of the situation but Minho knew better than to not notice.

He stood up from his seat, tossing all reasoning aside and decided to pull you out of whatever shit you had gotten yourself into just so you could get yourself a lover. "To hell with that," he thought. You were looking for love at the wrong place. The worst place, in fact.

As soon as he arrived at your spot, he grabbed your wrist, earning a surprised yelp from you. He didn't look at you but at the man who was already 5 seconds away from zipping off his pants. Minho was glaring. "Keep your hands and your dick to yourself, yeah?" he tells off the man, earning himself a drunk response but all noise had been shut out and the fucks he could give was thrown out the window the moment he turned to you. "What were you trying to get yourself into, you idiot?"

Minho forgot that he was the only one who knew you like the back of his hand at this point. He was basically a stranger to you. But as he looked into your eyes, you lost yourself in them. His voice came out as muffled due to the trance you were in from the alcohol you just had earlier. And Minho noticed this so he snapped into your face but to no avail.

He dragged you out of the club and you could swear the door that was supposed to lead outside the streets led to somewhere else when Minho opened it but you decided that it was your mind and the alcohol playing its tricks on you. Minho brought you to his office through the club's door—an ability that always proved to be handy. He made you sit on his couch, giving you a glass of water.

"Drink that. It'll help with the hangover," he says. He never had hangover before since human liquor never really had much of an effect for him and the other Gods but he saw how bad humans had it each time they'd have hangovers. "How many glasses did you have anyway," he mumbles under his breath, not particularly expecting you to hear or respond.

His hand bring itself up to your face as he holds a towel, wiping off your sweat. "You suck at taking care of yourself. You always put those idiots first before yourself, that's why you're always getting rejected," he mumbles again, an annoyed expression now on his face. However, his expression turns into confusion as soon as he sees you squint your eyes at him.

"You... look familiar," you say, a hiccup following your sentence as you try your best to dig your memories through your drunken stupor.

Minho shakes his head. "Don't be ridiculous. No one looks like me," he says but you suck air between your teeth.

"No, I swear I've seen you somewhere," you dazingly tapped on your temple before your eyes widen in realization and you point at him. "Oh, I remember now! I see you a lot of times whenever I..." you trail off your sentence. You gasp. "You're always around whenever I meet guys for dates! Are you perhaps, my stalker?"

This earned you a light slap on the forehead from Minho.

"You didn't have to hit my head!" you pouted at him.

"Stop pouting, you look ugly," he says as he removes your shoes. "I wasn't stalking you."

You squint your eyes again at him. Both at his answer and as to why he was removing your shoes. "Then what were you doing? And what are you doing?"

Minho glances up at you with a look of disbelief. "Removing your shoes, if that's not obvious enough," he turns back to removing your other shoe. "I thought you were dumb only with love. You're dumb with telling actions too."

You frown, "Why are you even removing my shoes?! Put them back on??"

"For the record, you are not Cinderella. And you'd rather I let you get blisters? Why did you even wear heels? You never wore heels," he whispers the last part. You blink.

"You are my stalker," you gasp, earning another glare from Minho.

As he finished removing your shoes, he plops himself back down beside you. "I was observing you," he says, answering your question.

"Yeah, you were stalking me," you butt in.

"Stalking is different from observing. Get your facts right," he argues back.

'This man,' you thought to yourself as you look at him in disbelief. Though despite his sarcastic remarks, you could feel as if you knew him for a long time already. Or maybe because you'd see him a lot everywhere. You always thought it was coincidence.

"Why were you observing me?" you ask him.

Minho sighs, rubbing his face with a hand as he looks at you, probably being annoyed at how much you were asking him. "Entertainment. Your idiocy amuses me," he sarcastically replies.

You were speechless.

First, this man ruins your date. Your chances of getting laid tonight. You didn't mind if it was drunk sex, as long as it was sex, that was how hopeless you were. Second, he denies being your stalker. Third, he was mocking your poor taste in men and bad luck in love. And lastly, he was telling you that you were basically a no go because you were an idiot.

"I can't believe this," you scoff under your breath. "You ruined my chances for... this."

Minho raises an eyebrow at you. "Chances at what."

You roll your eyes at him. "Getting laid."

Minho stares at you for a while before sighing. You were such a piece of work. On second thought, he'd rather deal with paperwork than your attitude. He shakes his head in hopelessness, eyes still at you.

"You were going to settle with drunk sex?" he asked with a tone of as-a-matter-of-fact. When you nodded, he chuckled in disbelief.

"Well, what do you want me to do then?" you snapped your head at him. "I always fail at romance. I try to establish wholesome relationships but they... They just fail. And this..." you pause. "It may not be the best option, but it's my only chance of actually getting a guy."

Minho was amused at how emotional you were getting. He could see the tears forming in your eyes as you explain. Sure, Minho was getting frustrated over this ordeal, but you were too and he just realized that. If he was getting annoyed over paperwork, then it meant people were hurting too. You were hurting too.

For some reason, Minho disliked that idea. For the longest time, he'd see the brightest smiles on your face each time you fell in love or experienced something akin to love. He thought it was only for work that he'd come down to observe you each time you go on dates. But in truth, he liked seeing you smile. He didn't know how or when it started. He just... liked to see your face brighten up.

Maybe he wasn't annoyed at you because you always fell in love and get broken and give him more paperwork. Maybe he was annoyed at the fact that people kept on hurting you. He was annoyed at the fact that guys always took advantage of your love. He was annoyed at the fact that you always gave it your all to guys who didn't deserve any of your love. He was annoyed at himself for seeing it otherwise.

Minho chuckles, more at himself than at you. "That's such a sad excuse to find love, it's pathetic."

You turned your head towards him, about to retort but you shut yourself up as soon as he brought his face close to yours. Your eyes widened. "What—"

"You're pathetic," he mumbles. "I can't believe you're going to settle with just that." Then, he closes the gap between you two. His lips touched yours momentarily, brushing like a feather before diving deep. For a second, it was as if your world stopped. You may have had failed attempts at love but that doesn't mean you never had kisses. Though, most of them were empty. In fact, you've had too many kisses to the point that you had to think to yourself if you'll only get kisses for the rest of your life.

But this. This was... You couldn't put the right words. No, that was the perfect word for it. Right. It felt so... right.

The kiss felt too short as soon as he pulled away, eyes staring into yours. You could swear you could see the whole universe in them. You barely talked to this man for more than an hour and yet you feel like you've known him forever.

Minho's eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. He has always seen you. How you look. How you dressed. How you spoke. But he has never seen you this close. And now that he has, it was as if he was looking at Zeus' finest piece of art. Your beauty held more charm than Aphrodite herself. Hell, you'd start more wars than Helen of Troy ever did with that pretty little face of yours.

He parts his lips, his warm breath adding fuel to the warmth that had now spread on your blushing face. "In all of my decades, observing your kind and mine," he pauses. "I have never met anyone as beautiful as you."

"I wonder which God sculpted you," he mutters under his breath, eyes bearing themselves into yours. "Those eyes. They're like Narcissus. I could get lost just by staring at them."

He placed another kiss on your lips, this time much softer than the last.

"Those men are fools," he says. "They could never see true beauty. Beauty that has so willingly presented itself before them."

It was as if he had fallen right then and there. The irony of being the God of Love was that he barely fell in love himself. But when he does, he falls deep. Turns into such poet. Just as how he was letting himself become vulnerable before you.

He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, intertwining them like perfect pieces of a puzzle. You were entranced. You didn't know how or why. But the way his hand would graze on your skin felt like electricity. The good kind where the hair on your back would stand each time you'd feel warm air breeze through while you are cold. Like goosebumps.

You wondered if there was something in that water that he had given you earlier. Aphrodisiac? No. There was nothing in there. And yet you felt so entranced. So pulled in. So dazed. You had never felt this feeling before from your past lovers. Then again, were those even love? Or just infatuation? Was it the true definition of love, or was this the true definition of love? Maybe it was just the effect of having the God of Love himself being so close to you. But you were none the wiser of his identity as a God. And yet he pulled you in like gravity.

His lips placed a chaste kiss on your lips once more, gradually travelling towards your cheek, your jawline, and your neck. They were slow yet passionate. His hands ran up your arms, holding your shoulder as he carefully lays you on the couch so you'd feel comfortable.

Minho looks at you once more. "Will you let me show you what love is?" he asks with a quiet tone. You stare at him for a short while, with him still placing soft kisses on your neck as he waits for your response. Eventually, you nod.

He hums quietly in satisfaction. "Just follow my lead," he says.

You don't know what happened after that. You only remember his occasional glances. His chaste kisses on your skin. His hands caressing everywhere they could land on, memorizing your every curve. You only remember laying there, naked.

His gaze on you never faltered. His eyes memorized every feature, taking in every imperfection that you had. As a God, he was but used to seeing only the perfect complexions. But with your body, the imperfections were what made you more beautiful in his eyes.

Minho leans down towards you, brushing the back of his fingers on your cheek softly. He held you as if you were porcelain. No rough movements. No raspy caresses. "Stop looking for love," he muses. "Because love himself is presenting itself to you." He takes your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles. "Love itself is yours to take."

You part your lips with a soft gasp. No one, not even one man has ever told you such words. No one, not even one man has ever seen you this naked. No one, not even one man has ever held you as much as this man did. And he was worshipping you with both his words, his kisses, and his touches.

His hand pulled you closer for another kiss before caressing down your body, eventually resting itself on your thigh. His thumb brushes on your skin before travelling towards your inner thigh. His finger lingers too close to your core. Not touching, but you could feel it. Minho smiles at your reaction, chuckling as he finally runs a digit through your folds.

You lightly gasp, biting your lower lip to immediately stop yourself from letting out a sound. He looks up at you, amused by your sensitivity. You couldn't blame him. After all, you were a virgin. Both by touch and by intercourse. He could immediately tell as he continued running his finger through your heat, dragging through every slick as a string of your love juice connects your nub and the tip of his finger with every slow stroke. He traces small circles around your clit, earning a shivery hum from you as you cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

You hated how slow he was teasing you. Minho, however, was loving every second of it. How red your cheeks were right now. How half-lidded your eyes were. How wet you already were with just a few kisses and a few strokes.

He leans towards your chest, taking out his tongue to gently brush on one of your nipples, making you twitch. "You're quite easy to please," he mutters as he flicks his tongue and sucks lightly on your nipple. "But then again... You are a virgin."

This made your eyes widen. You tilted your head to the side, covering your face with embarrassment. You hear Minho chuckle before he takes your wrists, removing your hands from your face. "Shhh, it's okay." he whispers in your ear. He places a quiet kiss on your ear lobe. He faces you again. "At least you didn't get to experience how horrible and selfish those men are when it comes to making love."

His smile falters. "No. They don't call it making love, do they?" his eyes trail down to your stomach, bringing himself down so he could place kisses and kitten licks on your skin. "I believe most of them like calling it casual sex."

"Bastards," he curses under his breath before lowering himself again, this time being face-to-face with your heat. You embarrassingly closed your legs, momentarily making him react as your thighs envelope his head. He looks up at you with an amused smirk. "Guess you're into that, huh?" he mumbles with a husky tone before finally leaning in.

You could swear you momentarily saw stars as soon as his warm, wet tongue ran through your folds. His breath would always exhale each time he would swirl his tongue around your clit, slurping occasionally from his makeshift chalice.

You were sweeter than ambrosia and nectar, and he couldn't have enough. You were a walking cardinal sin, ready to prey on a God, to tempt him to indulge in such temptation. And that God was him. Except that you weren't tempting him, but it was him who willingly walked into your trap without any provocation.

The God of Love, enchanted by a human being. By you.

As his sucks and licks increased their pace, so did your stiffled moans. "Don't keep your moans to yourself," he says. "I'd love some good music." He stuck his tongue inside of you, exploring every crevice of your walls as much as he could while his teeth would occasionally scrape lightly through your clit. When you finally moan out loud unintentionally, he smiles. "That's it. Let me hear your pretty voice."

Every second that he spent worshipping you with his tongue brought you closer to something. You were already way past from what you used to consider as climax from your self-ministrations but this was something else. Something higher. Something more pleasurable.

You subconsciously grabbed his head, pulling his head closer. Minho's eyes widen a bit, surprised at your action but complies anyway. He smirks, tongue lapping you up faster as his mouth starts making the most sinful sounds as he sucks you in his mouth. He holds both your legs, determined to make you see a taste of heaven just as much as how he was tasting his own version of heaven through you.

As he gives you a long, dragging suck with the swirling of his tongue on your clit, it finally brings you to the edge. Your eyes shut tight, mouth hung open, and back arched as you cry out in pleasure. Your legs shake as they attempt to wiggle out from his grasps but his hold was strong, keeping you in place as he continues to suck on you, giving you overstimulation as you ride your first high.

He eventually lets you recover as you pant, now hovering above you as he licks away the remaining juices off his lips as if it was syrup. His eyes observe you, loving how helpless you looked as you tried to catch your breath from just a single climax, and just with a simple oral too. Minho brushes off a stray hair off your face, tucking it behind your ear as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"Well?" he asks. "It's good, isn't it?" You were too out of it to even answer. No one could blame you, the first orgasm—whether it was oral or not—was always the most mind-blowing. Too mind-blowing it turned you speechless in a matter of minutes. "That guy you were dancing with wouldn't even give a single fuck whether you'd cum or not," he says. "He'd only want to put his sad excuse of a dick inside that pretty little mouth and call it a day."

Minho places a soft kiss on your lips. "Human men won't care for you as much as Love himself would," he pauses. "Because they do not know love. They only know Lust."

He gently opens your legs, zipping down his own pants in the process. "Let me make love to you," Minho says, caressing your thighs as he raises them. He places kisses on your legs. When you finally recover from your trance, you glance at him. He was now as naked as you were but you could swear you were laying your eyes upon a God. And you really were.

He was perfect regardless wherever you would lay your eyes upon. Especially his arms. God, his arms were like nothing you have ever seen and yet they held you with such care. He could flail you around like a ragdoll, just like what most men would do in those porn videos you'd watch each time you felt a little lonely. But no, he held you as if you were a priceless vase. He'd trace your body as if it was some rare artwork to revel on at a museum. He'd draw you in his head like you were one of his French girls. Except that he didn't have any of those. You were the only girl that made a significance within his eyes.

You finally gave in, tossing all reason aside. If this was going to be your final chance at love, you prayed. Then you might as well let it happen.

Your tongues danced within a kiss, intertwining with each other both emotionally and physically. He clung unto you and you clung unto him, bodies pressing into each other as your sweat would momentarily stick each time Minho would close the proximity between you two. His thrusts started as slow yet passionate strokes, your velvety walls hugging around him as you moan in between gaps of your sloppy kisses. His hand caresses your waist, resting by your hips as he grips them only to pull you back towards him so you'd meet his thrusts.

He wasn't ruthless. He wasn't in a rush. He wasn't destroying you. And just like he said, he wasn't just giving you sex. He was making love with you. His slow thrust eventually increase its pace, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix at each thrust. The sinful sound of skins slapping fill the walls of his office, mixed in by both your moans. He would always place wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and latch his lips on your nipple, never having enough of you as he drives deeper and deeper into you.

If he could, he would bury himself into you. Get lost in pleasure with you. Stay inside you. If it meant showing you what love really was, he would do it. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body and his as your moans encouraged him to go even deeper. He couldn't get enough of the way you looked at him. How your lips would mouth incoherent words as he continues to savor the feeling of being inside you.

Soon enough, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing and ragged gasps. You wrap your arms around Minho's neck, pulling him closer as you yourself get closer to your own climax once more. He could feel you slowly tightening around him, a smirk finding its way on his lips.

"Cumming again?" he whispers, quiet groans lacing his question in between as he starts to thrust into you at a faster pace. You nod absentmindedly, eyes shut tight as you arch your back once more. He raises your legs, gaining more access to thrust deeper. "Deeper," he mumbles. "A little more."

With each thrust, his cock reached deeper depths that you didn't know were reachable. It sent you on edge. With his one final thrust, he finally hits that button needed for you to snap, making you moan out loud. The way you suddenly clenched around him as he was buried deep inside you made him reach his own climax as well, painting your walls with his own release. "Cumming cumming cumming!" you mutter, hands gripping on his arms as his groans muffle themselves in your neck.

You both laid there, gasping for air in each other's arms, savoring each other's warmth before Minho finally raises his head from your neck and looks at you. His face held the most loving and softest expression. He was smiling at your dazed state.

He places a kiss on your forehead. On your nose. And on your lips before looking into your half-lidded eyes. "I'll be back soon," he says. He said something else after that but you were too exhausted to even remember as your eyes finally closed, sending you into a state of rest.

...

You awoke with a jolt as you shot up from your bed, eyes open wide as you pant. You glanced around, immediately recognizing your surroundings as your bedroom. You frown to yourself, glancing down beneath the blanket.

What the hell happened? you asked yourself. You weren't exactly sure. You remembered being in a bar to meet up with that tinder date you have been crushing on since last week but after that, you passed out—probably from alcohol and now here you were, confused.

You wondered how you got home in the first place.

And that dream, you sighed to yourself, feeling your core wet from whatever dream you had. You shook your head, a palm running through your face as you groan in frustration.

"I can't believe I was so desperate to the point I'd dream of making love with someone," you roll your eyes at yourself as you throw yourself back on the bed again. This time, hugging your pillow and your curiosity piqued at your dream. "Whoever that guy was in my dream was really attractive though," you mutter to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho observed you through the window of your room from far a way, chuckling. He observes your pretty features first before finally turning around.

He'll remain in your dreams for now. After all, that was how Greek Gods would visit their human love affairs—through dreams. Though this time, he'd visit your dreams frequently.

Maybe because he wants less paperwork from you. Maybe because he wants you to pine for him more than the men you'd meet.

Eitherway, he can't wait until he visits you the next time you close your eyes again.

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

☽ Bokuto / Fem Reader

⇢ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+;

⇢ Warnings; oral sex (blow jobs/pussy eating), car sex, riding, small amount of anal play, mating press, kissing, praising

Koutarou who is the sweetest man alive. Who you’re unconditionally in love with, but…is an airhead. I.e., he loses his phone all the time and often forgets plans he’s already made. Who somehow drops his wallet down a hole at the top of a parking garage that’s 30 feet deep while planking but miraculously finds it lying on a car below?? Who you’ll always help find his shit either way.

Koutarou who enjoys wearing a variety of colors and whose wardrobe resembles a rainbow. Whose favorite color is baby blue. Who once got his face painted with a rainbow on it at the fair and looked so cute you couldn’t help but blush.

Koutarou who practically vibrates with excitement when he spots you watching his games from the stands. Who smiles so broadly you fear his cheeks may split. Who waves at you in the middle of a play and runs into the net by accident.

Koutarou who turns a sweet shade of pink when you wear his jersey to the game. Who picks you up in a sweaty bear hug and squishes the air out of your lungs after the match is over. Who chatters excitedly in your ear as he carries you a few feet and who only sets you down when Hinata rescues you by reminding him they have to go change.

Koutarou who gets into certain self-deprecating moods sometimes but lets you help him feel better. You let him talk it out and spending as much time with him as he needs. You whisper words of support and encouragement as you poke the dimples on his cheeks, which gets him to giggle and smile almost every time.

Koutarou who likes listening to hip hop, and surprisingly, hair metal. Who loves singing in the car and has an astonishingly beautiful singing voice. You love watching him as he drives. He gets so into the music, wiggling in his seat and singing to you. Who loves Paramore because you showed them to him.

Koutarou who takes up half your bed when he sleeps. Who is so fucking tall and thick. You love it, using him as your own personal blanket. Who does get super sweaty in the middle of the night, which forces you to roll away so you don’t melt to death.

Koutarou who absolutely loves holding your hand. Who laces his warm fingers through yours and tugs you in every direction no matter where you are. Who leans in so close to speak that you can see his snowy eyelashes. Who never fails to make you flush white hot when he looks at you with stars in his eyes.

Koutarou who is always the life of the party. Everyone loves the fucking ace, he just radiates positive and happy energy. Who has people drawn to him as if they’re moths to a flame. Who has a revolving door of people that want to speak with him. You don’t mind, he comes home with you a night either way.

Koutarou who introduces you to Kuroo. Who he has remained friends with after high school. Kuroo is a sly bastard who you’ve grown quite fond of and have become close friends with. You instantly clicked over your combined efforts to tease Bo.

Koutarou who loves taking hot showers with you. Who likes to hug you under the warm spray and allow it to relax both of you. Who talks about his day and asks you about yours. If you end up on your knees sometimes that’s neither here nor there.

Koutarou who is stupid hot when his hair is down. When the soft strands frame his cheeks you can’t help but stare at him until he asks if there’s something on his face. You tell him how amazing he looks, which makes him blush a rosy pink and drag you into his lap to make out.

Koutarou who beams at you when you call him by his last name. Don’t get him wrong, he enjoys when you call him Koutarou, but he can’t help the flash of heat that shoots between his legs when he hears your sweet voice calling him Bo.

Koutarou who loves you so wholeheartedly he may burst at the seams. Who is your best friend. Who you can be completely yourself with and who supports you in everything you do. You know in your bones that he’s your one and only. Who has been secretly planning on proposing to you for awhile and most definitely cries when you say yes.

Koutarou who is buff. Who is a great deal taller than you. Who is packed with muscle and his cock is, to say the least, thick. Who is just the right length that makes you feel as if you could take him multiple times over without hurting.

Koutarou who gets rock hard whenever you kiss his neck. Who gasps, whining and squirming underneath you when you sink your teeth into the muscle covering his pulse point. Who tilts his head to the side and melts when you leave hickies. Who tries his best to cover it up the next day but Miya Atsumu teases him at practice anyways.

Koutarou who only really curses during sex. Who is unable to stop the nasty words from leaving his mouth. You think it’s the biggest turn on when he can’t help but whimper a soft “fuck,” when he gets his dick inside you for the first thrust.

Koutarou who loves when you suck his cock. Who enjoys when you’re on your back and he straddles your chest. Who thrusts into your mouth from above and moans when you grip his ass to help him along. Who braces a hand against the wall, one hand in your hair as he watches his dick shine with your saliva as it repeatedly disappears between your lips.

Koutarou who likes to suffocate between your thighs. Who begs you to sit on his face and who grips your hips and forces you to rub your clit over his tongue. Who covers his finger in your slick and teases your rim until you cry out his name cum on his tongue.

Koutarou who was nervous when you suggested having sex in his car, but now he’s addicted. Who can’t do anything but hold your waist and whimper “yeah just like that pretty girl,” as you hold onto his shoulders. You use your feet and thighs to bounce on his cock in the drivers seat that’s been pushed all the way back.

Koutarou whose toes curl, cock twitching as his eyes either stayed glued to where your pussy sucks him in or the way your tits bounce in his face. You can’t help but tilt your head down to stare just the same.

Koutarou who whines high pitched and moans in your ear when he fucks you in missionary. Who folds you into a mating press and babbles about how good your pussy is. Who shivers as he tries to hold back from cumming too quickly. Who circles your clit and makes you squirt in this position.

Koutarou who sits back on his calves and grips your tits, fucking into you and curling his hips upwards to make you gasp and cry out his name. Who tells you how pretty you look underneath him and how much he loves when you cum on his cock.

Koutarou who almost cums instantly when you praise him for being so good at fucking you.

Koutarou who whispers how much he loves you and flushes pink when he starts to cum. Whose heart thumps wildly in his chest and who buries his face into your neck as he whines and fills you to the brim.

Koutarou who can never resist resting all his weight on you afterwards. Who snakes his arms underneath you and snuggles you tight as you both soak in the post orgasm glow. Who helps you clean up afterwards, and who gets you some water before you both take a nap or go to bed for the night.