#shy and Amber are getting big………. damn

[juniper-clan]

Moon 22: Thoughts, Dreams, Plots, Schemes

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Featuring @stitchwraith-stingers character as the AsterClan messenger!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

istg i check your blog religiously 😭 can i request ghost x reader that is rlly insecure of how she looks and bc shes so shy, so she never expected to be in a relationship bc she doesn't believe she ever rlly deserved that, and thinks that ghost will leave her eventually, so when he finds out he comforts her. so like angst to fluff

—Nervous Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

You sit at the bar and turn around your glass of Bourbon, the amber liquid sitting at the bottom as you blink at your reflection with slow eyes. It was late, but you were far from drunk—not even a light buzz was addling your brain with honied thoughts or actions. No, there would be none of that tonight. 

Not when the woman was still hanging off Simon’s arm like a bad rash. 

She was pretty, you admitted; beautiful, even. A sort of natural confidence and the looks to pair—ones that most people would go under a knife for without a second thought. Swallowing down saliva and not the alcohol, you tighten your lips and shove down the feeling in your throat. You shouldn’t be acting like this; you had no reason to. 

There was no doubt in Simon’s loyalty or intentions, but your insecurities still lingered. He’d tried to shove the lady off of him as soon as she’d showed up—growling a ‘piss off’ and a flash of his dark brown gaze. Anyone without a death wish would have darted away immediately; maybe fled the country to be safe. She’d instead taken up the seat next to him and was talking up a storm as his fingers tightened over the tabletop. 

Breathing out slowly, you try not to look at her, generally placid nature a large factor in your hesitation to come out to this place at all. 

Simon was…a lot, you knew. 

Big, scary; all around intimidating with his balaclava, hoodie, and jacket atop. Black gloves—he screamed serial killer except for the fact of his dog tags that clinked with every swivel of his head to you. 

But the allure to his character was what charmed a lot of people, especially in bars when the drinks started to do the talking.

Sometimes you wonder if it was only a matter of time before he found someone better. Better suited to his… demeanor.

Simon’s fingers tapped the table twice to try and get your attention, side-eyeing you with a blank expression of annoyance at the lady’s constant prattle in his ear. 

The woman loudly continues to talk about her ex-husband not a foot away from his face, trying to get into his pants unabashedly. Rage simmers deeply in his chest, but he won’t cause a scene—he can’t leave either. Not without you, and right now, you’re not even glancing at him. 

When you don’t look up at his tapping, a strange emotion sitting on your normally smiling and bright flesh, Simon goes stiff. His shoulders tighten as he stares; attention entirely on you at all times. He sees your sigh, your intentful staring at your reflection with the occasional darting to the woman’s pristine features. 

It puts something into immediate focus, and the Brit’s eyes go to slits. 

Just as you decide it would be better for you to be drunk, staring to bring your glass to your lips, Simon snaps out at your side.

“Bloody slag,” the bar pauses at the monotone but subsequently harsh words yet quickly picks back up again. “Would you fuckin’ shut your mouth? Bastard’s runnin’ more than your damn husband did.” You choke on your drink, pulling back to cough into your arm violently with a sputtering inhale.

While you catch your breath, wide-eyed staring from over your elbow, the woman gapes and blinks like a deer that had been shot through the ribcage; gasping out stuttered questions.

Simon, in a wave of deep anger, takes out his wallet and slams bills to the bartop, sliding off his stool before gliding past you—taking the meat of your arm and pulling you along. Gently, only the slightest pressure to make sure you don’t stumble as your feet meet the floor. 

In your stupor, you follow after quickly, allowing him to drop his grip. 

“S-Simon, what are you—?” When you’re outside, you’re instantaneously corralled down the side of the bar, latched onto, and lifted easily so you’re over one of the man’s shoulders. You yelp, your face burning like fire as your voice goes high-pitched. “Simon!” 

“Seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at yourself,” He grunts out, gritting his teeth as your hands dig into his spine for stability. But he knew just the right amount of force to keep you from falling. “What…? You think I’d give that old broad a good shag? Throw away the prize that I’ve got right in front of me?” 

A harsh scoff echoes out, and seconds later you’re plopped down onto the top of a stack of pallets, hands slapping beside your hips and a clothed face millimeters from your own. You suck in a gasp and stare, entranced by how the lights burst inside of Simon’s pupils as he towers over you, a wall of muscle and will.

“I-I didn’t…I don’t,” you stutter, mouth opening and closing. “I’m not…”

His eyes narrow, scrutinizing you down to your marrow. “Not what, then? Say it.”

There’s no getting out of this.

“Simon,” you see his lips thin through his mask and you sigh, looking away instantly from the shame that courses your bloodstream. To force the words out was a physical pain to you, a dent in your lifespan. Your skin burns and the sting of embarrassment comes into your eyes. 

“I’m not…pretty…” The man stills to near stone, eyes twitching a centimeter wider before they, too, halt all movement. “You shouldn’t have to be bothered every time someone better looking comes over because they don’t realize you’re seeing me—because they’d never think we’d be together. I…I don’t want you to think you’re weighed down by a…a…” 

You lose your train of thought, and the only word coming to mind is a sharp knife to your chest. You glare at this chest, at his tags as they swing, and clench your jaw, taking down shallow breaths from your nostrils. 

Simon utters the very word you dread in a tiny voice, accent deep, “...burden.” 

All you do is shakily nod as the minutes roll past—the shadows grow longer and the night colder. Simon stares and stares, chest pounding with a fast heart and a tight wind of bulk. 

His hands at your hips tighten into fists, grunting, “That’s the worst fuckin’ thing I’ve ‘ad to hear in ages.”

You blink away your unshed tears, darting your vision back up before a hand connects with your jaw and angles it up, balaclava shifted to his nose bridge as Simon pressed his lips to yours in a breath-stealing kiss. Opening your legs, he drags you forward by the small of your back and presses you to him with a growl, hearing your small mewl in answer. 

His grip is firm and all-consuming, as it always is, and his mouth gives the tinge of alcohol and conviction. Hand on the back of your skill, you shudder and sink into him as he presses deeply, dragging each other back and forth with gasps and smacking flesh. Your hands grasp at Simon’s shirt, trailing his abs as he moves back with a grunt and a lick at his red lips.

Saliva gets caught in the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m not leavin’ you unless I get my head blown to bloody bits,” he frowns, dead eyes darting up and down your blown eyes and panting breath. A flicker of a smirk dashes his expression. “So forget about it, Love.” 

Simon’s gaze flashes with a soft reassurance, humming under his breath before he leans in once more. 

“No one tastes like you do,” you drag him back into you as he mutters on your eager lips. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[caramelcleopatraa]

COGNAC QUEEN

word count: 1.9k

x: @heauxvibez asked someone to write something based off of Cognac Queen by Megan Thee Stallion (amazing song rec, I recommend you go stream the song) not proofread

content: 18+ mdni, Roman x Semeni (OC), dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), cuddle fuck, a lil bitta fluff at the end

I'm lookin' paid and pretty (yeah)

Hair hanging down to my back, huh

I put it on him last night (woo!)

He calling me back to back, hey (hey)

Semeni sat with her legs crossed in the spacious, dazzling condominium. The big window panels showcasing the beautiful city lights. While these two were in their own little world. Far from the public eye. 

Her neon hot pink dress adorned with long ruffles perfectly outlined her figure. His eyes stayed on her plump lips as she sipped the amber drink from her glass. Relishing in the savory taste and enjoying the atmosphere he set.

Drop me a pin where you at (at)

I'm gonna come 'round like a 'Lac (like a 'Lac)

I get in my 'Gac on that 'Gac ('Gac on that 'Gac)

He call me Megan the Mack (Megan the Mack)

“You okay? You’re a little quiet.” Roman sits next to her, filling the empty space like a puzzle piece and putting the bottle on the gray coffee table. “I’m fine, I'm just watching you.” Semeni was never shy when it came to how she felt about him. They weren't in a serious relationship, but they spent their free time with each other. They never assigned a label to their relationship. They were just friends, who took each other out to expensive restaurants, spoiled each other, and fuck occasionally. Nothing special. 

He raises his eyebrow in amusement and motions to himself in an up and down motion. “You been looking at all of this, huh?” She takes one final sip from her glass, emptying it and placing it on the small coffee table. Roman observes her movements slyly, watching her beautiful eyes blink as she sits the glass on the table, watching her body rise as she takes a deep breath. She was mesmerizing.

“Yeah I have, and I want all of it,” Semeni says, placing her hands on his chest, feeling him up through his black polo shirt. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter shut from the feeling of her hands on his body. “I love feeling your hands on my chest,” he says softly. “I know you do, but I know you want my hands somewhere else.” 

He looks at her brown, gentle eyes and says, “So put ‘em there.”

—-------------------------

“Damn baby, that feels so good.” His black dress trousers were rolled down to his thighs, leaning back on the expansive gray couch with his arms laying on either side of him. Meanwhile, Semeni is kneeling in front of him, between his thick legs, stroking his dick at a medium pace. 

“You feel good baby?” His small whimpers and heavy breaths contrasted his tough exterior.

“F-fuckk baby, stay right there on the tip.”

A thick wad of spit drips from her lips, landing on his sensitive mushroom tip. Her hands cup the tip, fastly bobbing her hand on his tip. God did he go wild. His head tilted back, letting the pleasure take over him.

“Y’wanna cum?” He pants and nods furiously, clutching onto the big couch cushions to stop himself from bucking his hips into her hand. “You know I wanna fuckin’ cum.” His head stays tilted back. He knew not to look in her eyes. If he did, then it was over for him. “Look at me, Roman,” she says, using her unoccupied hand to rub up and down his thigh. He laughs to himself at her request, knowing that she is trying to set him up. “I know what you’re trying to do, sweetheart.” She pouts to herself, surprised that he didn’t fall for her usual tactics. ‘Okay, let’s try again’ 

“Please look at me, daddy. I wanna see your eyes when you cum.” He lets out a deep throaty moan, still clutching onto the couch cushions. Her voice, her words, her hands, how good she was making him feel. Doing all of the right things to make him crazy. Which is why he can never get enough of her. And probably why he was looking into her captivating eyes now. Frozen and still, but somehow on fire. “There we go daddy, look me in my eyes when you cum,” She purrs, shifting from side to side, ignoring the overflowing pool of wetness forming in her shorts. 

She stuck out her tongue and held him at the base, tapping him against her tongue, but going back to his tip once again. There were no more passive grunts and groans, only melodic moans that filled their ears. Her eyes locked on his, as she put her hands behind her back, using her tongue to lick the underside of his dick before taking him in his mouth. “Oh shit~ I'm coming. Ohh fuckk-” His fingers weaved through Semeni’s brown hair, jerking his hips into her mouth. She moaned around his cock every time he met the back of her throat, swallowing every drop he gave her without complaint. “Damn, girl,” he pants out, taking his hand out of her hair. She tightens her lips around him, sucking him up one more time before she’s done. She wears a lopsided smirk on her face, watching him catch his breath. Pride surged through her. “My mouth felt that good, huh?” Roman lays down against the couch, shifting and positioning himself so that he is comfortable. “Need to take a nap big bo- “Get your ass up here and sit on my face.”

He know I only wanna

Come over put it on him

I got that woah-na-na-na

He drink that shit like water

She anchored herself by tightly grasping the dark gray couch. Singing out delicious moans. Letting him hungrily lick her up into oblivion. Staring into empty space as her eyes crossed numerous times, but focussing hard enough to see his wavy black hair spread out beneath her. Feeling his hands dig into her thighs, working his mouth in ways that make her cry out in pleasure. 

Now it was her time to become undone.

“Oooh- shit~ i’m close,” She pants, prompting to lick long bold stripes along her pussy, and sucking on her clit for a quick second. And he repeats. Creating a ferocious, unescapable cycle.

Her keens of pleasure and needy whining didn’t fall on deaf ears, only encouraging him to keep going. Humming into her pussy like he took the first bite of a delicious meal. She could feel her legs shaking against his face, despite the burly hands and arms wrapped around her legs to keep her in place. “Fuck- i’m finna cum on your face, daddy,” she says slurred, with flushed cheeks and half open eyes. Just as she finished her sentence, like clockwork, she came all over his face. Softly bucking her hips against his tongue, riding out the enormous wave with his tongue as her surfboard. Now she herself was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, breathing heavy on top of him. But she couldn’t get up, his arms were still wrapped around her thighs. “At least let me clean you up before fucking you into the mattress.”

Fall in love would be dangerous (yeah)

Fuck you like I've been dranking (uh)

Cognac on my blankets (yeah)

Real bitches don't fake it, ay, ay

They had ventured into almost every room in the condo. The living room, the game room, the balcony, and now the bedroom. Finding new positions in each room. Thank god there weren't many people that lived in the same building, he hated hearing her restrained and muffled moans under his hand. They laid in the bed, cuddling in the sheets, but nowhere near done. 

Her leg rested atom his hips, her arms wrapped around his neck, while he hid in the crook of hers. Placing those delicate kisses along her neck while pounding into her. She could barely see the other buildings out of the large windows on the balcony doors due to her blurry vision. But those distant buildings were her last thought. Her mind was clouded with the person who was holding her tight between the silk sheets.

Not a word had been said since they laid down in the bed, which was unusual for the two. But considering how needy they were, words didn't need to be said. They had been around each other long enough, tangled in one another long enough to know how each other feels. His low eyes as he tilted his head back and his faster paced thrusts. and her mouth agape, eyes rolled to the back of her head. Feeling the overwhelming waves of pleasure together as they nestled closer. Their chests rising and falling against each other, their heart beats loud as bass drums at highschool pep rallies. Yeah, nothing special.

You look good, you look good to me

Give me hug, it feel good to me

Hold me up, you too good to me

Cut 'em off, I know you would for me

Semeni opened one of the gray drawers, pulling out overnight clothes she had left the last time she stayed over. You know.. Just in case for situations like this. The bathroom had been hot and humid due to a long shower they took. But of course it wasn't just a shower, because he could never keep his hands to himself.

“You damn well live here by now,” He said, shirtless with loose gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and leaning on the door frame. “You say that like you’re so bothered with that.” She approaches him, her neck cranked to look up at him. “Nah, not bothered. I'm just surprised that you took over one of my drawers.”

“Is that a problem, Roman?” She knew that they were both playing, but there was a tinge of seriousness in her tone. “No, you know you’re welcome to treat this place as your own.” She turns her back to him and smiles, looking back at the drawer filled with her clothes. 

“You tell that to all of your other hoes?”

“You think I would have other women over here when you have a whole drawer to yourself?” She shrugs her shoulders and sits on the bed, pulling the comforter over her smooth legs. “Maybe I should be askin’ you that question.” She scoffs. “​​There’s no man you gotta worry about, cause I'm focused on the man in front of me.” She said the last part to herself. Not realizing that she may have said that a little louder than she intended to. Roman was intrigued to say the least. She was always upfront with whatever she wanted to say. So it was so interesting to see her flustered, mumbling secret words to herself about him. Her attention turned to him when he turned the light off in the bathroom, making his way to her. He laid on the bed next to her,letting the new cold silk sheets graze his skin. His hand reached out to grab her chin, stroking her face softly with his thumb. “And I'm worried about the goddess in front of me. You ain’t got nothing to worry about, mama. And if you ever doubt that, I'll prove to you that you’re the only one I'm focused on.”

Okay…. Maybe this is something special.

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

[johnnycakesswitch]

I have a few!

I feel like Soda and Pony just let out the most obnoxious burps after they’re finished eating and Darry HATES it because they’re so gross about it too

Darry always has to suppress himself from smiling Pony’s parent escher conferences because all his teachers say such good things about him and he’s proud of his brother

Additionally I feel like Pony has a few teachers he LOATHES and openly complains about and Darry’s just like “suck it up you’re gonna have them all year no sense in complaining” and he gets home from parent teacher conferences and he’s just like “I see why you hate them”

Soda hates being barefoot and would rather walk on hot rods with socks than the normal ground without them

Soda and Steve ransack the snack aisle at the DX except they always end up eating too much and suffer through being lethargic at work because of it

Soda would make those little macaroni signs for Pony at his track meets that say “go Ponyboy” and Pony loves it

Darry likes listening to shin brothers’ heartbeats and the sound of their breathing or whatever other internal noise because it assures him that they’re okay and he isn’t gonna lose them-he never outwardly admits it but when he’s positive they’re asleep he just rests his head on their stomachs and excuses it with “you moved in your sleep”

Pony is a wonderful baker actually

Mrs Curtis used to know how to play piano and taught Pony how to sing and Darry how to play piano. Pony doesn’t sing much anymore because he’s too shy and thinks it’s “not tuff” and to Darry it’s too painful. One time though after work he just started playing and honestly damn near cried. Pony maybe started singing along because it was a song he knew and they just sit in silence for a moment

Mrs Curtis was named Carolina but went by Lina :)

Soda’s eyes look like amber in the sunlight

That’s all!

Wait I’m crying over the idea of Darry going to school conferences, he would be SO proud to hear how well Pony is doing and would give him such a big hug at home and tell him how happy and proud he is. Pony would be like me as a child and the second Darry gets home he’s demanding to know exactly what the teachers said. And the first one is so real, they’re really just gross boys at their core 😭 and Soda would be one of those people who sleeps w socks on and Pony‘s just like alright… questionable behavior. Soda and Steve absolutely steal shit from the DX all the time, it’s a slow day and they’re bored, what else are they supposed to do besides gorge themselves in the break room on candy and soda? Darry is very suspicious when they come home and aren’t hungry for dinner after that. Soda making signs for Ponyboy is so ��� he’s the sweetest boy ever. I know you specifically said Darry but I can honestly see all three of them finding heartbeats comforting because like you said, it reminds them that the others are okay ☹️ piano playing and singing is real, I like to think too that Soda attempted to learn how to play the piano as a little kid but he would just cry because it was so boring to him and his mom was just like fuck it don’t learn how to play the piano 💀 I don’t have any name hcs for the Curtis parents but Carolina is a very pretty name. And yes Soda’s eyes are gorgeous in the sunlight, he’s just completely perfect

Thank you for these!

[ll7esxs]

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶ 𝐊𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 (yeah im a writer just wait for my exams to be done and i will be unstoppable🙏🏻yall will be spoiled)

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

IDC i see him as a twitch streamer if he isn't in the military

this dude is locked in in games that he played like no joke

"SHUT UP im not a hacker" that what he would see in his chat while playing shooting game and be winning everytime

i feel like his chat is sassy with him and like to tease him and provoke him but like hell he would care to them

he is that dude that has no idea how he got famous (it's clear)

THIS MAN WOULD STARE AT THE SCREEN BLANKLY IF HE GET THE BEST TWITCH STREAMER AWARD

then he would turn his head smoothly at his chat typing aggressively 'what the fuck! dude you won!!'

then he say "what is that suppose to mean..." trailing off looking at his chat STARING BLANKLY

and the next day he will keep streaming like nothing happened

he won't mod anyone in his chat not a single person idk why but i see him

and his chat be begging for it

"shut up Kicko_left_nipple im not gonna mod ya"

he is that kind that say "yeah ban this dude" "ban whoever said that" "let's get {user} banned on every social media to have ever existed back and forward" help this is caseoh coded

he would be pissed off if someone actually tricked him by some kind of moves in games and it turned out to be fake

lets get into emotions...

first off he would chuckle this dark and short one if the chat type something funny or bully him

like this man will just sit on his chair comfortably smirking at his chat slightly loving how some people got this nerve to bully him

or...write 'juicy' confessions...

like the first time happened to him he is eyes widened at this message in his chat saying how she want him to dominate the shit out of her till the morning and more and more

like he was playing peacefully and yapping with smile then his eyes falls on his chat and he wish he didn't

HIS SMILE DROPPED WITH WIDENED EYES looking at his chat especially the message "..."

and chat be typing 'WHAT IS WRONG WITH DUDE!' 'LMAO'

"....yeah good stream chat..."

and boom the stream turned off

then after he get famous he will get like a lot and will shrug them off not caring because this loser doesnt know how to reply to them

"so you're in yalls basements simping over me? ok good" he's not complaining

mf will get shocked if he gets one from boys bye

he is that type of gamer that if a sad scene showed up like everyone cried over it he would just look at his screen blankly not a single emotion showing

while his chat is crying

and when the sad scene ended he keep staring at his screen blankly then continue playing like nothing happened

oh lord i can imagine him looking so good with his clothes imagine the black top on him reflecting every damn muscle he has? drooling

his hand is so big while his face has these sharp features HELLO with his eyes skjdhflzsiudhgfiluseghl

fan fact kick has amber eyes fight me

with his black hair fight me (he's bald XD)

like this dude is so pretty but we cant see that enough

anyway heading to the emotions one will he get angry if he lose?

no but if the game is too hard for him he will complain so bad like

"NAH GET THIS GAME BANNED ON EVERY UNIVERSE WHAT IS THIS??" he said while pointing at his screen angrily

dont let this dude play elden ring oh no

unfortunately he did and played and this dude was pissed at the fact he lost with the same boss 23434 times

then he had enough as he lost for the 43439th time again

this dude would chuckle sarcastically "wow haha" then he would change his mood with anger as he hit his hard fist on the desk breaking the cam

"GOOD STREAM CHAT" he would yell

not gonna lie but he would block merrick and ghosts fellas like he feel embarrassed a bit and shy that his fellas see him gaining money from streaming :(

but since logan is a mute character he would forget abt him and he didn't block him so logan would tease him and suddenly appear in his chat with 'logan-walker' user typing and sayin yo and typing in his chat like he is on of his followers

KICK WOULD SWALLOW HIS THROAT AS HE SAW HIS USER AND CONTINUE PLAYING

"so...heading to the next mission yeah.."

LOGAN WOULD WATCH WITH A SMIRK

like he would think how this quite kid had an interest in these stuffs like him

would he show his gf?uhm..at first he wasnt sure tbh

once he decided to do some fun things trying to talk with strangers on omegle then he met a fan girl

"omg kick is that you??!" she would slightly scream as she saw him in front of her on her screen

"in the flesh" he would say simply with a smile resting on the back of his chair comfortably

"oh my god!! can we you know...f***?" remember we listen and we don't judge 🙏🏻

the fucker has the nerve to chuckle at her shamelessly

"nah sorry we can't i have a girlfriend" he would say still resting on his chair

THE GIRL WOULD BE SAD

would he simp over female characters? yeah like his fav mortal kombat character is sonya whenever she shows up he say "yeah step on me"

be cautious spicy down there

this mf would wear short sleeves top showing his muscle arms especially above the elbow...

he would be such an ass and groan as he show them pretending to be tired from gaming

hadn't any idea that he killed people by that

ok bye this got so long

―୨୧⋆ ˚ don't forget to join the discord server for cod ghosts fans!

https://discord.gg/25YpWJN4fk

[buriednurbckyrd]

Nothing Stays the Same Forever: Chapter 3

previous

She heard Maria laughing at something when she walked into their house the following evening.  There hadn’t been much waiting for her to work on even after staying home the previous day, but she ended up consumed with a complex pattern for the quilt she would sew for Baby Miller.  So she felt like a poor guest when she didn’t have time to make anything to contribute to the dinner.  

“Is that you Y/N?”  Her friend called from the kitchen.  “We’re all back here.”  She slipped off her coat and hung it up by the front door and went to greet them.  

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to bring anything tonight.”  She said awkwardly.  Maria just pulled her into a quick hug.  

“Don’t worry about it, just happy to have you here.”  Tommy threw an arm around her shoulders and handed her a glass with what looked like whiskey in it.  

“You will have to make one of your pies for next time though, I’ve been singing their praises to Joel since he got here.”  

“Oh!”  She felt the tips of her ears get hot.  “I guess we just have to see what’s in season, but I can do that.”  She took a swallow of the amber liquid and hoped the alcohol would give her a little more courage.  With the pleasant warmth in her belly she finally looked over at Joel and was startled to find him already watching her.  Despite herself, she found it nearly impossible to turn away from those deep, dark eyes of his.  He sipped at his own glass, still staring her down.  

“No Ellie tonight?”  Y/N asked, realizing the girl was nowhere to be seen.  

“Apparently we’re all old and boring,”  Maria told her.  “But she did seem to enjoy her visit yesterday.”  

“It was nice of her to stop in.  I told her she’s welcome any time.”  

“Finally broadening your social horizons?  I’m glad I sent her over there.”  Maria opened the oven and judged the roasted chicken to be finished cooking, pulling it to rest on the counter.

“Should tell Ellie to feel honored, Joel.  Y/N doesn’t invite anyone over.”  Tommy clapped his brother on the back and poured another splash into his glass.  “She’s a shy little violet.”  

“She thought I was afraid of her…”  Y/N mumbled.  “I just wanted her to feel welcome, that’s all.”  

“If Ellie wears out her welcome just boot her out the door.”  Joel told her.  “Girl will talk your damn ear off.”  She swallowed down the rest of her whiskey.

“I really don’t mind her company.  It might be nice to have some more visitors.”  Tommy laughed and nudged Joel with his elbow.  

“That sure sounds like an invitation to me, big brother.  If you don’t take this pretty lady up on that I’ll disown you.”  Y/N felt her face go from hot to cold and back to burning up.  

“I d-didn’t mean to suggest…”  She stuttered.  

“Tommy, stop picking on the poor girl.”  Maria punched her husband’s arm lightly.  Joel threw back the last of his own drink.  Y/N watched his throat constrict as he swallowed.  

“Might not be a bad idea to check out your place if Ellie’s gonna be spending time there.”  He said.  “Make sure you’re a good influence.”  Y/N wrung her hands together in a self soothing gesture, wishing she was any good at these types of interactions.  Was Joel being serious?  Was he teasing her like Tommy liked to?  Or, and she highly doubted the last option, could he possibly be flirting?  

“You’re welcome any time too, Joel.”  She finally said.  Desperate to get the attention off of herself, she cleared her throat and glanced over at Maria.  “Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?”

“Not a thing,” she replied.  “All that’s left to do is sit and eat.  We have a fresh loaf of bread and I opened a jar of green beans from last summer’s harvest to go with the chicken.  Do you want another drink?”  Maria asked over her shoulder as she carved the chicken.  “Or I think there’s some iced tea in the fridge.”  She was worried more alcohol would loosen her tongue far too much.  

“Tea sounds great, can I get you some too?”  

“Just water for me, I have to be careful with the caffeine.”  Y/N busied herself with the task, grateful for something to do with her hands.  Tommy made himself useful and set the table and Joel stepped in to carry the food so Maria didn’t have to.  Bracing herself, Y/N turned to sit down and realized with a jolt that she would be sitting next to the brooding man.

“Here you are,” she croaked out.  “Everything looks delicious as always, Maria.”  She took her seat and tried not to be so aware of the presence beside her.  When he passed her the basket with the bread, their hands brushed and it took all her self control to not leap out of her skin.  “Thank you.”  She whispered, meeting his eyes once again.  Joel nodded and for a few seconds she swore the corners of his mouth turned up.  

The rest of the meal went by in a blur.  Tommy seemed to be in a chatty mood.  Maria kept giving her pointed looks that only deepened Y/N’s confusion.  She wasn’t a sparkling conversationalist on a good day around people she knew, and Joel didn’t seem to be much of a talker either.  The whole situation had her stomach doing somersaults, so she mostly picked at the food on her plate.  She spent the time looking down at her fork so she missed the look Tommy and Maria shared.  

“Y/N used to work in a bridal boutique.”  Maria blurted out, and she looked up in alarm.  “Didn’t your Grandma teach you how to sew?”  Those dark, searching eyes landed on her again.  Y/N could hear her pulse rush in her ears.  

“Um, yeah.  When I was little.”  Maria nudged her leg with her foot.  “We found an American Girl doll at a church rummage sale and all she had was a little pair of shoes.  She taught me how to make clothes for her.”  Joel made a quiet sound in his throat.  Y/N swore she could feel the heat radiating off his body.  

“We all certainly benefit from her skills.”  Was that a hint of frustration in Maria’s voice?  “Our patch jobs were pretty rough before we found her.”  

“You did what you could.  I’m sure you all would have gotten along if I hadn’t ended up here.”  She heard her friend sigh and it made her feel awful.  What was she supposed to be doing?  Y/N wasn’t the type of person that thrived under the attention of others.  

“Joel was a contractor back then.  You’re both pretty good with your hands.”  She glanced over at him again and attempted a friendly smile.  

“I bet that was satisfying, building things.”  He slowly chewed a bite of food and swallowed.  

“It was good work.”  He finally replied.  Maria rested her forehead against her hand.  

“He was very good at what he did,”  Tommy laughed.  “Just too humble to brag about himself.”  

“Kept me busy.”  

“What was the most expensive dress you ever worked on, Y/N?”  Maria asked.  “It was by one of those really fancy designers.”  

“It retailed for about twenty thousand.  Lots of lace and beadwork.”  She could almost feel the delicate fabric slip through her fingers.  Luxury and decadence that would most likely never exist again.  “We had to be really careful doing the alterations.  I did a lot of work on the veil to make it match.”  

“Lot of fuss and money for something that was only worn once.”  Joel’s dismissive tone hurt Y/N more than she could have anticipated.  

“Maybe it wasn’t as noble as building homes, but I really loved what I did.  I found it very fulfilling.”  She replied, more venom in her tone than she thought she was capable of.  Her fist clenched around her fork.  Joel looked surprised for a moment, and then sighed, his expression softening.  

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend you.  It really is a lost art these days.”  He said gently.  As quick as the fire had built up inside of her, Y/N felt it extinguish almost immediately with his apology.  

“It’s fine, I guess I didn’t realize how much I miss it.  I’m happy to be useful here, but sometimes I can’t help but wish I could work on something that’s only job is to look pretty.”

“Maybe one day you’ll get another chance.”  Joel’s benevolent expression surprised her, she didn’t expect that the gruff man could appear soft in any way.  

“Maybe.”  Was all she respond with.  

…

After their shared meal, she insisted that she clean up for Maria.  It took less convincing than it normally would have, but as her pregnancy progressed, she found her energy levels depleting much faster.  Y/N shooed her friend away to put her feet up and gathered all the dishes to wash.  Joel appeared at her elbow with a towel, holding his hand out for one of the wet dinner plates.  For a man so large and broad, he moved far too quietly.  

“You startled me!”  She said, a little breathlessly.  

“Sorry.  I thought I could help dry.”  

“Thanks, that would help.”  She handed him the dish and he carefully wiped the water from the plate before putting it back in the cupboard.  The two worked in silence for several minutes.  

“I really am sorry for being rude before.”  He finally mumbled at her.  “It’s hard to adjust my mindset being here after twenty years of survival mode.”  She nodded and handed him a handful of silverware.  

“I know what you mean, I spent most of the time in a FEDRA building in the QZ.  It’s so different out there, outside the cities.  And then coming to Jackson…It’s a huge culture shock.”  She started to wipe down the countertops.  

“You were FEDRA?”  His body language went rigid.  

“Hell no.  I just worked in one of their buildings.  Officially I was a janitor, but I was more of a glorified maid and step ‘n fetch.”  

“Oh.”  

“Those people are monsters.”  She zoned out looking out the window over the sink.  “I dreamed about escaping every single day.”  She nearly lept out of her skin when Joel touched her forearm.  

“I’m sorry.  Again.  I keep putting my foot in it tonight.”  She stepped away and his hand fell back to his side.  

“Don’t worry about it.  We’ve all had a shit go ‘round.”  She shrugged.  

“I feel like we’re off on the wrong foot.”  She turned to him, trying not to tear the rag in her tense hands.  

“Joel.  It’s fine.”  He looked a bit like a scolded child.  

“Tommy really likes you.  Maria too.”

“So you think that means you need to like me?”  Y/N didn’t know when the backbone had grown, maybe after downing the whiskey earlier.

“No! I mean I do.  I mean…I don’t know you that well yet but you seem like a nice person.”  His brow furrowed and he looked annoyed.  “I’m no good at this talking to people stuff.” 

“I pretty much suck at it too.”  She rinsed the rag out and wrung it dry.  “Look, I know you didn’t mean to upset me.  You seem like you mean well.”  There wasn’t much about Joel that said “nice”, but Y/N knew bad and Joel wasn’t it.  “I meant what I said before.  You and Ellie are both welcome at mine any time.  Don’t expect the merry homemaker treatment or anything, but I probably spend too much time alone and it might be nice to have some company.”  Joel visibly relaxed a fraction.  

“We appreciate it.”  

With the kitchen cleaned up, Y/N shrugged her back into her coat and said her thank yous and goodbyes to Maria and Tommy.  

“We’ll have to make this a regular thing, maybe convince Ellie to join us next time.”  Maria said, hugging Y/N tightly.  

“We’ll be older and probably even more boring then.”  She replied, making Tommy laugh.  “Get some sleep, you do too much.”  She told the other woman.  

“I gotta get it all done before I’m too big to do anything,”  Maria replied with a grin.  “This baby isn’t weighing me down just yet.”  She looked over at her brother-in-law.  “Joel, you’ll make sure she gets back to her house all right?”  

“It’s just a little ways down the street…”  She began.

“I’ll make sure of it.”  He said, and held the front door open for her.  With no choice but to go along, Y/N gave Tommy a quick hug and walked out in a huff.  Joel mumbled out a goodnight and followed her.  

Tommy wrapped Maria up in his arms and kissed her cheek.  

“I never thought I’d meet someone as oblivious as my brother.  You were about as subtle as a wrecking ball.”  Maria laughed and settled against her husband.  

“I’d just like to see the two of them not be so lonely.  Especially her.  She hasn’t told me anywhere near everything she went through…”  Sometimes the haunted look on her friend’s face broke her heart.  “They could be good for each other, even if it’s just a friendship.”  

next

TAGLIST: @boofy1998 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[theboysfromaustin]

May 4, 2007

Gav was getting used to this.

He was warm, fed, and tomorrow, he'd be starting work, which was a bit scary.  Living with Ian and Kazuo was a change, but it was a good change - he loved them, and he loved Anders.  He was becoming very comfortable around them, showering and sleeping with Ian and Kazuo.

However…

He hadn't been kissed yet.

Sure, they'd lavished his face and neck with gentle kisses, but not real kisses, like he'd read about in the bawdy romance novels he'd found in abandoned houses.  Just the thought made his stomach feel fluttery, and…he flushed red.  

Romantic kisses led to sex.

Or so the books said, but that was always between a man and a woman, not between three men, and he pondered the workings of that.

Ian and Kazuo were very gentle with him, letting him interact and give affection at his own pace, but he'd had so little human interaction in his life that he was curious about things.  He knew romance basics, he supposed, or at least an idea from those books and also from the gay magazines he'd swiped from corner stores, though he'd decided that they had to be embellished at least somewhat.

Hell, Gav didn't even know who the first one to kiss him would be.  Ian was sweet and gentle, and Kazuo was spicy and tended towards lewdness.  They were both excellent options.  He flopped into a chair, staring at the ceiling.  He didn't know a damn thing about sex - the romance novels were a bust, and the magazines were mostly photos of buff men in sultry positions, but he had some idea.  He flushed red.  These thoughts still sometimes put fear into him, even though his parents could no longer get to him.  Kazuo came out of the kitchen with a box of crackers and a brick of cheese, “Hey, you want some?”

“Didn’t Ian tell you not to eat cheese?”

“He said not to eat all of it.  And he ran to FreshPlus.”  Gav grinned, taking a seat on the ratty couch next to him.  Kazuo started slicing cheese while Gav opened the crackers.  “Hey, Kazuo…” “Yeah?” “Who was your first kiss?  Real kiss.” Kazuo popped a cracker into his mouth, “It was Ian.  First relationship, first kiss.” Gav picked up a cracker, “What was it like?” Kazuo smiled, blush coloring his cheeks, “It was very sweet.  We were outside, I was pretty much in his lap, and he…I’m still surprised he initiated it, he was so shy back then.”

“What does it feel like?” “Soft, warm, you can feel the love coursing through your partner.  Why are you asking?  Wait, you’ve never had a proper kiss, have you?” “N-no…” Kazuo cocked his head, watching the redhead.  He loved Gav, but he also knew Gav was a bit…innocent, definitely inexperienced.  Gav looked away, before his gaze flicked back up, his green eyes meeting Kazuo’s amber.

Kazuo’s fingers brushed his cheek, and his heart sped up.

Gav raised his head, leaning forward, Kazuo’s hand moving to his chin, fingers intertwining with his goatee.  “C’mere…” Kazuo’s lips brushed his, his piercings cold against Gav’s skin, mouths meeting fully.  Gav shut his eyes, leaning into it.  It was soft and warm, and he could feel how much Kazuo loved him.  The black-haired man gently bit his lower lip as they parted, “How was that, sweet?” “A-a-amazing…wow…my first…” “There’s more when you’re ready.  No rush.  We want you to be comfortable.” “Thank you,” Gav leaned on Kazuo with a happy sigh, “I’m very happy here.” “Oh my god, you’re cute.”  They both looked up as Ian came in the front door.

“What are you two up to?”

“Snacking and getting to know each other.” “I just had my first kiss…” Ian grinned, “Did he treat you right?” “Oh, yes.” “Good man.  Are you doing okay?” “Amazingly,” Gav grinned.  “Ah, Kaz, I’m about to make dinner!” “I can eat this and dinner.” “You’re a menace.” “Love you!” Ian shook his head, heading for the kitchen.  “Hey…” “Mm?” Kazuo paused, cheese and crackers in hand.

“Tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow?”

“I think I’ll be ready?” “It’s okay if you’re not, it’s a big step.” Gav snuggled into Kazuo, “I love you guys.” “We love you, too, Gav.”  Gav sighed, shutting his eyes.

He was happy with how things had gone.

[xcarbon]

"Thank you Galzar the Grey for your spell slot. Here's your message: gank these losers then go sink their ship toadlaugh," I say, blinking away from all the hazy visions floating at the edge of my consciousness. On the dock before me a smallish crew of merchants shy away toward their little boat bobbing in the ocean. "Well not a bad idea but I'm trying not to get a bounty in this port. Maybe next one." I cackle at the visions again, seeing laughing peasants flit at the corners of my perception. "So fellas. We're good for that boat ride yes?" I strut aboard, leather boots clacking on the creaky boards. "Yeah kind of a piece of shit. It might sink before we get there. Oh Pepe Malfeasance! Thank you for the enchanted aura! Wow damn, big spender over here." Swirling motes of amber light zip around me before taking the form of a broad brimmed hat. I turn on my heels, grinning wildly at the peasants. "What do yall think? Galzar, I think you might get your request after all, these fools think this witchcraft is just illusory!"

You're a Warlock. But instead of drawing power from a higher being, people can choose to donate a portion of their magical power to you. In exchange, they can scry on your adventures and can send telepathic messages to you, as well as make requests. It can get annoying, but you make it work.

[sleepingdeath-light]

OH. MY. WORD. I had no clue you were into Hetalia as well!

Might I request some dating headcanons for Russia and/or America with a fem! S/O? Fluff or smut is up to you really!

Smut Headcanons | America & Russia (18+)

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as being female and (separately) in a relationship with the respective characters

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Alfred F. Jones / America

alfred is a dominant leaning switch who has a bad habit of getting a bit too big for his boots, so to speak

like he’ll present himself as this experienced masculine dominant who can give you everything you want and more — but he’ll be rather tightlipped about his bratty submissive side until it comes up

massive sadomasochist with a preference for branding and biting over other forms of marking — though he’s always up for using swatches and paddles if you ask him to

as a dom he has no preference for positions so long as he’s in control and is happy to be a top or a power bottom — just as eager to have you ride him as he is to flip you over, fold you nearly in half and ravish you to his heart’s content

as a sub he’ll go for one of two things depending on if you’re penetrating him or if you’re using him to penetrate you; for the former he’s a fan of doggy style and for the latter he’ll go for anything where you’re on top

if you ever call the safe word he’ll stop immediately and become rather sheepish and apologetic as he checks you over for injuries — he gets it, though, even he forgets his own strength at times

is a big fan of risk taking in the bedroom so he’ll be up for any public or semi-public acts you bring up (hell one of his biggest fantasies is you going down on him during a meeting — under the table where nobody can see you, of course)

isn’t shy about your sex life and is incredibly prideful about his body and abilities — so he’s both happy to brag about how good you feel and how many times he made you come and eager to send/receive sexts and nudes

phone sex is a damn near must — as is mutual masturbation (he just really likes watching you get off)

is open to pegging or any other use of toys in the bedroom

if you want to get him on his knees for you (and don’t mind getting your clothes ripped off of you), then just wear some lingerie or otherwise sexy clothes in the colours of his flag

Ivan Braginsky / Russia

ivan tends to bottom out of necessity — letting you take the reins as to ensure that he doesn’t forget himself and hurt you

is happy to guide and manhandle you into whatever position you’d like, but he won’t do anything to hurt you too much or risk doing so (he loves you too much to do that)

he’s rather well endowed so thorough foreplay and preparation is an absolute must if you want to be up and walking after the fact

he’s vocal during sex but he isn’t loud, mostly limiting himself to grunts, groans and deep whispers in both russian and english about how good you feel and taste and look for him

enjoys having you sit on his face when receiving oral — both for the view and the assurance that you have the space to move away if it gets too much

that being said he does have a distinct sadistic streak that he’ll only bring out if you ask him — and even then he’ll hold back out of fear of going too far (as he has in the past)

you’ll end up using the colour system during your rougher sessions (green=go, amber=shaky, red=stop)

spanking is used as a punishment and he’ll happily deliver it to your ass or your sex depending on what you’ve agreed on

marking for ivan tends to correlate with knife play and cutting — but he’d be happy to let you mark him in whatever way you prefer

is neutral to thigh riding itself, but loves it when you try to take control and get so needy for him that you’d resort to that (plus the view is a bonus)

the easiest way to fluster him is to send him a picture of you nude or in a state of undress on his bed — guarantee that he won’t be able to focus for the rest of the day

[eddiemunsonsbiggestwhore]

Sloppy Head After Work

**NSFW minors DNI**

Jonathan Byers X Reader

Blowjobs, Y/N has a vagina

Coming home from a long day at work just to find Jonathan patiently waiting for you in your shared bed, stroking his cock. He’s covered only by a thin, white bedsheet.

He stares at you, shyly “I’ve been missing you a lot today baby.”

You smile and crawl your way onto the bed, mounting yourself on top of him.

“I dont mind coming home to this one bit.”

You begin kissing his soft, tender lips. His tongue laps over your lips, begging for entrance. Your tongues slowly snake together, you love feeling the warmth of his mouth even when he tastes like coffee and smells like weed.

Your hand slowly slips down his chest and rests on top of his heat, stroking him over the sheet. His breath hitches as precum coats the white fabric ever so slightly.

“Have you been edging this cock for me all day?” You cooed, licking your lips.

Jonathan nods and bites his lower lip, a red blush spreading across his pale face.

You let out a little chuckle, tightening your hand around his length before stroking it, painfully slow.

You kissed the crook of his neck, whispering in a sultry tone, “Does someone want more?”

He nodded feverishly, only quiet moans escaping his mouth.

“I can’t hear you Johnny, what do you need?”

“P-please… put your mouth on it..,” he practically begged.

“You’re being so lewd for me today,” you smiled, pulling the flat sheet down, down, down until you could see all of his torso. You left the sheet right on top of his now standing erection.

Jonathan Byers might’ve been the weirdo at Hawkins High, but damn, his body was something to behold. A tight stomach with defined abs, toned arms, and his uncut cock was massive (he never even realized this before you came in the picture). He deserved to have his body worshipped and you were just the person to do that.

Trailing your way from his neck leaving little kisses all over, you began to stimulate one of his nipples with your mouth.

Jonathan loved feeling your lips and tongue teasing him there. He had a thing for having his chest touched, and feeling your mouth on that bundle of nerves always went straight to his cock. You could feel his dick twitching with every move you made there.

“(Y/N)…,” he moaned quietly as he petted your hair, attempted to guide you to continue going even lower.

You licked and nipped at his stomach before finally reaching his hidden erection.

“You want me to continue baby?”

“Please, god, I’ll do whatever you want, I just need to use your mouth now more than anything”

Positioning yourself between his legs, you bent down until you could feel the heat radiating off of his sex. Planting a small kiss on his still covered penis made him whine.

God he was too precious. He was staring down at you like you were the most beautiful creature on earth, his amber eyes filled with adoration for you. He was hanging on every move you made and you ate it up.

“I think it’s time I took care of my good boy”

You took the sheet in between your teeth, pulling it down far enough with your mouth to reveal his red, swollen dick. You could never get over how big he was. Jonathan never really saw too much porn before meeting you (mostly just jerking off to the Sears magazine lingerie pictures, which you teased him about a bit) so he had no clue 7 1/2 inches was pretty above average. It’s always the shy one, right?

Not wanting to keep your boyfriend waiting any longer, you took his shaft in your hand. You licked one broad stripe from his balls to his head before taking his tip into your mouth.

“Oh f-fuck (Y/N).. you feel so good.. you’re so good to me baby..,” he said as his started to hump up into the wet heat.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth, a string of spit hanging from your lips to his dick.

“Are you gonna be a bad boy and try to face fuck me first thing?”

He stammered, shocked by the loss of contact, “I-I’m sorry..”

You chuckle, “Well if you’re gonna fuck my face, at least do it right”. You get up, positioning yourself on your back, your head hanging off of the bed.

“Get over here and take what you fuckin’ want, Byers.”

Jonathan looked a little taken back, but he quickly got up. He positioned himself right in front of your greedy mouth, smacking your face with his cock.

“Goddamn, you look fucking beautiful like this. If anything feels uncomfortable just.. tap my thigh or something.”

You giggled, “I think I’ll be alright, I’ve gotten pretty talented at sucking this dick.”

Jonathan bit his lip, smiling. He slowly pushed the tip of his sex into your mouth, which you accepted hungrily. Tracing circles around his uncut cock was driving your pussy insane. He loved to feel your tongue slip underneath his foreskin. He tasted just a bit salty, and his precum coated your tongue.

“C-can I go deeper?,” he muttered. You nodded and he slowly sunk in a bit more.

God, he really was a lot to take, but you’d gotten better at it. Jonathan secretly loved hearing you gag on him, though. He began pumping his heat down your throat, slowly but surely. You loved being treated like his little cock sleeve.

Jonathan loved watching you, beginning to struggle to take him to the base. His mouth was agape, moans escaping him. He was slurring between your name and swears as he was getting drunk off the pleasure of your mouth around him.

His pace started to increase, the sound of him burying himself inside you getting louder and louder. You started to gag just a bit as his head hit the back of your throat again and again, causing your neck to bulge a bit. The sight was driving him insane.

“Just a little longer baby, please. I wanna cum right down your tight throat,” he managed to say. It was getting harder to keep up, your jaw aching. The feeling was turning you on though, knowing that pain was giving him nothing but pleasure. You started thumbing over your clit, quickly tracing little circles as you could feel your climax getting closer and closer.

You began to furiously finger yourself, pushing into that spongy spot that always made you cum.

“I-I’m about to cum for you.”

You started to hollow out your cheeks, getting tighter for him as you started to reach your climax as well.

Pushing into your walls caused you to squirt, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your moans vibrated on Jonathan’s dick, causing him to double over.

He came buried all the way in your open throat, his thighs locking around your head as ropes of cum coated your insides.

“I love you so fucking much,” he moaned loudly, you’re sure the neighbors probably heard.

Jonathan slowly pulled his softening cock out of your mouth, strings of spit and cum still connecting them.

You licked your lips and greedily swallowed his massive load.

“Damn Jonathan, you taste sweet today. Have you been eating pineapples?”

He blushed and you giggled as you settled back into your bed with him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and laid your head on his chest.

“Give me 10 minutes, we can go for round two,” he said, giggling and kissing your head.

[samstree]

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

 ~~

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

 ~~

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

~~

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[colossal-fallout]

I just followed u!! I've binge reading nonstop and I am really enjoyed. I mean it's rare to see people writing AOT girls such as Hitch,Nanaba,Rico,Petra with a male reader. If u are okay with it Can I have a sex HC’s about the girls mentioned above?

Your words are kind, thank you for being here!

Sex HC's ~ Hitch, Nanaba, Rico & Petra 💦

Male bodied reader. You must be 18+ smut.

Side note: I actually Canon Nanaba & Rico as gay but I'll still add them! No problem.

Hitch

Hitch is 110% a pillow princess.

You have the dick, now use it and make her feel good.

And if you're not doing a good enough job, damn she'll let you know.

If you're doing a good job, however... expect eye rolls, cute moans and squeaks. She won't let you stop and will demand more until she feels overly satisfied. She enjoys sex, a lot. Until her insides are swollen and sore, don't expect her to want to stop.

Lies on her back like a doll while you eat her out, which she will make you do. Hitch tastes very sweet and she's really tight. Her pussy is like pure heroin. It feels amazing, gripping you tightly and pulling you in.

She is an absolute brat through and through and the only way to get her to stop complaining is ramming your swollen hardness into any one of her holes.

Claws your back like there's no tomorrow and whines pretty loud.

Her insides milk you so good; something about her ridges and the way they spasm when she orgasms is just... ah its just heaven

The best part is, if you pleasure her enough, and push her into that hazy void of sex brain, she'll happily let you do anything you'd like to her. All with heavy eyes and a slack jaw, face flushed pink.

Nanaba

Nanaba is the type of woman who sees sex as a good release of stress and tension.

Expect a lot of quickies.

Bossy but not overly so; she likes what she likes and is quick to inform you what those things are.

Adores being bent over. Slam her from behind and grab the back of her neck and she'll be cuming around your length within moments.

Loves being fucked against walls too. It's less time fumbling with stuff on the bed. Just be hard and fast, so she can get back to work.

If she's feeling especially horny, she'll ride you and she is amazing at it. Her stamina is second to none, and you often see the lump of the end of your cock against her skin when she grinds.

Not too vocal but she pants and quietly groans. Her toes curl when she orgasms, and her legs shake. That's when you know you've done your job, soldier.

Smirks when she's getting close - she's a real vixen minx.

I can see her enjoying foot play. It's a hot way of her relaxing her feet after a long day.

Rico

Rico is very similar to Nanaba, in that she's usually far too busy with work to think about sex. It's a great way to de-stress and that's it.

She's so easy to read, however. When she wants you, her face flushes crimson. It only deepens the more you pleasure her.

Adores breast play. Her nipples are pretty sensitive.

She's definitely got more kinks than Nanaba. She has a stuffing fetish. Fill Rico as full as possible, until her lower belly is swollen and she'll cum again and again and again. She'll be a shaking, hazy and pleading mess.

Likes it rough. Tug her hair, bite her, dig your fingertips into her ass.

She can be persuaded easily into an all night session. Just make her orgasm and she'll cling to you like a kitten.

With her stuffing kink, she likes to be filled up as much as possible... ergo, she goes weak for anal.

Likes to have you fill her in every single hole - wants to feel like she's about to explode.

Petra

Shy, submissive and has to absolutely adore you for you to be allowed entry inside of her.

Tastes like honey. She's amazing.

Her big, Amber eyes gleaming up at you above her pink cheeks as she squirms beneath you is certainly a sight to see.

So, so so tight.

You'll have to be gentle and guide her. Poor innocent Petra has no idea how someone can make her feel so good. She wants it again and again.

Her legs come up as she whines into you, almost like fucking a ball. You slide in extra deep; she just wants to feel as close to you as possible.

Will happily, yet timidly do anything you ask. You make her feel so amazing she would never think of saying no. As long as its not rough sex she's happy to do it.

"Please... don't ever stop..." her breathy begging is often heard. "I don't ever want anyone else, only you can make me feel this good."

Squeaks your name a lot.

Before she takes you into her mouth, she does these adorable little kitten licks around the tip. She's just a perfect, sexy little thing who you can't wait to fucking ruin.

[house-md-obsession]

Shake [James Wilson x Reader] Part Four

Her eyes shifted from the brunette with an amber tint in her hair as she glanced back down to her hot cup of coffee in hand. Despite having slept a lifetime for many people, she still felt the pangs of exhaustion on her overworked body tugging at her joints as well as her lack of ability to focus on one thing at a time as she gradually recovered. She found herself longing for the comfort of James' bed, as odd as it was. Not him, but the wonderfully luxurious bed in which she now sees a necessity.

'Who knows if I'll sleep that well again without that damn bed.'

"_____?"

Her eyes flit up to the previously mentioned Thirteen. She flashed her the familiar lost-in-thought smile in which her face is normally decorated.

"I'm exhausted, I am so fucking sorry." She stated, a soft laugh elicited from the two. Despite having slept as much as she has, she still felt tiredness tug at her eyes.

"I can tell. Wilson said you were wiped but I didn't expect you to still be a walking corpse." She said, and ___ sighed, tightening her messy bun that lay upon her head. Her soft baby hairs sat wildly as they wanted, too short to go up with the rest of her hair.

"Yeah, I'm honestly not doing the best. I think House was actually right in forcing me to take the week off. I can hardly focus on anything."

"There's this really weird thing that happens, when you don't sleep like you're supposed to—"

"Shhh... I'm feeling the consequences of my actions. Trust me. I'm a million times more miserable than I look, and I know I'm roughing it right now." She stated, feeling her joints ache as she reached for her cup of coffee. Every movement felt as though there was sand in between her joints. “I’ve also got a lot on my mind that I am trying to navigate. I just haven’t had an opportunity between such big cases. I know it is literally our job, but we haven’t had an easy case in months. I miss the times I was able to just go screw with Wilson while he wrote up emails.”

"So... how do things seem?" Remy asks, seemingly pushing for a conversation she didn't quite want to bring up. Not directly, at least. ____ cocked her head, setting her cup down once again.

"How does what seem?" ____ asked.

"Things." Remy said, again, indirectly pressing. Still confused, ____ was about to ask for clarification, before her eyes caught those of the softly parted brunette male, making his way towards the two from the coffee counter, two cups in hand.

____ smiled, and moved over in her booth to make room for her friend as his eyes met hers with a warm, shy smile making its way upon the flirts' face.

"You look much better than last night." He commented, setting the cups down in front of them. Remy gave him a quiet 'hey' as he got situated.

"Hey, James. You meeting someone?" ____ asked, moving over a little more so he could get comfortable. He moved over a little more, mere inches between the two.

"Thirteen let me know where you guys were going so I swung by and gave you a house key." He said, and dug into his pocket for a minute, before dishing out his keys. He plucked a freshly made, bright silver one from his key ring, and handed it to you.

Thirteen's eyes widened, and to seemingly keep her mouth shut, she took a sip of her coffee.

"Thank you..? I don't...?" ____ stammered, wondering why this was necessary besides so she can grab her stuff later, but she assumed she'd just go back to her place until later.

"I know your apartment is on the rough side of town, and I have a conference I leave for at the end of the month for a week, and I just wanted to extend... the offer of somewhere... safer to you. Plus I'll probably be working late, so you can grab your stuff at least." He said, 'cooly' as he could. Thirteen shot James a confused look. She arched an eyebrow and leaned forward a little.

"Are you asking her to house-sit or are you inviting her to move in?" James' face went red and he let out a nervous laugh.

"I'm just letting her know she is always welcome over if she needs to! When House and I went by her apartment to grab some stuff the other night it was... shady." He said, trying his hardest not to offend the girl next to him, avoiding eye contact.

“I am happy to house-sit. We can talk about that later, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow at the latest.” ___ said, and James was happy to take any out of this conversation, even if his out is ‘house sitting’.

"Who is the other coffee for? House?" Thirteen asked.

"No, no. That ass can buy his own coffee after the emotional torment I was subject to last night." He said, a sigh leaving his face as he paranoidly glanced around the room, as if to judge whether or not it was clear to say what was on his mind in the moment. Remy cocked an eyebrow, obviously intrigued by the vague statement.

"What 'torment' did you have to endure?” She said, gently tossing her long, chestnut hair behind her shoulders.

“It is a crime and extremely offensive for me to be friends with a female that is not the exact same age as me.” He said, feeling a heat make its way to his face with the mere mention of the conversation. He almost felt like he was ripping the innocence from his mature, younger friend by even thinking about her following the visuals House had nearly injected into his head.

Several hours were spent on and off “teasing” Wilson for his intentions with the young colleague the two shared. House consistently swore she was only around for being an excellent doctor and a total idiot with the passion for her job to leave her relentlessly exhausted at all times, seeing as she needs to be virtually held at gunpoint to sleep.

“You’re keeping her around and only doing this as a fastpass into her panties. I’ve seen her ass, I don’t blame you, but at least be honest and stop making yourself look like you’re sacrificing things so she feels more compelled to lie with you.” He remembers House uttering. Wilson just threw him another hateful glance, and resumed his attention back to his phone.

‘Maybe I seriously like her around. Is that such a forgein concept to you? I have a plethora of female friends that I have never tried sleeping with. You can’t seem to make friends with any woman without making it clear the relationship is one-way.’ Wilson thought to himself, just before standing up to check on you. That was the last comment House got in last night before finally dropping the topic.

At least, until midnight struck another day.

“Says House?” ____ asked, cocking her head.

“Implied House. He also implied a lot of other things that have me ignoring his existence today.” He said, taking another heavy sigh as he took a sip of the warm coffee in hand. He felt the urge to glance at ____ as she was part of the discussion, but ignored it.

‘I don’t want her knowing House thinks of her that way. Besides, I have more than one very close female friend, so it's not like she would gather that from this conversation. Right?’ He thought to himself, before finding his inner monolog more confusing than beneficial.

He would, in moments following, find that this did not work as planned.

He sat up readjusting his position next to the tired woman next to him. She slowly nodded, finally understanding what the conversation likely included. She fought off a soft giggle, watching her brunette friend fight a soft blush that was finding its way up on the flirts’ cheek.

“Why are you so pressed? Sounds like textbook House to me. Angry and horny.” Remy muttered, once more taking a sip of her coffee. James stuttered over himself.

James, in fact, was not entirely upset because of the misogyny that he had to endure by sitting idly by his now hammered best friend. He, too, was drunk, while you slept heavily in the other room. Occasional, soft snores could be heard in the living room.

“So, you’re not gonna even try?” The diagnostician said, setting his now-empty scotch glass back onto the coffee table.

“House. She is not interested, and young.” James muttered for what felt like the millionth time.

“‘Young’ is an awful excuse to not pursue the babe in your bed. You really can tell me more about her than any of your ex-wives but you refuse to even try going on a date with her.” The drunk spat out, some truth to his searing words that James refused to accept.

“Maybe I want a serious, platonic relationship like this with someone other than you, House. Whether or not I like her doesn’t matter, I’m not pursuing anything.”

“Now that you’ve made it very clear you’re not going to sleep with her, when I do, I’ll be sure to take pictures.”

“Yes, that is textbook House. Doesn’t mean I should have to deal with him reducing my friends to nice bodies.” He said, glancing to his left and unintentionally making eye-contact with the hopefully-unaware person that brought upon the subject matter.

Both Remy and ____’s eyebrows arched, shooting the oncologist a curious glance as he continued to clam up.

“Who is House jealous that you have around?!” The pair spat out at once, almost as if they had rehearsed the moment a million times. He was mildly taken aback, wondering why this conversation didn’t run through his head as a potential outcome to the topic posed.

For obvious reasons, he was not sure he was ready to sell out his best friend to the innocent, or so he assumed, younger woman next to him that he was not sure would like to hear of the ways her boss objectified her while she was unconscious in the other room.

James felt the familiar heat he tried to overcome over the last few minutes on several occasions burn as it finally won– the tall, flushed brunette finding himself stumbling over words in his head, unknowingly stuttering a response out to the two.

“Cameron.” He spat, little thought following the exclamation. She was the first, non-___ girl that he has even remotely considered a ‘close’ friend over the two facing him.

He locked eyes with ____, and she looked puzzled. He knows, even while absolutely exhausted, she was not buying the lie the man spoke. He knew she was calculated, and knew this was not something she would drop until she knew who he was really referring to. He could feel the urge to call him out to his face– a characteristic he both loved and hated about her– but watched as she readjusted in her seat.

Strangely enough, she nodded, flashed him a smug grin, and shrugged.

“Sounds about right. He always did want to sleep with her.” ___ said softly, taking another sip of the now less-scalding, bitter coffee. James watched in shock as she seemingly continued about listening, not a word leaving her lips. Her baggy eyes now trained on the opening and closing of the slightly busy coffee shop.

“Cameron? You still keep in touch with her?” Remy asked, setting her now almost empty cup to the table. James pulled his confused face from the apparently disinterested girl next to him.

“Well, yes, but very sparingly.” He said, shifting as he felt Remy nearly see right through him. Her face quickly became that of disbelief, but she knew better than to press the man for more answers than he was ready to give. She cleared her throat, it becoming increasingly obvious that she did not believe a word he was saying.

“Okay. Okay. Not Cameron. But who it is doesn’t really matter. They’re a close friend and that is that, I don’t know why House seems to think I only ever want to sleep with the people I have around me. Maybe they’re just good company.” He explained, and relaxed, not realizing the short lived lie had already begun to take a toll on his physicality. The bigger lie he didn’t need to address was that he’d almost definitely, on more than one occasion, found himself wondering what this ‘unspoken’ person would be like as a romantic partner, but that’s just curiosity, right? Is it a crime to imagine what a friend would be like as a partner?

He glanced back at ____, who was still seemingly anywhere emotionally than the coffee shop.

“It’s House, Wilson. You know better than anyone else his cynical ass only brings young women around for one reason.” She said, letting a sigh leave her lips, as she sat back against the rest of her chair. “You’re telling me he’s never harassed you for anyone else?” She pushed.

“Yes, of course he has, but he is particularly insistent with this person in specific.”

“Maybe it is his weird ‘House’ way of getting you two together. He is very good at reading people.” Remy said. She took the final sip of her coffee, gently setting the empty cup down onto the table. She glanced over at her friend, noticing her blank stare towards the floor. ‘Maybe she should get going.’

‘“I-I mean, maybe. But regardless it isn’t any of his business. And I don’t even know if I could be in a romantic relationship with this person. I’m not sure it has even crossed my mind prior to this conversation.” He said, rubbing his thumb against one another underneath the table. He felt unusually nervous speaking those words right next to the unspoken woman in question. He caught another glimpse of the unusually quiet ____ next to him. She had her eyes trained on the door again. He gently tapped her thigh under the table, and she whipped her head around to look at him. She came to, seemingly previously stuck in another universe before flashing him a soft smile.

“‘M sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. Sorry, I am listening!” She muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, flashing a sleepy, almost distracted smile to the oncologist. He felt his anxiety manifest as butterflies in his stomach. He was unsure if it was because of the smile or the subject matter.

He flashed a warm smile in response, feeling his anxiety climb higher with the innocent action.

“Hey, ____, I’m sorry to drag you out. You don’t look well. Let me take you home.” Remy interrupted, and ____ shook her head.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’ve missed you guys. We haven’t hung out like this in months. I’ll go home and go to bed later. Do either of you have somewhere to be?”

“I’ve got work in about an hour. But, Remy is right. You should go rest.” James said, finding his hand rubbing her shoulder. She flashed him a warm smile, and shook her head. “I can take you home if you need, too, or you can grab your house key from my car.” He said, glancing at Remy to watch as she nodded her head in response.

“I have a lot on my mind right now. This is more helpful than you know.” She said.

“So… Who is the extra coffee for?” Remy asked, and James, without a word, hands it to Remy seeing as ____ has not even nearly finished hers.

[whosjunglejim4322]

SMUT, collegecrush!au, tattooed Johnny agenda, bff Jaehyun! And brief mentions of him being drunk, all the yearning, Johnny is whipped for you but you didn't hear that from me, he's got a big dick, brief dry humping, finger fucking and pussy eating bc....I'm a whore, sensual fucking cause he thinks ur precious teehee ngl I have a crush on this Johnny

A month ago, if someone would have told you that Johnny Seo would be watching The Matrix trilogy with you while sitting on your living room floor under a blanket that he'd brought to the routine occasion - you would have thought them to be crazy. Insane, even.

And not because Johnny is unpleasant to be around, quite the contrary. Despite his popularity he's one of the most levelheaded, endearing frat boys - for lack of better term - you've ever met, and you also happen to think of him as a superhero of sorts, always there the moment you need him.

It had been a party, where the two of you met - sort of. Not shocking, in the least bit, but also not the first place you would have planned to be on a Saturday night. Jaehyun, being the stubborn and puppy dog eyed best friend that he is, insisted that you come along with him - that he'd keep you glued to his side all night long.

Of course, in proper Jaehyun fashion, three tequila shots in and a game of beer pong had him barely cognitive and passed out on some ones bathroom floor within two hours. The house was big, but filled with people and between trying to lift him up while he giggled about your hair smelling so good and sweet - you also feared anyone seeing him like this. Even if it weren't the first time.

His presence spooked you, at first, a light tap on your shoulder from somewhere behind you just as you attempted to lift your aforementioned best friend for what felt like the hundredth time that night. You nearly dropped him back on his head, if it weren't for quick hands and a sturdy grip on the drunk boys slumped shoulders.

He looked like sunshine, honey skin and dyed blonde hair with the dark roots growing out - a soft, comforting smile across the smooth planes of his face. Dark ink peaked out from where the collar of his shirt had drooped, appearing to be spilling from his shoulder. Your arms felt weaker than before, and embarrassment regarding the situation began to make your skin hot.

"I got him, don't worry," he'd assured with a gentle grin, lifting your bestfriend with an ease you almost wanted to scowl at. His height had been startling too, and not just because you were sitting on someone's bathroom floor. "did you guys drive here?"

You shook your head, a sigh of frustration leaving your lips and slumping your posture as you remembered that you both had walked here. Johnny slung Jaehyuns arm over his broad pair of shoulders, and jerked his chin towards the door, which you opened warily.

"I'll drive you home, it's no problem," his voice was soft, reassuring and you were taken aback. He obviously knew Jaehyun, and you'd never met any of his friends that were so...pleasant. "let's get him to my car first."

It wasn't nearly as painful and humiliating to push past crowds of intoxicated people with Johnny leading the way, as it would have been if it were just you. No one even batted an eye at the way he was dragging Jaehyun like a ragdoll, while the boy grumbled under his breath like a child.

People looked at him, of course. Oh, they looked at him. But not because of his human luggage, and it felt odd to see so many eyes on one person, to realize that his presence has the same effect on everyone else as it did you.

He kept looking back, making sure you were still close behind him, and it wasn't until you were outside in the open that you realized he'd been clinging on to the fabric of your jacket, making sure you didn't stray. Your heart felt like it was bursting open. Focus. You'd thought to yourself.

"That's my car over there, can you open the door for me?"

You jogged towards the sleek, onyx colored SUV that looked like a shadow against the dark bushes, and in just a split second Johnny was behind you, maneuvering Jaehyun into the backseat.

"Mmm...leather." Your best friend's giggle made you all the more grateful for the fact that you hadn't had to do this alone, his cheeks bright red and eyes crescent moons from the way he gleefully grinned. Still, you love him nonetheless.

You pulled your jacket off and prepared to drape it over his body before Johnny stopped you with a gentle hand, shaking his head. "I've got two on, let me."

His jacket probably sufficed more anyways, a heavy denim that would actually cover most of Jaehyuns body. You thanked him with a shy smile while he closed the door, and headed towards the passengers seat.

This experience had been the beginning, the car ride home that night being one full of conversations - genuine conversations, and he didn't leave once you both arrived at your apartments. Jaehyun snored in the background while the two of you talked, laughed. It was hard to look him in the eyes, to not make it so obvious - it's hard now, too.

Neo and Trinity kiss on the screen in front of you, and you wonder how Johnny sees you. Sure, he's flirty, overtly sometimes, but there's never been a definitive line to mark where the both of you really are on the friendship spectrum. If you even want to call it that.

Every time he touches your cheek or catches you staring, even when you're walking to your classes and his hand graces the small of your waist just before he waves you goodbye - you have to assume that he knows what he's doing - that the tension hasn't ever just been one sided.

His hair is a light chestnut brown now, longer than usual and flopping into his eyes from the sides. It's unfair, how he doesn't even have to try. The sharp slope of his nose, the bow of his lips, even the elegance of his neck and jaw. That awe from when you first saw him, has never left.

Not to mention that you often times forget he has so many tattoos whenever he decides to wear short sleeves, the art inky and stark against his olive skin - riveting down from his biceps like silk, cascading over his thick forearms and ending at his knuckles.

You turn your attention back to the laptop upon realizing that you've gotten caught up, heart still rattling underneath your ribcage. It makes it worse, the fact that the heat of his body is so close, that you can smell the scent of dryer sheets clinging onto the fabric of his shirt along with the natural allure of his skin.

"Why were you staring at me?" His breath is warm against the shell of your ear and you shudder, surprised by his sudden closeness and the timbre of his voice. You turn to face him with an incredulous expression, feigning innocence - but he makes it damn near impossible with the way he's looking at you - a dark eyebrow raised and a sly smile playing on his heart shaped lips.

"I was looking at your tattoos, cause - uhm, I forget they're underneath your clothes sometimes." You confess, and his knee knocks against yours underneath the blanket.

"Mmhm, so you think about what's under my clothes?" He teases, and takes pride in the way your eyes glower at him, a scoff leaving your mouth. It's hard to be annoyed when he's so vibrant, right here in front of you.

"Just the art, this one's my favorite." Eager to not have the pressure on you anymore, you reach out to grasp his wrist - not realizing how deeply of a need you've had all this time to do so, until you're tracing the flower that's decorating the top of his hand.

In hindsight, it's a bold move - but you can't go back now, not when he's staring down at you so fondly, scooting closer and placing his hand in your lap while you admire his body art.

"Yeah? Why's it your favorite?" He asks, genuinely curious. He nudges your shoulder with his when he sees the shy smile spreading across your lips, your skin hot to the touch. His comfort level has you less nervous than you were before, and the whole thing feels oddly natural, being so close together.

"I don't know, it just suits you. Your hands are so big, and the little vines looping around your knuckles really makes them look...delicate."

You don't dare look up, not when you realize his chest is rising and falling faster than it was before, just like yours is as you spread his fingers out and play with the digits, his face just inches above yours, voice warm in your ear.

"Second favorite." It's not a demand but it's not exactly a request either, and there's a safety in the energy pulsating around you both - mutual, rippling like a current through your bones.

Your eyes deliberately trail up the length of his long arm, scanning, and your fingertips press against the belly of the dragon that wraps around his bicep, sinewy tail tapering off just below his elbow. You've secretly admired this one for a long time, sneaking glances whenever you can. He turns more towards you just the slightest bit, and the closeness begins to make you feel dizzy.

"Your hands are soft."

This time, you can't not look at him, belly filled with a need to see his face, to save the memory of his features so up close in the back of your mind. However, once you do, look up at him - you almost wonder how you'll be able to handle it at all, his amber eyes boring into you as if he's trying to read your thoughts.

"So is your skin." Is what you manage to reply, willing yourself not to look at his soft, inviting mouth - afraid you'll give yourself away. You feel something stroke the side of your cheek and it takes you a second before realizing he's touching you, apparently giving yourself away isn't an issue. You feel like you're being set ablaze.

"Is it really just the tattoos, you think of?" You're not imagining things, he's definitely moving closer - you can smell the starbursts that he ate earlier still sweet on his breath, the wrappers crumpled on the coffee table next to the laptop.

It's all settling in, the realization that this hasn't been just you, fantasizing and daydreaming about someone who hasn't even realized how his natural charm has made you feel.

You're afraid to speak, so you shake your head as a response to his question, the atmosphere thickening impossibly now that he's cupping your chin between his fingers, the tips of your noses almost touching. You've placed your palm against his knee without even realizing it, steadying yourself.

"I've wanted to kiss you since the day we met," he confesses, dark eyebrows furrowed as if he's restraining himself, waiting. "is this...is this okay?" Your lower belly flutters, and you're almost afraid to move, to change anything about this moment and the way it is right now.

"Me too. I've wanted to kiss you, I mean." You breathe out, and now your lips are ghosting against each other, a moment of hesitation that feels both infinitesimal and fleeting. "It's more than okay." A heartbeat passes and he presses his mouth against yours, so pillowy soft that you gasp, surprised.

It's just a second, that he pulls away to look down at you, and your expression is so heavenly - so hazy and delicate. He kisses you again and this time your lips begin to overlap, from top to bottom, suckling and getting used to the feel of each other. He's still holding your face, but with both hands now, thumbs on your cheeks and fingers wrapping around to the nape of your neck.

You cling onto him like you've no other choice, desperate to have him underneath your fingertips, reminding you that this is really happening and that your mind isn't just creating very vivid daydreams. He pulls you closer and you grip onto his broad shoulders.

"Mm, you're so sweet," he lilts between his kisses, tone somewhere between bliss and desire. You're not expecting to be so worked up already. "even better than I imagined." His tongue slips past yours, wet and warm and it's like your body is being put on vibrate.

He senses this too, with the way you're almost in his lap, breath unsteady. His arms are around your waist before you can move any further, pulling you on top of him and locking you to his torso.

"Johnny." You strain, as the feeling within you becomes overwhelming, craving his touch, his mouth. It doesn't help that he's being so vocal, as well - the sounds sweeter, and more desperate than you'd expect from him. It has something feral igniting within you.

What shocks you the most is that he's already hard underneath you, and the thought alone is enough to have you keening further against his chest, tightening your thighs' grip around his trim waist- not to mention you can feel him snug against your ass, material of your shorts so thin it's palpable when he twitches.

So, naturally, your whine is petulant when his mouth departs from yours, his plush lips a deep blush, matching his cheeks in their hue. He's just as worked up as you if his erratic breathing and the way that he grasps onto your sides is anything to go by, and you shouldn't be as surprised as you are about it.

"You...have no idea," he pants, smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip. "how badly I've wanted you. In so many ways."

Your heart feels like it's attempting to burst through your chest in an effort to be closer to him, his sharp eyes lowly lidded but fierce in their honesty. You take this brief moment to touch his face, his soft cheeks and the smooth, taut ridge of his jaw. It all feels too real to be a dream. This must be reality.

"I'm only stopping because, well I like you," it's hard to pinpoint if the trembling of his hands is fueled from his desire or his nerves, but either way he's got your rapt attention. You doubt anyone could look away from those eyes.

"I like you a lot and...fuck, I don't want to do anything you aren't comfortable with or...sure about. Because I'm sure about you." He finishes, sincere and stoic while holding you against him. You feel like you're floating.

"I have a really big crush on you, Johnny," you kiss his mouth and he smiles against it, humming in contentment. Suddenly, your nerves are replaced by pure adrenaline. "and I like you a lot, too." When you pull back from his lips with a soft smack, his expression causes your skin to burn hot.

"So it'd be okay if I did..." he tilts your head to the side, and a flurry of goosebumps descend across your skin, his breath warm against your throat. "this?" A kiss, soft but purposeful, is placed there, and you shudder.

All you can do is nod in affirmation, heartbeat in your ears among other places. Your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck while his mouth begins placing warm, wet pecks against yours, and his body lurches when your thighs tighten around his torso.

It only manages to work you up further, of course, brain already high off of the fact that Johnny likes you back...in fact...he truly is as good as you've always thought, sweet and kind and nasty, groaning when you rut your hips against him.

"Baby, you're shaking." He mouths against your jaw, wondrously and laced with an undertone of hunger. His strong arms hold you tight, eyes softening when he looks down at you and realizes just how worked up you really are.

"I just want you really bad, Johnny." Your body emphasizes your point, chest pressed against the firmness of his, nipples hard behind your shirt. He can practically feel you throbbing.

It's a little fucked up, honestly.

No ones ever had him this head over heels, he feels himself melting against you, your voice sweet and syrupy, dripping with this ache just for him and he's losing it.

"Yeah?" He muses, the wide palm of his hands sliding down the curve of your back, and over the swell of your ass where it's planted so firmly atop of him - massaging you there. "Where do you want me, honey?"

The pet names have you too worked up, you really could get off of anything right now and he's tracing the back of your thighs now, swirling his soft fingertips around, leaving a wake of searing heat in their path.

"Want you everywhere, just - mmph." This kiss interrupts you, bruising in it's intensity and he cups your face softly as a silent apology despite the fact that you're letting out small coos of satisfaction, tugging at the ends of his messy hair.

For a second you feel like you're being lifted, not realizing he's just moved you both to the couch until your head is resting against the cushions, inky arms caging your body against the length of his. He groans when you palm at his stomach, touching and rubbing his sides and then the broad of his back.

All the while his free hand, the one that's not attached to the arm holding himself up, does some exploring of its own, palming your breasts through your shirt and squeezing with just enough pressure to have you arching into his touch.

Automatically, your legs wrap around his middle and your heels dig into the dimples of his back, and his hips pivot downwards to nestle right in between yours. You're both instantaneously struck by the sensation of your centers meeting, his length jerking inside of his pants, your clit throbbing in yours.

"Gonna touch you..." nimble fingertips dance over the skin of your inner thighs. "...here, is that okay?" The warmth of his hand cups your sex and now you're positive that wetness has begun to soak through your underwear, senses gone haywire from the way he's rubbing you, up and down.

"Mhm that's - yes, that's okay." You pant, desperate to feel him as well and reaching in between your bodies in an attempt to grasp at him - his height doesn't make this as easy as you thought and your pliant hands meet just his navel, the faintest of happy trails soft against the skin here.

He switches to his thumb now, instead of the heel of his palm to rub you through your shorts. He searches, for a short moment, finding what he's looking for and pressing the pad of his finger against your bud.

He kisses your whimper, shifting his hips and shuffling upwards just a smidge so that your hands can reach his hard cock. You have to maneuver your arm underneath his but it's working out fine so far, your eyes widening once you feel the twitch of his length.

"Oh." You gasp, expecting to have felt it all while you were on his lap, but missing by a longshot. He's big, bigger than anticipated and you're a bit too flustered as you follow it's bulge through his sweats. He groans your name, and you might be short circuiting.

"You're so hard...and b-big, Johnny you're really big." The incredulity of your voice only has his hunger growing, threatening to swallow him whole. In one breath your hands are pulled from him, pinned above your head with his gentle fingers barring your wrists.

"You're so fuckin' cute," he professes with an awed lilt, moving his hips in circles between yours - his shaft, heavy and thick, nudged against your lips. "wanna make you feel good...mm, wanna make you cum."

Butterflies threaten to flutter into your throat and suffocate you, his breath warm and sweet against your cheek before he's nipping at your earlobe. You feel like you're high, spinning yet completely grounded by his weight above you, against you.

"I want you Johnny, want you to fuck me." You try to turn your head, bashful of the way you're being so shameless but he's not having it, keeping his gaze on your every expression, trying not to lose his sanity when you grind yourself against him. Your voice, petulant and needy, is enough to have him at his wits end alone.

"I will baby, I will," he promises sweetly, accentuating his point by letting go of your wrists, and using one of his hands to pry your thighs open. He rolls his agile hips against you and the friction has you reaching out to grasp at his waist - trim and firm underneath your fingertips. "just gotta get you ready first."

He sits back on his haunches and you pout about the lack of content, his pleased grin a beacon as he hooks his fingers into your waistband, pulling your shorts off your hips and past your thighs - till they're at your ankles, and it feels surreal when he throws them somewhere behind the couch, too eager for his own good.

You're brought back to current reality when his big hands caress the tops of your thighs, before creeping down into the soft crease where they're shut closed in embarrassment, and pulling them apart.

He outwardly marvels and you wonder if he can see you clench, the moment overwhelmingly intimate with the way he's staring directly at the wet spot that’s soaked through the crotch of your panties. He takes only a moment to reach out and press his thumb against the dampness, balls tightening with the need to release each time you whimper or gasp.

With his cock leaking in his pants, he wastes no time, taking the flimsy piece of fabric off so fast you don't even have time to by shy about him seeing you naked and glistening in front of him. Furthermore, you don't think anyone could feel even the least but bad about themselves if he looked at them like this - slack jawed, and starved.

"Fuck...you're so beautiful," two long, inky fingers formed into the shape of a V, spread your lips open and then he's moving further away - no, scooting down onto his stomach, and suddenly his breath is a warm puff against your most sensitive parts. "so wet for me, hmm?"

You're not sure you can look away, too enraptured by the visual stimuli that's correlating with the circling of your swollen clit. You want to cry, a little bit. Scream, maybe. He's so beautiful you can't help but to reach out, running your fingers through the front of his chestnut hair and then his eyes are piercing through you like the shock of ice water.

Your body seems to register the feeling before you can process the sight by itself, back bowing off the couch, hips bucking. His hot, wet tongue licks at the hood of your clit, starting slow and picking up pace when you start to squirm. The blossoms painted across his skin decorate the arms that hold you down while his pillowy lips envelop the bud, suckling lewdly.

"O-oh, oh fu-mmm." You're already blubbering, lost and falling into the sensation of everything all at once. You've no doubt that he's had years of experience but this, you're not sure you've felt pleasure like this before.

"Feels good?" He mumbles between the flick of his tongue, hands traveling up the length of your body to grip your waist, kneading your skin. You almost laugh at the question, assuming your trembling body and the way you're involuntarily bucking against his mouth would suffice as an answer. Still, you humour him.

"Mmhm, feels- ohh, mhm feels good." Your voice is barely there, strained and whiny but he feeds off of your every utterance as if it's something he so desperately needs. The smacking between your legs becomes louder and like a magnet, you're drawn to the sight again, coil in your belly tightening impossibly.

He's a muss of hair, the dark strands tickling your thighs when his head moves from side to side. Your thighs attempt to clamp shut but then he's looking up at you again - purposeful in the way he maintains eye contact while he dives down and licks a stripe over your entrance.

You're not going to last long, and he knows this, from every twitch and squirm and whimper - he's preparing for your demise, humming in contentment while the lewd sounds of slickness continue.

He slips a finger inside of you, and then another once he realizes how soaked you are, and this proves to be the beginning of the end. You grip onto his forearms, needing to be grounded to something while he buries the digits inside of you, curling in a come hither motion.

It's all beyond what you thought pleasure could be, it's violet and red and all things euphoric behind your eyelids and the sound of his pleased groans are what finally have you giving out, melting against the couch cushions.

You're not sure if you're making any sound at all, honestly. It comes so quick, violent in it's force and you're hazy headed - tears welling in your eyes from the way he's still massaging you, licking you while your walls squeeze and contract around his fingers.

"That's it baby, mmm, let go."

The velvet voice is warm against your sensitive sex and you're still twitching as you peel your eyes open to peer down between your legs and see him there, staring up at you like you're the sun, slowing his movements while the aftershock of your orgasm seeps through you.

His knuckles are buried to the hilt inside of you and he pulls them out slowly, petal pink lips kissing your clit gently, adoringly. With your brain still foggy and embarrassment no longer present, you grab his wrist, bringing his slick soaked fingers to your mouth and wrapping your lips around them.

He moans an expletive and then he's hovering over you again, watching with a soaring heart as you suckle your juices clean from his digits, lashes fluttering when you open your eyes.

For once in his life, he's speechless. You have to pull him down to kiss you in order to breaks him from his reverie and it's now that he's realizing how excruciatingly hard he is. He doesn't remember the last time he's ever been this worked up without his dick even being touched for more than five minutes.

It's safe to say he's taken by surprise when your hand slips into his bottoms and briefs to palm him this time, and his body lurches against you while a desperate sound bellows in his throat.

"Baby." he coos, relishing in the softness of your palm, the difference in size of his own. He wants to protest when the intense bliss of it is gone, momentarily, only to feel your fingers attempting to pull his sweats down.

You're still buzzing from your orgasm but you've never been more positive about something; about someone. Your whole body feels as though it can't be satiated, not until you have all of him after having such a sweet taste.

"Please, now, want you now." You nibble on his bottom lip and he has to pull himself away or else he'll get too caught up in your mouth by itself, but he's on a mission - searching for his wallet and scrambling for it when he sees the leather square sitting on the floor.

The tips of your fingers and toes tingle with a mixture of unbearable anticipation, and nerves for what's about to come when he pulls the condom from his wallet and tears the corner of the foil.

It's just a second but it's enough to admire him silently, the twitch of his mouth, the elegance of his fingers even when they're eager and uncoordinated. A part of you feels overcome by the need to be encapsulated by his presence, for his skin to be a permanent silkiness against your lips.

He catches you in the midst of staring and it's like he's glowing from the inside out, pulling his pants down his thick thighs along with his black briefs, kicking them to the floor.

Without thinking your arms are reaching forward, gripping the small of his waist as if to still him, and he pauses at your will. He's cupping your chin with one hand while your fingertips explore underneath the hem of his shirt, and you're grateful that he's allowing you to soak this in, that he's not rushing despite the fact that both of you are like exposed lit wires.

"Here, let me take it off." His arms are reaching behind him before you can blink, biceps curling as he pulls his shirt off of his broad shoulders before discarding it with the rest of his clothing.

Your breath is audible, pupils blown wide while you examine the length of his torso and the permanent shapes that are marked there. Only patches of his honey skin peek through the array of tattoos he's got climbing his sides, over his chest, and you swear you've never seen someone so beautiful.

"Take mine off too." You barely manage to get out, and he's kissing your lips again with a soft sort of fondness, while his knuckles graze your skin and your shirt is being stripped from your body. He's back to kissing you and your naked chests meet for the first time, a fierceness gripping you by the throat when when when the shaft of his cock nudges your clit.

"You're sure about this?" He asks, gentle in the way he strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, pecking your mouth between glances at your nipples where they rub against him. His touch travels to your jaw and down your neck, before he's tweaking the buds between his fingers, and your legs wrap around his middle in an effort to solidify your answer.

"Yes, I'm sure," you run your fingers through his hair. "very sure."

Lips press against your cheek and then you're presented with the sight of him again, bare in front of you, just a few inches away. It's now that you really find the courage to look at him, not expecting to be out of breath and shock stricken once you lay your eyes upon his dick.

It's pretty, as pretty as you knew it had to be; curved just slightly, the tip swollen with arousal and a shade deeper than that of his lips that you've come to have photographically memorized.

You watch with probably more fascination than most while his slim fingers roll the condom onto his length, down the shaft that protrudes with a small vein right in the middle, until it's snug and securing the fact that you and Johnny Seo are about to have sex.

As always, here there right when you need him most, aiding you in forgetting about anything that isn't crucial to right now. His arms are wrapping around your thighs and pulling you closer - your small gasp doesn't go unnoticed.

And then, there's also the way he's looking at you, again. It's like he's compacted every emotion you could feel in a moment like this, and somehow managed to reflect it's opacity back at you through the glimmer of his irises.

You jerk your hips against him and he grins at your urgency, diverting his attention to the space between your legs and holding you steady by the hips with one hand while the other goes to grip his cock.

He levels his pelvis with yours and brings the pink head down to your entrance where it leaks for him, gathering the slickness and smearing it through your folds, around your clit.

His fingers search for yours and suddenly he's interlocking them while you feel the initial stretch of his dick finally entering you, a soft expletive leaving his mouth while he pushes himself into you halfway, peering down with half lidded eyes as a silent affirmation.

Your expression must be as expressive as the soft mewls that involuntarily fall from your lips, and he bottoms out while leaning down to kiss you as he's come to realize that this action is single handedly way more addictive than it should be.

You feel so full it's impossible not whine, and within seconds he's pulling himself out of you nearly all the way - mouth hovering over yours so he can watch your features contort when he sheathes himself back in with a snap of his hips.

With the need to hold on to something becoming incessant, he allows you to throw your arms around his neck while your thighs tremble around him, his hips creating a slow but steady pace that draws lewd sounds from between your bodies with every slow drag of his thick cock.

It's strange, how you provoke such tenderness within him when you shudder and pant beneath him despite the fact that he's barely done anything yet- a juxtaposition to the feral, nagging type of ache that brews in the center of his belly to have you even more a mess.

It's not that he's fairing any better, though. Even you can see that, feel it in the way he keeps his lips on your skin, trying and failing miserably to hold back his groans while your nails create crescent moons on the broad of his back.

"You - f-fuck you feel s-so good." He stutters, and if you could find your words maybe you'd even have the confidence to tease him, but right now all you can comprehend is the feeling in which he's providing, the nudge of his tip so deep inside of you.

"Faster, can you - oh yes, yes." It's like he knows what you want before you get it out all the way, and his tongue is warm against your throat while he obliges your request, furthering your haziness.

You're quick to realize that Johnny is a generous lover. Despite the fact that he's holding himself together on the edge of his coherency, he's already atuned to each tense of your muscles, the strain of sweet sounds you coo in his ear. He uses this as a guide, working his hips skillfully, circling when he pushes himself back in.

The fact that you're sopping wet helps as well, audibly soaked and your walls are taking him in so generously he doesn't know what to do with himself. Your hands are in his hair and tug at the dark strands without thinking, drawing a sweet, serene moan from the back of his throat.

"Mm, feels good?" He asks despite knowing the answer, your countenance painted with the colors of bliss. He peers down in between your bodies and almost regrets it due to the pulse it sends through his groin - threatening to send him over the edge too soon.

But it's a sight too mesmerizing, his entire length disappearing inside of you with an easy glide, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs and your clit waiting to be played with. You're just as taken by the sight, surrounded by only him, inside of you and around you like a life force. Your hands travel over anywhere and everywhere, down to his belly where the muscles flex underneath the painted skin with every thrust.

"So good, you feel s-so good Johnny." You're becoming even more petulant but he doesn't mind, not when you're clinging onto his biceps and mewling his name. He slips his tongue into your mouth while his hands cup the back of your knees, hiking your thighs up higher around his middle.

Your skin burns where he touches, his pace increasing and now you wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors knew exactly what it is that the two of you are doing, skin against skin and coos of pleasure echoing through your small apartment. You have a hard time forming thoughts that make sense.

"M' all the way up there baby," his voice is deceivingly sweet, hips dangerous and borderline ruthless now that you two are drenched in the essence of lust and desire, driven by your need to come undone. "such a sweet pussy."

He means it, too. Maybe that's what makes this all so much more enthralling. From the clench of his taut jaw, to the way his dark eyebrows are furrowed, even the crimson of his lips from the way he's been biting down on them - Johnny is nothing but honest. It's somehow stripped you of the shyness you'd normally be harboring, compelling your mouth to speak without a filter.

"It's all yours, I'm yours."

This seems to spur him on, more than you thought because now he's all but cradling you in his arms, mouthing his words against your lips, not allowing even a centimeter of space to reside between the two of your bodies. It feels whole, complete.

"Mm, yeah sweetheart? Mine. Fuck, you're all mine."

It's a growled statement and you quiver against his solid form, warmed from the inside out like a furnace and set ablaze. You're still sensitive from his mouth but that doesn't change the orb of pressure within your belly, or the waves of pleasure that spread through your thighs and up your spine from the way your clit is rubbing against his pelvis while his cock reaches new depths.

You should've known his mouth would be filthy, and it's really ticking every box you've literally ever needed to be ticked and you're sort of embarrassed by how far gone you are already, properly mewling with your fingers gripping onto his bulged biceps where he uses them to hold himself up.

His face is a sight to behold in itself, as well - plush lips parted, cheeks hot and a shade of deep, ravishing plum. If he weren't steadily hitting that sweet spot inside of you maybe you'd actually be able to keep your eyes open long enough to admire it more - but it's obvious it won't be long until you're unraveling.

He's thankful, in a way. Because you're sighing out sweet words that profess how good he's doing, and he swears that he's never felt anything as good as this. Through and through. You're made for him, wrapped around his being, tight like cellophane and it's silly but this is all he's dreamed of for months.

"Open your eyes sweetheart," his hips stutter at the same time you involuntarily squeeze around the tip of his cock as he goes to seep back into you and you're drawn to the plead of his voice. "let me - fuck, let me be yours, please?"

His voice is honey, coating you in it's sweetness and you're teetering on the edge of your release. It beckons you soothingly, like a siren in the wake of a wave and it doesn't calm when you pull him down to your mouth by the nape of his neck, your shared groans being swallowed by the other. Your thighs are a vice around his waist, keeping him locked against you as he grinds his cock into you.

"You're mine, J-John- oh, oh please." His fingers have reached down in the limited space between your shared skin to rub your clit in circles and you know this is it - mind and body completely encircled by everything he's made of, the scent of his skin and the heat of his body and even the way he says your name.

"Want you to cum for me, please, please cum for me baby." His breath is warm against your ear, a vibration that wracks through all of your senses and your body knows it's coming before you do - instantly under the influence of his begs and pleas.

You're descending, voice nothing but a gasp and an echo of an expletive when the dam inside of you finally bursts - leaving you to tremble like a leaf beneath him while the feeling threatens to consume you inch by inch, nerve by nerve. 

You've all but gone limp, bright dots of light flitting through your vision and you feel his mouth everywhere, like a soft, warm reassurance that he's not going anywhere while you spasm around him.

"Just like that, oh fuck, yeah just like that."

In this place of completeness, you bask in the rise in octave of his usually low timbred voice, in the way he's holding you so firmly in his arms, as if scared to let go and put even an inch of separation between the two of you.

You're still twitching when you feel him throb inside of you, your name a warm whisper against the side of your neck while he pumps himself into you with no real rhythm; filling the condom with spurts of his cum while your fingers gently scratch the back of his scalp, through his hair.

Your breaths are ragged and have only that in common, his weight comforting despite the fact that both of you are in such a fragile state. It all feels surreal, like maybe you’ll wake up soon even with his cock still buried inside of you, half hard. More than anything, it feels right. Apprehension nor guilt nor worry brews underneath your skin, instead overshadowed by pure elation.

Wet pecks travel across your throat like marks of gratitude and your smile is automatic, involuntary.

"I meant it, you know," he's out of breath but concise, palm cupping the side of your face as he makes his way to your mouth and kisses you there, afraid to look you in the eyes. "about...about what I want. About wanting you."

You actually do laugh this time, suddenly outrageously giddy at the words leaving his pretty mouth, mildly entertained by the fact that someone could be almost as oblivious as you are. Almost.

He looks worried for only a split second until you're kissing his face, over his nose and fuchsia cheeks, a feather against the soft autumn ground.

"I meant it too," your voice is light, airy and he swears he'd believe anything you told him, even if it weren't as absolutely resolute as it is right now; your smile against his lips like a seal of promise. He meets your gaze, and everything within him calms, settles.

"I'm yours. And you're mine."

This, he thinks to himself, is all he's wanted to hear since the day you looked up at him with all the stars in your eyes.

Completely worth Jaehyun stealing his Armani denim jacket, honestly.

[cuthian]

Not Giving Up

Post-2x10 continuation

The conversation we better see in season three.

Not Giving Up

“You Can’t Just Give Up On Someone Because The Situation’s Not Ideal. Great Relationships Aren’t Great Because They Have No Problems. They’re Great Because Both People Care Enough About The Other Person To Find a Way To Make It Work.”

—Unknown author

Victor smiled despite himself when the door swung open and revealed Benji, despite the way he and Benji had left things earlier, despite how hurt and confused and upset he’d been with his boyfriend for the past few days, despite how confused he had been earlier after Rahim had told him he had feelings for him and had kissed him.

“Hi,” he breathed, and Benji grimaced a little, looking down at his feet as his fingers clenched on the door.

“Hi,” Benji replied nonetheless, voice tight and low, like it always was when he was upset.

Victor swallowed thickly. “Can, uh… Can we talk?” When Benji didn’t say anything, didn’t reply or even look up, Victor’s heart clenched and he felt vaguely nauseous. “Benji, please,” he whispered. “Please.”

Benji’s fingers tightened minutely on the doorframe before he stepped aside so Victor could pass him into the house.

Victor exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and walked inside, waiting for Benji to shut the door. “Let’s—let’s just talk my room,” Benji said stiffly, gesturing towards the stairs, and Victor offered a shy smile as he quipped, “I know you’re mad at me, but don’t think I don’t know you’re waiting for me to go first so you can look at my ass.”

Benji’s lips quivered a little, like he was holding in a laugh, shaking his head.

“I can be mad at you and still think your ass is hot, Victor,” he replied dryly. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Victor smiled and glanced at Benji from beneath his eyelashes. “I know you are.”

Benji shook his head again and gestured towards the stairs again. “Come on. You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.”

Victor nodded shakily and hurried up the stairs, walking down the familiar path to Benji’s bedroom on autopilot as he rehearsed all the things he wanted to say—all the things he needed to say—in his head as he did.

Once he was actually in Benji’s room though, once Benji had shut the door behind them, leaning back on it heavily as he looked up at Victor from underneath his eyelashes, all the words he’d wanted to say died in his throat. “I’m not sorry,” he blurted, and Benji’s eyes widened minutely before anger seeped back into his expression. “No,” Victor exclaimed, “no, wait, that came out wrong. I mean—” he sighed and shook his head again.

“I’m not sorry that I took Rahim to the wedding instead. You left me in a lurch and I asked Pilar, but she said no, so when Rahim offered, I accepted it because I didn’t want to go alone.” He looked up at Benji and winced a little at the other boy’s completely unreadable expression. “And you’re right,” he admitted. “Maybe things with Rahim weren’t exactly as platonic as I thought they were.”

Benji scoffed and Victor winced. “I know,” he sighed, “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I want you to know I didn’t even consider it a real possibility until you pointed it out, until Rahim—”

“Until he what?” Benji snapped, eyes dark with anger and hurt. “Until he what, Victor?”

Victor bit harshly at his lower lip before he admitted, “He told me he had feelings for me and that he was pretty sure I had feelings for him too and… he kissed me.”

Benji inhaled sharply and turned, slamming his hand back against the door. “Great,” he choked. “Great. That’s fucking great, Vic. Is this karma for Mia? Because it’s becoming a fucking pattern.”

Victor blanched. “No. No, Benji, that’s not at all—it’s nothing like what happened between us—”

“Isn’t it?” Benji exclaimed, throwing his hands up as he turned back to Victor. He lifted one hand to point an accusing finger at him and spat, “You did the exact same thing again! How is this any different than it was then?”

“Because I’m not in love with Rahim!” Victor shouted back, stomping forward to poke a finger against Benji’s shoulder. “I’m not in love with him, and I’m not gonna pretend I could never be, that there’s nothing there that couldn’t be something if you and I hadn’t met or known each other, or if you hadn’t been here, but you are. You are here, Benji, and I do know you—and I love you.”

Benji’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears and his lower lip was trembling and Victor couldn’t tell if he was on the verge of tears because he was so pissed off or because he was hurt and it was a little scary.

Benji abruptly looked away and inhaled deeply, shaking his head, and Victor’s heart sank.

“I know you think you do,” Benji said quietly, “But damn it, Victor, do you even get why I asked you for a break in the first place? Do you even understand why I was upset?”

Victor bit his lip and hung his head a little. “I know I—I should’ve handled everything better, that I—that we somehow forgot to communicate somewhere along the way and I—I ignored it because I figured we’d be fine, but…” He shook his head. “I know I broke your trust when I told Rahim about the drinking, and I’m so sorry, Benji.”

“It’s not just that,” Benji exclaimed angrily, throwing up his hands in frustration. “I mean, it is, because I—” he looked down again. “You knew how I felt about that—I wasn’t even really ready to tell you about it, and then you went and told some guy that we’ve known for all of five minutes and I—” He ran his hand through his hair.

“It’d have been one thing if it were Felix or Pilar or even Mia, but Rahim?” Benji turned back to him with wide, tearful eyes. “You told me you’d told him and I felt like I didn’t even know you anymore, because my Victor—I couldn’t believe you’d have betrayed my trust like that. And then there was the whole thing with your mom, I just—”

“I’m sorry,” Victor blurted, reaching out for Benji’s hand tentatively. “I should’ve—” but Benji shook his head and held up his hand.

“Let me finish,” he said hoarsely. “Because this is something I should’ve been talking to you about then, and I made the mistake of not being open with you about it.” Victor shut his mouth and nodded, something in his chest loosening just a little when Benji reached out and took Victor’s hand between his anyway.

“We’ve been together for six months,” Benji continued shakily. “Six months and your mom could barely even acknowledge my existence, could barely even stomach it when I held your hand. And I knew how hard it was for you, so I tried not to let it get to me, I tried to be there for you, but then when you told me how she accepted this random friend of Pilar’s without a second’s hesitation, I—” he shook his head. “I wanted to be excited, but I was just… I was hurt. And jealous. And I hated that you couldn’t see that, that I would have to tell you that. That it just didn’t occur to you that hearing her accept someone else was going to be hurtful to me.”

Victor winced and nodded, because that was fair.

For a lot of their relationship, it’d been him leaning on Benji for support and he could see how that had gotten out of balance quickly. He’d hated that Benji hadn’t told him about the AA meetings and confided more in him, but he could also see, with the benefit of hindsight, that there hadn’t been a lot of room for him to do so.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “You’re, I’m sorry. I should’ve considered that.”

Benji nodded shakily. “And then when your mom walked in on us…” he trailed off and sighed. “I lost it. I was so—so frustrated and upset, and I took it out on her and you and I’m sorry,” he looked up at Victor with a pleading expression. “I shouldn’t have yelled at her, but it was like.... like everything I’d been wanting to say just came out all at once in this big messed up jumble of words, and then when you told me to leave it felt—it felt like you were picking her side.”

Victor hung his head.

That night had been a mess and they’d both screwed up a lot and Victor knew they should’ve done better—all of them.

“And then I told Rahim,” he whispered.

Benji nodded, “And then you told Rahim and it felt like you weren’t who I thought you were at all, like I was in love with someone who wasn’t—who wasn’t real.” He blinked hard, but a tear rolled down his cheek anyway, and Victor ached to wipe it away, but he refrained because Benji was still talking. “So I asked you for a break, because I needed some space to think, even if it felt so weird to not talk to you every hour—”

“I hated it too,” Victor cut in quietly. “Not talking to you. The only reason I hung out with Rahim was because I needed someone to distract me from… from this, from us while you were thinking about whether or not to break up with me.”

“I don’t wanna break up with you,” Benji whispered, expression devastated. “I love you. But—I don’t want to get stuck in another relationship where I’m the one doing all the giving and getting nothing in return.” He turned his amber eyes on Victor again and pleaded, “And I know you’d never make me feel like that on purpose, but—”

“But it still happened,” Victor nodded, the sick feeling in his stomach persisting.

Benji frowned and nodded.

Victor nodded too and looked down, trying to think of the best way to say what he needed to say to Benji, to show him he meant what he said. “I’m sorry I betrayed your trust,” he said quietly, sincerely, squeezing his fingers around Benji’s. “And I’m sorry I hurt you and that I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me how shitty my mom made you feel. I’m sorry that I misread what was happening with Rahim, and I’m sorry I didn’t push him away immediately when he kissed me.”

Benji made a face, but Victor continued, “I was confused, for a bit, because I—I couldn’t pretend it didn’t make me feel anything at all, but it’s not—it’s nothing like you make me feel. And when I picture my future, I can’t picture it without you. It’s always you, Benji. I love you. And I know we have so much to work through, but I’m in this with you, I promise.”

He pulled their hands to his lips and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the back of Benji’s hand.

“Please don’t give up on us,” he whispered.

Benji let out a soft breath and looked up at Victor with a soft, fragile smile. “I told you,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I could give up on us even if I wanted to.”

Victor exhaled in relief and tipped forward, leaning their heads together, pulling Benji as close as he could to breathe him in, to relish in the fact that Benji was letting him hold him, that he’d let Victor explain and apologize and that he’d apologized too.

Victor had come so close to losing him, and the fact that he could have made him feel nauseous. They weren’t okay, not yet, but they were together and they loved each other and they were going to fight like hell to make sure they gave it their best shot—they weren’t going to give up just like that.

“I love you,” he told Benji quietly.

Benji’s fingers tightened in the fabric of Victor’s shirt for a second before he replied, “I love you too.”

[goldafterglow]

Head canon: MAKING JACK BLUSH. I NEED TO SEE IT. 🥺

Summary: Jack Daniels is a pretty cowboy.

Paring: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x reader

Word Count: 1.3k+

Warnings: soft!Jack, no sins but they are for sure basking in the post-sin afterglow, a lil bit of blushing for our baby boy, this is not beta read bc i’m impatient

Author’s Note: YESDJHGJFD I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF THIS. This is also my first little like drabble, except it’s too long but ig 1.3k is a drabble for me kids this is the standard.

It’s early in the morning. 1:43 am to be exact. But you can’t bring yourself to end the night; he always make it so hard to sleep. In a good way of course; a really good way.

It’s in the afterglow that his feelings begin to melt, glaciers in his mind turning to liquid as the golden amber spills gently from his lips and over your chest so that it will encapsulate you, dry around you and encase you, keeping his words wrapped around your body forever. Embroidered into the soft chenille of your neck and whispered into the lobes of your ears. He speaks to you in a way that you can feel; it’s a pleasure of its own to feel his lips kiss the dips of your clavicles through his words, his voice low and sending wide vibrations through your sternum. It feels sinful, heavenly, like something too good to be right.

It feels nice.

You’re laid by him on your side, face buried into his bare chest as his thick fingers run along the curve of your spine, re-exploring you with a sense of focused clarity that he doesn’t often get when he’s overwhelmed with lust and passion. His fingers are careful, sensitive, picking up on every bump and blemish until he can paint the perfect picture of you under his closed eyelids, even as the meek moonlight bathes your waist and glimmers against the sheets. Perfect.

He’s resolved to a comfortable state of wordlessness, eyes trained on the top of your head as you bask. There truly is something golden about the afterglow he casts onto you; you always seem to feel like you’re floating, like not even gravity could keep you from ascending to the clouds with him. He makes you feel precious.

With an inhale of his musk, you slowly nudge your chin so that you can look up at him, fingers tracing his jaw. You love to let him shower you in his affection like a delicate hummingbird is kissed by tiny drops of rain, but you rarely take the time to take him in. The bump of his nose is highlighted by the window’s rays, his lips still a little blushed and swollen from the night. The side of your palm runs up along the side of his face before finding his hair; it’s been mussed, disheveled by your greedy fingers. Gorgeous.

“What’s going on in that big beautiful mind of yours, angel?” Jack ponders, prodding you tenderly with his words. He can tell when you’re lost in thought, lost in him. Perhaps he can’t tell when you have no desire to be found, when you want to be left to traverse the tall grass of his forest and hug the applewood in his eyes. What a way to go.

“Nothing, Jack,” you assure. It’s a weak excuse, an almost embarrassing attempt at deflecting his question, but maybe it’s because you want him to ask you again, dig a little deeper into you so he can make a home inside you. Never leave.

“Now, darlin’,” he starts, feigning a little sternness in his tone, “I think you know good and well that ol’ Jack can tell when you’re fibbin’. Ain’t no use lyin’ to me, honey. I’ll catch ya every time.” Your heart swells swells a little at his words, because he’s so honest with you. You know he knows you, sometimes better than you know yourself. He’s made you his hobby, learning you like a subject and studying you like a book. He can always read you.

And yeah; he always catches you.

You take a few diamond-adorned seconds to look at him; his mustache rests right on top of his soft smile, there to accent his words and tickle your neck when he’s feeling playful. His eyes are wide like when a two-month old baby can finally look at its mother in awe, utterly mystified and doe-y. His face is sculpted by the gods, chiseled to magnificence in his charcoal features, and yet he uses it to show you he loves you. He loves you.

“You’re so pretty, Jack,” you whisper. The words barely leave your lips as a noise, traveling to his ears as wisps of the breeze you blow onto him.

Jack Daniels is floored.

It’s not a word he’d ever use to describe himself. Cocky, sure. Sexy, absolutely. Brash, confident, competent; he wasn’t too shy to toot his own horn every once in a while. But pretty? Flowers are pretty; butterflies are pretty. When the sleepy sun yawns and breathes a peach glow onto the front-porch flower bed, that’s pretty. When you step outside to dip yourself in the golden afterglow and he walks out into the backyard to find you sitting on the quaint bench he built just for you. When he drags himself into the kitchen in the morning to find you already there, frying up bacon on his stove in nothing but his unbuttoned flannel and last night’s bra; that is fucking pretty.

But Jack Daniels -- is he pretty? He looks down at you carefully. He can tell when you’re fibbin’, after all. 

You don’t look like a dishonest woman to him.

“You’ve already got me in bed with you,” he teases, trying to deflect. He can’t handle the weight of your words, isn’t strong enough to hide what they do to him, and he needs you to take them back before he bursts into a supernova of rouge love. “You don’t need to-”

“I mean it, baby,” you interrupt, tone serious. You can tell he doesn’t want to believe you, doesn’t want to grapple with the intensity of your thoughts. But he needs to know, he has to trust you’re not deceiving him. “You’re beautiful.”

His smirk is gone, his smug, self-assured grin nowhere to be seen. The room is dark; he knows that. But the moonlight hits him just right, at just the right angle that you can see that sweet strawberry syrup tint his cheeks, giving him up. You can’t help but smile a little, like you’ve done something good. He’s good.

Jack’s breathing is a little jagged, his heartbeats a little stuttered. What was it he’d done to deserve you again? Oh right; nothing.

Your hand leaves his hand to cup his red cheek, thumb running right under his big eyes. He leans into it, face turning a little to nuzzle your palm, and the notion makes you giggle. A fierce lion reduced to a whimsical lamb, so gentle under your touch. He is vulnerable when he is with you, especially in these shared moments of solitude, and you wonder if you could look at him like this forever.

Blushing.

“C’mere, pretty boy,” you tease, but you mean it. You mean every word.

You nudge him towards you, his face finding solace in your chest. He shifts down a little, his soft body wrapping around your middle. He can hide in you, feel pretty in your arms. He’s safe in you.

“You think I’m pretty, sugar?” he asks softly. Almost a little timid. He’s embarrassed to need validation like this, ashamed that he’s practically begging you to say those words again, but you make him feel so warm, so secure, and he knows that the last person to leave him for a lapse in strength is you.

You press a kiss to the top of his scalp, his wild hair tickling your nose but you don’t care; you want him close. Closer.

“I know it,” you whisper, throat closing on itself a little because you’re so grateful that you finally get to tell him. That Jack can finally begin to grasp just how much he means to you. There’s so much more you want to say, but you don’t want to overwhelm him with it because you know he loves you with a fury and passion that drowns him without you piling on your love too.

And as Jack closes his eyes, finally ready to let the night end, he thinks he might know it too.

Tags (ik this is a drabble but idk lmao):  @gustavos @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @buckstaposition @the-feckless-wonder @ergotautology (girl you know what to do) 

also im gonna never tag anyone in my headcanons again bc that was embarrassing yikes gjfhdjgd