#sorry for the typos this was written on my phone and it sucks

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Feeding

Male Half-Demon Yandere x Gender Neutral Vampire Reader CW: Noncon, blood drinking, biting/cutting for blood, making out, drugged sex, drugged reader, forced addiction, overstimulation, reader fucked well and truly out of their mind whilst high on demon blood, aftercare, general yandere behavior Word count: 1.6k (Sorry this took forever. The image of reader sitting on dick while sucking blood from a wrist was living rent free in my head and I had to write this. Written on my phone, hopefully I fixed all the weird formatting and typos.)

The full moon shone brightly in the clear winter night. With each exhale, your breath plumed out visibly. The shadows of trees stretched long and spindly, grasping for a material world they were incapable of grabbing hold of. You hid amongst the bushes, silently watching the small bar in front of you. It was a secluded place. Quiet and down the road from anything else. Perfect for a person to grab a drink. Even a vampire like yourself. This was your first night in this town, but there were almost always places like this to slake your thirst. 

Wait for a drunk customer to come stumbling out and nab them to have a drink of your own. Then, if you needed to, use your hypnotic powers to make them think it was all a dream. 

That's what you had intended tonight. But then you caught a whiff of a human that smelled much more tempting than any other you had ever encountered. 

The bartender. Your sharp ears could pick up his name even from outside. Wade. Not that you needed to bother knowing it.

You decided to wait for the last lingering patron to leave the bar before sneaking in and making your move. It took a few hours, and your joints grew stiff in the cold, but finally, the bartender was alone, and you could make your move. You were practically salivating as you slipped into the bar, and his scent hit you more directly. You couldn't wait to taste what waited in his veins. Luckily, you didn't have to. 

"Sorry, we've just closed," he said as he heard you enter.

With superhuman speed, you rushed behind him, barely having time to note the surprised expression on his face. 

You wasted no time on pleasantries and sank your fangs into his neck.

Instantly, you were lost in his flavor. His blood was glorious. But after one drink, your eyes glazed and your thoughts were foggy. 

He plucked you off of him easily, and you fell to the floor, dizzy and confused but yearning for more of him. You were so thirsty. A mild sense of euphoria washed over you, but your body felt weak and wobbly. 

Wade stared down at you, smirking. His brown hair turned silver, small black horns sprouted from his forehead, and his hazel eyes glowed red.

"What's wrong? Bit off more than you could chew?"

Not much blood had been consumed, so you started to get to your feet, but Wade wanted you nice and helpless. He rubbed his fingers to the bite mark you had left and shoved his fingers into your mouth and smeared the drug on your tongue. You immediately slumped against the counter.

He went and locked up the bar before returning to your side and administering another hit of his blood. You eagerly drank it up. It was too irresistible. 

Then he gently led you downstairs where he apparently lived. 

"Didn't realize I was part demon or didn’t know demon blood was like a narcotic? Maybe you didn't know either of those..." 

He tossed you on the bed rather unceremoniously.

"Thought you were gonna get an easy meal, but you're gonna feed me too!"

Assuming that he ate beings with magic, you looked up at him with a horrified expression and scrambled to get off the bed. He stopped you and pushed you back.

"I'm nourished by intoxication and addiction the way sex and lust nourishes an incubus," he explained, having noted the fear on your face.

Though you still had a fierce thirst for his blood, you weren't addicted. Yet. Just significantly increased blood cravings. You had the presence of mind to know what he intended, and you didn't want to be a captive.

"You can't do this!"

The effects of his blood on your body were rapidly wearing off. It had only been a small amount. You could use your speed to zip awa-

"I can do whatever I want to a little leech like you~" 

Wade pinned you on the bed and used the sharp nail of his thumb to slice his wrist before shoving his wrist to your mouth. You tried to turn away and keep your mouth closed, but you could feel the warm blood tingle your lips, and the smell was all-encompassing. Tired of your struggles, he smacked you hard across the cheek. You could have shrugged off a strike from a normal human, but he had demonic strength. As he had anticipated, you cried out in pain. With your mouth open, he jammed his bloody wrist right into your mouth. 

Once a drop had touched your tongue for the third time that night, all your resolve melted away. You relaxed under him and greedily lapped at his wrist. Now that it was in you, you needed more.

As you gave into your dark desires and fed off Wade, he fed off the intoxication and the budding addiction growing inside you. 

But the whole situation had his cock straining painfully in his jeans. 

He maneuvered your clothes off as well as his, but your attention was focused on your meal. You whimpered and grabbed for his arm as he pulled it away to lube up his cock. Just because he was doing this for nourishment didn't mean he couldn't have some fun. Besides, being all cute and needy for his blood made you look far too tempting for the half-demon. 

He pulled you into his lap and slid his thick cock into you.

Wade put his arm up to you so you could suckle from his wrist as he slowly fucked into you. A large demonic cock like Wade's would have stretched and hurt the hole of any human, but you were far more durable. In fact, it felt quite nice. His blood seemed to heighten pleasurable sensations while reducing unpleasant ones.

You moaned softly as you fed.

"That's it, take alllll you want babe. I regenerate faster than you can drink."

It must have been true. His wound had healed and you had to bite his wrist to draw more blood. He didn't seem to mind. 

The demon kissed your neck and sucked it softly as he continued pumping into you. Never too hard to interrupt your meal. 

He kept the slow and considerate pace until you had finished. Blood was smeared all over the lower half of your face, your eyes glossy and half lidded. You were barely cognizant of your surroundings anymore. All you knew was that you felt warm, happy, relaxed and, for the first time since you had turned, alive.

Wade angled your face towards him and kissed you deeply from behind, enjoying the taste of blood from your lips and the rush of energy he got from getting you high. He brushed his tongue against your fangs to draw blood so you could suck it while the two of you made out sloppily. The half-demon broke the kiss, a sanguine string of saliva and blood connected your lips for a moment. Wade hastened the tempo of his thrusts into you as his mind raced over the implications of having you. 

A human would have died from just a drink of demon's blood. That's why he blended each bottle of booze in his bar with but a single drop. Just enough to subconsciously coax humans to crave coming back to his bar and give Wade a bit more intoxication to sustain himself. But he didn't have to hold back with you at all. 

Rapturous moans left your body as your pleasure reached its zenith. Your normally frighteningly pale face was actually flushed.

"You enjoying yourself?" Wade smirked and kept going.

You could only weep silently as the overwhelming sensations from the drug and sex mingled into an overwhelming wave of ecstasy bearing down brutally upon you. 

With supernatural stamina he kept going for hours, he readministered his blood as needed. Every time he made you cum you whimpered. Each orgasm seemed to hold within it a greater and greater threat of throwing you off the brink of sanity and shattering your mind. 

By the end of it, when he had finally had enough after filling you with cum over and over again, you were a shaky drooling mess. His demonic features faded away as he picked you up. Then he took you to the tub and bathed you gently, getting all the dried blood off your face and cleaning up all the semen leaking from your hole. 

"Sorry I had to give you so much. Have to get you hooked on it."

Wade picked you up and wrapped you in a soft towel. You were too out of it to respond.

"The crashes aren't bad though at least. Extreme cravings but no life threatening illness or anything."

He kissed your forehead and tucked you in before getting under the covers and spooning you. 

"You're gonna love it here I promise. All the blood you want. I'm not just keeping you here to feed me, I could see glimpses inside your mind when your inebriation nourished me."

The half-demon ran a hand soothingly up and down your side.

"I know we're compatible lovers. You'll see."

You could hear his words but could just barely process them. 

"B-but.." You protested weakly.

"Hush now. You need to rest."

He put his arm around your waist and held you protectively. It was so much easier to just let sleep claim you than it was to resist.

Wade stayed up far longer though. All the thoughts of the wonderful life you two would share together running through his head and keeping him awake. It would be amazing. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

He'd treat you so well and make sure his little vampire was always happy. And he'd keep you hopelessly addicted to his blood. You'd be so helpless and dependent on him that you'd simply never be able to escape.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Workout Motivation » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: The new Avenger (the reader) is Bucky’s workout motivation.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys and scratches, unprotected sex, slight Sergeant kink, size kink, praise kink, Bucky’s dog tags, pet names (doll, babydoll, doll face)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

“Y/N, come here please.” Bucky says, putting the weights back on the rack.

You stopped doing your workout and went over to Bucky.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” You say.

“Lay down in front of me.” He says.

You eyes widened.

“You want me to what?” You asked.

“Lay down in front of me.” He repeated.

You did as you were told. You laid down in front of him, looking up at him. Bucky took his shirt off and getting into the push ups position.

“What is it I’m supposed to do besides lay here?” You asked.

“I need something pretty to look at while I do push ups.” He says with a smirk.

Bucky bent your knees and spread your legs apart so he could get in between them. He placed his hands on either side of your head on the floor and began doing push ups. You lost track after five cause that’s when your eyes started to wander all over his body. You were mesmerized by the way his dog tags dangled in your face. Every time his face would get close to yours, your breathing got heavy. You were practically begging for him to stop doing push ups and fuck you right there on the gym floor where anyone can walk in at any given moment.

“You want me, don’t ya, doll?” Bucky says.

“Wh-What?” You stuttered, blinking a couple times.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past couple minutes and your breathing is heavier than normal.” He says.

Bucky stopped doing push ups and leaned down, kissing your lips. You reached your hands up to his damp and sweaty hair, running his fingers through it and turning at it making him groan at the feeling.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He says against your lips.

“Don’t stop.” You say.

Bucky sat back on his knees and took off your gym shorts and panties in one go. He pulled down his gym shorts and boxers just below his ass, revealing his hard cock with precum leaking from the tip. He rubbed his tip between your wet folds, smearing his precum and your wetness. He positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance, looking at your face and waiting for permission, which you gave him. Bucky slowly slid his cock inside of your wet pussy, inch by inch until he was fully inside of you. You jaw dropped when you felt him stretching you open. He’s definitely the biggest you’ve ever had. You swore that you could feel him in your stomach. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size. You nodded your head, letting him know that he can start thrusting. Bucky’s hands wandered your body, stopping at the band of your sports bra. He pulled it up, letting your breast fall out. He was mesmerized by them bouncing every time he thrusted into you. He leaned down, kissing and sucking hard enough to leave hickeys the swells of them, pinching your nipples with his metal fingers. You gasped and arched your back at the new sensation. Your hands traveled to his back, feeling every muscle every time he flexed when he thrusted.

“Faster! Harder!” You moaned.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He hooked his arms under your knees and began pounding into you. You dug your fingernails in his back making him hiss at the feeling. You bit down on his right shoulder to keep yourself from moaning too loud.

“Fuck, tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever been in.” Bucky moans in your ear.

His thrusts somehow got faster and more brutal and you were all for it. His lower abdomen rubbed against your sensitive clit making moan loudly.

“You make the prettiest noises for me.” He says.

You continue to moan loudly, not caring if anyone heard you guys. Your walls fluttered around his cock making Bucky moan at the feeling. You felt your orgasm approaching faster than normal.

“I’m gonna cum!” You whimpered.

“Cum for me, babydoll. Make a fucking mess on my cock.” He whispers in your ear.

Your orgasm came crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You came so hard that you ended up squirting on him. That made it easier for Bucky to thrust in and out of you. He wasn’t to far behind you.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum. Can I cum inside of you, doll face?” He asks panting.

“Yes please, Sergeant!” You moaned loudly.

Bucky moaned your name loudly as he came inside of you. You moaned at the warm feeling of his cum inside of you. He thrusted a few more times before collapsing on top of you. You two looked into each other’s eyes, panting.

“That was…” You panted, not being able to find your words.

“Yea.” Bucky agrees.

Bucky pulled out of you. He grabbed his shirt and cleaned the two of you up. You guys got dressed again and stood up. You legs wobbled and you lost your balance. Bucky was quick to catch you.

“Thank you for being my motivation, doll.” Bucky says with a smile.

“I’ll be your motivation anytime you want, Sergeant.” You say, pecking his lips.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ��movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

[five-star-lotus-blog]

~ ooc

With all the pain in my heart…

I’ve come to the decision I have to give up on Macau.

Now, this breaks my heart but I’m aware that I haven’t been here as much to be considered quality.

But it has a reason and the reason I decided to give a little explanation is due to the amount of asks I’ve received in the past about my activity…and it’s the fact my life is quite busy. My mom is a 59 yr old woman with Polymyositis a rare disease that destroys muscles. And possible lupus.

Due to this , she needs a lot of attention, help, etc. And since, I lost my father years ago, I’m the one who takes care of her. Feeds her, bathes her, takes her to apportionments or…to the hospital but I’m also the house keeper, the one who cleans and makes food everyday.

Sadly, last week she was taken to ER due to pleural efussion.

Now she’s doing better but Is still serious.

But still, life will change a lot. I’ll need to move out to another place since she cannot use stairs anymore. I’ll have to catch up with school since I dropped this month.

And I’m aware and can’t be that selfish to keep stealing other fella mun’s time.

Thanks for everything, thanks for the chance.

Thanks for enduring with me. Thanks for not giving up on me.

Thanks for your attention.

Thank you.

If any of you still wants to keep contact with me you can message me to my personal blog. (Earth–intruders or main fandom blog danshikoi zboth run in queue but I try to read messages )

[meetmeinthefamilyvideo]

Call it even

Fuckboy!Bucky x f!reader (they’re both avengers) chapter 2

Summary: Bucky and reader used to be friends with benefits until she left for a 6 month-mission with the X-men. Bucky copes by meeting random women, but none of them were her. Until she came back.

Warning: bad writing, some angst, a little tiny allusion to smut so ANYONE UNDER 18 DNI you will be immediately blocked, Bucky being an asshole, reader being an asshole, two idiots madly in love but the other doesn’t realize it.

Word count: 918 words written on my phone so beware of typos. Other chapters will be longer btw this is an exposition fest

notes: this is my first fic in at least 5 years and my first time writing anything remotely close to smut, so it probably sucks but feel free to judge me pls, the characters will call the reader “babygirl”. Also flashbacks will be in bold italics.

Inspo: tis the damn season by Taylor Swift, common friends with benefits tropes, readers powers based on some of Sage from the x-men.

“Mr. Maximoff and Ms. y/l/n are in the elevator coming to this floor” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced to the common living area where all the avengers were located currently. Steve noticed how Bucky winced at the sound of her name, stood up and left before she could see him.

“Pietro, Babygirl!! you’re here” Wanda exclaims as she jumps to hug her brother and her best friend. Everyone comes to greet the two mutants who endured a 6 month-long mission with the X-men.

Natasha noticed y/n’s eyes wandering around trying to find Bucky but failing. Wanda didn’t need to read her mind to know what she was thinking of. Babygirl agreed to go on a mission with the x-men.

The reason? She was catching feelings for Bucky which is the one thing she agreed wouldn’t happened when they started being friends with benefits, so she decided to go to this mission to avoid those feelings. She didn’t even tell him she was going to leave, only Nat, Wanda and Tony knew.

After chatting with everyone Pietro left with Steve and Tony to debrief them on the mission and some other plans they had with the x-men. You talked to Wanda and Nat about the mission as you approached your room to unpack your stuff.

Having just finished folding some shirts, Natasha sat at your couch and said “you know, Barnes closed himself off when you left. He barely talks to any of us.”

“Oh really? A little birdie told me that he has been really enjoying himself” you answered sarcastically. Pietro had told you a month into the mission that, as he put it “Your friend with the robot arm has become involved with a friend of mine, they said he is sleeping in a new bed each night if you know what I mean” Which stung a little more than you would like to admit. The fact that someone that’s on the mission with you knows, means that it’s more than a few people and he’s probably over you.

“He’s not over you babygirl, if you ask me it’s more like he can’t get over you” Wanda tells you, reading your mind.

“Funny way of showing it, if you love someone the best course of action is to have sex with everyone else” you responded irritated.

“If I could Ms. y/l/n and I’m sorry to intrude, you did leave without telling him anything” Vision interfered, he had entered the room through the wall. Disregarding the fact that he invaded your space and scolding him, you let the three of them convince you to talk to him, you were great friends before and you shouldn’t let that get ruined.

You made your way to Bucky’s room. Like second nature you opened his lock and entered like you used to before, only this time Bucky didn’t answer like he used to. You came into his room tiptoeing so he didn’t hear you, his attention was solely on the book he was reading while lying on his bed. You straddled and took his book from his hands “hey handsome, how’s the reading going?” Bucky smirks, moving his hands to your hips and says “it was pretty good until some pretty girl came and interrupted me” you gasp “oh no, she must be so bad. What are you gonna do about it?” Your ass cheek gets a slap. “how about I teach her a lesson” Bucky says closing the space between your lips.

No, this time he looked at you in shock “how did you get here?” Here raised his eyebrows “I opened your lock, you know I have photographic memory Bucky, and even if I didn’t I only left six months I would’ve probably remembered it” he huffed as you said that.

“Oh right, so then why did you forget to tell me you were going?” You feel him getting tense. Your abilities let you recognize and feel how others are doing emotionally and also physically.

“So you care about me not being here? From what I heard you’ve been doing just fine without me.” You tell him defiantly.

“Well I guess we’re even aren’t we Doll? We both had our fun. If you don’t think what you did was bad then what’s wrong about me hanging around. It’s not Violetas’ fault you don’t care about your friend.” He said smugly, was he enjoying this? Were you enjoying this?

“Listen, if I wanted to know who you’re fucking I would’ve asked. Thank you very much.” you rolled your eyes at his gloating.

“What’s that Babygirl? Are you jealous?” He approached you, you see where this is going. To be honest you don’t mind it, but after Vision spoke with you you felt you had to apologize. Maybe just not right now.

“Jealous of what Sarge?” You’re playing with fire calling him that name. “You and I both know that no one has ever made you feel as good as I have” you step towards him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders.

Bucky grabs your ass and he smacks its right cheek, “oh yeah? How about you show me?” You can tell he’s still mad, and that he’s going to show you how much he missed you.

…………

You woke up in the middle of the night in his bed, realizing you probably fucked up running back into his arms without telling him anything about how you felt. You have a feeling this is not going to end well.

[galacticxcosmos]

Hi! Could you do a smut where they just had a concert but you are really drained and just so tired and don't feel good after and when you go back to the hotel jimin takes care of you

𝑳𝒖𝒏𝒂 ♔︎ 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 « ᵐᵃᵏⁿᵃᵉ ˡⁱⁿᵉ »

𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕐𝕠𝕦 ♕︎ ℙ𝕁𝕄 ♕︎

Read the profile if you are interested along with the request rules here.

Pairing :- Park Jimin X BTS 8th member < female reader >

Genre :- Bandmates with benefits, Idol AU, Erotica, Romantic, Fluff.

Rating :- 18+ ( M )

Word Count :- 2.7 k

Chapter Summary :- It's the last day of the LA concert, you were beyond tired, a little mess up on the stage was having a pressuring impact on you. Jimin was being a brat at the lack of your attention but soon realises the truth and comforts you in a way you would have never imagined.

Warnings :- brat!jimin { I just love it }, jealousy, slight angst, possessiveness, dom!jimin, blonde-haired!jimin, swearing, teasing, praising, pet names, hotel room sex, cum swallowing, finger sucking, body praising, breast sucking, unprotected sex { but be safe you all }, penetrative sex, soft sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, after care at it's peak, soft Jimin that makes my heart UwU.

A/N :- I know that I take forever but just bare with me okay. Also this is the first request for this book, I am so glad to get such a response at posting just the 8th member profile. I am really excited for this book, I hope you are too. ♡(> ਊ <)♡

P. S :- I am really nervous, so please ignore the typos, I would really appreciate any response. Feel free to send request.

The loud cheers and joyful screams resonated through the concert hall after the enliven performance. "Army!!" Seokjin pushed all his breath in calling out the beloved fans only to raise a wave of cheer in the crowd. Even after so many concerts, the beautiful light sticks shining in the dark never fail to captivate you inside it's mesmerizing view. The purple ocean snatched your breath away. "We are so grateful that you all are here, I hope you had a great time" Namjoon made the finishing statement in english, it was the last day of LA tour. You smiled and waved at dedicated crowd. Every good thing comes to an end someday but when it does we can only hope for something new to happen.

"Oh my, that was so funny" Hoseok's laughs filled the backstage waiting room. "He was like-- Can call me artist, cancallmeidol" Jungkook teased his leader about the minute mistake he made, making everyone burst into laughter. "Oh I didn't realise it would come out that way" the leader stood his ground, defending himself. You sat on the sofa, your head arched back listening to the endless commotion and leg pulling. You are exhausted, but that wasn't really the problem. Your heart sank deeper every time you remembered it. The second last performance was your solo where you had to not only dance but sing and rap at the same time.

This was nothing to complain about, being an idol mean you should expertise your way into each and every aspect individually and at the same time learn how to master all of it at the same. But your exhaustion took a toll of you and during one perticular step your voice got breathless as it was unstable. You felt a concoction of humiliation and disappointment bubbling up inside you. "Noona, are you okay??" You picked up your head to see the maknae looking at you, full of concern. Even though no one really realised the mistake, you still felt guilty about it. "Is it time to leave?" You asked getting up with a smile plastered on your face.

"Yeah, come on" he ideally swang his arm over your shoulder and walked towards the black vans waiting outside. The ride back to hotel was pretty quiet, most of them were pretty exhausted and had already fell asleep, as you wonder how. You can never fall asleep in motion, it's on top of your 'things that I can't' list. Some of them were busy on their phone checking twitter and the tweets that ARMYs made about the concert laughing at the funny pictures that ARMYs posted of them performing. "Y/N ah, your performance was really good" Hoseok complimented, to which you smiled potraying your gratitude since it meant a lot coming from the lead dancer.

But you couldn't deny the fact that it had somehow peeled off the newly tapped band aid off your wound.

Stepping out the steamy hotel bathroom in a fresh pair of PJs you looked around the deluxe hotel room. Quickly talking out your phone, you settled it down on the table beside the bed and started a vlive. "Hello ARMY" you waved at the camera and sat on the edge of the bed. "We just got over with our LA tour and now I am in my room so I thought to go live" you said with a smile, your eyes quickly scanning through the comments trying to find if anyone would mention about the incident. 'Eonnie, I am sure you did great!' you smiled at the comments of k-ARMYs who weren't at the concert.

'We loved the show!' English comments flooded the screen, 'You guys killed it!', 'Luna, you were amazing!' reading the comments you giggled, your heart finally felt a little light, "Oh my, thank you so much for these lovely comments" you replied in English, your usual Aussie accent coaxed your words, as you chuckled, your hand covering your mounth. A notification chimmed in, "Oh, Jin Oppa is doing Eat Jin live right now" you came back to speaking Korean as you read the notification. "So, a reason why I was doing this vlive is because--" you were cut off by the door bell. "Oh, must be room service, please wait a minute" you said getting up a d walking towards the door which was through the main room and thus it was not visible to the camera.

"Oh Jimin ssi" you looked just as confused as you were at the blonde standing in sweats. "Hi baby, are you done taking a shower" he pulled you towards him pecking on your forehead. "Jimin, I am on vlive" you whispered to him and he indeed was taken aback but it was soon gone being covered up in a chuckle, "They can't hear us" his arms were still embracing your waist as he pushed the door close with his back, "They can't see us" his lavishing eyes traveled down to you lips. "Maybe they can" you said with tight lipped smile, patting on his chest you wiggled out of his grip a d walked towards the room where the camera was.

"Well, well, well, look who is here" you took back to your place followed by a pouting Jimin who flopped next to you. "Hi everyone, did you all enjoy the concert" he said smiling, at the camera, his eyes turning into beautiful crescents. "Are you all not watching Eat Jin?? Y/N, I think you stole Jin hyungs audiance" Jimin turned towards you with a smirk. "What?? No I didn't. I was the one who came live first! It's it guys" you turned towards the camera with offence written all over your face.

"Alright, whatever it is, I think it's very rude and disrespecting towards Jin hyung" Jimin suggested and you finally realised the reason behind his sudden outburst of respect towards a certain older. "So how about we say our goodbyes now" he turned towards the camera waiving at it. "Okay, I don't wanna end up hearing Oppa's nagging, so we will talk later" Jimin internally smirked at the success of his plan, but it was soon disappeared, "Bye bye my little babies" you waved before switching off the live. "You never say that to me" He complained the second the screen went black.

"I am tired" you said squirming back to your bed, "Well you weren't tired to take a massage from Jungkook" you looked at him confused but it was replaced with a scoff when you realised what this all was actually about.

The four of you knew the relation between the four of you, the whole bandmates with benifits thing, but Jimin was just having his 'I don't wanna share you with anyone' or 'I just want you to myself' or 'Why can't it be just you and me' phase and as usual he was being a brat about it. "Jimin please we have talked about this" you sighed letting your body sink into the silk bed sheets. "I know it's just--" he just let his sigh replace the sentence. Your eyes were closed out of exhaustion as you felt the bed slightly shift. "I just feel left out, I just feel like you don't want me but---" he waited for a second, you felt an arm snake around your bare waist, as the PJ shirt was sliding up, "--but I still want you" you could feel him snuzzled into the crook of your neck.

"Hey, I am sorry I made you feel that way" you finally opened your eyes turning towards him, the moment you looked straight into his eyes, his complete expression changed, "What's wrong?" His brows turned into a frown as you remember how he can read you like an open book, a book that he could read with his eyes closed. "Jimin, I messed up" your voice broke, "Baby what? What are you saying? " His hands went straight to cup your face as a confusion brushed over his features, his own heart sinking deeper and deeper into his chest at your sight.

"I was really exhausted and I went out of breath during my solo, I missed a note.. God! It's so embarrassing" your lips trembled as pool of warm liquid accumulated at the corner of your eyes, threatening to fall off any second. Jimin quickly sat up, "Hey, it's fine. It's okay, we all make mistakes" you just shook your head, hiding your face on Jimin's shoulder. "No-- Nope, I am not letting you cry on the last day of our world tour" he made you face him, his soft plump lips came in contact with your closed eye lid as he kissed your tears away. "It's okay to mess up, you are not a robot, you are a human too and humans make mistakes" the pad of his thumb brushed of the tear stains on your cheek.

"I have something that you would like" your brows twisted into a frown as you saw him running to another room as if a child running towards the ice truck, it made you laugh but it turned into a gasp as he came back with a bar of chocolate. Complete delight covered your face, this time you became a child, ripping open the packet as a child trying to open its present. "I know you would love it" Jimin look at you giggling as you took a bite of the chocolate, the dark brown sugar bar piece melting inside your mouth, the taste made you moan in delight.

Jimin wasn't giggling anymore but you couldn't be less concerned as you innocently licked of the brown liquid off your fingers, Jimin subconsciously nibbled on the soft flesh of his lower lip. "You are eating alone? How rude is that?" The sudden drop of an octave in Jimin's voice made you looked at him, only to come face to face with eyes full of pure lust. You looked at him confused, slowly chewing the last piece. "That's not fair" he said leaning in until he was dangerously close to you, before you could realise, you felt something wet at the corner of your lip. Jimin licked of the chocolate from the corner of you lips.

"Not enough" he said before pushing your body against the headboard, pressing his lips against your. Without wasting any time, his tongue pushed it's way into your mouth through your slightly parted lips. His delicate taste buds layered with the utter sweetness of the chocolate that filled inside your mouth. He moaned into the kiss as his tongue tangled with yours rubbing off the sweetness in your mouth. Your hands made its way to his soft locks, your fingers curling to the blonde strands. "Fuck baby, I want you" Jimin said panting as he broke the kiss.

"What's stopping you?" You said cockyly which made him smirk. You straddled him, kissing him passionately, pushing your tongue against him wishlist helping him take of his shirt. His hands manuvered over your breasts as your fingertips traced down his abbs. He was hard as fuck under you as you rubbed against his length, the thin layer of clothes seperating you two, added even more friction to the action. Your core boiled with heat, waiting to be penetrated. Your hands reached down to the hem of his sweat pants. "Fuck" he moaned at your continuous teasing to which you smirked.

Your bare back came in contact with the silk sheets again giving goosebumps to your extra sensetive skin at this point. "You had your fun, didn't you babygirl" Jimin smirk latching his tongue to your nipple making you moan this time. "Ahh-- Jimin ahh~" your eyes rolled back with pure ecstasy. He came up to brush his lips against your neck as he slowly pushed two fingers into your mouth. As your tongue rolled around his fingers, he sucked on your neck not hard enough to leave hickeys. At this point he was getting so restless that he didn't even care if he left some. He finally pulled out his fingers from your mouth, covered in warm saliva of yours as the same dripped off the corner of your lips.

"You are so good at this baby, I wish, I could feel that mouth of yours around my cock. But let just save that for another time" he said pressing his lips to yours again even before you could approved his idea. You slowly pulled down your shorts, things clenched together, trying to hide the dripping wet entrance, your state itself was enough to drive Jimin crazy. "Fuck--" you moaned as his thumb pressed against your clit, without any warning his fingers slipped into your core making you breathe out unholy profanities. His thumb massaged your clit as his fingers twisted inside your heat against the walls.

"Jimin, I think--" your moans covered your sentence. "Not now baby, hold it in" he said, as his fingers increased their pace, you could feel a certain heaviness in your lower stomach. The orgasam that you were holding in, kept a constant pressure on your core making you whimper. Jimin didn't let go the chance to enjoy the pleasure of you whimpering under his touch, "Ji-- Jimin please--" your fingers curled around the soft bed sheets, "Cum for me baby" he wishpered licking you sensetive ear lobe, those words were like honey to you.

A wave of relief washed over you as you felt the warm liquid discharged off your body. Jimin licked off the white liquid from his fingers making you bite your lip, "So fucking sweet, just as I thought" he said smirking with satisfaction, "Jimin, I want you-- please" you insisted, Jimin chuckled at the turn of events, "So needy, aren't you babygirl" he said getting off his boxers, finally freeing his hardened length from its cotton cage that was now leaking with precum. The flushed pink tip covered in wetness ready to penetrate you. "I know that you are tried, don't worry I'll go slow" he assured you before leaning towards your body.

Just as his length rubbed against your entrance, both of you moaned out of pleasure. You could feel him slowly pushing into your core. "Ahh-- fuck" you moaned bitting your lips as he went deeper and deeper into you. He could feel your walls clenching around him, "So tight baby" he slowly pecked your lips. "Just for you, Daddy" you moaned. "Fuck! Not now babygirl. I won't be able to control myself" he groaned at the triggering word. You could feel him move, slowly thrusting into you as you bit your lips controlling the excessive moans. He snuggled into the crook your your neck, grousing against your skin. His fingers tangles with your. You grip onto him tightly as he increased his motion hitting you right at the spot.

The walls of heat encloses against his length as he throws his head back in complete pleasure. "Fuck! You are so good! All the fucking time" the showers you with praises. You humm in response, letting the high waves of pleasure hit you with it's highest intensity. "Fuck-- I think I am about to cum" Jimin groans. "Inside me" you finally managed to say as he looks at your surprised.

"I am on pills" you said and the next moment you were filled in as Jimin's thrusts became sloppy. You felt orgasm building up again, you lower stomach churned and twisted, you could feel the subcutaneous flame uder your cheeks, your chest heaving in unison. It finally hits you, the wave off orgasm engulfs you in pleasure, satisfaction and pure bliss. Jimin pulls out with a groan and topples on you. "I think we should get cleaned" you suggest chuckling, exactly knowing what's coming next. It's the 'after - sex - whinny - Jimin' who doesn't wanna let go.

He pulls the bed sheet over both of your bare bodies properly covering yours to ensure that the sudden cold contact of the air conditioner might give you cold. His arms snake around you as he pulls you towards his chest, sinking his face into your neck. "I love you" mummered against your skin gently pecking your bare shoulder. "I love you too Jimin, but seriously we need to--" your voice was cut off by a knock at the door followed by a voice that you knew very well was your beloved leader's, "Y/N, have you seen Jimin?" Namjoon calls out from the other side of the door.

Both of you look at eachother, "Shit!".

[tellmethisisnottumblisnextfuckup]

Hello Gabi! To add to the "newcomers" stories, mine is quite weird when i think about it. I never followed 1d, i remember i was around 16 when they started and i was watching some of the xfactor stuff, seeing H&L and thinking "oh they’re so cute together", but i didn’t really care, just went on with my life. Continued over the years to hear their songs on the radio and see stuff on gossip sites about harry’s relationships and every time one of those articles popped up i was always kind of disappointed and said to myself "well that sucks… him and louis were supposed to be a thing!"

Then i distinctly remember the moment i was in college, bored out of my mind in this lecture and started scrolling on tmz or something and saw that louis is going to be dad?? And my immediate reaction was "huh? Really? Well thats just weird… " and then moved on with my life.

Then 2017 happened, harry released Sing of the Times which i became obsessed with, and a few months later i think back to you came out, which i really loved too, and somehow that brought them both together in my head again and i was like "oh yeah…harry and louis, that was supposed to be a thing" and then moved on with my life again lol.

Jump to the year of our lord February 2021 sitting in quarantine watching TikTok.. and a Larry TikTok appears. It was the arm caress when louis is sitting down and harry behind. we all know it. And after ALL THESE YEARS it was the first time i actually saw a piece of Larry "proof". I had NEVER looked into it, I never saw a picture, a video, nothing, and that one tiktok was the moment that made the alarms in my head go THIS IS A REAL THING OMG???!!!!?? Next thing i know, 6 hours have passed, i watched all cosmic leeds timeline videos and i am furiously scrolling and consuming every tumblr post ever made.

So i am a newcomer but at the sad time i feel like my heart has always been here, it’s just that my mind took a while to catch up with actual FACTS😂 it’s been a long and slow journey but I can’t wait to see them both in Europe this year ❤️

Ps. Sorry for typos or mistakes, english is not my first language and also i am on my phone and it’s a pain… also i think i may have written a small novel, but i felt the need to tell my story 😂

I love this!!! I’m also on the phone and type like shit, so no worries 😘 Please don’t apologize (not on this blog at least) for taking the time and energy and even the money to learn English apart from your native language so that you can get a good job and succeed in this world, all the kudos to you for speaking more languages! I’m not a native speaker either :)

Thanks for sharing your funny story with me! I just love that your brain was like no-no-no let’s live a peaceful life instead and you sat out the drama.. 😆

[cuquitalocita]

kids and car rides- feysand

AN: hi yes hello there- again, it’s been a hot minute since i’ve written anything so here’s something i’ve been pushing myself through for these past couple of days. this is my first time writing feysand so i’m sorry if this sucks- i have to wake up for school in... five hours... so... yeah. if there’s any typos or the plot is kinda... ?? just... cut me some slack :) anyway, hope you enjoy!

part two

~~

Feyre was going to murder her boyfriend.

No- mutilate was more like it. How and where were truly her only thoughts as she glanced around her at the full bleachers of screaming students covered in black and blue face paint. 

Dating Tamlin Hybern had been nice at first- surreal if anything. When the star lacrosse player had taken an interest in the quiet girl at the back of the class who spent her free time in an art studio, Feyre had been flattered. He had asked her out in between classes a few months ago and Feyre had managed to stutter out a blushing, yes, still reeling that the handsome blonde had even noticed her. 

But her relationship was dull and boring, lacking in color, and gods, Feyre needed to end it. 

Tamlin had dragged her to the football game, practically begging on his knees for her to come with him. Feyre had relented, not even having enough time to shower after her art class before Tamlin was picking her up. But the second they had pulled up to the school and gotten out of his truck, Tamlin had disappeared with Lucien and left her in the bleachers with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek and a promise to find her later. 

It left Feyre seeing red. The crowd raged around her as the Bats scored a touchdown, and Feyre glanced at her phone. Shit. It was seven-thirty, meaning Nesta had already left on her date with Tomas, leaving Feyre without a ride home. Elain was out with her friends, actually enjoying her Friday night as a teenage girl should, and Feyre was left alone and ready to leave. 

She had been at the game for thirty minutes, in which the sun had gone down, blanketing the sky in a twilight full of stars. Feyre would stay if only to watch them a little longer- her favorite thing to paint. But as the crowd raged again, Feyre stood up from her spot on the bleachers and began pushing her way through the crowd and back to the parking lot, ready to walk home. It was only a few miles, really, and she had her sneakers on. She could manage. 

“Feyre!” A kind voice broke through her thoughts before she was halfway through the crowd, and she turned to see the familiar face of Morrigan from French class. 

Feyre’s lips turned up into a smile at the sight of the girl and her racing heart calmed a little as Mor came closer, stopping in front of her. 

“Hey, Mor.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you hated football.” Mor’s question was innocent, lacking the judgemental tone that most people would have added on. 

“I do,” she snorted. “But Tamlin wanted me to come, so here I am.” 

Mor’s smile turned down at the mention of her boyfriend. The girl had never tried to hide her dislike for Feyre’s boyfriend, even if the two of them weren’t very close and although she should have been offended, Feyre relished in her honesty. “Either way, I’m ready to go. See you Monday, Mor.”

“Wait, do you need a ride?” Feyre smiled, shaking her head at her easy kindness. She knew she liked Mor. 

“Thanks, but it’s really fine. I only live a few miles down the road- I’ll be fine to walk. Besides, we’re not even halfway through the game. Stay.” Mor bit her lip, clearly deciding whether or not to pick a fight, but Feyre fixed her with a look that eventually had her sighing. 

“Ugh, fine. But text me when you get home. Who knows what kind of creeps are wandering around here.” Feyre nodded, squeezing Mor’s hands in thanks, and left the bleachers, stopping only when she was back in the student parking lot.  

She pulled out her phone, remembering that she came here with her boyfriend. 

>> Hey wasn’t feeling well. Getting a ride home from Nes. 

It was five minutes before he responded. 

<< sure thing- see you later babe

Feyre scoffed, shoving her phone into her back pocket. Unlike Mor, he had not asked her if she was okay and to text him when she was home safe. She had told him that Nesta had a date too- which he obviously hadn’t been paying attention to. 

Ready to start walking, Feyre patted her pockets, looking for her ID, just in case anything happened, only to find them empty. 

“Godsdamn it,” Feyre muttered under her breath, realizing she must have forgotten her wallet back on the bleachers. Turning back to the field, Feyre almost tripped on her own feet when she heard a little voice behind her say,

“That’s a bad word. And my mommy says you shouldn’t say bad words.”

 Spinning back around, she was surprised to see a little girl- no older than six staring up at her and twisting her little fingers together. Her jet black hair was pulled back into two short ponytails and Feyre swore she was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. Bewildered, Feyre stared for a moment before shaking her head. 

“Uh- yes. You’re right- I… I shouldn’t have said that. And neither should you.” The little girl just continued to look at her in silence, causing Feyre to raise her brows. Who was this girl? And why was she by herself? What kind of parent left a little girl alone at a high school at almost eight o’clock?

“What’s your name? Are you lost?” 

“My mommy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.” At that, Feyre smiled a little bit. She bent down, putting her weight on her knees so she was eye level with the girl, and mustered up her friendliest smile. 

“That’s very smart of her. Well, how about this?” Feyre stuck her hand out to the girl who eyed it warily but didn’t back away. “My name is Feyre. I go to school here. There, now we aren’t strangers anymore.” 

The girl’s eyes widened and it was then that Feyre noticed their unique color, unlike any she had ever seen before. Her eyes were a beautiful violet, and in the reflection of the moon, she swore she could see stars in her eyes. 

The little girl took her hand, practically dwarfed from the size of Feyre’s, and she gave Feyre a small smile that had her melting just a bit. 

“My name is Thebe,” she finally said, her voice small. 

“Well Thebe, are you lost?” She nodded, looking at the ground. Feyre gently took her small hand, forcing the girl to look at her, and smiled again. She could see small tears beginning to form in the little girl’s eyes. 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’ll help you get back. Who are you here with?” 

“My brother,” she responded, and Feyre clenched her teeth. What kind of brother left his little sister alone? With all the fighting she did with Nesta, Feyre knew her sister would never have left her alone in a public place, let alone at night. Once again, Feyre was seeing red. 

“Okay then. Is he at the football game?” Thebe nodded, and Feyre deduced that she must have snuck off into the crowd, bored with the game. She couldn’t say she blamed her.

Taking the girl’s hand in her own and trying not to sigh when little fingers wrapped and her own, Feyre led the little girl back to the raging football game. 

“Do you think you can show me where you were?” Thebe nodded and gripped her fingers tighter, pulling Feyre through the bleachers, using her as a shield from the crazy teenagers. 

Feyre saw Tamlin through the crowd and quickly averted her gaze, focusing back on the girl in front of her until they came to a stop on one of the bottom bleachers. It was surprisingly empty, other than being filled up with athletic bags and water bottles. 

Feyre frowned, following Thebe as she sat down next to one of the bags and pulled out a small jacket that was clearly her own. 

“Thebe, where is your brother?” It was then that the little girl pointed out to the field. “Your brother is playing?” Thebe nodded, leaning her small head on Feyre’s shoulder, her hair tickling her neck, and Feyre admitted that maybe she could stay at the game a little longer, even if she would eventually have to deal with one of the loathsome jocks. But her blood still boiled at the fact that her brother had left her alone. Gods know what could have happened to her if someone else had found her.

“Why did you let me walk you back?” Feyre wondered aloud. Thebe shrugged. 

“You’re pretty. My brother says you can always trust a girl with pretty brown hair.” Feyre blushed, the compliment warming her to her toes. 

“I think you’re pretty too Thebe,” she whispered. 

It was only then that Feyre realized how cold it had gotten. She shivered, running the free hand that wasn’t around Thebe up her arm, which was barely covered with a paint-stained t-shirt. Thebe only reached into the bag in front of her and pulled out a much larger jacket, one with the familiar school colors. She handed it to Feyre, who quickly realized it was a varsity jacket. 

“This is your brother’s jacket Thebe. I can’t-”

“He would share.” Feyre fixed her with a look which Thebe returned with a more convincing one. “Trust me- he would.” Another shiver ran through her and Feyre, sighed, relenting, and shoved her arms into the jacket, immediately warmed. 

They stayed there for a while, watching the game in silence as Thebe began to doze off on her shoulder. Feyre hid her smile as the bleachers creaked, announcing that another person was coming to sit. She looked up to see Cassian Guerra lifting himself onto the bleachers, a carefree grin on his all-too handsome face. The football player’s hair was pulled up in a bun and Feyre vaguely remembered Nesta saying something about him. She doubted it had been positive. 

Feyre remembered Tamlin mentioning how Cassian had gotten injured and was out for the season. It was cool of him to come and support his team. 

His hazel eyes glanced over the little girl next to him and he grinned. 

“Hey, Thee, I thought you were with Az. New babysitter?” Feyre scowled and the little girl seemed to brighten as she looked at Cassian- then at Feyre. 

“New friend,” was all she said, bringing a smile to both her and Cassian’s faces. It was then that he truly looked at her, and a spark of recognition flashed through his eyes. 

“Hey, you’re-”

Cassian broke off as a buzzer sounded through the stadium and the crowd erupted into cheers. He was grinning at her, and Feyre managed back a small smile as Thebe shoved her head into her shoulder. The crowd began emptying out, and Feyre turned to Cassian, meaning to ask what she should do with the little girl. Not that Feyre was too eager to part from her. But he had vanished, finding somewhere else to be, and Feyre huffed, waking the little girl. 

“Alright, I think it’s time we found your brother.” Feyre got up from the bleachers, taking the little girl down to the field where most of the players were still talking to each other and clanking helmets. “Okay, tell me when you see-”

“Rhysie!” 

Feyre’s heart dropped into her stomach as she realized who the little girl was pointing at. Because not ten feet from her, looking impossibly attractive in a way that shouldn’t be possible after sweating for two hours straight, was the bane of her existence. With his jet black hair and twin eyes to Thebe’s, he looked like a god made man. 

“Your brother is Rhysand Knight?” Feyre practically screeched at the little girl holding her hand. 

Thebe nodded excitedly as Rhysand jogged over to his little sister who had quickly abandoned Feyre’s hand and met him halfway. He scooped her up into his arms easily, the grin on his face much too gorgeous for a high school boy, and Feyre grit her teeth. 

Maybe it was just her, Feyre realized, that had to have some sort of connection with the most popular boys in school while managing to remain in the background herself. Rhysand was the captain of the football team and unsurprisingly, loved by most of the people in the school. If he wasn’t so infuriating, Feyre may have even liked him.

But from debating her points in English class to attempting to speak to her afterward, Rhysand Knight was nothing more than a massive pain in Feyre’s ass. A handsome pain, coincidentally, but Feyre refused to acknowledge that at the moment.

“Hey Thee,” he smiled, placing the girl down. “Enjoy the game?” 

It was only then that he noticed Feyre standing behind his sister. It seemed that widening eyes ran in the family, as Rhysand did the same thing his sister had as he gazed at her. 

“H-hey,” he stuttered, the sound strange coming from his usually smooth lips. “Feyre, right?” 

She awaited the inevitable words that always came after the sentence. Tamlin’s girlfriend, right? 

“From English. With Suriel?” Feyre started in place. So he had remembered her. 

But as Thebe ran up to her and tugged at her hand, Feyre ignored the flipping of her heart in her chest at his nervous smile. Instead, she nodded, her movements jerky and final as she arched an angry brow at him. 

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked, smiling casually again. Feyre huffed. 

“I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I didn’t have to worry about something happening to your sister. I found her wandering around alone in the parking lot,” she snapped. 

Rhysand frowned, glancing at Thebe quickly before looking back at her, pinning Feyre in place with his gaze. 

“What are you talking about? I left her with Cassian and Azriel. They’re like brothers to her and they were watching her the whole time.” Feyre fixed him with a look that said they clearly weren’t and Rhysand’s gaze turned frustrated as he seemed to realize what had happened. 

He sighed, kneeling down until he was eye level with his sister who seemed to be looking everywhere but at him. The sight brought a small smile to Feyre’s face. 

“What did I say about running off Thee? And what did Mom say about talking to strangers?”

“But she said her name is Feyre, like the one you and Cass and Az talk about all the-” Rhysand cut off his sister’s rambling with a playful hand over her mouth and Feyre could have sworn she saw bits of red dotting his cheeks. She pushed away from the thought of how cute she found it. 

“Alright, I think it’s past your bedtime you little menace.” Thebe narrowed her eyes and bit at her brother’s hand, causing him to leap back with a curse, earning an instinctual laugh from Feyre. 

His gaze snapped to hers, softening at her laughing face, and his own turned into a small grin that sent her heart fluttering. 

Shit Fey, you have a boyfriend. 

Her cheeks colored as she noticed Rhysand’s gaze conspicuously running up and down her body and she realized she still had his jacket on. Feyre cursed under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear as she fumbled for the zipper on his jacket. 

“Sorry, I was freezing. Here-” 

“No!” Rhysand cut her off and the blush returned to his cheeks. “I mean- it- you look- uh, you’re just gonna be cold again. Keep it- for now.” Feyre shook her head, unzipping the jacket and handing it to him.

“I should head home anyway. Good game.” She tried for a friendly smile. She had never given him one. Feyre leaned down until she was eye level with Thebe. 

“Thanks for being my game buddy,” she whispered. Thebe beamed, throwing her arms around Feyre’s neck. She hugged the little girl back and tried not to look at Rhysand, whose gaze she could feel on the two of them. 

“Feyre, do you need a ride? I saw Tamlin leave and didn’t know...” His voice rolled over the words like midnight and Feyre shook her head. 

“Thanks but I really don’t live far-”

“It’s going to start raining soon, and I’m not letting you walk home in the dark. Just take the gesture Feyre.” He sounded exasperated, running a hand through his hair. Her eyes narrowed.

“And what, Rhysand, makes you think I want anything from you?”

“Rhys.”

“What?”

“People call me Rhys. Especially people who let me drive them home from football games.” Feyre shook her head in disbelief. 

“Gods, you’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“It’s one of my best qualities darling,” he smirked. 

And there it was, that insufferable charm that had every girl at school drooling over him. Feyre couldn’t say she blamed them, even if it did slightly annoy her. She finally smiled, reaching over to cover Thebe’s ears with her hands. 

“Only second to being a prick?” 

“If I say yes will you let me take you home?” Feyre rolled her eyes and Rhys’ grin widened, both of them knowing she had long since relented. Rhys handed Feyre his jacket and she grumbled, shoving her arms through.  

“Give me a second to find my wallet, then I’ll meet you at your car.” Rhys practically beamed in triumph, scooping his sister back up in his arms and heading back to the parking lot. Feyre loathed admitting that she watched them until they were out of her line of sight. 

She sighed. It was those damn eyes. It had to be.

And it was because of those eyes that ten minutes later, Feyre sat in the passenger seat of Rhysand Knight’s jet black ford fusion. Thebe was in the back, kicking her feet to the beat of whatever song was playing on the radio- one that Feyre couldn’t hear over the pounding of her own heart, and Feyre eyed the little girl through her side mirror so not as to look at the boy beside her. She was keenly aware of the small amount of space between them.

Rhys drove safely, unsurprisingly through their small town, and Feyre gazed out the window until Rhys cleared his throat. She turned to him. 

“So… how are you liking Bronte so far?” Feyre frowned before realizing that he was talking about the book they were reading in English. The book he had argued with her about to no end. 

“I think you know the answer to that Rhys, considering you make it your business to disagree with me.” Surprisingly, the words held no bite to them, and Rhys smiled without taking his eyes away from the road. 

“Well, darling, if you didn’t make it so easy to disagree with you, maybe I wouldn’t have to.” Feyre gaped at him and it was purely instinctual as she reached over the center console and shoved his shoulder as if they were best friends that did it all the time. Gods, what was she doing? She hated him. Maybe.

But if Rhys was surprised by her actions, he didn’t show it as he let out a laugh. Damn, that sound would be staying with her. 

“Look, I’ll give it to Catherine-”

“If this ends with any Heathcliff support I will jump out of this car Rhysand,” she cut him off, tone deadly serious. 

“No!” Thebe called from the back, causing both of the teens to laugh, catching each other's gazes before Feyre quickly looked away. She couldn’t be more grateful for how dark it was in the car so Rhys couldn’t see the blush attacking her cheeks. 

“So, what brought you to the game tonight? Not that you don’t seem like that type of girl but you… don’t seem like that type of girl.” His chuckle sent goosebumps up her arm even though she was still wearing his jacket. Feyre fidgeted her fingers and gazed down at her lap as she shrugged. 

“Uh, Tamlin asked me to come so… here I am.”

“Here you are… in my car.” Feyre sucked in a breath, glaring at Rhys from the side of her eye. The rivalry between the two athletes was no secret, and Feyre had yet to figure out where it had originated.  

“It’s not like that, Rhys. He thought I left. I had… until I ran into a certain black-haired beauty.” Feyre smiled at the side mirror where she could still see Thebe singing along to the radio. Rhys finally smiled too. 

“That’s fair. I know I can be a lot to look at once.” Feyre shoved him again, both of them laughing, and Feyre questioned when her life had turned so off-kilter. 

“Shut up, prick.” She didn’t joke with Rhysand Knight. She didn’t even talk to Rhysand Knight outside of class. So what in the gods was happening?

“Turn here,” she directed, shoving herself out of her thoughts. Rhys obeyed, moments later pulling up in front of her dark house where clearly none of her sisters were home. They sat there in silence for what seemed like eons. Just… sitting there. 

“Well-”

“I-” 

The two laughed as they cut each other off and Feyre shrugged off Rhys’ jacket, shoving it into the open athletic bag next to Thebe, who grabbed her hand before she could pull back. 

“Are you leaving?” she pouted. Feyre gave her a kind, tired smile, and nodded. 

“Sorry Thebe, it’s past my bedtime. But I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?” The girl nodded excitedly and Feyre almost startled back when she turned to see Rhys looking at her with a strange expression on his face. 

“What?” Rhys shook his head as if erasing the thoughts.

“Nothing… you just… surprise me.” Feyre snorted, ignoring the blush that had risen to her cheeks. 

“Yes, well, my kid whispering does tend to floor men at times.” But Rhys didn’t smile, or say anything in return, leaving Feyre to raise her brows and clear her throat. “So, I guess it’s my turn to head out.” Feyre placed her hand on the door handle before turning back to the boy next to her. “Thank you. For the ride.” 

Finally, Rhys smiled, his eyes betraying something that looked almost like… anxiety. 

“Hey, Feyre?” The car door had just shut behind her when she heard his voice again.

“Hmm?” 

“Would you want to…” Rhys scratched at the back of his neck and Feyre arched a brow. 

“Would I want to…?”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Go over art notes sometime?” Feyre frowned, fully turning back around and crossing her arms in front of her body to shield herself from the night chill.

“I didn’t know you were in art.”

“Yeah uh- new class.” Feyre nodded, tapping her foot on the ground as she stared him down. Rhys stared right back, clearly unsure of what her answer could be. And she couldn’t help it as a small smile graced her face. 

“I’ll think about it,” was all she said. “Goodnight, Rhysie.” 

Feyre laughed at the sound of Rhys banging his head on the steering wheel and approached her house once more, using her phone flashlight to find the spare key Nesta had hidden somewhere. It was for that reason that she was still outside when Thebe’s little voice spoke to her brother. 

“I like her hair. With the colors. She looks like a princess.” A frown graced Feyre’s lips once more as she subtly inspected a strand of her hair, wondering what the child was talking about. Sure enough, the strands crunched under her fingertips and Feyre had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming in embarrassment.

Of course, Feyre had forgone taking a shower before going to the game. And of course, she had been using her last period of the day as a free period in the art studio. And of course, she had mistakenly dyed her hair with acrylic paint that she had now kept while being in a car relatively alone, with one of the most attractive boys in school. Not that she cared about that, of course. 

Cheeks burning, Feyre finally found the key and rushed into her empty home, wishing for nothing more than a black hole to swallow her whole in her embarrassment. 

But if only Feyre had waited; had paused for more than a moment or tried to hear over the raging sea of emotions inside of her head, she would have heard Rhys’ dazed voice speaking words she wouldn’t even conjure up in a dream. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

~~

hope you liked it :)

[tbzprint]

love contest — three

two | three | four

*written*

Sunwoo was nervous to say the least. Agreeing to go on a date with a stranger without even knowing them first didn't seem like a good idea. He didn't know why he agreed so fast, maybe it was his brain unconsciously telling him to do it. Racking his brain for a solution seemed worthless, so instead he spent his time getting ready. Not knowing what to wear to a coffee date, he went on facetime to ask his friends... they were not any help.

"I told you to wear the grey pants!"

"No no, Sunwoo, wear the black pants."

"I'm going to hang up," Sunwoo groaned over the bickering of Eric and Juyeon.

"Both of you have the fashion sense of a fish, I should be the one helping," Younghoon finally spoke up from the chaos.

"You guys can argue, I have to go or else I'll be late."

"Send pics later!", was the last thing Sunwoo heard before he hung up the phone and threw his outfit on.

Hearing the jingle of the bell, y/n looked up from her seat in the back of the cafe and smiled. Sunwoo looked very cute to her, and the obvious nervousness on his face helped calm her nerves for some reason.

On Sunwoo's side, he looked at every table with a girl that had an extra iced americano on the table. His eyes glanced over each table until he met eyes with a girl. He couldn't see their whole face due to their mask but they seemed to recognize him and waved him over.

"Hi Sunwoo, you can sit down. I'm going to take my mask off but please don't freak out," Sunwoo was confused and albeit a little scared, but when y/n removed her mask he was in shock.

"Y/n?", despite his intial shock he was able to keep his voice down. Y/n could tell by the look on his face that he was surprised. Who wouldn't be after they were face to face with their favorite artist?

"This may seem weird but I saw your account and you seemed so nice and sweet, plus you're pretty cute so I wanted to get to know you. But I couldn't just message you through my account because for all I know you could be some crazy person-" she was cut off by Sunwoo

"It's fine really, I understand the caution. I'm just so blown away right now I don't know how to react."

"Well I would still hope we could go on this date," y/n smiled at Sunwoo.

"Thank you for walking me home, Sunwoo. You didn't have to," clutching her bag on her shoulder, she swayed her feet as she stood in front of him.

"I couldn't let you walk home in the dark. I didn't expect us to be out so late anyway."

"Yeah well I had a great time with you," y/n felt giddy, like a schoolgirl talking to her crush.

"Me too, it just feels so surreal. I can't believe any of this is happening."

"Well Sunwoo, please text me when you get home, and I'll let you know when you can take me on that second date," standing on her tiptoes she pecked his cheek and went inside, giggling to herself. Sunwoo stood there for a good two minutes before he regained his senses and started to walk home.

Bonus:

synopsis: as a popular singer, you decided to hold a song contest and choose one fan as a lucky winner. sunwoo -your (self proclaimed) biggest fan- is going to try and win. the prize? a feature on one of your songs.

a/n: i wasn't expecting to update again so soon but i had fun writing this chapter. i don't usually write cute stuff so sorry if it sucks 💀 pay no minds to typos of any sort... anyways i hope you enjoyed reading, send a dm or ask if you want to be added to the taglist. sometimes replying to comments gets messed up so if i don't reply just know that i probably saw it and i will add you <3

taglist: @je0ngjaehyun @lcvetbz @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @starlostinclouds

[zalrb]

Yes! I totally agree and love your posts in your masterlists about the visceral places Stefan and Elena can get to them both being dominant and always touching and always wanting to communicate that love with a sincere, intense, desperation, and then them as vampires we got such great scenes and they didn't even have sex yet. Because the sirebond ;excuse my language cock blocked them man that sucked. And I definitely agree that Stelena is not a dark ship like don't get me wrong I would have been so down to see them both together with no humanity see that dynamic how they work it out together see them have some fun then eventually they come back to themselves together. I also love that you caught how Stefan and Elena are both kind of the same as vampires with and without their humanity both of their bluntness and taking stuff from their victims like that would be interesting and I love your idea of how you would've written them with no humanity. Anyways I just really agree with you that Stefan and Elena are the type that inspire strength and hope in each other they don't drain it from the other they encourage the other to live. You truly understand that their not codependent they both help each other see the beauty in the world, experience the reality of a bad situation and how their is always a better way to move on from it that they always got each other hence how you always talk about the ferris wheel just love how much you get them it's truly refreshing and a very beautiful thing, you are a gifted writer I hope you know. And I've been reading the Jonsa fics LOVE them. Hope you and intimuseries are well:) also sorry their may be a lot of typos my phone is still on that stupid shit lol take care:)

No worries, thanks for the message :)

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Season 1 Episode 1 :

of Katherine being thirsty. 🤤

His abs.

His chest heaving.

His vibranium arm.

His boxers and that blanket.

Lemme ride you, Sergeant. Or better.. suck the nightmare out of you.

🔥🌶️

Take Your Mind Off Of It » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Y/N helps Bucky take his mind off of the nightmare he just had.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, m receiving, unprotected sex, riding, vibranium arm kink, praise kink, Bucky’s dog tags, cockwarming, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you for sharing your horny thoughts with me🥵 @katherineswritingsblog

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

A loud gasp left Bucky’s lips and he quickly sat up in bed, his hair messy, his eyes dilated, and breathing heavily with a thin layer of sweat covering his face. Bucky sat there, trying to gather his surroundings. The light from the TV lit up the bedroom. You heard his heavy breathing and sat up, facing him.

“Bucky, baby, breathe.” You say softly.

You grabbed his hand, placing it on your chest where your heart is so he can feel your heartbeat. Bucky took a few deep breaths before his breathing went back to normal.

“That bad?” You asked.

Bucky nodded his head yes.

“Do you want me to take your mind off of it?” You asked.

“Yes please. Anything.” Bucky says, almost sounding desperate.

Bucky watched as you threw the blanket off the two of you. You moved closer to him, kissing his lips softly and sweetly. One of your hands slid down the front of his body, your fingers tracing the lines of his abs. Your hand went lower, finding its way to the waistband of his boxers. Your hand slid past the waistband and wrapped around his half hard cock. Your thumb gently rubbed across his hip, using his precum as a lubricant. It didn’t take long for his cock to get fully hard.

“Doll, please.” He begs, almost whining.

“Tell me what you want, baby boy.” You say seductively.

“I need you to- oh fuck! I need you to suck my cock.” He says, followed by a small whimper.

Bucky helped you by taking off his boxers. You lowered yourself on the bed, getting in between his spread legs. You leaned down, kitten licking the length of his cock. You moaned when his precum hit your tastebuds. You wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked on it before putting his cock in your mouth. You placed your hands on his thighs, taking his cock further in your mouth and trying your best to accommodate his size as it got closer to your throat.

“F-Fuck…” Bucky moans, his head fell back against the headboard.

His tip hit the back of your throat causing you to gag a little, but you quickly relaxed your throat and took him almost easily down your throat. Bucky looked down, watching as you sucked his cock. His jaw dropped, moans leaving his lips. You looked up at him, making eye contact with him. One of your hands left his thigh and went to his balls, giving them a squeeze. Bucky’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and a loud moan left his lips.

“Fuck yes!” Bucky moans loudly.

Bucky pulled you off of his cock, pulling you onto his lap and gave you a much needed kiss. His tongue slid past your parted lips, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moaned into the kiss.

“I want you to ride me now.” He says.

You stripped yourself of your -Bucky’s shirt-and your panties. You lifted yourself up, lining his cock at your entrance. You slowly sunk down on him. A relieved moan left yours and his lips. His tip almost immediately touched your sweet spot. Your hands found their place on his chest. You rose yourself up until his tip was left inside of you and then you went back down. Bucky’s hands found their place on your hips, helping you ride his cock. A shiver went through your body when his vibranium hand touched your skin.

“You look so pretty like this.” Bucky praises breathlessly.

His praises urged you on. You rolled your hips against his. Bucky shamelessly stared at your breasts as they bounced every time you moved up and down on his cock. He leaned up, kissing along the swells of your breasts. His teeth bit down hard enough on your skin to mark you up. His vibranium hand left your hip to squeeze your nipple between his index finger and thumb, sending a tingling sensation through your body. You arched your back in pleasure. You practically shoved your breasts in Bucky’s face which he loved.

“Oh fuck, Bucky!” You moaned loudly, tilting your head back.

Bucky pinched your nipple one more time before his vibranium hand went down to your clit and began rubbing in fast circles, wanting to help you build up your orgasm quickly. Your pussy squeezed around his cock.

“Oh Bucky!” You moaned. “You always know how to make me feel so fucking good!” You praised.

Bucky’s right hand left your hip and went to your ass cheek, giving it a squeeze before slamming you down on his cock. A loud moan left your lips when his cock hit your sweet spot. Your eyes fluttered shut and you dug your nails in his skin, leaving red scratch marks his chest.

“I love you so much, babydoll.” Bucky kisses you hungrily. “So fucking much.” He says again.

“I love you too, baby.” You say against his lips.

Both yours and Bucky’s orgasms built up at the same time. Bucky’s orgasm came faster than yours.

“I’m so fucking close.” Bucky pants, leaning his forehead against your shoulder.

“Cum for me, baby.” You moaned.

Your name left Bucky’s lips loudly as he came inside of you, painting your walls. You weren’t too far behind him. Bucky sensed it and rubbed his vibranium fingers faster against your clit.

“Bucky!” You moaned, not being able to say a full sentence.

“Give it to me, doll.” Bucky whispers, kissing just below your ear.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came with a loud moan of his name leaving your lips. Your movements came to a stop. You cupped his stubbly cheeks and gave him a sweet and much needed kiss. You two pulled away from each other’s lips, staring deep in each other’s eyes for a moment before Bucky maneuvering the two of you to lay down on your sides. Bucky didn’t even bother pulling his cock out of you. He always loves to warm his cock with your pussy.

“How do you feel, baby?” You asked, playing with his dog tags.

“Much better.” Bucky kisses you. “Thank you, doll.” He says against your lips.

“Anytime, baby boy.” You say, smiling against his lips.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[otterskin]

I didn't like the LOKI show, no matter how hard I try, and it's messing with me.

My mother died at the end of December. A lot of other bad things happened as well, like the severe brain injury of my father.

I didn't cry. There was so much to do. I did it. And even then, when there was nothing left to do, I didn't cry.

I found distractions.

Today I went to see the Green Knight after a tough week at a new job that had me leave my father in another province even though he still needs help. I was trying to get back to the life I'd dropped.

I loved the Green Knight. The Arthurian Legends are as dear to me as Norse Mythology, and my copy of them had the Green Knight on the cover. The film was truly excellent, evoking the feel of the story whole still doing something unique and very A24. I cried at one point, like I did when watching the first THOR, because of how much it meant to see something I'd loved since the very first years of my existence finally make it to the big screen and be...right. It's own thing, it's own artistic product, but right.

Then I opened a tab in a browser and saw I had some messages on a website I comment on. It was just some minor criticism of the LOKI show I'd posted beneath an article and how it handled certain things.

I was downvoted. Berated. Hated. Lumped in the ad hominem twitter users who attacked the director and writer (I'd never, ever!) Told I was biphobic because I wanted to see more of a queer lens (I even addressed how difficult it is for bi people in queer cinema and society in general in my criticisms of the romance, but even that wasn't good enough - just disliking it was 'bad'.) I was told I just wanted my 'fanfic' made (I never made any laundrylist of plot points I demanded). I was accused of being a begrudged shipper (ha! If anything I'm an anti-shipper). I was told that I should love the show, it was awesome, and I was bad for not thinking so.

And I started to cry.

I don't cry. Only at movies. Not at real life. I didn't cry at my grandparents's funerals, I didn't cry when I was left with the body of my mother in the hospital room and my brother cried on my shoulder. I didn't cry when working through my dad's severe new disabilities as I realized how much he had lost. I didn't cry while realizing how messy my parents' finances were. I didn't cry when my mother's friends called me in the middle of the night and cried into the phone. I didn't cry when saying goodbye to my dog and going back to a rundown apartment with a terrible smell so I could go to work in a dark room for hours at a time.

But now I'm crying and writing this.

I've realized why. During everything, I looked forward to the LOKI show. The first THOR is deeply nostalgic to me and I watched it often in my first year of Uni when I was away from home. It tied in thematically to what I was going for. Thor 2 came out before I went on exchange, and while I disliked it overall, talking about it was a welcome distraction from my anxieties. Thor 3 was nerve-wracking, but it also came out during my first major job which I was struggling with, and I saw it so many times in theatres...it was such a huge comfort.

Looking forward to LOKI wasn't just a distraction. It was like a promise. A promise that I'd make it till then and see it and maybe it'd give me some comfort.

That's on me. That's a personal thing. It's an unreasonable expectation.

But I needed it, all the same.

Then it came out.

I tried. I really tried to like it, to forgive it, but the problems are things I've criticized for too long in so many other things. I always try to be respectful about, I never go ad hominem and attack the creators, only critique their work and I always mentioned what I liked but...

I didn't like it.

I have no urge to rewatch it.

And the Green Knight...the Green Knight was everything I wanted and needed it to be. It didn't let me down, though I've been anticipating it about as long as the LOKI show. They're very different, obviously, but in my heart they share the same compartment.

And after a very trying day...I realized how badly I needed to rewatch a Loki show I liked. But I can't even enjoy THOR or Thor:Ragnarok anymore. It's like everything I did like has been poisoned.

This thing that got me through immense pain is causing me pain. I don't want to be toxic. I'm sure it's in me. I try so hard not to wallow in disappointment, but to not even be allowed to talk about my problems without being lumped in with abusive online monsters...

I can't do it. I just can't.

This is supposed to be an escape, not another trial.

I needed the LOKI show to be good, so I could come out of the dark into the light, or at least walk through the night with a lantern ahead of me. And instead it was just more darkness, and it's not even entirely its own fault. It's the online discourse. It's the uncalled for harassment of Herron and Waldron. It's the taunting jabs at people who didn't have a good time as if we're all jerks. It's having people roll their eyes when you point out things that made you uncomfortable in the story, it's feeling slightly gaslit when you find something gross that the story intended to be gross and then being told it's not gross, actually.

I'm sorry. I don't want to cause pain. I just...

I needed it to be good. And unlike Thor 3, which delivered me respite in a dark time...it let me down. Worse, it's hurt me.

I said I don't cry, only at the movies. Something about them lets me cry in a way nothing else does. I can't cry at a funeral, but I can cry in a movie theatre at the drop of a hat. It's a release valve, a way for me to process things.

I think I was waiting for LOKI to give me permission to cry. To give me something that could release this pain in me. And instead, it just gave me more.

I never should have given it that power. I didn't want to. But I had to, to get through this.

I'm putting away the few THOR pieces of tat I have. I feel foolish. I always knew it was a capitalist piece of art, chucked from creator to creator with no creative shepherd, which in itself was stressful.

The fandom is no sanctuary for me either, since I'm primarily interested in the family dynamics and I'm sick of 'Odin is an ABUSIVE MONSTER' stories or even unrelated fics and posts just dropping in hate for him that's not at all canon but seems to be very popular to the point where people think it is. Especially since I often read these stories when I need to think of home and my father. Or, most pleasantly of all, when I get called an abuser or abuser-enabler because I say I like Odin as a character. I also can't really bear to deal with anything to do with Sylvie, whom I had high hopes for as someone who wants more female tricksters, but instead I got this...this Mary Sue that's very hard to criticize without being yelled at. I swear I'm coming at her writing as a feminist and I don't hate anyone, I don't, I just...sigh. She's just personally frustrating to me and not being able to discuss it without being called names sucks.

Not to mention I'm asexual, and I always struggle with romance in media being pushed as the 'ultimate relationship more important than any other'. Part of the reason I liked THOR so much was that romance was not the main feature of THOR and definitely not THOR 3 (while my disliked Dark World was all about it, and so is LOKI). And when I criticize the romance, I get called a prude (guilty, I guess), a troll, or, my favourite, just 'a hater'.

I don't want to hate. Who wants that poison in their veins? I'm here because the Thor series HELPED me because I LOVED it. And now I look at the things I used to love and I...don't, anymore.

So much is asked of me right now. I can't willingly invite this painful thing to sit on my chest as well, especially since the world is already shoving it into my face without my doing anything, in ads, in news, in everything.

I suppose that's why I've leaned even more into Odin lately. He was untouched by the LOKI series (though not the Simpson special, which worries me). He's a trickster, he's queer, he's nuanced, he's 'misunderstood' (that old cliche, but he's misunderstood and misrepresented by the people always yelling about how this or that character is misunderstood, which amuses me, except when it gets to me), and he's in many ways free to make my own.

I still have some stuff I'm going to publish that's practically finished. Finnesang has a lot more written for it but needs some major sit-down time for re-writes and edits. Lokabrenna is practically done, just needs tweaks and Beta. I'll be here a little longer.

But I think I'm going to have to step back for now and put my passions into other things.

I will be back. After all, after Thor 2 came Thor 3. Maybe Love and Thunder will right the ship and Thor can still be awesome, and maybe eventually a creative I love will come to work on the franchise. Really, that's the key for me - I loved Branagh before THOR, and loved Waititi before Thor, and disliked Waldron's work (though I gave him every benefit of the doubt and hoped and prayed to be wrong - sadly, it was what I expected.)

But...if LOKI season 2 is more of this, more romantic tropes I hate and Loki being an afterthought in his own show and his family being devalued for new characters...I can't do it. I can't watch something I used to love just throw that all away for something I dislike.

My tears are finally drying. I wrote a lot of this while the screen was blurry, so I hope there's no grammar or typo too embarrasing. I'm not sure I have the strength to re-read it. Sorry for the rant. It helped me feel better.

Thank you all. I hope I feel differently someday.

[thatesqcrush]

Christmas in The Heights

Nevada Ramirez x Reader. I haven’t written Nevada in a hot minute. This is for @madpanda75 who requested Nevada and lights for holiday bingo. I also had an anon from way back when request Nevada with the line: “You’re the only one who gets to call me that, you know.” from the grumpy prompt list.

CW: blowjobs, language, p in v sex.

WC: 1828

AN: Posting without editing. Sorry for typos. Also Spanish sprinkled throughout. Will post a key at the end.

***

Christmas in The Heights was a multi-sensory experience. Lights hung off the fire escapes of the apartment building. As temperatures begin to fall and the sun begins to set a bit earlier, corner fruit stands put away the limónes and naranjas and instead, put out peras, apples and uvas dangling from strings, a lot like seasonal baubles. Groups of family and friends, or Aguinaldos, would walk from house to house, singing with great cheer and as they made their way around the neighborhood, creating a spontaneous holiday street festival.

You looked down from your apartment window, smiling as you watched the Aguinaldo make its way around, with more and more people joining in. You danced around in just an oversized sweatshirt and a Santa hat as you strung up more and more lights around the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Nevada.

You looked at the clock, after stringing up the last of the lights. Nevada was nowhere to be found. You let out an irritated sigh. Everyone would soon be arriving for Noche Buena and you told everyone during el Día de Acción de Gracias that you would happily host.

You check on the puerco asado, the delicious smell making your stomach rumble. Everything else was ready – the roast pork was the last thing to cook. You had ensalada rusa, pasteles and moro de gandules. You picked up fresh telera from the bakery along with dulce frio and spiced bread pudding. Not one to forget the little kids who would be coming – including Nevada’s nephew and niece, you picked up gomitas (and had some soaking in rum for the adults).

It was no surprise that Nevada had the apartment wired with cameras. When you’re the El Jefe, everyone wants to take a shot at you. You opened the app on your phone, scanning various rooms – no dice on Trujillo’s location. On a hunch, you decide to look in the underground garage and sure enough, he was there – working on his motorcycle.

You smile and slip on your chanclas and make way downstairs – but not before lowering the heat on the oven, lest you ruin the roast pork.

**

“Nevada, what are you doing?” You ask. “Everyone is going to be here soon – even your egotistical hermano.”

“Ya me voy.” Nevada grumbles, barely looking up at you as he works on the motorcycle. His hands are smeared with oil and he is wearing a black tanktop and worn jeans. They ride dangerously low on his hips and desire pools between your thighs. He stands up straight and comments how he’s hot, before whipping off his tank top, wiping his brow with it.

You swallow hard, your eyes raking over his lean, taut body, covered in thick dark chest hair. But the furrowed brows and scowl on his face brought you back to reality. He seemed on edge, and this was completely out of character for him.

“Oye papi, que pasas?” You ask softly, approaching him. Nevada looks at you, the frown deepening.

“Nada mami. Go back upstairs and finish getting ready – I’ll be up soon.”

You straighten to your full height and cross your arms. Your eyes narrow and your lips purse. “No me jodas. Dime la verdad mi osito.”

Nevada drops the wrench and in two wide steps, he’s in front of you, meeting you eye to eye. His normally jade eyes are dark and intense. You match his heated expression and arch a single brow.

Nevada met his match with you. You both stood there staring at each other, nostrils flaring and tempers rising. Finally Nevada backed down, taking a step back. He reached for the wrench and whipped it at the wall, the sound of the metal clattering echoing though the garage. “You’re the only one who gets to call me that, you know.” Nevada replies irritated.

“Nevada, por favor, talk to me.” You reply, your face softening. Never had you seen him keyed up like this.

Nevada hops onto a stool and rubs his hands over his face. “It’s my brother.”

“What about him?” You ask, walking over until you stood in front of him again. You leaned into him – he smelled like a mix of leather and sweat.

“Every time he comes home – to el barrio – he goes on and on about being some big shot abogado with los gringuitos. He’s a fucking sellout – even changing his last name to be one of them. And then all I hear is oye, why can’t you be more like Bryan – look what he’s made of his life and all you got is el club.” Nevada huffed.

You look at Nevada sadly. “Amor, who gives a shit. El es demasiado. You have so much to be proud of. So you amass your wealth differently, who cares? I don’t. I love you, for you. I wouldn’t be with you if you were like Bryan, so fucking uptight with his skinny bitch of a wife. I am surprised they are even coming at all.”

“They have the nanny with them and they are staying in the city – who, by the way, Bryan is fucking.” Nevada laughs coldly.

“Speaking of fucking….” Your eyes rake over Nevada’s bare chest once more. “Want to have some fun before everyone shows?”

A delicious grin spreads on Nevada’s face. “Damn mami, I like the way you think.”

Nevada hops off the stool and you wink before you remove your sweatshirt. You weren’t wearing a bra, so you were clad in just your panties. Your eyes land on the massive erection pressing against the front of his jeans.

Nevada unbuttons his jeans and it’s no surprise to you that he is commando. You take your sweatshirt and drop it in front of him, using it as a cushion as you fall to your knees, your pulse racing with excitement.

You nuzzles his warm flesh, your hands trailing up his muscled thighs. Your pussy aches as you take his cock into your hand. It’s huge and thick and you can feel every vein and ridge in your hand. It’s perfect. You lick your lips hungrily and take his cock in your mouth. His cock felt heavy in your mouth and you relished in the feeling. You look up at him, meeting his heated gaze as you bob on his erection.  The salty taste of his pre-cum floods your mouth and you let out a muffled moan as his hands wrap into your hair.

“That’s it mami.” Nevada grunts. “Suck my cock.” Both hands grip the back of my head, guiding you on his length, silently encouraging you to take more and more until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. You choke and sputter, saliva pooling down your chin and dripping. You briefly close your eyes and relax your throat and again begin working his length.

You flick your tongue against the underside of the head of his cock. “Love your cock papi. But I like it better in my pussy.” You spat into your hand and gave Nevada’s cock a few strokes before guiding him back into your mouth. You began to rhythmically bob once more, while using your hand to help jack him off.

Nevada hisses and tighten his grip on your hair, forcing you off him. Your lips are spit shiny and swollen, your mascara from earlier in the day runs down your cheeks. Nevada drops to a squat, so he is eye to eye with you. His hand grips the back of your neck. “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you?”

You nod. “Please papi. I need it.”

“Over the bike.” Nevada growls. You nod and stand on wobbly legs, bracing yourself over the seat of the bike, your ass presented to him.

There is no teasing, no playing with your pussy – Nevada wasn’t in the mood. Instead he smacks your ass hard, resulting in your eyes being pinpricked with tears and a reddened imprint on your ass.

Nevada stands behind you and runs his hand over his length. He pats your ass with his dick before he uses his fingers to push your panties to the side. He teasingly rubs it against your folds. You moaned and tried to press against him, desperate for his cock. “Don’t worry my beautiful puta. You’ll get papi’s cock.”

Nevada grips your hips tightly and slides his cock into you, letting out a deep satisfying grunt. He fucks you earnestly, each thrust propelling you forward.

“Oh yes, just like that!” You moan. “Fuck me papi, give it to me.”

Nevada grunts as he continues to pound into you. “Damn, mamí, your pussy is so fucking good.” He grips the fat of your ass and rolls it before delivering another spank.  Nevada feels your walls flutter around his cock and he knows you are close.

“Cream all over that cock.” Nevada encourages. He reaches around and uses the rough pad of his thumb to rub circles on your swollen clitoris.

You wail his name as the coil in your belly explodes, like fireworks being set off.

“That’s it.” Nevada grunts. Just as you are coming down, he pulls out of you and turns you around. You squat and begin to suck his cock once more, tasting the combined mixture of your and his release on his cock.

“Oh, fuck Y/N, oh fuck.” Nevada groans, his cock twitching and pulsing in your mouth as he comes, unloading his seed into your warm mouth.

“Don’t swallow.” You hear him say and you look up at him once more and open your mouth, showing off his release on your tongue.

“Muy bien.” Nevada grunts. “Now swallow.” You do as told and then open your mouth once more, showing off that it is clean.

Nevada pulls you up and kisses you hard. He trails the outline of your face and for a brief moment, the ruthless blood hungry drug lord appears soft.

You press a kiss to the tip of his finger. “Now lets go back upstairs before dinner gets ruined.”

Nevada pulls on his jeans and you slip your sweatshirt on. Eventually you both clean up and head back upstairs where you finish dinner. Both of you clean up, no one is wise to the fact that you had both been fucking just an hour prior. You watch carefully as Nevada greets his brother and his sister-in-law. You hand some gomitas to the kids and they both run off to see the presents under the tree.

You hand out glasses filled with ponche de ron to Bryan and his wife, whatever ordinary name she has, and you plaster a smile on your face. Nevada whispers in your ear as you nod along, pretending to be interested in the latest legal win the attorney had.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Nevada murmurs.

You cover mouth with your drink and turn slightly towards him. “Love you too papi.”

FIN.

**

Key: 

Limónes: lemons

Naranjas: oranges

Peras: pears

Uvas: grapes

Noche Buena: Christmas Eve

Día de Acción de Gracias: Thanksgiving Day

Ponche de ron: Spiked eggnog like drink

Puerco asado: roast pork

Ensalada rusa: Russian salad

Pasteles: in some cultures, this means cake/pastries but for the purposes of this story, I use it as mashed plaintains stuffed with meat and its wrapped in banana leaves - these only come out during Christmas. 

Moro de gandules/arroz con gandules: Rice with pigeon peas

Telera: Bread that only comes out during Christmas.

Gomitas: gummy bears 

Oye papi, que pasas?: Hey daddy, what’s up?

Ya me voy: I’m leaving.

No me jodas. Dime la verdad mi osito: Don’t bullshit me, tell me the truth, little bear. 

**

Tags: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents @stardust-fray

[bqstqnbruin]

The other end of the spectrum

I don’t think I’ve written for any av besides Tyson, but don’t worry, he’s in this fic, I just kinda had to. But this was requested like a decade ago (no exaggeration there since you know I’ve had my account for about a year), and I still have three (maybe ?) more to work through. That being said, though, because I suck, Teach me something 3 is probably going to be dropping v soon since that is almost done.

Again, ignore typos (or point them out be like ummm excuse me) 

I hope you like it! -------------------------

Should you be skating with your AirPods in? It wasn’t something that you had ever tried before, but it might be worth a shot now, right? But they were expensive, what if they flew out of your ears during your Biellmann spin, or while you’re trying to land your triple axel and ended up breaking on impact when they hit the ice? What if they fell out and someone skated over them? You could argue that whoever did that would have to buy you new ones, but you really weren’t that type of person to do something like that. Maybe, you could just try with something slow and see how they felt? 

If only the rink weren’t open to everyone right now. Then you could lose yourself in the music of your routine like you did every time you were on the ice alone. You couldn’t make everyone get off the ice, either. Free skate was just that: free. There were parents with their children teaching them how to skate, some teenagers messing around on the ice, laughing, and making fun of how they look with their shorts and skates since it was the middle of the summer. None of them seemed to realize beforehand that the rink would still be cold since it was, you know, ice. One guy seemed to catch your interest: the only one skating around with a puck and a hockey stick. Hockey players and figure skaters were the exact opposite of the skating spectrum; you were all about delicacy and grace, hockey players were brash, crude, and rough. You were even on the ‘rougher’ side of a figure skater, and that only meant that you swore a little too much and didn’t really have an indoor voice. And yet, you were still infinitely more elegant than any hockey player you had ever encountered. 

Whatever. You had managed to be on one end of the ice while it seemed like everyone else besides hockey boy was on the other. If you started your routine or even just practiced some of the elements of the routine that you knew you needed to work on, maybe that would get him to go to the other end. Sure, it wasn’t completely fair, but, hey, it’s worked before. 

The AirPods were going to stay in, you decide, praying that nothing happens to the small expensive things in your ear. You start your routine, drowning out the sounds of the other skaters and letting the music fill your head. You close your eyes, not fully doing each element as you imagine a crowd around you. Competitions used to terrify you; the idea of a bunch of people holding their breath every time you did any sort of jump to let out a gasp if you fell or faltered, people averting their eyes if you had any sort of wardrobe malfunction that wouldn’t necessarily hurt your ability to skate, but would definitely hurt your ability to earn points from the judges, the overall sense of being watched was enough to almost make you quit the sport altogether. Now, it’s just natural, not being able to skate unless you know someone was watching you.

And someone was. Hockey boy, of all people, had stopped what he was doing with his stick and puck, standing against the boards, mesmerized by your fluid movements. He could tell that you weren’t doing everything to completion, but there was something about the way you seemed to take control of the ice that he couldn’t help but just stare at you. Your eyes were closed, it looked like you were muttering to yourself. Your hair was in a bun perched messily on top of your head, random strands framing your face seemingly perfectly. Who were you?

You decide to practice your camel spin; something that you were struggling with was making sure your leg was parallel, so might as well try now. You knew how it felt when it was right, you just had to actually get it right. Your music hits the place in your routine where you start to gear up for it, looking around you and seeing that you have open ice, you go for it. You do the move going right into it without problem. You can feel your leg just out of place as you speed up into the camel spin, not quite there. The music surrounds you in your AirPods, until one of them goes flying out. You stop your spin, trying to orient yourself and figure out where the small white ear piece went on the ice.

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, scanning the ice to see if you can find it. If someone skates over it, you were going to throw a fit. Not at them, of course, because it was your own damn fault for wearing them in the first place, but a fit nonetheless. 

“I think this is yours?” a deep voice comes from behind you. You spin around to see the hockey player standing in front of you, AirPod in hand. He almost looks nervous to be standing in front of you.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you say, taking it from him and putting it back in. The music fills your ears again, only to realize that his mouth was moving. “Sorry?” you say, pausing the music so you can hear him.

“Oh, uh, I was just saying that what you just did looked really good.” His eyes dart between you and the ice, shifting his weight between his skates as he runs his hands through his hair. There was no way a hockey player could be this nervous in front of you. While you weren’t frail, you weren’t exactly made of pure muscle. People could tell you did some dainty sport just by looking at you. 

“Um, thanks. It wasn’t right, though,” you admit, looking at your phone to try to get back to where that move came in the music.

“What do you mean?” 

Was he actually interested? He could have skated away already if he weren’t and you were about to start talking to someone else to get rid of him, nor were you going to try to be rude to him. “My leg is supposed to be parallel to the ice when it’s in the air, and it wasn’t. For some reason, I’m struggling getting it up.” 

You look at each other, both blushing at the unintentionally sexual thing you had just said, “I’m willing to ignore how bad that sounded if you are.” Neither of you can help your laughter, but wow, he had a really nice laugh. 

“Can I help you in any way?” he offers, putting his stick down against the boards. 

“Uh, just watch me I guess? See if it looks like my leg is parallel or not?” you suggest. He nods, backing up to give you space after you hand him your phone with your music playing. You go on with the move, knowing that it didn’t feel right. “I have done this element hundreds of times, and yet in this rountine, I can’t get my leg parallel.”

“I mean, it looked parallel,” he says, skating back to you. You scrunch your face, obviously frustrated. Maybe you didn’t know how it felt when it was parallel? Or maybe you had stretched differently? No, you knew exactly how it felt. Maybe he didn’t know what parallel was. “I could help in any way you need me to, I just don’t know what I would do,” he spits out, his voice shaking again. Was he really nervous to be around you? Since when was a figure skater more confident than a hockey player?

“No, it’s fine, but thanks. I see my coach tomorrow, so I’ll have her check it out,” you shrug, bothered by the fact that you can’t get a simple move. 

You start to skate away, muttering a goodbye when hockey boy speaks up, “Wait! Are you going?”

“I was going to. I’ve kind of been here all day working on my routine, so I was going to go grab food.” 

“Maybe you’d like some company,” he asks, shuffling his weight between each skate, looking down at the ice. He brings his eyes up to meet yours, a smile on his face as his face turns red in anticipation of your answer.

“I don’t know if I should be going out with someone who hasn’t even told me his name,” you say, watching his face go from horror to relief.

“I’m Nate.” 

“Well, Nate, where do you want to go?”

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

Nate walked up to the Pepsi Center, feeling weird that he wasn’t in a suit and carrying a cup of coffee, but a bouquet of flowers, dressed in a normal t-shirt and jeans and also using the same entrance as everyone else. 

“Do you even like figure skating?” Ryan asks, him and Tyson trailing behind Nate as they struggle to keep up with Nate’s anxiously fast-paced walking. 

“I think he likes his girl more,” Tyson says. “Hey, man. Slow down.” 

Nate didn’t know why he was so nervous. It wasn’t over seeing you; you had been dating for nearly four months now. He might be more nervous about seeing you perform in general. You weren’t nervous about the competition and for some reason, it made him nervous; sympathy nerves? Were those a thing?

“She’s going to be fine, you know that, right? You said you’ve watched her practice this routine like a million times or something?” Tyson asks, hoping that it’ll calm him down. Nate didn’t even get this nervous when they were about to play a game. They were about to play game seven of a playoff game last season and Nate was the calmest guy in the room. 

“I know, I know. She’s just been struggling with that camel spin since the day we met and her coach said that she was doing it fine and I said that she was doing fine but she didn’t think she was doing fine, and-” he rambles as the boys try to find their way to their seats.

“Dude. You’re not the one performing. Calm down,” Ryan says. 

“I just want her to do well,” he says, shaking his leg, driving Ryan crazy. Tyson didn’t care much, but he just couldn’t figure out why his teammate was this nervous. 

“She’s going to be fine,” Tyson reassures him, hoping that that was enough.

Nate’s leg kept shaking the entire time. They watched routine after routine: men’s short, pairs, ice dance, no one he knew since it was a United States competition and he had no idea who even came to these things. The only reason he remembered figure skating existed at this point was because of you. 

You were waiting your turn to perform, running through your routine in the back area they had set up for the skaters to warm up, practice, stretch, calm down, do whatever they needed to do without pulling a Tonya Harding. Your coach was watching you intently, not nagging you enough to stress you out, but enough that you were fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the trivial things she was telling you. You already knew what you needed to do, and at this point, so close to you stepping on the ice, nothing in your routine was going to change unless someone hit you with a bat. 

It’s your turn, all the nerves you thought you would be feeling melting away. “You’ve got this,” your coach says before pretty much shoving you on the ice. 

You hear your name called over the speakers, waiting for the judges to give them the alright for the music to start and your routine to begin. 

“Yeah, Y/N!” you hear three voices call, trying to be in unison, but just off enough that you could make out one of the voices: Nate. You didn’t even know he was coming. You can’t help but smile, a real genuine smile, unlike the practically forced one you normally had on when you were performing. 

The music starts, you going through your routine like it was second nature. Knowing Nate was there made the routine feel so easy; every move you did felt right, the crowd seemed to be on their feet, not that you even paid much attention to them. You had no idea where Nate even was in the stands, not bothering to look for him until your routine was done. You wave to the crowd, everyone cheering, you hearing your coach screaming from the side. You find Nate, Ryan, and Tyson, excited to see them after the competition was over.

“That was amazing kid! You looked like you went to a whole other place while you were on the ice!” your coach boasts. You forgot you were even actually skating a competition for a moment there, “That might be a winning routine right there.” 

You hadn’t even thought about winning, you just needed a high enough score to be invited to the next competition. It was the road to nationals, the road to the national team for the next world championships. But winning? That would be amazing, and definitely help your case for the national team. 

You and your coach sit down, waiting for your score. You scan the audience, trying to orient yourself and find the boys again. Ryan looked like he was there because he had to be, which was fine; he didn’t really strike you as the type to want to go to a figure skating competition. Tyson seemed like he was enjoying himself, for the most part, maybe he actually liked the routines. But then there was Nate. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you, even when you were just sitting down, pretending to listen to your coach ramble on about the next competition. You couldn’t believe he would come and surprise you like this. Or that he would not only make two of his teammates come, but also make them yell your name like they were teenage girls about to see their favorite boyband. 

The score was in, you were just waiting for the judges to announce it. This was the part you hated the most: the waiting. You were one of the last skaters, so whatever place this put you in was probably going to be your standing, maybe one place lower. Your score was in: five points higher than the next. “Holy shit!” you say, your coach hugging you as you sit there shocked.

“That’s first place! That’s first fucking place!” Nate starts screaming, Tyson and Ryan trying to get him to calm his excitement down, especially since there were children around. He couldn’t help it; his girlfriend probably just secured first place at the competition, especially after he watched her struggling with the routine in the days leading up to it. 

The next few skaters go, coming close to your score, but none of them really able to break it. There was one more skater, a girl who’s made the national team for the last four years in a row. If you came in second to her, you wouldn’t be that mad about it. 

She does her routine, you watching on the TV in the back while you know your phone was blowing up with texts from Nate. He knew that you wouldn’t look at it until the end of the competition, but that didn’t stop him from sending texting you about his excitement anyway. 

‘You were amazing’

‘I’m so proud of you!’

‘We’re going out after to celebrate’

‘But if you can’t tonight then we will tomorrow after the game’

The other skater finished the routine, she looked a little shaky in Nate’s opinion, but then again, what did he know. He was just so proud of you. “So after this, if Y/N can, do you guys want to come with us for a little celebration?” he askes Ryan and Tyson.

“Something tells me this celebration should be just the two of you,” Tyson says.

“Yeah, I really don’t want to be involved in whatever it is you guys are going to do,” Ryan adds.

“You guys don’t have to be gross,” Nate says. 

The score came in for the last skater: Y/N had a score 0.04 points higher than her.

You came in first place. You couldn’t believe it. Your coach practically lifted you off the ground, you were speechless, Nate was losing his shit in the stands. You couldn’t wait until after the medal ceremony for you to go see Nate. 

After you get your medal, congratulate the other skaters, and finally gather your things, the only thing on your mind was finding Nate, knowing that he had already waited for so long. “Nate!” you squeal when you see him, tossing your bag to Tyson, causing him to accidentally fall into Ryan as Nate picks you up off the ground, arms wrapped around you as he kisses you. 

“Get a room,” Ryan mutters playful under his breath as you two pull away blushing. “I’m joking,” he says, throwing his hands up in protest, “only get one if you both want to.”

You can’t help but laugh as Tyson tries to hit him with your bag. “God, Y/N, I thought hockey bags were heavy, what do you have in here?” He asks, handing it off to Nate.

“Costumes, skates, tights, warm-up clothes, headphones, makeup, hair stuff,” you start to list off, Nate throwing his arm around you as the four of your start to walk, “I think I have a mirror in there, some books.”

“Books?” Nate asks.

“What? We have a lot of free time,” you shrug. “But I’m curious: did you bring those flowers for one of your boys?” you tease him.

“Yeah, they’re for Ryan for not pouting the entire time,” he jokes, sending Tyson into a fit of laughter while Ryan punches him in the arm. Nate hands you the bouquet filled with sunflowers and roses, your favorite flowers. “These, I hope obviously, are for you.” 

“I love them,” you beam, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. “You had mentioned going out tonight? Are you two coming, too?” 

“Nope, we’re going home,” Ryan says, jingling his keys in your face. 

“I was hoping to get a ride with you?” Nate asks, “Ryan drove the three of us here.” 

“Sure, where to?” 

“His house,” Ryan says, Tyson smacking him in the chest. “What! They could order food and be in private that is a perfectly reasonable suggestion!” Tyson pulls him away before he can say anything else, Ryan defending him while Tyson just tells him to quit while he’s behind since he has no chance of getting ahead. 

“Interesting choice of teammates to bring,” you tell him as his free hand intertwines in yours. 

He shrugs, walking with you to his car, “They were the only ones who I could convince to come.” 

“What did you have to promise them?” 

“I may or may not have to tie their skates for a few games,” he says, throwing your bag in the back seat as the two of you climb into your car. 

“You did that for me?” you say, pretending to swoon to make him laugh. 

“I think we’ve established that I would do almost anything for you.” 

“Great, because I need to go rob a bank real quick,” you joke, getting another laugh out of him as you pull away from Pepsi Center and head towards his place.

In the middle of his laugh, you hear him let out, “I love you.” His eyes go wide with shock, surprised he just let that slip. He had planned on telling you how he felt soon, but not like this. Not on some night in your car on your way home from a competition. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him starting to freak out over what he just said. That was the first time you had heard him say it, but you knew he meant it. “You do?” you ask anyway, not bothering to hide the smile on your face.

“Well, uh, yeah,” he says, trying to calm himself down. Great. Now he was more nervous than he was before you did the routine. “You don’t have to say it back, I don’t know where you stand and I definitely don’t want you to think that I’m pressuring you into saying it or anything,” he starts to ramble.

“Oh, be quiet jitters,” you say, cutting him off before he takes it back altogether, “I love you, too.” 

[justjeonday]

Always you | jeon jeongguk

You usually hate walking to the convenience store, but with Jeongguk it’s anything but boring.

— pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

— genre: established relationship, fluff - so much fluff, boyfriend!jeongguk

— word count: 2,690

— warnings: none

— notes: so, this is my first time ever posting something I’ve written on here - and I’m really nervous. Idk if I’ve done all of this right lol, I tried. I spent a few days working on this piece, and it’s nothing huge or anything - just a simple idea that popped into my head. I hope you enjoy, feedback is very welcome. Thank you :’)

— disclaimer(?): I spell ”Jungkook” as Jeongguk throughout this whole thing, cause that’s just how I naturally tend to spell it out. I hope this won’t bother anyone, if it does I’m sorry lol. I also apologize for any typos, it feels like I might’ve missed some although I looked through it multiple times.

Your boyfriend’s hot breath against your neck leaves goosebumps rising on your skin, but you manage to ignore it - waiting for the woman behind the desk to pack your bag. However, just a few seconds later you feel him leaving light kisses over the most sensitive area just below your ear. You turn slightly to nudge him away with your shoulder.

”Will you stop it?” You whisper as you look at him.

Jeongguk just looks back at you with amusement visible on his face. He sure loves teasing you in public. You snicker at him, shaking your head as you turn back to grab the bag of snacks the cashier is holding out for you. You thank her and make your way out of the small store, Jeongguk following closely behind.

”I’ll take that for you,” He insists, taking the bag from your hand before you can protest.

The cold air hits you just as hard as when you left your apartment twenty minutes ago, causing you to shiver as you step outside.

Snow had been falling ever since this morning, a white blanket now covering the ground beneath you. It looks beautiful, sparkling as the city lights reaches the surface of it. It’s rare snow actually stays on the ground here in Seoul, only occurring once or twice a year. You love it like this. Even though the temperature feels unbearable at times, with the weather getting colder it prompts for a lot of cuddling.

And in your opinion, there can never be enough cuddling.

In fact, before this very spontaneous adventure to the store you and Jeongguk had been cuddling while enjoying some random K-drama you found. After watching the two main characters share a bag of snacks, the two of you started craving just that.

”Should we go?” Jeongguk had asked, shifting his head in your lap to look up at you.

You removed your hand from his hair, reaching out to check the time on your phone.

11:39.

You looked down at him. ”Should we?”

After much contemplating whether you should go or not, you guys put your jackets on - getting ready to go to a nearby convenience store despite the fact that it was close to midnight by the time you guys left.

You’re now on your way back home, walking side by side with interlaced fingers. Seoul at night is probably one of your favorite things. You love how all the lights and neon signs beautifully illuminate the world around you, how they gracefully dance across Jeongguk’s honey-colored skin.

”Wait.”

You stop at your boyfriend’s sudden demand, turning to him in confusion.

You see him searching for something in the pockets of his jacket. ”What’s wrong?” You say.

A few seconds later, you see his fingers wrapped around his vintage camera. In spite of the smile sneaking its way onto your lips, you roll your eyes at him. ”Really?”

”What?” He says, smiling.

”When did you even manage to bring that thing?”

”This thing happens to be my favorite camera, do you know what I use it for?” He begins, fiddling with it as he speaks.

You raise your eyebrows questioningly, gesturing for him to continue.

”I use it to capture things I find beautiful-” He says, eyes locking with yours. ”- Being with someone as beautiful as you, I’ll always have it with me.”

He looks at you with a smirk on his lips, knowing you’ll be blushing at his words. You do, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks as your heart swells in awe. You truly feel as if you don’t deserve someone as good as him, but oh how happy you are that the two of you found each other. With him you feel like the luckiest person walking this earth.

”Now smile for me please,” He brings the camera up in front of his face, ready to take a photo.

You do as told, letting him take all the pictures he desires before intertwining your fingers with his again and continuing your walk home. You never really like being in photos, but since you started dating Jeongguk you’ve gotten used to him randomly wanting to take photos of you. Even if that’s in the morning when you’re making breakfast, your hair still a mess — you let him take a photo, knowing he’ll keep it to himself unless you give him consent to do otherwise.

It makes you feel special, like you’re one of a kind.

”Ah, cold,” Your boyfriend says, sucking in air through gritted teeth and holding your hand tighter.

You look at him, a giggle escaping your lips. ”I told you to wear your gloves.”

”I couldn’t find them,” He says with a frown forming on his face. ”How come your hands never get cold?” He pouts.

It’s kind of strange actually, how rare it is your hands get cold.

”I don’t know,” You laugh.

”It’s so unfair, I bet you have superpowers or something.”

”Like what?”

”Heat manipulation.”

”How epic, feel free to use me as your personal hot pack!” You joke.

He laughs out loud at that, throwing his head back — his eyes becoming crescent moons. You automatically smile at the sound, happy you made him laugh.

”I can carry the bag if you want,” You offer, holding your hand out.

”No need,” He chuckles, only pulling you closer into his side.

You think nothing of it until you feel his fingers creep up the inside of your jacket and under the fabric of your, or should you say, his hoodie. As he lays his hand flat against the warm skin of your lower back, you squirm and jump away from him in response.

”What’s the matter?” He says, a made-up look of innocence on his face.

You just frown at him for a moment, but with it being impossible to act annoyed at his adorable ways — you let out a laugh before proceeding to walk. ”You can’t do that.”

”Why can’t I?”

”Your hands feel like ice,” You say. ”I’m not kidding.”

”I thought you said I could use you as my personal hot pack,” He says, acting disappointed as he looks down at his feet.

You push him playfully. ”You are so annoying, Jeon Jeongguk.”

He chuckles and walks past you with his arms stretched out. ”But you love me anyway,” He sings.

But you love him anyway, of course you do.

Deciding to get revenge, you lean down to pick some snow up from the ground. You form it into a ball, then you aim and throw it at his back. He stops in his tracks, turning around with a mischievous grin on his lips.

”Oh love, I hope you realise what you’ve just started.”

It’s a stupid idea really because you know very well that he’ll win, he always does. He has this annoying tendency of being above average at anything he does, even when it’s his first time doing it. Although, being the sweet boyfriend he is — he lets you win sometimes.

Before you know it you’re both running around outside your apartment complex throwing snowballs at each other, the bag of snacks left in the snow at the side of the street. You earn a few looks from people walking past, most of them just in wonder of what’s going on. It’s probably not so often you come across to adults running around in the middle of the street having a snowball fight, let alone in the middle of the night.

While you’re leaning down to make yet another snowball, you feel Jeongguk behind you. He grabs the collar of the hoodie you’re wearing, pushing it aside and letting the snow in his hand fall down the inside of it — the cold coming in contact with your skin. You squeal and start chasing after him with snow in your hands, and a few seconds later you manage to copy his actions.

He hisses as the snow falls down inside of his shirt, capturing you in his embrace before you can run away again. ”Caught you,” He says, smiling.

The both of you are breathing heavily, your breaths visible in the cold air surrounding you. As your chest is pressed against his you feel your heartbeats becoming one. You put your arms around his neck and look up at him, his bunny smile making butterflies swarm in your stomach.

Even though you’ve been with him for what seems like forever, not really remembering what life was like without him — everything with him still feels like the first time. You still feel your heart skip a beat every time he enters the room, butterflies going crazy in your stomach at the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh. You still get lost in the galaxies that are his eyes, and every time you look into them you swear you see stars shining in them. Like people look at stars scattered in the dark above, you look into his eyes - and that’s your way of stargazing. At every little thing you can feel yourself falling in love with him over and over, and there never seems to be an end to it.

”What’s on your mind?” He asks, noticing you’ve wandered off somewhere in your mind.

”You,” You say, looking at him with a small smile on your lips. You run your thumb along his cheekbone softy. ”Always you.”

His nose and cheeks had been painted a shade of pink because of the cold, making him look even more adorable — if even possible. You put your hands on each side of his face, cupping his cheeks before leaning up to press your lips against his. He instantly kisses you back, exhaling through his nose as if he’d been waiting for it to happen. You can’t help but smile into the kiss. Warmth spreads throughout your body, the cold air around you suddenly becoming less cold. You then pull away, having to catch your breath.

You run your fingers through his hair, your forehead pressed against his. ”We should probably get inside before we catch a cold.”

He just hums in response as he lets his eyes flutter open. He licks his lips, the taste of your raspberry lip balm still lingering on them.

After making sure to remember the bag of snacks you initially had come outside for, the two of you head inside. You shiver as the warm air inside engulfs you. You’re quick to get out of your outerwear and run into your bedroom, wanting to get rid of your hoodie — in which is now soaked at your lower back. You undress deciding to steal one of Jeongguk’s shirts. You put it on, and with the hem falling just above your knees you figure you’re in no need of pants.

As you’re about to leave you bump into Jeongguk’s bare chest, the shirt he had been wearing earlier now in his hand. He stands in front of you with exposed abs and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

Now the sight of this — you can confirm — is more mouth-watering than any snack in that bag.

You tear your gaze from his body as you hear his voice, eyes meeting his.

”Hey you, I was about to ask if you happen to know where me long sleeve is,” He says. ”But it appears someone stole it,” He nudges a finger against your side.

You grin. ”You don’t need it,” You argue as you walk past him, heading towards the sofa.

”And why’s that?”

”You look better without clothes.”

”Oh, if that’s the case you don’t need it either then,” He steps in front of you, stopping you from reaching your longed for destination.

”I can’t just walk around in my underwear,” You laugh.

”Sure you can,” He says, a smirk on his lips.

You hit his chest. ”Shut up.”

He picks you up by grabbing the back of your thighs, making you squeal and put your legs around his waist. He carries you over to the sofa and let’s you fall onto your back on top of it, then he lays down next to you.

You gasp.

Jeongguk looks at you with worry in his eyes. ”What?”

”The lights need to be turned off,” You say, gesturing to the light above you. ”Technically, you laid down last so that means you have to go turn them off.”

He groans, but gets up to turn them off nonetheless — making you smile in satisfaction. On his way back he brings the bag of snacks, placing it on the coffee table. He lays down next to you again and reaches over for the remote to press play. Shadows start dancing around the room as the K-drama starts playing. Jeongguk sighs as he cuddles into your side, laying his head on your chest and pulling the covers over the both of you.

You lay like that for a while, legs tangeled, sharing snacks and making stupid jokes about the things you see happening on the TV — laughing at stuff that wouldn’t have been funny if it weren’t for the lack of sleep. After a few episodes you can tell the late hours are getting to your boyfriend as you notice him getting quieter, his breaths slowly becoming deeper.

You too feel your eyelids getting heavier so you grab the remote to turn the TV off, then gently placing it on the coffee table. You get yourself comfortable, but you soon realise you’ve left your phone in the bedroom — making you sigh in frustration. Despite the very comfy state you’re in, you decide it’s best to go and get it in case your boss gets the idea to call you in the morning.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, carefully pushing Jeongguk so his head falls softly onto the pillow next to you before you lift his arm off of your waist. Trying your best not to stir him out of his sleep, you sit up slowly but realise you’ve failed as he groans and brings his arm around your waist — pulling you back down next to him.

”Jeongguk, I have to go get my phone,” You whisper, trying to remove his arm yet again.

”Nooo,” He whines, putting his leg over your hips under the covers.

You can’t leave, even if you try.

”I have to,” You say.

”Please don’t,” He pouts.

”I’ll be quick I promise.”

And with that he let’s you go against his will, keeping the pout on his lips. You try to keep your promise, being as quick as you can despite your eyes not really being adjusted to the darkness yet.

You luckily get to the bedroom without stumbling over something, fumbling to grab your phone that you had thrown on the bed earlier. After finally finding it under a pillow, you make your way back to the sofa.

Jeongguk immediately puts his arm around you as you lay back down next to him, laying his head on your shoulder.

”Missed you,” He says with sleep laced in his voice, making you chuckle.

”I was only gone for a few minutes, Gguk.”

Half asleep, he shifts so he’s lying on his side and pulling you against him so your chest is pressed against his. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck before leaving a few light kisses just under your jaw. You put your arms around him and bring a hand up to run your fingers through his hair. Your other hand draws circles on his back, your fingertips delicately skimming over his soft skin. You feel his body relax against you, a sigh escaping past his lips — his breath hot against your skin.

You could stay like this forever, close to him like this while just enjoying the presence of each other. You kiss his shoulder before laying your head against his, feeling the melatonin take over you once again.

”I love you,” Jeongguk mumbles into your neck.

You smile. ”I love you too.”

[amourology]

I’m glad I could make you feel that way. I hope you know that I do appreciate you and all of your hard work. You are an amazing person and deserve to be told such and that you are appreciated.

I have also spent way too much money on sims and expansions so do not feel bad lol. I think I removed the game right before the snowy escape expansion pack game out, but prior to that I think it had all of the expansion and game packs and most of the stuff packs. 😅 Sims and EA have truly owned me for a while lol. The amount of money I have spent on it is sad.

Also Schat is so freaking cute. I love the dynamics between Kaz and the reader. Kaz would definitely express his feelings in a way where the reader would have no idea what is going on and would think it’s an insult. Oblivious reader and pining Kaz is always so good and you wrote it so well. I also 100% love that you have used real Dutch nicknames. It’s so cool! I know reader doesn’t know what Kaz had said to her, but will you ever tell us? (If not I’m totally fine with that lol I am also just curious).

I know you mainly write healer!reader (which I believe I have previously told you that I love so much. If I haven’t, we’ll I am now lol). Do you picture all of them to happen in the same “universe” for the most part? Like does Belladonna happen in the same universe as Schat? I’m curious if you picture it like that when you write it or not. If they don’t and are separate that totally cool. If they are in the same universe, then I love that as well.

Anyway sorry for the crazy long message that probably has a million typos. I love your writing and think you are incredible. Time for me to go reread Schat 1000 times so it’s even with Belladonna and then continue rereading both lol.

I hope you’ve had a good night/day ans that tomorrow is good as well lol (time zones can suck and my schedule is weird already and so I feel like I barely know what time it is for me let alone other people, and I never want to assume people are in a similar time zone to me lol)

-🗝

🗝 STOP YOURE GOING TO MAKE ME CRY FR ONE DAY I—😭😭😭 you’re literally so sweet idk what i did to deserve u :(

for the sims, i really wanna get snowy escape & the cottage living ones too!! i’m just broke atm lmao so ig i’m gonna have to wait — glad to see im not the only one that spend way too much money on that damned game tho 💀

ahh thank u so much!! and yea i definitely think that the only way for kaz to express his feelings verbally would be when he’s 100% sure the other does not know what tf he’s talking about & i also feel like he’d just?? let them think it’s an insult?? as long as they don’t know how he really feels all is good lmao

and yea the dutch nicknames (or nickname really) felt so weird to write sksks idk mainly bc dutch nicknames make me cringe so hard (someone called me liefje once and it made me want to die 😩) and bc it’s just strange to me to write in dutch lmao like i haven’t done that since i was 13 💀

as for the sentence…i DO have the sentence he said to her written in my drafts & i’ll see if i can maken little blurb with it for u guys when i get over the ick of using my actual language into fics lol but don’t worry you’ll know eventually :)

i think i’m gonna switch between the “universes” for now! idk if it makes sense but schat definitely happened in a different universe than belladonna bc they’re both kind of moments were kaz and y/n realise their feelings for each other — when a fic is in the same “universe” as belladonna i’ll put a “fem!belladonna!reader” as the paring, maybe? idk imma think about how i’m gonna do that bc i do have some ideas planned that do take place in the same “universe”

DONT EVER APOLOGISE FOR LONG MESSAGES!! like ever. i promise i love receiving them, especially if they’re as kind as yours <3

for my timezone, im in CET! what’s yours? (if u don’t mind me asking off) i’ll put it as a little widget thingy in my phone :)

anyways, hope you have a good day 🗝 <3