#until they stand up and look at you and it clicks

[luveline]

Hi Jade! (I’ve sent this before so ignore if you aren’t into it) just thinking about a bau!reader (maybe shy!reader??) who’s dating post-prison Spencer but didn’t know him before prison and she sees some footage of season one Spencer (maybe they need to refer to a recording of a previous case?) and she’s just dying at how cute he is 🥹

You’ve barely woken up with your face in a solid shoulder when Spencer’s turning around.

“Don’t,” he says when you whine, slipping a familiar hand over your hip. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Too early to make fun of me.” 

“Do you think I’m making fun of you?” 

His talking warms your nose where his head is angled down. Your skin smarts with goosebumps as he trails his hand lightly up your back, down again, the slowest, tumbling touch. You shiver, and Spencer, ever so slightly devious in love, says, “Oh, you’re cold?” with great pity as he pulls you closer. 

You rub your face against his shoulder. “Sorry.” 

“Why?”

“I smell.” 

He hums. “Sort of. Not like sweat, though. You smell like sleep.” His lips touch your cheek.

He lets you ‘warm up’ in his arms for a few minutes, then however long you doze for, lost and too comfortable to bother even trying to wake up properly. Your phone pings a couple of times after it comes out of sleep mode, a sure sign you’ve overslept, but Spencer doesn’t make you move until your stomach growls. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your nose and slipping you back onto your side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” 

“It’s nearly twelve.” 

“You just woke up, and it’s the first thing you’re gonna eat. You are breaking your fast. Breakfast.” He looks pretty even through achy, tired eyes, all the sleep crusted in your lashes no match for Spencer Reid. How you went so long without knowing him is a mystery. 

You get up only because he told you to and because he looked quite lovely when he did it, not because you want to. The bed is warm, that pit of his arms calling your name, but Spencer’s already rolling out of bed with an eager hand scratching through his hair. Sweat has made them tight and a little darker in the back. You’ll both have to shower at some point, preferably after he’s made you breakfast in bed. 

He can see your expectations on your face, and he laughs as he pulls a t-shirt on over his head. “Get up! I’m not bringing it up here, do you know how badly your sleep cycle is affected when you start doing the wrong things in bed?” 

“What counts as the wrong thing?” 

Spencer laughs again, softer now, and for a moment he traces your face with his eyes without speaking. “Fine,” he says, waving a hand at you as he makes for the bedroom door, “stay there. But only ‘cos you look so pretty!” 

“Thank you!” you call back. 

This time with Spencer isn’t enough. You need ten more years of this, thirty, fifty, you need to wake up in his arms and have him touch you and tickle your cheek with his breath. He’s too far to have him come back, so you resign to hugging him when he returns. 

Your phone pings again, drawing your attention finally. The first notification is a reminder to buy toothpaste today at the grocery store. The second is a text from a friend, the third an email. It’s one from last night that piques your interest, another friend, full capital letters: HELP. 

Her use of a laughing emoji defers any urgency. You click on the text thread and scroll up, puzzled by her previous messages, a link, and a caption: oh my god he was so dorky??? 

You open the video and feel your breath catch in surprise. 

Is that Spencer?

You're not stupid, you’ve seen photos of him and his friends together dotted around the apartment from over the years, and every time you come across that photo of him and Diana at a spelling bee with his huge black-framed glasses you have to laugh, but it’s different seeing him to hearing him. 

He’s so nervous. You can’t understand what it is he’s saying, something about mathematical components to profiling criminals. Jason Gideon stands in the background watching him closely. 

“There’s actually a good joke that–”

“Spencer,” Gideon reprimands. 

You watch in awe as Spencer stammers an apology, his cheeks a little pink. You’ve seen Spencer blush, but this feels different. He looks so young. His hair is straight as a pin. 

“Spencer, did you used to straighten your hair?” you call, hoping he can hear you over the sound of a frying pan popping in the kitchen. “Or do you have a perm now, or what?” 

“What!” 

“I’m confused on the logistics of your hair!” You feel something weird in your chest as on screen Spencer tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a mixture of wanting to eat him and wanting to reach through the screen to stroke his cheek with your thumb. 

Spencer treks back into the bedroom with his pink and white pinstripe apron over his shirt and sweatpants. He smells like cinnamon sugar already. “What are you talking about?” 

“My friend found a video of you and Jason at one of those lectures you did.” 

Spencer presses his lips together. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. “I didn’t do any lectures.”

“Uh, yes you did, liar, and you looked so cute.” You turn your phone to him. “So sweet.” 

He marches to the bed. Before you can stop him, he’s taking the phone from your hand, giving you the world's silliest, tiniest shove when you try to get it back. 

“Cruel,” you quip. 

Spencer stares at the phone screen, then you, “Sorry,” he says, turning pink, “I don’t know why I did that, just– I just–” He frowns deeply. “Can you stop smiling like that?” 

You climb onto your knees, a morning disaster, but when you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist he looks at you like you’re perfect. His eyes soften, brows relaxing, his irises like dark dimes that slowly dilate as he looks you over. Your phone presses into your back, his arm wrapping around you. 

“You were adorable,” you say sincerely. 

“Not anymore?” 

You rub your cheek against his apron. “No, you still are. Let me watch the video again.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[puckstories]

thinking about drunk quinn

I feel like Quinn gets like, clingy drunk. Like when he’s drunk he’s emotional and clingy and annoying in the most adorable way 😭 (lowk not represented in this though I was just writing idk) -Honey

It’s a little after midnight when Quinn stumbles into your shared room, his silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. The faint smell of smoke and beer clings to him—remnants of the night spent with the boys around the backyard fire pit, their voices and laughter echoing long after you’d slipped away. You’d retreated an hour ago, completing your nightly skincare routine before sliding into bed, letting the familiar comfort of Sex and the City drown out the muffled sounds of their conversations.

The door clicks shut behind him, and he leans back against it, a crooked grin on his face that tells you everything you need to know. He’s drunk. Not the tipsy, half-lit version of Quinn you’re used to seeing on rare occasions, but properly drunk—the kind that has him swaying slightly, his head tipped back like the ceiling might steady him. He rarely drinks. Never during the season. Even in the offseason, it’s only the occasional buzz, just enough to relax. But tonight, it seems, was an exception.

You glance away from the TV, your eyes trailing over him. His cheeks are flushed, a faint pink spreading from the cold air outside or maybe from the beer warming his bloodstream. He meets your gaze and grins wider, his lopsided charm cutting through the otherwise ungainly way he’s standing.

“Hey there, killer,” you say, an amused tilt in your tone.

The laugh that tumbles out of him is unrestrained, airy, like he’s been holding onto it for too long. He lets it echo around the room before it fizzles out, leaving him breathless but grinning. For a moment, he just stays there, one hand braced against the door, like he’s trying to hold himself together. Then he pushes off it, his steps uneven but determined as he makes his way to you.

When he flops onto the bed beside you, the mattress dips under his weight, and the smell of him—beer, smoke, just a hint of cologne, and the crisp winter air—wraps around you. He buries his face in the pillow for a second, mumbling something incoherent before turning his head to look at you. His eyes are bright, glassy, but there’s a tenderness in them that’s unmistakable.

“Hi, baby,” he says, his voice low and affectionate, the words soft but warm enough to spread through your chest like the coziest blanket.

You shift, propping yourself up on one elbow, your head resting lightly on your hand. Your free hand finds its way to his hair, fingers slipping through the soft, dark strands. He shuts his eyes the moment you touch him, like the simple motion is enough to quiet the world around him. A faint, lazy smile tugs at his lips, and you feel him exhale, his whole body softening as if he’s giving in to some invisible weight he’s been carrying.

He leans into you instinctively, his body inching closer like its second nature. The space between the two of you disappears as he buries himself deeper into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your hand.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s already falling asleep, but then his eyes flutter open again. They’re slightly unfocused, still hazy from the alcohol, but there’s a warmth in them that makes your heart ache a little. His gaze drifts lazily around the room, as if he’s piecing together where he is, until it finally lands on the glowing screen of the TV.

“What’re you watching, baby?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, the words slurred just enough to make you smile.

“Sex and the City.” You murmur, keeping your voice quiet like you don’t want to break the spell of the moment.

“Ah, I should’ve known,” he says with a lopsided grin, his laugh bubbling up almost before he’s finished speaking. It’s a carefree, loose kind of laugh, the kind you don’t hear from him often, and it fills the space between you like a favorite song you haven’t heard in a while.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking back to you. “How many times have you seen it now?”

You smile, shrugging. “Enough to know Carrie’s about to make a terrible decision in this episode.”

He chuckles again, his head sinking further into the pillow. “That’s, like, every episode.”

“Exactly,” You agree, dragging your fingers through his hair again, this time scratching lightly at his scalp. His smile widens, and he lets out a contented hum, the sound vibrating against the quiet hum of the TV.

“You’re too good to me,” he mumbles, his voice trailing off as his eyes grow heavier. The words are simple, but the way he says them—low, honest, and just a little slurred—makes something stir in your chest.

“I know.” You hum, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek.

[mimipolo]

I MEAN... Nam-gyu x Female guard 🧎‍♀️

THAT WOULD BE CRAZYYY

(NSFW) 🤭

Nam-gyu x femguard! reader

Sorry for being gone a family member of mine died🙁

I actually enjoyed writing this a lot so I hope you like it!

Anyone that knows how to make my posts prettier please hmu💔

The games were getting boring, the high the drugs have him initially didn't hit the same and his body constantly craved for another outlet. It was infuriating, it was like his body ached to release this frustration he couldn't make out where from.

Lately though, he's felt like he's been watched by one of the guards with the square symbol on their mask, he knew it was their job and all to keep an eye on them to shoot them down when players are eliminated but damn this one guard had been staring him down hard. He'd just spare a dirty look before but now it'd been making him paranoid.

So much so it had him tossing and turning in his bed, the mattresses are too thin and pillows too flat. It was driving him mad. Sighing with new found resolution he pushed himself off his back and made his descent down the bunk. A little splash of water would do him good. He hoped at least. Or he would actually lose his shit.

Dragging his feet lazily to bang at the door for the guards to open it. He didn't bother being polite, watching other people's experiences it was easier to let them know you're serious about going from the get go. And it worked. A circle guard begrudgingly opened the door and escorted him to the bathroom.

He'd spent quite a bit of time just staring at himself in the mirror blankly as he watched the water trickle down his face to the sink bowl below. The constant battling with the morals of himself and why he deserved to be in here in the first place were clouding his mind without the mind nulling effects of Thanos' drugs.

Swearing dismissively at his own thoughts he pushed himself off the sink and walks out of the bathroom. Except this time he's greeted by a square guard rather than the circle one from before, the fact alone had the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end as he warily followed after them at the silent gesture of their head.

He finds himself being backed up into the bathroom again, the door now closing with a resounding click that had him on edge immediately as his eyes scanned his surroundings then back on you.

"What do you want huh?"

| ₊˚⊹ᰔ

One thing lead to another and now he's backed up against the furthest wall from the door, his breaths coming out heavy as he looks down at you. It doesn't seem like you have a weapon on you but he really isn't feeling like fucking around and finding out.

And then you're pulling off your mask, pushing it off and tucking your hair to one side.

You're beautiful.

It takes him a second to collect himself as: first off he didn't expect you to be a woman, and second why do you have the prettiest eyes he's ever seen? Now he's enjoying this tension, you're staring him down still and you look oddly familiar. But he doesn't give a shit right now, he's been feeling so pent up this whole time and you're presenting a perfect opportunity to let go a little.

Before you can open your mouth to speak he's smashing his lips against yours amateurly, slim hands working their way down your back until one reaches your ass and squeezes hopelessly. His sudden neediness catches you by surprise but it's not unwelcome as you also let your hands roam up to his hair and down his chest causing him to sigh deeply against your lips.

He pulls away for a split moment, lips connected by spit and he's grasping clumsily at the zip of your uniform, pressing his already growing hard on against your thigh.

"Is that why you've been watching me so closely, huh?" he says between breaths.

"You want me right?"

"This is only for my benefit... don't get it twisted." you murmur between his rushed kisses, your hands finding themselves on the same sink he leaned on before.

"Yeah you keep believin' that, it's gonna change soon..."

He can't believe how fast his heart is beating just from seeing you shirtless in front of him. Had it really been that long?Who cares. There's a woman in front of him panting in his ear and he wasn't about to pass up this beautiful blessing.

Surprisingly he's more considerate of the maintenance of your uniform as he pulls the tracksuit down to your hips and let's it pool at your ankles. He can't help but bite deep marks into your collar when you cautiously push your hair out of the way causing you to gasp slightly.

He's pushing his hips hard against yours, each rock of his body sending shivers down both your spines as he grasps you harder. One hand is fondling your tits, tracing the outline of your bra with such focus it almost irked you.

"Think we're both worked up enough, just lemme fuck you, please..."

His words are whispered in short breaths against the base of your neck as he gives kitten licks to your collarbone. His half lidded eyes shoot up to yours excitedly when he feels the small hum of your approval against his lips. You'd honestly been waiting forever, quickly growing tired of squeezing your thighs together and resisting the urge to meet his dry thrusts against you.

He's kissing you even more passionately than before, reciprocating had made you accidentally nick his lip with your teeth. Your eyes widen when you taste the metallic crimson on your tongue and you're pulling away to apologize.

He's huffing softly like he's disappointed you bothered stopping and licks the blood from his busted lip, then yours before moving in to kiss you again.

Apparently unafraid of getting nicked again.

Slender fingers pull your panties down to pool at your ankles alongside your uniform, rushing to pull his own tracksuit off. You help him shrug off his jacket and pull his pants down for him earning a strained whine from him when your barely brush his crotch.

Pecking your lips repeatedly as he pulls down his boxers and crowds your space, forcing you to lean against the sink more. But he keeps moving forwards, lifting up your hips slightly so you're slightly sat on the ceramic top so you kick your tracksuit off completely, then he starts to line himself up against you.

He gasps sharply when the tip pushes against your clit, his body hunching over slightly as his head falls. Repeating the action a few more times, smearing his pre cum all over your pussy, making more of a mess than you initially planned to clean up. But it's like his mind is somewhere else completely, occasional whimpers leaving his throat, pink lips he bit down on harshly as he rubbed his cock against your folds.

"You feel so n-nice... not even inside you yet. Who woulda thought h-huh?"

And he's finally nudging himself inside, stretching you out more than what you were prepared for making you bite your lip as you place a firm hand over your mouth to muffle the moan about to leave your lips. He grins stupidly at the sight as he finally bottoms out. He's holding your hips in a death binding grip and you wish he would move already. What you didn't know is that he's internally willing himself not to cum on the spot. He definitely needed this.

Without any warning he's slamming his hips into yours, the hand over your mouth that had relaxed tightening again to quiet your sounds. You honestly thought he was stupid for a moment, not even caring for the sounds that fell from his own lips as his eyes locked with yours, their dusted hazily from the pleasure of your walls wetly wrapped around him. The sounds coming from your wetness was embarassing enough, reaching your ears and making them burn.

"F-uck...so good could finish right now...don't think I can pull o-out."

What? Can't pull out? Your eyes widen at the statement and one of your hands leave the edge of the sink to roughly tug at his hair to snap him out of it but you're met with a loud moan in response. The strong verbal feedback from the action that was meant to be harsh startled you slightly, but the sound he made went straight to your core, making you squeeze around him tighter. You're slowly forgetting what you had wanted to say as your body's response and your hand in his hair triggers his urge to finally cum.

Pressing his pelvis harder against you with each snap of his hips so your clit gets stimulated. You let go of your grip on the sink completely now, one hand dug tightly in his hair and the other clawing gently at the nape of his neck. You're slightly surprised his grip on your hips is enough to support you and honestly if he was more aware he'd be surprised too.

But he's not, he's pushing himself into you deeper and deeper and you swear his trying to shoot it right into your womb. Silent whines rack your body as he tucks his head into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

Then he's cumming, deep. Your eyes shoot open at the unfamiliar warm feeling filling you up. His hips are still stuttering to help you get there and you finally come undone with a small cry. The orgasm hitting harder than what you expected causing you to wrap your legs around his hips in a vice grip. His thrusts have slowed significantly, making sure he'd given you all of him before he'd even dream of stopping.

When he finally pulls out you're instantly met with the emptiness in your stomach, everything between your legs feels sticky and your legs trembled. He's panting softly against your neck and holding you close to him but now he's rubbing your back possessively as he whispers small thanks against your skin.

He's picking you up off the sink and placing you back on your feet carefully, you thank him quietly for doing so. But then he's laying his jacket openly on the floor and taking you by the waist to slowly lower you onto it?

"'m not done yet...just one more I promise. It'll feel great for both of us."

Small kisses along the curve of your breasts to your cheek urge you to agree playfully and your hair splays out on the floor. This probably wouldn't be the last one.

| ₊˚⊹ᰔ

You hadn't meant it to become routine, really, you didn't. But somehow he was able to figure out who you were each time you were on duty. He'd put in the effort of learning the guards rotation so he knew when you'd be around to escort him back from the bathroom. You always insist that this can't be a daily think but he only smiles as he pulls off your mask for you and backs you into a nearby stall.

#needthat

[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤ୨ৎ ｡｡ CASUAL INTIMACY ────── 보이넥스트도어

𝑓emale 𝑟eader ⟡ 3765 words / fluff , est. rel ✶ skinship , kissing ! ( click for more ) — @kstrucknet & @k-films & @sgz-net

alternatively ───── cherished moments with them that make your heart flutter.

myung jaehyun.

01. You’re sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, completely unaware of the mischievous grin spreading across Jaehyun’s face as he inches closer to you. “Hey,” he calls out softly, pulling your attention away from the screen. When you look up, he’s leaning in, his face mere inches from yours, as if he’s about to kiss you. Your heart skips a beat at the sudden proximity, and you tilt your head slightly in anticipation, only for him to gently tap the tip of your nose with his finger. “Boop,” he says with a wide grin, his dimples deepening as he pulls back just enough to catch your surprised expression. You blink, momentarily caught off guard, before bursting into laughter. “You’re such a dork,” you say fondly, with a faux roll of your eyes. Jaehyun chuckles, pinching your cheek adoringly before cupping your face in both hands. His thumbs brush lightly against your skin as he tilts your head closer to his, his lips hovering just shy of yours. But just as one hand sneaks back toward your nose for another playful tap, you grab a fistful of his shirt and tug him forward, crashing his lips into yours.

02. You’re getting ready for a friend’s birthday, standing in front of the mirror as you rant about your day to Jaehyun. He’s sprawled out on your bed, lazily watching you doll up for the event with an amused smile. Just as you finish with your makeup, you step back from the mirror to check your outfit, still talking about the minor frustrations of your day. Before you can take another step, Jaehyun gets up and gently pulls you back against him, his arms sliding around your waist. You let out a surprised yelp as his fingers brush against your collarbones, adjusting the clasp of your necklace and twisting it so it sits properly at the back. His touch lingers for a moment, feather-light against your skin. “There you go,” he says with a small smile, his dimples making another devastatingly cute appearance. You don’t realize you’re blushing until he tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, bringing a finger up to gently poke your cheek. “Who’s the blush for, pretty?” he teases, his voice light and playful. Quickly shaking your head in denial, you mumble something incoherent, but Jaehyun just chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. He cups your jaw, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, taking your hand in his as he leads you out of the house.

03. The crowd around you is overwhelming—voices blending into a loud hum, bodies pressing too close for comfort. You glance over at Jaehyun, who’s walking beside you, looking just as anxious as you feel. When your eyes meet, your hands instinctively reach for each other. Jaehyun’s hand is warm, his grip firm but reassuring. “Don’t let go,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand as he guides you through the sea of people. Even after you’re in the clear, standing in the open with space to breathe, he doesn’t let go. His thumb gently brushes over the back of your hand, sending tiny sparks through your skin. It’s as if holding on to you feels more natural to him than letting go, and honestly, you’re in no rush to pull away either.

park sungho.

01. You complain about your aching feet after a long walk—or worse, a painful shoe bite—and before you can finish, Sungho crouches down in front of you, rolling his eyes dramatically. "What did I tell you about wearing the wrong shoes?" he scolds, though there’s no real bite to his words. He pats his back, glancing at you over his shoulder with a grin. "Hop on." When you hesitate, he shifts impatiently, his voice turning into a whiny plea. "Come on, don’t make me beg." Your giggles fill the air as you finally climb onto his back, his hands steady and warm as they grip your thighs to hold you in place. He adjusts his hold before giving a satisfied hum. "See? Told you I’ve got you." You rest your chin on his shoulder, your laughter softening into a content smile as he carries you the rest of the way, his steps steady and comforting, just like him.

02. After a long, exhausting day, the two of you sit together on the bus ride home. You let out a quiet sigh, and that’s all Sungho needs to notice how tired you are. Without saying a word, he gently nudges your arm and gestures to his shoulder with a soft smile. You rest your head against him, the broadness of his shoulders providing an unexpected comfort despite the firmness of his muscles. He shifts slightly, leaning his cheek against the crown of your head. Just as you’re about to drift off, you feel the soft press of his lips against your hair, his kiss lingering for a moment, warm and tender.

03. Even when you insist you’re full, Sungho always saves the last bite for you—without fail. He picks it up and holds it out in front of your mouth, grinning cheekily. "Say aah," he teases, opening his own mouth wide in demonstration. You try to suppress a laugh at your boyfriend’s antics but give in, letting him feed you. The satisfaction in his eyes as you take the bite is almost comical, and you’re just about to tease him when he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. Your words die in your throat as heat rises to your face, leaving you flustered and Sungho grinning wider.

lee riwoo.

01. You’re both busy with your own things—he’s watching a show on TV while you’re curled up next to him with a book, your legs resting comfortably over his. Every so often, Riwoo glances at you, quietly admiring the way your brows furrow in concentration, the way you absentmindedly fidget with your lower lip. When a strand of hair falls into your face, you don’t even notice. Riwoo does, though. Gently, he tucks the strand behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your skin for the briefest moment. “There,” he murmurs softly, turning his attention back to the TV, though the shy smile creeping onto his face betrays him.

02. Riwoo isn’t the type to initiate big, dramatic displays of affection, but sometimes, when the moment feels just right, he can’t help himself. Like now, as you stand in the kitchen, focused on something entirely mundane—washing dishes, chopping vegetables, or scrolling through a recipe on your phone. Quietly, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, moving your hair aside to rest his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You flinch slightly at the sudden contact, letting out a small gasp. “You startled me,” you murmur, though your voice softens as you relax in his hold. “’M sorry,” he whispers, his voice muffled against your skin, his arms tightening just a bit more as his hands come together, anchoring you in place.

03. You’re running late, practically hopping around as you slip your shoes on, fingers raking through your hair in a futile attempt to tame it. Riwoo watches from the doorway, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as you huff in frustration. He steps forward, gently tugging your arm to stop you. “Here, let me fix it,” he says softly, his voice low and soothing. Before you can protest, his hands are in your hair, his fingers working delicately through the tangles. He smooths down the flyaways, combing through the strands with practiced ease, his touch gentle but sure. When he’s done, he steps back, tilting his head slightly as he admires his work—and you. “What?” you ask, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips. “So pretty,” he says simply. Before you can recover, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Bye, love,” he whispers, stepping back as you leave the house. Your knees feel wobbly, your heart racing as you glance back at him one last time before heading out, a giddy smile tugging at your own lips.

han taesan.

01. It’s late, and you’re both supposed to be asleep unless you want to risk being late for work the next morning. But none of that seems to matter. You stand on your tiptoes to pull the ice cream from the freezer, feeling Taesan’s presence lingering behind you. You place the tub on the counter when you feel him tug at the sleeve of your hoodie. Turning around, you’re met with the sight of Taesan’s face bathed in the soft glow of the refrigerator light, his eyes holding a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. He steps closer, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you toward him. His forehead rests gently against yours, and the quiet intimacy of the moment steals your breath. Instinctively, your hand lifts to brush against his cheek, but he winces at the chill of your fingers against his warm skin. “Sorry,” you giggle softly, pulling your hand back quickly. Taesan’s lips twitch into a small, lopsided smile as he takes your hands in his, enveloping them in his warmth. He rubs them gently, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles until the coldness fades. But even when your hands are warm, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he lifts one of your hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before leaning forward to place another on your forehead. He rests his cheek against your temple, his arms wrapping around you fully now as he sways the two of you back and forth in the quiet stillness of 3 a.m. The faint hum of the fridge fills the silence, but all you can focus on is the sound of his steady breathing and the feel of his heartbeat against yours.

02. You’re scrolling through your phone, sitting comfortably on the couch with your legs tucked under you, when Taesan plops down beside you. He sits in silence for a while, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater as he debates whether or not to get your attention. Eventually, he scoots closer, gently unfolding your legs, and rests his head in your lap, instantly relaxing as the exhaustion of the day melts away. You glance down at him, confusion crossing your face, but Taesan simply grins up at you with half-lidded eyes. Without saying a word, he reaches for your hand, guiding it to his hair. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you bite back a smile, amused by his clingy behavior. Slowly, you start to run your fingers through his hair, the rhythm soothing both him and you. Taesan hums contentedly, his body shifting as he gets more comfortable on your thighs. You look back at your phone, but your fingers never stop moving through his hair. Your attention is fully on the pretty boy with his head resting on your lap, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

03.

You’re out shopping with Taesan, almost ready to leave after grabbing everything that caught your eye, but you’re too tired to shop any longer. Taesan is holding all your shopping bags, despite your insistence on carrying at least one. He refused to let you. You’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor. The strap of your purse keeps slipping off your shoulder, and you unknowingly let out an irritated huff as you pull it up for the fourth time in the past two minutes.

“Give it to me,” Taesan says, taking the little bag from you before you can protest. You don’t even know how he’s managed to hold all these bags.

“Taesan, I can hold my purse myself,” you say firmly, but he just clicks his tongue.

“Well, you clearly can’t if you keep dropping it.”

You frown. “I didn’t drop it—”

Before you can finish, his lips press against yours—firm but soft—before pulling away almost immediately.

“Hush, I’m fine with holding your bags, baby.”

You can’t say anything to that, too flustered to even look at him. Your eyes fall on a little girl standing behind you, who bursts into a fit of giggles at the sight of the kiss your boyfriend just gave you. You scrunch your nose at her before resting your cheek against Taesan’s shoulder, biting your lip to stop yourself from giggling like the girl behind you.

kim leehan.

01.

You’re sitting in the corner of a quiet cafe, focused on an assignment that’s due in a few days. Leehan, however, is not as focused. He had plenty of work to do, but after ten minutes, his attention was already drifting. He kept turning his phone on and off, scanning the cafe, and gossiping in your ear whenever someone did something questionable. He fidgeted with your pens, did everything but study.

Finally, he grabbed a pen and gently took your hand, guiding it toward him. You didn’t resist; anything to let this boy distract himself so you could focus. The cool pen glided over the back of your hand as he started doodling.

A few minutes later, you felt him looking up at you with a gleam in his eyes. You glanced down at the back of your hand and saw two fish drawn with a green pen, sloppily yet endearingly, with a heart between them. One fish had wide eyes and a ridiculously joyful expression, while the other had smaller eyes and furrowed eyebrows. A fish with eyebrows? But you didn’t question it.

"Let me guess," you said, your lips curling into a smile, "I’m the grumpy one?"

Leehan nodded enthusiastically. "Cute, right?" he beamed. "They’re in love," he added dreamily.

You smiled at the doodle, finding it impossibly cute. You’d never wash it off if you could.

"Hold on," he said. "I’ll draw our kids too."

"Leehan!"

02. You groan softly as sunlight pours through the window, squinting and turning to face the other way. Leehan is already awake, watching you with a sleepy, gentle smile. "Morning," he says, his voice still thick with sleep. It never fails to surprise you how cheerful he can be, even when sunlight is harshly poking at your eyes on a Sunday morning at 8 a.m.

You grumble in response, your words unintelligible as you move closer to Leehan, nuzzling against his side and pulling the blankets tighter around you. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in his warm embrace, his hand gently running through your hair, massaging your scalp with his fingers. You grab a fistful of his shirt, holding him even tighter as you snuggle into his chest.

"Wake up, baby," you hear him murmur, his voice soft and full of affection. You mumble, "Five more minutes, please," and feel Leehan nod in understanding. Five minutes pass, and he still holds you close, continuing to run his fingers through your hair, allowing you to cling to him for as long as you need, because he enjoys it just as much as you do.

His gentle touch and soothing presence make it so easy to forget about the world outside, leaving you feeling safe and content in his arms. You can’t imagine a better way to start your day.

03. You were talking a mile a minute, hands gesturing wildly as you went on and on about some random thing that had happened during the day. Leehan, on the other hand, was quietly listening, his eyes soft and amused as they watched you talk.

“You know,” you continued, oblivious to the way his lips curled into a smile, “I think it’s just—” Before you could go on any longer, Leehan suddenly leaned forward, cutting you off mid-sentence. His hand found its way to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. And before you could even react, his lips pressed against yours, silencing your rambling in the sweetest way possible. The kiss was soft, a little teasing, and it made your heart race all at once.

When he pulled away just enough to look at you, his face was flushed, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You were talking a lot,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

You blinked at him, cheeks turning a soft pink. “Leehan...” you whispered, still a little breathless. He gave you a playful grin and pecked your lips again, this time lingering just a bit longer, his hand softly cupping your cheek.

“Couldn’t resist,” he murmured, his voice warm and fond. “Every time you talk, I just wanna kiss you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned into him, feeling his arms wrap around you as he pulled you closer. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep talking, then.”

kim woonhak.

01. It wasn’t unusual for Woonhak to absentmindedly play with your hair. Sometimes it started with a little twirl or a soft tug to smooth a flyaway, but soon his fingers would weave through your hair in the gentlest way, like he couldn’t help himself.

One afternoon, as you sat on the floor reading, your head resting against his knee as he lounged behind you on the couch, his hand found your hair again. He started with soft motions—tucking strands behind your ear, brushing his fingers through lightly. The repetitive movement was so soothing you closed your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips.

After a while, his movements changed. You felt him section off a small part of your hair and begin braiding it, the motions careful and deliberate. He worked with so much focus, as though he didn’t want to accidentally tug too hard or mess up your peaceful moment. A small smile played on your lips as you let him continue, enjoying the way he was putting so much care into something as simple as your hair.

“Umm, YN… I think I messed up.”

Curious, you touched the braid—and gasped. It wasn’t a braid; it was a bird’s nest more than anything. “Woonhak!”

His eyes widened, and he clasped his hands together, leaning in dramatically. “I’m so sorry, baby! I swear I didn’t mean to destroy your hair.” Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Forgive me?” he asked softly, his lips brushing your temple before planting another kiss just above your ear.

You sighed, trying to stay annoyed, but he made it impossible. “Not fair,” you muttered, tilting your head toward him as his lips trailed to your cheek.

“Is that a yes?” he murmured, grinning against your skin.

“Only if you help me fix this mess.”

You laughed as he gently guided you to sit between his knees, his hands carefully working through the tangle of knots. His fingers, though slightly clumsy, moved delicately as he untangled strand by strand. Occasionally, he’d pause to place a soft kiss on the top of your head or your shoulder, murmuring little apologies that made your heart flutter.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you mumbled, leaning back slightly against him.

02. Woonhak had an adorable habit of always saving you a seat, no matter where you went. It was second nature to him—at the library, the cafeteria, or even during group hangouts. He’d drape his jacket over a chair or place his bag on it, giving you a small grin when you arrived, as if to say, This is for you. He never made a big deal out of it, either. It was just something he did, quietly and without fuss, as natural as breathing.

Today, your friends had decided on a casual lunch after school. The restaurant was buzzing with chatter, and by the time you arrived, it seemed every seat at the table was already taken—except for one, right next to Woonhak. He looked up as you walked in, his face lighting up instantly. “Over here,” he called softly, patting the empty chair beside him. You made your way over, a little flustered by the attention but grateful nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you murmured as you slid in, your shoulder brushing his. His arm instinctively came to rest on the back of your seat, fingers lightly grazing your shoulder. The conversation flowed easily among your friends, but your little bubble with Woonhak remained. Under the table, his knee pressed gently against yours. You shifted slightly, and he pressed back, as if to say, Stay close.

At one point, he casually reached for your hand, his pinky hooking around yours before giving a soft squeeze. You glanced at him, catching the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he pretended to focus on his food. But the pink hue dusting his cheeks gave him away completely.

And just like that, with your knees touching and his hand brushing yours, everything else was background noise—leaving only the two of you, perfectly at ease in each other’s presence.

03. It was one of those perfect winter evenings—the air crisp, your breath puffing out in soft clouds as you walked down the street. You were a step ahead of Woonhak, chatting animatedly about something that had happened earlier in the day, your hands flying in every direction to emphasize your points. Woonhak wasn’t saying much today. He liked listening to you like this—watching the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, the way your scarf bobbed with every enthusiastic gesture. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he trailed behind, letting you lead the way.

The crosswalk came into view, and the light had just turned yellow, but you were too caught up in your story to notice. You stepped forward without thinking, and Woonhak’s hand darted out instinctively, wrapping gently around your arm. “Wait,” he said softly, pulling you back just as a car sped past. You blinked, startled, and turned to look at him. “Just… be careful,” he mumbled, trying to play it cool, but the redness creeping up his ears betrayed him.

Before you could say anything, he slid his hand down from your arm and intertwined his fingers with yours, slipping both of your hands into the pocket of his coat. The warmth of his palm against yours immediately chased away the chill in the air. You glanced down at your joined hands, a shy smile tugging at your lips at your boyfriend’s sweet gesture to make sure you were safe.

‎ ‎     • feedback 🗯 reblogs ───── highly appreciated ˆᗜˆ

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Bottled Up (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

MDNI SMUT 18+ CONTENT

Gojo can’t cum. Too much on his mind, not enough time to himself, not enough chances to indulge. It’s becoming a matter of personal hygiene. He can't go on like this. He needs help. Your help.

Ao3 Masterlist.

WC: 7.4k Warnings: casual sex, raw sex, penetrative sex, kissing, kissing SLOPPY, oral m!receiving, discussion of anal but not present really, improper use of cursed energy, doggy, begging, crying, desperate whiny Gojo, brief mention on former satosugu,

------ Wow can you guys even believe? I actually wrote something about Gojo!! Tbh writing about/for him intimidates the fuck out of me but i have some longer form ideas about him so this was a good exercise. I hope y’all like it. -Doodle

Satoru can’t cum. He’s broken. His balls dried up. His dick died. His cursed energy overloaded and rendered him impotent. Limitless misfired and clogged him completely. It was the only way to explain why he hadn’t cum in two months.

He used to be able to cum. Fuck, he used to cum too easy. Ten years ago he would jerk off before hooking up so he didn’t cum too fast. He was so fucking sensitive, every touch or graze could send him shivering. Now he would have given anything for his days as a quick draw. That life was over.

Do people have cum caps? Like a finite amount of times they can orgasm and an excess of masturbation and experimentation in his youth had burned through his chances. He wants to believe that if he had known how wasteful he was, he would have acted differently, but it was a lie. He was too instinctual, everything in his nature, his upbringing, had taught him to trust his instincts above all else. They kept him alive, kept him going, kept him satisfied. But now, a vital piece of the puzzle was missing.

It was the sixty-sixth day in a row. He got home around eleven pm, an earlier night than most. His apartment, with its spotless, professionally tended, interior that betrayed the depraved chaos burning inside of him. Dropping his keys and shoes at the door he groaned into the silence at the way his work pants shifted against his throbbing erection trucked down his left leg. This was the part that was growing painful. The sensitivity. It started just around his pelvis, any brush of fabric or misjudged distance between himself and curses, near his hips would send a shaking beat of pleasure up his spine. But it spread, and spread. Even the car seat against his back was starting to turn him on. Last week Principle Yaga touched the back of his neck by mistake and his eyes rolled back. His black blindfold was working finding more work by the day. He started leaving limitless up constantly, well, more constantly. Only dropping completely after he had crossed the threshold of his home. Anything else was too risky.

Today had been rough, he woke up aching between his legs, the coldest shower he could stand helped to bring it down, but not for long. On the way to work he had to cross and re-cross his legs, a difficult feat at his height, over and over until he got to the school. Because of his existence in the good graces of the universe, there were no classes, only a brutally endless string of meetings. Not good, but at least…seated. By the time the final meeting was dismissed he thought he could bite through a cement support beam. On the way out, one of the higher ups patted him on the back, limitless blocking it from making contact, but he found a tantalizing urge to let it pass through, just for the contact.

He was fucking ruined.

Passing through the mainroom, up the staircase to the bedroom, he pulled his blindfold from his eyes, blinking a few times, snowy eyelashes relaxing from their position pressed against his eyelids. Finally in his bedroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, already breathing hot and deep. He passed his bed into the ensuite bathroom, clicking the light and taking in his own reflection.

Fuck, he looked rough.

Skin sallow. Muscles strained and tense. Still handsome, of course, but drained. Like he had been wrung out.

And alone.

Satoru clicked the light off. He couldn’t go there.

He walked himself over to the bed, lithe hands finding his belt and unfastening it, slipping his pants down his legs. A relieved sigh left his mouth as the tight garment was removed. He sat on the edge of his bed, palming his desperate erection. He was shivering, the stimuli so overwhelming already. He wasn’t hopeful, but he was too desperate to stop. Keening back onto the bed, he let his eyes close. He didn’t want to see, the only sensation he wanted was to feel himself, touching himself, bringing him to the peak that felt so insurmountable. He was diamond hard now, finally he pulled himself free of the confines of his briefs. Taking his length into his hand, circling his palm over his barren tip.

He couldn’t even precum anymore.

He groaned in frustration, scooting back further on the cushy mattress, his briefs joining his discarded pants on the floor. He spit onto his hand, coating his dick from base to head, easing his strokes. He let his head fall back against the pillows, dredging up memories of past lovers to try and aid his efforts. He wasn’t really a porn guy, not above it, certainly. But it was overstimulating, bright lights, too colorful, just overwhelming to his already heightened senses. He preferred to rely on his own mind, he was in total control there. Or at least he used to be. His mind was too full of other bullshit to wander into the salacious. Work, always work. Lesson plans, missions, reports, meetings.

Fuck.

He reset, turning over onto his knees, moving one of his silken pillows under him, opting to rut against the soft cushion. One hand underneath pressing it against his length. His head hanging heavy under his shoulders, sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. The cold silk pillowcase against his cock, making his sweating body erupt into goosebumps. He slid his hips, gasping out shuddering breaths. It felt so good, so cold and soft against his begging erection. The muscles in his back rippled, swelling and beckoning under his frosty, even skin. The light of his bedroom cast gorgeous shadows on his back and hips, bringing out his excellent physique. The shadow of his spine, the lat muscles under large, perfectly worked arms, almost appearing as angel wings in the low, soft glow.

He brought his thoughts to long shapely legs, thighs shaking under his touch. Lips, wet and swollen, against his own. This was working, his breath was starting to catch in time with his hips against the pillow. He let his mind continue to wander and increased his speed. Glute muscles flexing hard as images of bodies he once held, some with features he knew well, some less familiar but still worth remembering. Some too familiar, silky, long black hair falling into his mouth. Dark violet eyes, full, strong arms.

No. Not that. He couldn’t go there either. There was nothing left for him anymore.

It killed his momentum. Still aching below but too stormy on top. Stilling his hips, slouching over the mattress. He took a few deep breaths, trying to take in the room around him in pieces, grounding himself in the present. In reality.

He wiped his wet hand over his face then on the sheets below him, gripping hard. This was getting ridiculous. He felt pathetic. Tears burned behind his blessed eyes. He felt broken. He felt shame bubbling behind his navel. He couldn’t live like this. He needed to cum. He needed to release all of this build up and get himself right.

Satoru pulled his phone from the discarded pants and tapped it a few times. Until he found just what he was looking for.

Your phone screen illuminated your dark bedroom. Your humidifier was on, your lights had been long turned out. You had just fallen asleep after some restless tossing and turning. The screen lit up again, this time chiming out a text notification. That jarred you from the warm grip of dream and made your head spring up. You glanced at the screen, trying to read the too bright notification with sleep still coating your eyes. But before you could, it changed to the dimmer incoming call screen. It vibrated on the nightstand, suddenly too loud to ignore. You sighed, and retrieved it.

It was Gojo. He was calling you. You hadn’t seen him in months. fuck was that right? You thought back. You hadn’t seen him in…six months. The last time you left his gorgeous, perfectly styled, agonizingly well put together apartment, it hadn’t been on bad terms, by any metric, but it wasn’t like you were falling into each other's arms either. There hadn’t been any blow out or agreement not to see each other anymore, it just fizzled out. You were sure you had been disappointed when the calls and texts slowed to a trickle, but it wasn’t like you were dating or anything. You had hooked up a few times earlier in the year. No more than four times total. Okay, six times. Okay, nine times. Okay, you lost track somewhere in the second month. What really qualifies as hooking up these days, anyway? Just penetration or sexting? Oral? Hand stuff? Hand stuff in public? Other stuff in public? What should even qualify if you were keeping track -- which you weren’t! You answered the call.

“Do you know what time it is?” You sighed out, smiling through your feigned annoyance.

He purred on the other side of the line, “hmmmm, what are you wearing?”

“Pajamas, because it's almost one in the morning.” your voice was hoarse, sleep having laid your vocal cords to rest.

“Sounds hot.” You could hear his stupidly sexy smile, “You should come over. Can’t waste an outfit like that at home.”

You laugh, already planning how quickly you could pull yourself together, and whether or not the trains were still running, “You’re kidding me. I haven't heard from you in months. You call at an ungodly hour and expect me to come running over at the drop of a hat?”

“You don’t have to run, I’ll send a car.” He coos.

You laugh again, stretching in your bed, letting out a soft groan.

“mmmm, do that again.” His voice grew heavier, there was some suspicious sounding rustling on his end.

You stayed quiet, wanting to see if you would hear anything else and wanting to deny him.

“Now don’t be like that, baby.” He whines, he sounds pathetic “I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

You got out of your bed, still taking your sweet time, savoring his helplessness, “An emergency, huh? Nothing fatal I hope.”

His tongue clicks on the other side, “hmmm, it’s hard to say. Could be a fever, I’m feeling…hot.”

You hate that a line so corny is making you bite your lips to keep quiet. You slipped into a cuter, but still comfy lounge set, a bit more versatile than your pajamas “Sounds contagious, maybe it would be best if I stayed home…”

“Please!” His voice changed, cracking and almost panicked, “I need you, please.”

There was no version of this conversation that ended any other way, “Send the car.”

“Already outside.” You heard his face split into that gorgeous smile you couldn't resist, not even over the phone.

When you arrived at his front door, you didn't even have a chance to knock before he swung the door open. And fuck he looked good. Bad, but good? Not bad, just…disheveled. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, inhumanly muscled torso glowy and flushed, his hair matted and unkempt, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The long, angled white scar healed from an injury long past going from his shoulder to his opposite hip. You traced the line with your eyes, recalling the first time you had seen it, how he had moved your fingers over it, getting you used to the feeling of it under your touch, assuring you that it was long healed and nothing to fuss over. Every inch of him was perfect, despite his pain, his history. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Your ogling did not go unnoticed, looking up to his face you saw the smile you had heard so much of recently.

“Miss me?” He opened the door wider, allowing you to enter, ducking under his arm.

“Yeah.” You admitted rolling your eyes and stepping inside, leaving your shoes at the door.

You took in the sleek, cavernous town house around you. His decor hadn’t changed at all, a lovely front room, a staircase along one windowed wall, leading up to his bedroom. If you were to press further into the main floor, peeling back shoji screens you would find more bedrooms, frozen in time just as they were last left by their former inhabitants, his office, barely ever touched, a gorgeous bathroom complete with a personal sauna. For someone who spent nearly no time at home, he really did have the house dreams are made of.

“I can get you something to drink if you want.” He offers, shutting and locking the door.

“That’s okay. You sounded pretty desperate on the phone, I’d hate to keep you waiting.

He wasn’t totally ready for this part. Having to explain what was going on with him. He shifted a bit, he wanted you so bad. He needed it. He needed every part of you right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Come on Gojo, you got me out here. Don’t get shy on me now. What’s the big emergency?” You set your bag down on his expansive kitchen island, not subtly eyeing the absolutely incomprehensible bulge tenting the front of his sweats.

“It’s been so long, why the rush, Sugar?” He plays coy, approaching you with a suave gait, moving past you to the refrigerator, “Sparkling water? Still? I can go down to the cellar if you want something stronger?”

“Gojo…” You raise your eyebrows.

“I have tea or coffee if you prefer. Some sodas, you like diet right?”

“Gojo come on---”

“You know i'm not great in the kitchen but if you’re hungry I could---”

“Satoru!” You cut him off, finally pulling his attention from the icebox, “What’s up with you?”

His white eyebrows knit together in the center, making his eyes droop pitfully, “I can’t cum.”

You can barely hear his confession, and you must have heard him wrong so in earnest you ask, “What?”

“I can’t cum. For weeks, nothing. I try and I try and just…nothing.” He blurts, simultaneously relieved and mortified.

You know you shouldn't stare, that you should say something, but you’re dumbfounded. There was once a time, not too long ago even, where he had you bent over this exact counter pushing through his own leaking orgasm to bring you to tears. And that had been the third round that night. You always thought he was the untouchable man, a paragon of self control and pushed limits. To think of him unable to even pleasuring himself, it felt impossible.

“You can’t cum?” You say dumbly.

“Well now that you have repeated it, I think I must be cured, you can go now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his shoulder against the fridge, fighting the hiss that bubbles in his throat from its chilling surface against his heated skin.

“I’m sorry!” You put your hands up like you had been caught, “It's just a little hard to believe! I never expected you to….struggle…in this…area.”

Gojo’s eyebrows flew up, every word you said made it worse. You could feel it but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were apparently determined to put every foot possible in your big stupid mouth.

“I just mean because you’re usually so good! How could this happen, are you sick? I don’t know why I would even ask that! Obviously you’re not sick, you're just….having some…dysfunction.”

“Why would you say dysfunction?” He stared at you, ego bruised but still amused at how poorly you were handling this.

“I didn’t mean like that! I Just---”

“Any other word. Any word in the world you could have said, and you go with dysfunction.” He chuckles, his own embarrassment now vacated completely in wake of how flagrantly you had just shit the bed.

“That was super dumb, and I’m really sorry. I have no idea what to say.” You just gave up on the second half of the sentence, knowing nothing you were saying was going to help.

“I don't have erectile dysfunction, the erection is not the problem,” He doesn’t have to gesture below his waist, the subject of conversation stands perfectly at attention, pushing against the flimsy fabric, “It won't go away, I’m stuck like this, and I can’t think about anything else, and I can’t get anything done. I need your help, you have to help me get rid of it.”

Your chest warmed a bit, a sly canary eating smile crossed your face, “So you called me, huh?”

“Yes I called you.” He sighs.

“Out of everyone you could have booty called to help your infinite boner, you call little old me? Gojo, I'm touched!” You sound like you're accepting a Nobel prize.

He rolls his eyes, “I knew you were going to be annoying about this.”

You took a seat at one of the bar stools at the counter, resting your head flirtatiously on your perched hands, “So like when you were choosing who to call, what made you pick me…am I just that good?”

You were, fuck you really were. He had thought about you so many times, Your perfect body, your pretty eyes, your soft hair, your legs around his hips, your fucking mouth. It had been too long over all, but it had been far too long since he had been with you. He called you because he knew you were great, and because he trusted you. He could be honest with you without judgement, your current reaction notwithstanding. He knew that he could count on you to be discreet and up front. There weren’t any guessing games when you were together, he didn’t have to guess or grasp for clues at how you were feeling. He knew you.

“That’s right.” He nodded, willing to let you have this.

You let out a teasing school yard oooooooooooooh. Batting your eyelashes and grinning widely, feeling like the absolute queen of the universe.

But he was growing impatient, “You gonna help me out, or what?”

“Sounds like I have quite the reputation to protect, how long has it been exactly?” You eyed him up and down.

“Still about twenty centimeters. Give or take.” He answers, “Oh! You mean--two months.”

“Months? Two MONTHS?” You gawked and then caught yourself, “I’m sorry I know that doesn’t help…I just can’t believe you’re upright. How are you not hospitalized?”

“If this conversation takes much longer I may have to be.” He crosses the room to you, leaning over where you are seated on the counter, putting his arm around you to grip the back of your chair.

You lean back, taking in a breath as he leans closer. Fuck, he’s so handsome. Perfect pearly skin, hair soft and fluffy, those fucking eyes holding you still under their gaze.

“Come on, Sugar, help a guy out. We’re friends right? Friends help each other.” His breath is sweet against your face.

You feel hypnotized, looking between his eyes and lips in a dizzying circle. His cocky demeanor you were so used to was crackling, you could see beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, his tongue wet and heavy kept his lips parted, drawing you closer. He smelled like him, warm and clean, the whole place smelled like him. You were completely in his arena, but you still had all the power. The Strongest asking you for help, begging even, you felt high. You tilted your head up, close to his face, catching his eyes,

“What are friends for?” You closed the distance between you, locking your lips together.

He is quick to pull you closer, making your breasts press hard against his chest, drawing a moan from both of you. His tongue slips past your lips, and maps the interior of your mouth quickly. Reacquainting himself with your taste. Even just a kiss, a real kiss, made his body shudder. His left hand holds your face, his long fingers splayed over your cheek, from your neck up to you temple, his right hand held the back of your neck, keeping you firm in place against him. You are far handsier than him in this moment. You can’t stop yourself, you missed his body, his kiss, him. Feeling his toned stomach, around his hips to his back, digging your nails in just enough to see if he gasps. He does not. Far too focused on the sloppy, dripping kiss he waited so patiently for. He’s leaning over you, pushing you further and further back, making you dangerously close to falling off the stool below you. But of course, his hand grabs your back, holding you still, right where we wanted you. Just past the point where you would have to engage your abs, but not far enough for you to want to hold yourself up. Muscles right on the precious of passive ability and focused contraction, forcing to to rely on his hold, trusting him completely, and he could feel you would relax into his palm, melting into his touch.

“Fuck, Gojo. You really are desperate.” You giggled as his kissed moved down to your jaw and neck.

He moaned against your skin as your nails clawed at his lower back, nodding his head passively, running his tongue over your pulse point.

“You’re so pretty.” He hooks your leg over his hip, pressing the problem child erection right against yours clothed cunt, drawing a shaky gasp from you.

“Not here.” He pulls himself away. “Upstairs…do this right…let’s”

He’s not finishing any of his sentences, you almost worry if whatever problem that resides in his cock could be spreading to his brain. But maybe it was contagious because you can’t bring yourself to care. Holding your hand a bit too tight, he pulls you forward and up the staircase to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, no one else has lived here in a long time. The house is quiet, bar from the panting breaths that drip from both of you, the rustle of clothes, and the reconnection of hot, desperate skin. You kiss him again, pushing him back toward the bed. He allows you to push him onto the mattress, disconnecting your lips.

“So?” You flirt, standing naked before him, letting him see all of you, “how do you wanna fix this?”

He has shed his sweatpants in the shuffle, propped up on his elbow, the other hand giving himself long, slow strokes.

“I’ve been dreaming about that mouth, baby.” He chews on the interior of his bottom lip, “show me if you’re as good as I remember.”

He spreads his legs, allowing you a good long look at how hard he really has become. Angry, pink tip swollen, veins along the shaft straining against the skin. The lower ab muscles are so strained you think they might pop. You had almost forgotten how fucking big he is. Everything about him was too big. His broad, strong body, his long spindly legs, built, strong arms hanging below his hips, those big hands with their knuckly fingers, his long, thick cock and the ego that accompanied. Seeing all of him, how big he was, made a shock run up and down your spine.

How the fuck had you fit this thing inside of you before?

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” he echos your earlier words, “you can take it.”

Not to be out foxed, you steel yourself and sink to your knees in between his spread legs. He stops stroking himself, leaning against both elbows now, waiting with held breath for you to begin.

Your put your hands on his knees, massaging them down and up, feeling the taut muscles of his thighs, the soft hairs under your hands.

“You think about me a lot?” You kissed the side of his left knee.

“Mhm.” His head hung backs exposing his delicious, wiry throat.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped, you ran your nails down his legs, making his hips jerk upward.

“Don’t tease baby, it’s bad enough already!” He begged.

Fuck he sounded good like that. No one could swing the pendulum of pathetic and cocky quite like Satoru Gojo.

“Two months huh?” You carried on, giving open mouthed kisses up his thigh between thoughts, “you must be sooooo sensitive. Poor baby.”

He nods, his eyes squeezed right, trying to focus on every sensation you’re giving him.

Finally you reach the divot between his hip and the base of his pelvis, the internal hinge of his thigh. You ran your tongue along the muscle, tasting the salt of his body. His hips jerk again.

“Please!” He cries out, the lamp at his bedside flicker off and on again.

“Careful Satoru.” You warned, “all you had to do was ask.”

You swirl your tongue around the swollen, aching tip of his dick. Looping around the underside of the head and sliding your mouth down further.

Satoru was in heaven, his eyes rolled back in his head, he fought to keep his hips still, he didn’t want to hurt you, but fuck he wanted more.

You slide your tongue along each beautiful vein, making a perfect map in your head of the topography of his penis. Pulling off and sinking back down again you could take him all the way to the base, coarse white hair ticking your nose as your relaxed your throat to accommodate him he fell back against the bed, one hand moving your hair off your forehead so he could see your pretty face. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, relax into the pleasure and let it wash over him, or watch you take him further. He leaned up to watch, just as your peeked on eye open to see him falling apart. But the eye contact was too much for him to bear, he felt his cheeks erupt in a blush, and he fell backward again, using one arm to shield his eyes.

You tutted, running his cock along your lips as your spoke, giving it sloppy kisses to make the syllabals, “oh Satoru, look at me, baby. Doesn’t it feel good?”

He nods but doesn’t look up. He can’t bear it. Your weepy eyes filling with tears from the lack of breath, your lips swollen, encasing his cock head. Your hair pulled to one side, giving him a perfect view of your hollowed cheeks as you suck and pull at him. With your spit coating his cock, the sensitivity has doubled. Wet, schlucking sounds fill his bedroom, alongside your haughty moans. Or wait…that’s actually him moaning like that. He doesn’t even recognize himself, he’s panting, sweating, begging. He didn’t even realize he was talking but the praises have been spilling from him continuously:

Yes

Baby yes just like that

Fuck you’re so good

You’re so pretty

Fuck you’re doing so good

Feels so good

Baby

Fuck

Sugar

So pretty

So good

I can’t I

Please baby make me

Fuck you’re

Agh

Oh

Fu

Oh

Ah

O

I

All he can manage by the time he looks back at you are open vowel sounds. It’s feels fucking incredible, perfect, if this were three months ago he would have cum in an instant. This was the closest he had felt, but it still wasn’t enough. He had to be inside you. The hand keeping your hair back rounded your face, his thumb pushing against your lips.

“I need to fuck you.” He says breathlessly, “I won’t cum until I fuck you, please.”

You pull off of him, a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to brag about your head game, but you push it aside and join him on the bed. Clingy as he is, he pulls you close, kissing you hard again. Your mouth is wet with saliva and pre cum. He didn’t have the time to be impressed at your skill bringing forth the pearly substance, he coveted so greatly. He was too focused on being as close as two people can be. You move to straddle his lap, but he shakes his head, breaking from your lips.

“Bend over.” His mouth is wet now, both of you wet from lips to chin.

You grin and climb off him, stacking a few pillows to give you something to rest on and presenting your hips to him. Satoru is getting his bearings back, he feels more in control now that he has moved onto his knees behind you. Desperate as he is he can’t resist brushing two feather light fingers down your spine, watching you arch as he drags them further and further down. Your spine snakes, your hips sway, his fingers find the cleft where your spine meets your ass, a perfectly little dimple, waiting for his hands to paw at, your breathy moan eggs him on, sliding further down, feeling your tight asshole clench from just the lightest of contact.

“You remember when you let me back here?” He circles it, reminiscing, “you were so tight. fuck, you felt so good baby.”

“Remember when you let me back there.” You tried to sound tough but your position bent over with your head buried in your hands made it difficult.

“Mmmmhm.” He felt his dick twitch again, remembering when you had fingered him open, sucking him in tandum, he swore he saw an angel that night.

And here you were again, having rushed over in the middle of the night just to help him, trembling under his fingertips. Maybe you really were an angel. His very own guardian angel. If anyone could bed a steward of the divine it would be him.

“I thought you needed my help.” You whined.

He giggles, leaning over you, close enough that his lips touch your ear, his heavy cock pressing against your slit,“Just making sure you’re as needy as I am.”

He runs his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you squeal. Of course he remembered all your sensitive spots. He returned to his knees behind you, spreading you open, marveling at the mess you had made. Dripping honey onto the bed, onto your thighs, on his hand. His mouth floods, the desire to bury his head between your legs quickly matching his desire to cum.

“Later.” You whimpered, having read his mind, “you need my help.”

He beams, “so selfless.”

Finally, after an hour of build up since your arrival, the agonizing time waiting for you to get here, and the two months of celibacy that had brought him here, he aligned himself at your drooling hole, your spit was still shining along his cock but he ran either side though your folds anyway, making sure he was wet enough. He had fucked enough and had a big dick for long enough that he knew taking it all required some specific anatomy or a lot of prep, usually both. And while you were familiar with him, and giving yourself so willingly to him, he didn’t actually want to hurt you.

“Satoru please just—-“

The rest of your sentence would never see the air of his bedroom. It’s conclusion stolen from you and replaced with a pathetic scream as he pushed inside. He had meant to ease in but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop himself, he bottomed out in his first thrust. A loud smack of your ass hitting his hips still resounded in the room as he pulled back and thrusted in again. Your back arched evilly, dangerously close to snapping your spine in half. Despite his tunnel vision, Satoru eased his hand up your back, effortlessly smoothing it and gripping your shoulder for more leverage.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes.” He grunted, thrusting in an evil pace.

You couldn’t even speak, he was so deep, you were willing to bet his made an impression agains the front of your stomach. On your pillow pedastule you sank further, and reached up one formerly supportive hand to grip his on your shoulder.

“Sa…sa…” you panted out, not even able to string his name together.

He moved to long, languid, but devastatingly deep thrusts, the hand on your shoulder holding the side of your neck now, “that’s it, sugar. Say my name. Say my name, baby, come on.”

You tried, you really fucking tried but the letters wouldn’t come, “S—Sa—-sss.”

Your eyes rolled back, crumbling completely into the silken pillowcases, not caring if your spit or tears ruined the fabric. He spanked you once hard, making your head shoot up.

“I said say it.” He grunted.

Cocky for a man who was nearly in tears over the phone because he couldn’t bust.

“Satoru!” You finally spilled, his cock pushing hard against your g spot, “Satoru! Satoru please! Be gentle!”

Now that your voice had found you again it was hard not to beg him for mercy.

“Please baby, please! Fuck that’s so good.” You babbled, bringing a sick smile to his face.

He fucked harder, deeper into you, reveling the way your walls fluttered around him. You were so tight he had initially worried he was going to split you in two. But you are his angel, he should have known better than to deny your divinity. Satoru could hear your moans increasing in pitch and becoming choppy. He reached around your hip, finding the perfect pearl between your lower lips and circling his middle finger around. The clench that followed sent you both keening. His fingers brought forth an orgasm you didn’t think was nearly as close. Your hips shaking, biting into the pillow to keep from screaming.

“No baby, let me hear you.‘I need it.” He panted, not stopping his fingers on your clit or his evil thrusts, seeming deeper and deeper every second.

You tried to lift your head but felt dizzy, your vision wasn’t right, your clit throbbed beautifully but made you aware of how fast your heart was. Gojo pulled out turning you on your back, reinserting himself with a kiss to your cheeks.

“Don’t pass out on me, okay? I need you baby, I need your help. Help me, please.” He thrusted slower, only moving a few inches at a time as your came down from the mind fuzzing orgasm.

You nodded, coming back to yourself, you pulled your legs over his hips, your hands moving down the curves of his body. He slower thrust gave you time to admire him. He really was so beautiful. Looking at the sun and having to look away beautiful. His skin was reddening from effort and arousal, splotchy flushes that still couldn’t take away his perfection. The divots on his shoulders, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his spit. Fucking him felt like being completely encompassed in perfection incarnate. And you couldn’t feel luckier to have the chance to be so. He opened his pleasure screwed up eyes, those glowing blue irises, that contained so much of what everyone thought he was, looking down at you with so much trust, so much vulnerability, your heart lurched into your throat.

“You okay?” Satoru scanned your face.

You nodded, pulling him in to kiss you again, feeling his soft hair under your fingers. You held on as he increased his thrusts again. Speed, depth, power, all of it ramped back up to fainting orgasm levels.

Satoru was on the verge of tears, he couldn’t do without again. He couldn’t not cum one more time. He wouldn’t make it. He would bury himself into any hole you offered him again and again and again until he was free from this. Reaching back and pulling your leg over his shoulder, he allowed himself even deeper into you. He watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, your mouth drop open to catch hot, stolen breath from him. He wanted to make it easier, slotting his lips against yours and kissing you deep, tasting your pleasure. He swooned, his heart felt so tight and full it could burst, he was so grateful for you. For your body, your generosity, your care for him that you made look so simple. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to care about, but it seemed to him like you had never considered it cumbersome. Kissing you he felt the tears long built up by restriction begin to fall, wetting his own cheeks as well as yours.

“Satoru are y—-?” You worried against his lips, your hand in his hair moving from. A harsh grip to a soothing pet.

He shook his head, although you were right, “it’s okay. Thank you. Just thank you.”

He kissed you again and carried on thrusting, long and deep. He found your other hand and took it in his own, interlocking your fingers. Hips hard and fast, the friction not enough, he needed to touch every inch of you with every inch of himself. Your pressed against his chest as you moved to match his thrusts, putting aside the emotions that had arisen and remembering your purpose for being here. He had to break away from the kiss, pushing his forhead against yours, gasping out as you synced your thrusts together.

Oh.

Like a dim lantern in a barren desert, a non phosphorescent illusory light in a cave, the shine of climax came into his view. Still holding your hand, one of your legs over his shoulder, bending your body into a bizzare position, he chased it with everything he could. Drilling himself into your drooly, puffy pussy, again and again, causing you to cry out.

“Baby almost, cum with me, please! Pleasepleaseplease.” He squeezed your hand a bit too hard, your fingers felt cramped.

Well, they would, if you could feel them. And your leg would likely feel strained, if you could feel your hamstring still. But you couldn’t feel anything except the white hot pleasure bursting inside of you everytime he pushed against your gspot. Not breaking away from his hand, your other shot between your legs circling your clit, making you tighten up around him. Satoru cried out, the devilish squeeze of your walls felt like the last barrier between him and total bliss.

“Please baby, please.” He can’t control his voice, he doesn’t care, nothing matters when he is this close, “yes, cum around me. I need it. Cum.”

Your eyes flutter back, your head pushes against the pillow, your body erupts into cooling, overwhelming bliss.

Finally, his torment turns, the ache in his stomach unraveling. He can’t believe it, it’s finally about to be over, he feels your body shake underneath him, your hand gripping his so tightly, your cries filling his bedroom. Just at the precipice Gojo, steals one last look at your pleasure struck face, and he falls.

The lights in his bedroom bloom, swell, and overload. Bulbs bursting as he pumps himself through the most earth shattering orgasm he has ever known. Line after line of thick, long stored cum spilling from him into your waiting cunt. The room is plunged into darkness, he buries his head in your neck, panting hard.

You smile as you feel him filing you, and continue filling you. He had always cum a lot, he joked that it was his lineage begging him for continuation. But this was, beyond. Load after load of hot, desperate cum. He pushed his hips closer to you, his body yearning to become fused to yours. To never separate again.

You move one careful hand up his back, feeling the cooling sweat at his neck, the soft hair at the nape. His breath slows against your skin, but he doesn’t yet push himself off of you, keeping his heavy frame collapsed on you. But you don’t dare complain, committing the heat of his body to memory. The moonlight from the window is now, thanks to his discharge of power, the only light in the room. Your eyes adjust slowly, his features glowing in soft blue-white light. The air in the room is thick and full of both of you. Had you an eternity to indulge yourself in this moment, it would still feel too intangible to recall. But you try anyway.

Once his eyes have stopped spinning in their sockets like some knock out cartoon, Satoru pushes himself off of you, staying inside, just hovering above your body. His misty blue eyes look over every inch of you in a second. Taking in everything about this moment, how your skin reflects the moonlight, your eyes heavy and half lidded with sleep and bliss, your soft smile waiting for him to say something. But he wasn’t ready yet, he pressed his lips to yours again, firm but not desperate. He’s kissed you lavishly and with no burning sense of time. It could be called lazy if it weren’t for the focused decadence behind his mouth. He finally separates, thin silks of spit still unbroken between you two.

You brought your unheld hand to his face, cupping his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter shut. You could see tears drying on his cheeks, overwhelm and gratitude thier origin. The moon brought them forward for your viewing, you swiped a thumb under one eye. They both open under your touch, filling with something unreadable. He let go of your hand, opting to mirror your hold on your face, using one long finger to brush away a hair gelled to your sticky forehead.

“Thank you.” He reiterates, the frantic gratitudes from before nullified into a sincerity that made you nervous despite the juxtoposition of his cock still inside of you.

“Anytime, Satoru.” You can feel your cheeks heat, but your bliss doesn’t waver.

He slid out of you slowly, careful not to jostle his tingling, overstimulated length.

You both are left panting once he has been removed completely. He moved onto his side next to you, on his back, breathing up into the dark ceiling. You realize that you had no way of knowing what time it was. The thoughts of work and responsibility tomorrow we’re beginning to gnaw at the edges of your mind. You should get home soon, leave him to his new sexual freedom. You’d imagine he would be ready to pass out if he wasn’t asleep already. The expulsion of cursed energy enough to knock out the lights, enough to send him comatose.

You should know better than to underestimate him. Gojo sits up, stretching his long arms in front of him, allowing the formerly clenched back muscles to reset. Leaning back against his hands he looks down to you.

“I gotta change the bulbs and reset the fuse box. You wanna stay here? Once I’m done we can go again.” That flirty smile quickly irresistible, “orrrr, if you help me I’ll be done ever faster and I can thank you properly.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling, “I’m still recovering from the last favor I did for you. Come get me when you’re done.”

You settle back into his bed, the luxe duvet the perfect cloud-like weight on your shoulders. The smell of him clinging to every stitch of his sheets.

He moved off the bed, slipping on his underwear and making quick work of changing the burst light bulbs. This wasn’t the first time a miscalculated charge had knocked out the electrical system of his house. He had a private grid, it wasn’t that elegant but between the solar panels on the outside and a small self sustaining aquaphir underneath, it was nearly entirely self sufficient. So it was simple enough to fix when it did happen. When he switched the fuse box, the electric hum returned. Back in his bedroom he found you sleeping, curled up in his bedding, snoring softly. He moves some hair off your shoulder, fingers gentle on your thin, soft skin. Bare except for the duvet pulled over your shoulders. He crouched next to you silently, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. He was lucky to have you, someone who would help him so readily, so selflessly. Someone he could trust and confide in. It had been a long time since he could trust someone like this. Still standing over you, he watched as your stirred, sleepy eyes opening to take him in, squinting against the refreshed lighting.

“Coming back to bed?” Your sleep riddled voice charmed.

“Oh I’m not done with you yet.” He moved into bed beside you, taking your body in his arms once again, his lips fighting home under your jaw.

He really was insatiable.

YAY!!! I hope y'all enjoyed this one. It was fun to write and fell together really easily. I am a lot less intimidated by writing gojo now. But I would love to hear yall's feedback on how it came off!! PLEASE! again, i have a much longer, more structured idea for him that I am wanting to build up to eventually so i would really love to know what yall think. Doodle <3 <3

[obxcc]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ kitty!reader was a good friend. of course she’d show up when sarah texted her begging to show up to the beach. especially when she said kie was being a bitch.

cw . . . 18+ male masturbation , profanity , ex!jj , butthead!kie for the plot i love my girl more than life , drinking

it had been far too long for jj to still have to pull out his phone and open your instagram just to get off every once in awhile. but there was this one post you still had up from years ago when you were still together. jj had taken it when you two were having a beach day. the red bikini that left nothing to the imagination. the activities he knew you got up to that night. god , it would get him to finish like nothing else.

he did feel bad about it every time! a little guilty. your words swirling around his head each time he nutted all over himself and his phone. you don’t act like you care about me , baby , and you ditch me for your friends all of the time , or even you’re not good at loving me.

yeah… nothing like a post nut clarity to make jj feel impossibly worse. so instead of dealing with the reality of his sticky situation , he just cleaned up and went to bed. the pogues had a big day tomorrow. there was this volleyball competition at the beach that john b signed the guys up for.

actually , scratch that. waking up and opening his phone to still see your picture pulled up is worse. he cleared his search history and swiped out of the app before getting ready and heading downstairs.

everything was going swimmingly at the tournament until you showed up. until you showed up in that fucking bikini. jj hadn’t seen you in maybe two years , and when he does you were wearing that.

he didn’t even know you were coming.

he didn’t know sarah had texted you sending for backup earlier in the day. SOS KIE STILL HATES ME. SEND BACK UP PLEASE. SOS SOS. and you weren’t doing anything but lounging around the condo , so of course you’d head out and help your best friend. you’d drop everything if you needed to. especially when sarah mentioned kie.

the three of you had all been friends at one point. you had been good friends with kie individually. you dated one of her best friends. but after her and sarah got into a huge fight your junior year , everything blew up. you were forced to pick sides , and you chose sarah , which only caused problems between you and jj. it was a shit storm inside of a shit storm when everything happened.

now here sarah was , falling for john b routledge. you hated to admit that it sort of made sense. you knew them both , and there was ways they just clicked. so as soon as you found out kie was making the process of falling in love hard for sarah , you were on the way.

you got dressed in a swimsuit , tied a wrap around your hips and set off for the beach. not before grabbing a bottle of tequila on the way out the door. maybe getting drunk out of her mind would help kie loosen the fuck up.

when you arrived to the beach , there weren’t too many people there. the game was paused , two teams huddled up on their respective sides of the sand court. so when you walked up to the game , bottle clinking in your purse , everyone looked.

“hiya , boys,” you batted your lashes , making eye contact with jj before the teams broke up to get back to the game.

it was like he was frozen in place , flashed back to a time just a few years ago you’d been with him on this very beach in a swimsuit so similar he could easily mix them up. “hey— uh , what are you doing here? didn’t know you liked volleyball,” he stammered , stepping closer to you as he eyed the way you fit your swimsuit.

your eyebrows scrunched up as your hand came between you. “why are you standing so close to me?” you asked him , shuffling back in the sand but jj was more focused on the ring that wrapped around your finger. a ring he gave you on your eighteenth birthday.

“i’m not—“

“jayj! get your head out of your ass!”

you knew who was yelling at jj from the sidelines before you even looked. he darted away , jumping back into the game as you made your way over to sarah with a big grin. “look at you , sexy mama!” you greeted her , kissing her cheek.

“did you sneak alcohol into this event?” sarah giggled , wrapping her arm around your waist as she heard the glass bottle hitting other items in your purse.

“well , i wasn’t about to deal with kie sober , and i thought maybe it’d help lighten her mood a bit,” you shrugged.

“i don’t know,” the blonde sighed , stopping before you got too close to kie’s spot on the bleachers, “she’s like really mean now.”

you took a glance at the girl , seeing she looked the exact same as she did the last time you saw her— ocean salted hair with a hippie-esque outfit , and rolled your eyes. “sarah,” you began , putting your hands on her shoulders, “we’re not gonna let some bitch from high school flush you out , okay? we’re the bitches from high school.”

it wasn’t much of a pep talk , but it worked enough to get sarah moving up the stairs to sit down next to kie again.

“as if one of you wasn’t enough,” kie spoke , not bothering to force a smile onto her lips.

“yeah , you know you used to be one of us , right?” you replied , pulling the tequila from your purse and unscrewing it, “what?” you questioned kie and her furrowed brows as you took a gulp, “did you think the three of us could hang out sober?”

you held the bottle out , wiggling it to entice her more. “whatever,” she rolled her eyes as she grabbed the bottle and took a swig.

she passes it to sarah expectantly , causing the blonde to jump before mouthing ‘thank you’ your way and taking a drink of her own. “how ‘bout we play a game?” she suggested , giving you another turn with the liquor.

“a game?” kie repeated , tearing her eyes from the actual game in front of you.

“yeah , like we take a shot every time the boys score?” you added on , taking one already with a shrug as the ball lands on the other side of the court.

“mmm , no. that was a fluke. they’re not actually good,” sarah chuckled, “maybe every time the other team scores?”

you both look at kie , waiting for her response. “what the hell , why not?” she rolled her eyes , reaching into your purse to pluck out a solo cup she saw, “fill me up , skank.”

“oh! better than a poser!” you remarked , not surprised by her outward nastiness , before tilting the bottle and pouring her plenty liquor, “here , babe,” you muttered , filling the second cup and handing it to sarah.

soon enough the game ended with your ex boyfriend and his friends winning. it was a long game though , giving you , kie , and sarah plenty of opportunities to get drunk. the bottle only held a dribble of tequila left in the bottom after you ditched the solo cups all together.

“hey , you girls look like you’re having fun… together?” john b spoke , gladly catching sarah when she flung her happy drunk self into his arms. he kissed her , squeezing at her waist before bringing her feet back to the sand. “y’guys drunk?” he chuckled , looking at you the most suspiciously.

“it got kiara to be nice to sarah for more than ten minutes , so i’ll say it was a good idea , john b,” you remarked , tossing the bottle back into your purse all while ignoring the heat of jj’s gaze.

but of course , he wasn’t going to not say something. as you stood from the hot metal bleachers and readied yourself to order an uber , you wobbled. jj’s hand shot out , gripping your elbow to not let you fall.

“yeah… i don’t think you should be driving,” he admitted , shooing john b away. kie left the moment cleo and pope joined them , so when the brunette dragged his girlfriend off to the twinkie , it was just you.

“i’m fine,” you grumbled , pulling your arm from him and walking away. you rolled your eyes at the sound of footsteps behind you. “my uber’s like five minutes away,” you announced loud enough for the blonde to hear.

jj caught up with you , grabbing your shoulders and turning. “why won’t you talk to me?” he asked , eyes darting away when he realized that his voice sounded far more hurt than he wanted it to.

“because i dumped you.”

ouch. no shit.

“okay , yeah… but i thought we’d at least be applicable?” jj shrugged , letting his hands fall from you as his eyes fell to your chest.

“amicable and my eyes are up here,” you scoffed , hand reaching to push his chin up, “besides me not tearing into you about how awful you were to me every time i see you is amicable enough,” you added , hating that you could remember everything about your relationship so clearly.

you hadn’t seen jj in so long , and having him in front of you— really in front of you just reminded you of how much you used to miss him. sure , you liked to get on his ass about the bad stuff , but there was so much good. you recalled how much fun you had with jj , like nothing else but you and him matter. you’d ride around the island on his bike and go fishing and surfing and everything else you hadn’t done in years.

you hadn’t let yourself think about it all that much. it hurt , so you pushed it down , and now? jj’s shirtless torso was reminding you of everything you’d shoved down in the worst ways. just looking at him flashed you back into your bedroom.

late nights when jj would sneak into your room through your bedroom window when your parents were home before absolutely plowing into you.

“who’s eyes are wandering now?” jj chuckled , noticing the dazed look in your eyes.

you were caught off guard , not realizing yourself that you’d been staring. “will you drive me home?” you asked , eyes flicking up to jj’s. you knew this was stupid. you knew the moment the words left your lips.

but you missed him.

“thought you didn’t like me. treated ya bad and shit?” jj replied , already decided that he was going to drive you before you asked. but two could play cat and mouse. you’d done it before.

you sighed , looking down at your nails. “wasn’t all bad…” you whispered , reaching out to his hands before looking at the ring that adorned one of them. “y’still wear this?”

“you wear mine,” he shrugged, “nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten me. wasn’t gonna throw it out just cuz you dumped me.” he thought about it. thought about launching the silver ring into the ocean so many times , but it was the last thing of yours he had.

“i miss you sometimes,” you admitted , intertwining your fingers, “miss us.” the last bit was whispered , and jj nearly missed it as he was helping you into your passenger seat.

and as he rounded the front of the car , he definitely knew he wanted to get back together with you. he missed ‘us’ too.

[cockettechris]

𝑭𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 － 𝑪.𝑺.

divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

Summary: Chris was well known, in the porn world that is. He didn't really care what anyone else thought he had a good job and that's all that mattered to him. It never really got brought up that often but tonight when everyone is around their friends and intoxicated, you decide to change that.

Pairing: pornstar!Chris x reader

Warnings: smut, p in v, choking, recording the boombyah, chris being hot, idk what else

A/N: this is based off of the conversation I had with @cvnntagious ps!Chris bot, please go check her stuff out🙏

The cold leather couch felt cold on your legs, goosebumps trickling your skin. The sexual topics being brought up made you uncomfortable to say the least. But why should it? You're an adult. You shouldn't feel uncomfortable with this type of stuff.

You being you, you didn't talk. Your "closed off" body language wasn't noticeable, or so you thought. You thought no one noticed until Chris himself spoke up "C'mon ma, don't tell me this is disturbin' you or somethin'." Oh god. That nickname, you fucking hated it when he called you that. Despite the wetness growing between your legs.

"No I'm alright." you said softly, though Chris didn't believe it. "I think you're full of shit, but you're sure?" he said in a soft tone that almost, almost, made you wanna go down on him. "Yeah, why? Did you ask something I didn't hear or?" he chuckled in response, "Nah, just noticed ya look tensed up or something. You're not used to these kinds of conversations?" you smiled softly, "Not really, it's not everyday I hang out with a pornstar or onlyfans star."

He smirked, "Oh so you know what I do then?" he's clearly amused by this. His gaze lowers to your lips for a split second before meeting back up to your eyes "What did ya look me up or somethin'?" you chucked, "Don't boost your ego you just popped up on Twitter." A smirk landed on his pink lips at your sassy remark, realizing you're probably not as shy as you seem. "Shoulda clicked on my profile ma, trust me you'd like it."

Your smile only grew, "No I saw, need to work on your moans though. They sound fake." he let out a scoff with a small laugh, "Yeah? How could I improve?" "I'm not showing you it's your job not mine." You both laughed, clearly enjoying the playful banter between you both. "C'mon doll you know I like getting feedback." You shook your head before speaking, "Okay well, don't be so quiet. No one likes that. Moan more, whimper more, dirty talk, I don't care just don't make it quiet." You quickly shut your mouth after that, realizing your hormones took over for a second, the wetness only growing between your legs.

He smirked at your statement, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, "Wasn't expecting that from ya. But how do you expect me to do all of this perfectly without any practice ma? Hm?" "Yeah do it yourself pretty boy." You said as you got up to go get yourself a drink. He chuckled at how quickly you got up. "Hey can you get me 'nother Pepsi while you're out there?" You looked at him with a confused face before grabbing him another can of Pepsi anyway. He smiled as you handed him the can, eyes trailing down your body as he spoke, "Hey c'mere for a second. Needa tell ya somethin'." Hesitantly, you sat beside him. The cold leather making you shiver slightly.

"You know.." he started, "I wouldn't mind your help with practice, from what ya said earlier. 'Bout how I need to be more loud. "If I say yes will you leave me alone with this?" you said annoyed. His smirk came back at your question. "All ya gotta do is say yes ma.." "Fine." you said with a huff. Not because you didn't want it, no you wanted it. Bad. But because you knew you'd get attached after this and he'd see it as nothing more than a one night stand. He started kissing your neck softly, a soft breath leaves your lips before saying "Right here? Can we at least go to an empty bedroom or something?" He chuckled against your neck, before pulling away and taking your hand as he led you to what you hoped was his bedroom.

The first thing he did when you guys walked into the bedroom was lock the door. He didn't want anyone to see what was his, or what he wanted to be his. He turned around and faced you, slowly walking towards you. "Fucking hate how attractive you are and how much I like you." You said as you kissed him roughly. His eyes widened at the sudden kiss, but is quick to reciprocate it as his hands move to each side of your jaw. He steps forward which causes you to push back into the wall. You moaned into the kiss, which gave Chris the perfect opportunity to add his tongue to the mix.

Before you know it your clothes are scattered all over the floor along with Chris' clothes. You're pretty sure you saw Chris put your underwear in his nightstand drawer but fuck you didn't care. Not when he was pounding into you from behind at an ungodly fast pace. "Fuck ma- taking me so well." You only moaned in response, not like you could form a sentence anyway. "Chris please-" you managed to get out, "Please what? Use your words." "Need your hand-" you couldn't finish your sentence so you just took his hand and guided it to your throat. He squeezes, but not enough to hurt you but enough to make you feel good. "F–Fuck baby, just needed my hand wrapped around ya throat huh?"

"Such a good lil slut f'me." He groaned out. His free hand that was on your hip grabbed his phone, his metal bracelet making you shiver. "Wan' record ya mama. Is that okay?" You whined and nodded. He was quick to start recording, making sure he gets the perfect view of you taking him, all of him. "Chris 'm close." "Yeah? Cum all over my cock. Fuck.." All it took was Chris to hit your g-spot one more time for you to break. A white ring forming around the base of his cock. He lets go of your throat and switches his phone into his other hand, his free hand coming to rest on your hip. "I'm close, gonna cum all over your pretty ass mama." And with that he pulled out quick enough to have his hot cum spurt all over your ass.

He's quick to stop recording and upload the video to his OnlyFans and Twitter. When he's done with that he starts a bath for the both of you. Once your both done with your bath he hands you a pair of boxers and one of his shirts. He puts his boxers back on and some pajama pants. You cuddle up to his chest once you both lay down and he runs his fingers through your tangled hair. He grabs his phone and checks the video. "Wow." He says softly, you hum in confusion as he explains that the video has done better than any other one he's uploaded. "Yeah the people in the comments fucking love you ma, saying they've had a better orgasm than ever. Think that means I'm gonna have to keep you." And with that he kisses your forehead as you fall into a deep sleep.

Tags:

@cvnntagious @sturnobsessedwh0re @sturniolos-manslut19 @sturniolosluttt @mattsfavbitchhh @livy4swift @pip4444chris @christophersturnn @ariastur9z @sturniolosarethebest @sturnioq @chrislilcumslvt @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @emely9274

A/N: can you tell I got lazy towards the end LMAO. Two posts in one day who is this?? lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!!

[nayeonara]

could you do a thanos squid game fic, where the reader dislikes him/rejects him: but he's so delusional - convinced she's just playing hard to get

HARD TO GET ! ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

pairings: thanos / choi su-bong x fem!reader

summary: where rejection just simply seems to fuel his delusions into believing you’re playing hard to get.

CW: kissing, thanos being thanos, the word ‘señorita’ used several times.

word count: 0.8K

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

The air is thick with tension as you stand among the crowd, heart pounding in sync with the eerie lullaby playing over the speakers. The massive mechanical doll at the far end of the field turns its head with a slow, deliberate click, its eyes scanning for the slightest movement. You barely have time to process the rules of the game when a towering presence shifts beside you, a tall man who appeared to be an ex-rapper considering his unique purple hair. He looks down at you with a wide smirk on his face “be careful señorita, you’ll end up dead if move a single muscle” he laughs at you. You draw back as you hear him refer to you as señorita.

However, he had supported you throughout the deadly game despite taking his pills. You still disliked him though, seeming as he was crazed and would constantly harass innocent people. Although to Thanos, this was a way of showing off his strength and dominance. “Say señorita, we would make an awesome couple ya know” He says with cockiness in his voice that was undeniably aggravating. “I dont think so” You try to laugh off in order to still be polite even though you meant every single word. “Why not?” He responds with confusion as if you’ve just rejected the most handsome prize you could get in there despite the money. “I.. just don’t really.. see you that way” You tried to say it lighthearted, because you knew what Thanos was capable of. And you really didn’t want to be on his bad side.

He chuckles. “Ah i understand now. You’re just playing hard to get with me” He says with confidence. “But don’t you worry señorita, i’ll break your wall down with ease” He delusionaly walks away, plotting his future advances so that he would make you his girl. You’re tense after that, knowing he wouldn’t put a stop to his nonstop flirting. You try your hardest to push past your thoughts as you eventually succumb to a somewhat peaceful slumber in those tacky old beds the organisers of the game supplied you all with.

It had been a day now, your team and thanos just survived the six-legged race game, which left you paranoid as he was just messing around the full time, not caring that your lives were put at stake. This angered you alot more now, you were about done with his foolish acts and excused yourself to the team to leave for the bathrooms to calm yourself down. Thanos saw this as a gold opportunity to try and win over your ‘hard to get’ act, as he was so convinced you were crazy about him. He also excused himself and sneakily followed you towards the female bathrooms. You stand beside the sink, washing your face with the ice-cold water until you hear an opening of the door. At first you had just assumed it would be another female wanting to use the restroom, but thats when you hear it. His deep and playful voice calling out your name.

“Thanos, what the hell are you doing he-“ He cuts off your whisper shouting as he muffles your voice with one of his strong hands. “Chill out señorita, we finally have time for ourselves yeah?” He asked as if it was some casual thing between us. you look up at him nervously, afraid of what he would do. He locks eyes with you for a moment then looks down towards your heart-shaped lips. He leans over in one swift motion, pressing his rough lips against your soft ones. You wanted him to stop, you wanted to tell him that he was wrong about you. That you didn’t feel anything towards him. Although you would be lying to yourself if you said that his lips smashed against yours didn’t feel good.

As he continued to press down on you, he began tracing his hands around your body, you felt yourself slowly giving in to the passionate kiss. Although it started getting rougher by the second and you felt like you were getting weaker through his touch. He pulls away for a minute, “Come on, you cant deny you like this, that you like me, my señorita” He grins before quickly reconnecting your lips. Now it was you who pulled away, “What makes you so sure of that?” He just stares at you for a good couple seconds, “You say you dont like me but your body seems to speak for itself baby” And he was right. Even though you didn’t like him, your body was so rapid to give in to him. You felt yourself get so confused with your own emotions within this moment. “Doesn’t mean i like you though” you spoke through gritted teeth. “Sure you don’t” He smugly said before leaving you unaccompanied in the bathroom.

You were now just stood there, drowning in many thoughts and wondering how you were gonna get thanos to leave you alone now that you humiliated yourself, by actually somehow enjoying the encounter you both shared.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

authors note: thank you for the request! im so sorry that its a bit short 😭 i think i made him a bit ooc.. but oh well

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Bad at Remembering Dates

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  Jenson Button x Wife!Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

The computer cast a faint light over her face as she kept working, even though it was past midnight. She had a major project going on at work, and since some unexpected complications had arisen, she had to sacrifice some of her sleep to meet the deadline.

“Love, you’re still awake?” Jenson murmured, sleepy, as he approached the living room. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the concern in his eyes. “You said you’d be in bed an hour ago,” he reminded her softly. “I told you I’d give you some time, but here we are.”

She sighed, her fingers pausing on the keyboard. “I know, I know. I just got caught up again. This is crunch time.”

He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her, his footsteps silent on the carpeted floor. “Love, I get it. I know this project’s important, and I know you’re doing everything you can to make it perfect. But you promised you’d rest, and it’s past midnight.” His voice held no anger, just gentle insistence.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, though the bags under her eyes and the sluggishness in her movements betrayed her words.

Jenson crouched beside her chair, his eyes level with hers now. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek. “You’re not fine. You’re running on fumes, and I don’t want you burning yourself out over this.” His thumb brushed lightly across her skin. “Please, just come to bed. The project will still be here in the morning.”

“Just thirty more minutes?” she tried, offering him a small, hopeful smile.

He shook his head with a soft laugh. “Not this time. Come on.” Standing up, he extended a hand to her, his expression expectant but kind. “I’ll make you tea in the morning if that helps seal the deal.”

Her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “Fine, you win,” she said, sliding her hand into his. As he pulled her up, she felt a warmth in her chest—a sense that he always had her back, even when she pushed herself too hard.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward their bedroom. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured as they walked. “But even superheroes need sleep.”

She laughed softly, leaning into his side. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She was deeply caught up in this project; she had even started counting time based on how many days remained until the deadline. Of course, that wasn’t the best way to keep track—especially since she was terrible at remembering dates.

It was January 19th, but for her, it was thirteen days until the project deadline. She had woken up very early to get some things ready before work. She left while Jenson was still sleeping. Lucky him, she thought.

Another hectic day at work went by—endless typing, too many meetings and discussions—but she definitely loved her job. She worked extra hours, as most of her coworkers did, with the deadline looming and the office buzzing with activity. The drive back home was routine: some traffic—not just on the roads, but in her mind as well—as she kept searching for solutions to the problems that had arisen as the project progressed.

The front door clicked softly as she pushed it open, stepping inside with a quiet sigh. She was finally home. The house smelled faintly of fresh coffee, though the mug she’d left on the kitchen counter earlier was long gone. Jenson was sitting on the couch in the living room, a comfortable and familiar sight—one of the few things that had remained steady in her frantic days.

He looked up as the door closed behind her, his eyes lighting up with a warm smile despite his obvious fatigue.

“Hey, love. Long day?” Jenson’s voice had a playful edge, as if he was amused by the way she had been running on fumes lately.

“Can’t even describe it,” she murmured, leaning against the door for a moment as she closed her eyes, savoring the calm of being home. “Another twelve-hour grind. But I’m almost there,” she added with a tired smile, still carrying the weight of her project. “Thirteen days until the deadline, so… I guess I’m just counting down the hours now.”

Jenson chuckled lightly, his gaze softening as he watched her. “I know you’re all in on this project, but you promised you’d come to bed early tonight, remember?”

She nodded, her eyes darting briefly to the clock on the wall. “I know, I know,” she sighed. “But there’s so much to do. I—”

“Shh,” he said, patting the seat next to him on the couch. “Come here. Just for a minute. Relax.”

She reluctantly took off her shoes and walked over, slumping down beside him. As she sank into the couch, he casually leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “You deserve a break,” he said softly, yet there was mischief in his voice for a reason she had not realized yet.

The exhaustion weighed down on her, but she felt a comfort as she leaned on him. The hum of the TV in the background was oddly soothing, even though she could hardly focus on it. She just wanted to close her eyes for a moment and let everything go.

After a few minutes, Jenson stretched and pulled out his phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and without a word, he set it down on the coffee table.

“Your phone buzzing again?” she murmured.

“Yeah, I got a message from the guys about dinner tomorrow,” he lied, grinning slightly, since it was another “happy birthday” message. 

She nodded absentmindedly, but as she reached for her phone to check a work email, a message from the restaurant popped up on her screen.

“Reminder: Your reservation for dinner is tonight, January 19th, at 8:00 PM. We’re looking forward to hosting you!”

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the message, her mind slowly connecting the dots. She froze for a moment, the realization hitting her like a wave. January 19th... Jenson’s birthday.

She turned to look at him, panic starting to bubble up. “Wait. Jenson... is it really?” Her voice trailed off as the realization sank in. The reservation! The dinner!

Jenson grinned, clearly aware of what was happening. “You just remembered, didn’t you?”

Her eyes widened, mortified. “I—I’m the worst! I didn’t even wish you a happy birthday this morning. And here I am, all caught up in my project, completely forgetting about—”

He interrupted her with a soft laugh, his hand finding hers and squeezing gently. “It’s okay. I knew it was coming,” he teased. “You’ve been counting down the days until that project’s deadline, so I figured my birthday didn’t stand a chance in your mind.”

“But I had that reservation! I made it months ago, and I forgot!” she exclaimed, feeling the guilt rise. “How could I forget? I must be the worst wife ever.”

Jenson leaned in, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his expression affectionate. “Love, I’m not upset. You’ve been buried in work, and I know how important this project is to you. But you did remember—right at the perfect time.”

She gave him a sheepish smile, still feeling the weight of the forgotten date. “You’re too understanding. Seriously, I feel terrible.”

“It’s fine, love,” he said, sitting up and glancing at the clock. “It’s still my birthday. And we can still make it to that dinner.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re serious?”

“Of course,” he said, giving her an affectionate nudge. “Go change, and we’ll make it.”

Her guilt eased as she stood, grateful for his patience. “Okay, okay. I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise.”

Jenson grinned. “I’m sure you will. Now hurry up before we’re late.”

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Seeing Serena again

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Gossip Girl spoilers, mentions of cheating and betrayal, Serena get a damn grip

~~~

"Is breakfast almost ready, Patty?"

"Almost, Mr. (L/N). We'll have everything set and ready in a few minutes."

The smell of freshly cooked pancakes wafted through the air, merging with the vanilla-scented candles the maids always lit around the penthouse to appease his mother. He raised his cup of coffee to his lips and carefully drank the hot liquid, the tip of his tongue still tingling from drinking it too quickly. His eyes roamed over the view as he watched the city come to life with the rising sun. 

The elevator dinging echoed into the room and his brows furrowed at the sound, his head craning over his shoulder to look at the equally confused maid. "Is my mother expecting guests?" He asked and set his coffee at the table, but Patty shook her head firmly.

"No, sir, I don't believe so. Her meetings start at 1:30."

Humming softly, (Y/N) slipped his hands into the soft pockets of his pajama pants and strode out of the dining room, his ears faintly picking up murmuring from one of the servants greeting their guest.

He failed to think of anyone who'd be visiting them at such an early hour unless it was a work emergency and his mother hadn't been picking up her phone. Besides, he'd long ditched the one person he often drove to school with. 

He rounded the corner and halted, instinctively shaking in a sharp inhale at the sight of the tall blonde standing in front of the shiny elevator doors. She smiled at one of the maids and dismissed her offer of taking her coat or providing her with a drink with a small shake of her head, the smile remaining on her face until she noticed his frozen figure. Her lips parted with surprise before spreading into a sheepish line. She always looked so damn sheepish.

"Hey, (Y/N)." Serena greeted softly, the heels of her boots clicking against the tile as she crossed the room toward him. His eyes flickered toward the grand stairs behind her leading up to the bedrooms and his chest constricted. This wasn't good. Not in the slightest. "It's... it's good to see you." She said and lifted her arms for a hug.

"Don't."

Had it been any time in the past couple of years, he would've happily sank into her embrace and lifted her into his arms for a kiss, savoring her gleeful laughter while she swung her legs around him. The hurt that flashed over her features would've made his chest heavy with guilt and an eagerness to remedy it through any means, but instead of the warmth and love he once felt spread through his body like a forest fire at the sight of her.. he felt nothing but bitter resentment.

He couldn't even bear to look at her, to gaze into the striking blue eyes that he had so often complimented or her golden hair that always seemed to effortlessly fall over her shoulders no matter what she did. 

"I.." Serena's arms fell to her sides and she frowned, her eyes lowering to stare at the floor like a scolded child. "I know I messed up. I shouldn't have left without telling you where I was going-"

"No, no," (Y/N) scoffed and took a step back from the blonde, the smell of her perfume alone making him sick to his stomach. Warm and sweet with notes of cinnamon and orange blossom, everything he once associated with her. He recognized it immediately; how could he not when it was the same one he gifted her for their anniversary? The delighted gasp she'd released when she smelled it for the first time rang in his ears. "I don't care that you went to boarding school, Serena, or that you needed to get away from life here."

Serena's brows twitched and began to slowly crease, her blatant confusion only adding to the nausea forming in the pit of his stomach. Irritation struck him like a lightning bolt, sudden and consuming. How could she possibly look so lost? So innocent? As if she were being accused of a crime she hadn't committed. "I thought you were mad because.. because I left without saying anything. I mean, it's been a year and-"

"I don't give a shit about that, Serena." She blinked, still confused. He wanted to strangle her. "Nate Archibald, Serena. You fucked Nate Archibald, my best friend, behind my back and then ran away like a coward because you love running away from your problems."

Serena flinched and staggered backward as if she'd been struck, her eyes widening into near saucers and breath rapidly escaping her lungs. Betrayal flashed in her eyes. "He- He told you?" Disbelief caked her shaky words.

He gave a bitter, short laugh despite the emotions welling up in his chest. "No, he didn't. I had to learn what the two of you did through Chuck Bass. Do you know what it's like having to look that sleazebag in the eye while he tells you your girlfriend of three years fucked the guy you've known since diapers because he loves making people miserable? It was humiliating."

"I'm so sorry." She exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingertips flew to her mouth which soon began to quiver while her eyes glistened with incoming tears that almost made his eyes roll. He didn't have time for her pity party, didn't have space for it in his life anymore. He didn't have space for her. Her voice cracked when she spoke, "I- We- I was drunk and we didn't know what we were doing. I swear it meant nothing. I would never hurt you-"

"But you did, Serena. Don't pretend you're innocent or that you made a mistake-"

"It was a mistake!"

"Oh, right, his dick just happened to slip inside you, right?"

Serena gaped at him. "(Y/N)!"

Her high-pitched voice bounced off the walls, drenched in pure shock. Her mouth moved with silent words, leaving her looking like a fish out of water gasping for air. It wasn't often Serena was left speechless, that was something he attributed to her mother more than anything. Serena had a real talent for rendering her mother silent with a few accusatory sneers. The hint of exhaustion on Lily's face whenever she gazed at her daughter finally made sense to (Y/N). 

"I'm sorry, okay? I-.. I really, really, am." Her shoulders drooped with a sigh and she took three steps toward him, her tote bag swinging and lightly hitting her thigh with each movement. She reached out and gently placed her hand over his arm, her eyes watching him pleadingly. "I was going to tell you, I promise, I... I just needed time to get myself together. I know I messed up. I should've never drunk as much as I did and I definitely shouldn't have slept with Nate. Please... forgive me." 

Serena always had a magnetic air about her, something wild and untameable and enigmatic that drew everyone to her the moment she stepped into a room. The way she unapologetically carried herself, acted like herself, and not like the other girls at school who plastered on fake smiles for everyone, was the reason he'd asked her out to begin with. And yet, listening to her now, he kicked himself for believing she was any different, that she was just as loyal as Blair Waldorf was. 

"I missed you," Serena added, trailing her hand up his arm and shoulder to cup the side of his neck. "I just want things to go back to how they were between us." 

He frowned and moved away from her, out of reach from her coaxing touch. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to walk in here after what you did and try to pretend like it wasn't a big deal. You didn't accidentally spill something on my favorite sweater or break an expensive vase, Serena. You cheated on me with my best friend... after everything I've done for you." 

"(Y/N)-"

"Serena?" 

His eyes shot up toward the staircase and locked on the figure slowly descending it, her footsteps quiet and barely audible. Serena's head whirled around toward the familiar voice and her mouth opened, whatever words she wanted to say jumbling in her throat as Blair continued to cautiously approach them.

She sported his button-up, the one he'd worn to dinner the previous day and the very one she'd nearly torn off his body in her hungry neediness. The implications dawned on Serena and she snapped her head back toward him with bulging eyes.

"I thought I heard a familiar voice." Blair smiled, not a particularly nice one, and she stepped off the staircase to stride across the room.

She passed by Serena with the hint of a scowl, her eyes narrowing and raking over Serena's figure in discontentment. Her lip curled with disgust at the sight of her worn tote bag and her head shook disapprovingly, her messy brown waves shaking and bouncing off her round cheeks. His arm instinctively extended toward Blair and she settled into his side like a piece slotting into a puzzle. He met Serena's gaze as he kissed the top of her head, feeling her nuzzle into him further. 

"Blair, I-... does- does Nate know you're here?" Serena swallowed.

Blair scowled, offended. "What I do is none of Nate's business anymore. Didn't you hear? Nate and I broke up after (Y/N) told me what you did. I always knew you were a whore, I just didn't think you'd do that to (Y/N) or me. It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. I'm better off without him, and you for that matter."

Blair's words were biting, filled with venom and heat, but (Y/N) couldn't find it within himself to be upset. Nobody else had seen the way her unbothered façade shattered at the news, the way she stuttered through tears as she tried to find any excuse to justify Nate's actions until all she could do was curl up in his arms and sob over the boy she'd poured her heart into.

He'd felt guilty then, for breaking a girl he once believed was a stone wall, a girl he once judged for her cruelty. It wasn't until he helped her pick up the pieces Nate left behind that he caught sight of the girl underneath the ruthless ice queen everyone knew her as. Blair was sensitive, sweet, easily humored, and held a strong urge to please and protect those she cared about. The more time he spent with her, the more his heart began to flutter with a familiar emotion. 

It wasn't until a rainy night when she'd stopped by unprompted to gift him a designer jacket she'd seen while window-shopping that he fully realized the extent of his feelings and, after a kiss by the fireplace and whispered confessions, she agreed to be his girlfriend. The look on Nate's face, and the satisfaction on Blair's, when he saw them at school made the heartache and sleepless nights worth it.

"Guys-"

Blair raised her hand to stop the blonde. "I think it's time for you to go, Serena. We don't want you here."

[practicalgauntlet]

Something Sweet

Synopsis- You and Spencer are stuck in the bullpen doing paperwork. Everyone else has left for home or gone out for a drink, what a perfect time for such a delicious meal.

Category- Smut

Key- (---) =POV change

Notes- Chubby!Reader, None of my stuff will ever include Hard Dom Spencer because I just don't believe that man is into anything super kinky like slapping his partner around, that being said this includes smut, touching, unprotected sex, sex on a desk, semi-public sex (because they do it out in the open but no one is around)blow jobs, heavy tension build-up, mutual pining, established flirting, body worshiping, Female reader (if anyone wants I can repost this with different genders but I am a female so I find it easier to write smut with female anatomy), early season spencer (1-6)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The bullpen had long since been emptied, the last one to leave was your stoic boss with a tight-lipped 'good luck'. You had been nose-deep in the paperwork of your last case, the brutal story of a little boy and his dad, when you realized you were alone. Or so you thought you were.

There was a sense of unease witnessing such a busy place, usually rife with chaos and life, settle down for the night. The massive windows only further aided that feeling, with the cloud-shrouded, moonlit sky your only true beacon of light. But you were almost done, only a few pages left until you could hail a cab and be closer to the warm comfort of your bed.

However, if you wanted to finish the papers soon, you needed something to soothe the piercing ache in your stomach. When was the last time you ate? Oh, that's right, you went out with Emily and the girls for lunch. With a quick glance at your wristwatch, you grumbled at the time. It was now eleven-thirty, which made it roughly ten hours since you had last eaten.

You stand up from your desk, arms instinctively shooting high above your head to relieve the tension that clung to your back and shoulders. You couldn't help the way your eyes darted to the darkest corners of the room or the way you hovered your hand above your gun as you walked down the hall to the break room. The dark had always made you antsy, but after years of hunting the monsters that went bump in the night, you knew to be cautious.

When you turned the corner though, you saw the sterile white light of the breakroom illuminate the hall, banishing all thoughts of hidden dangers and bringing forth the fear of an intruder. Sure you couldn't be the only one in this building staying later to finish work, but you could have sworn you said goodbye to everyone. And after all those times this place had been infiltrated, you didn't hesitate to unclip your holster and slide your gun into your hands.

You didn't click off the safety though, the possibility of an innocent life was still high enough that you didn't want to risk anything. As you pressed yourself to the wall, adrenaline corsing through your blood, you slowly creep towards the breakroom.

It wasn't until you were at the open doorway, gun half raised for both possibilities, that you realized you weren’t the only agent burning the midnight oil. Spencer Reid was at the counter, his hands splayed on the counter on either side of the coffee pot he was yawning over.

"Jeeze, Spence." You murmured, you heartbeat still racing. It didn't help that Spencer had rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie, and forgone his usual sweater in favor of a white dress shirt. His hair was wild, like he had spent the past few hours running his hands through it. "You scared me."

"Sorry," He simply said, turning his head towards you. "Do you want a cup?"

If it'll keep him there, displayed for your greedy eyes; then yes. "I'd never say no coffee."

The tired smirk that flashed across his face made your knees weak. Even if he looked completely ran ragged, tired from the day and whatever paperwork you assumed he was staying late for, he still managed to send heat through your body.

You walk up to him, turning and leaning back against the counter to join him in watching the coffee pot slowly fill up. The two of you didn't talk at that time, only glancing at each other when the other wasn't looking.

"Did you know," Spencer started having reached his quota of tension filled silence. "In the eighteenth century, some governments tried to ban coffee because they thought it would encourage radical thinking."

"I did not know that." You chuckle, loving the way he turns his head to look at you. Spencer's big brown eyes seemed to swirl with emotion, something heady yet fragile.

The coffee machine beeps, startling the two of you out of your impromptu staring contest. Spencer goes about searching for your favorite mug, grabbing his along the way, and filling the two up. He dumps a shit load of sugar in his but leaves yours empty. "It's funny, in all the years we've known each other, I don't know how you take your coffee."

You grab the mug, body lighting up with excitement when you have to reach across Spencer to get to it. He doesn't move out of your way, only watching as your hand just barely brushes against his stomach.

"Depends on what mood I'm in." It wasn't until you heard your voice in your own ears that you notice the sultry tone to it.

Spencer leans in, not enough to count as a move but enough that you notice he was both infinitely closer than before and still miles apart from you. "And what mood are you in?"

Your breath escapes you, crawling out of your lungs and into the open air between the two of you. Your next words were no more than a whisper. "I'm in the mood for something sweet."

The smile that graced his face was something you had never seen Spencer wear. Especially not in a situation like this. It was confident, sure...heated. "Good to know."

Spencer said nothing else as he sipped from his mug and walked back to the bullpen.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The next time you find yourself staying at headquarters later than the rest of the team, you weren't surprised to find Spencer still seated at his desk. And just like last time, Spencer had relaxed thoroughly at his desk. He was sporting his white dress shirt again only this time his tie hung on the back of his chair with his vest and he had unbuttoned the top two buttons.

You found it hard to focus on your work, what with Spencer just a few desks away from you. Instead of the last case and what you were supposed to write down regarding all that had transpired, you couldn't take your eyes away from the cut of his jaw. Or the column of his throat. Or the tone forearms he rested on the edge of his desk. The way his lips rapidly moved as he whispered to himself while his fingers swiftly trailed down the page.

You adjusted yourself in your seat, fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs and relieve yourself of the building pressure between your legs. In the emptiness of the bullpen, your movement echoed and drew the attention of Spencer. He looked up and smiled, not at all privy to your internal battle and rising blood pressure.

---

What you didn't know though, was that he was watching you from his peripheral; aware that your eyes were on him. He noticed you moving around as if you couldn't quite get comfortable, shifting back and forth in your chair every now and then.

When he looked up at you, your chair creaking loudly throughout the room, he had caught you. You swiftly look down, pretending to write something down while a blush crept up your cheeks.

Spencer didn't know what was going on between the two of you, it was something he had never experienced in his life. He knew all species were driven to find mates through different methods of appeal. What he didn't expect was to be affected by that natural urge to attract. When it came to you, he felt suave, confident, and appealing. Words and actions naturally bypass his strict filter and he became someone he'd never thought he'd become.

When you would look up at him with a bright smile, he could always tell what you were thinking. Especially once he caught your eyes darting to his lips. But he never felt good enough, not as he flirted back, not as he fantasized about what you would taste like on his tongue. No, Spencer Reid was a destined loser, fated to a life surrounded by only friends and family. Not a beautiful woman who'd allow him the great privilege of touch and pleasure.

Again, he found himself acting without thinking. He had waved you over, desperately needing to see your face more clearly, yearning to feel the warmth of your body next to his.

You slowly got up, hesitant at first but the closer you got the more confident your stride became. You sat at the desk in front of him and when you sat down your legs brushed against his. It sent a jolt through his body, igniting a flame that had slowly been stoked over time.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the only sound was pages being flipped. Spencer couldn't focus on his paperwork anymore, too engrossed in the way your leg kept brushing against his. It was like you wanted to torture him slowly; with every shift of your hips.

A couple times he peeked at you after your ankle knocked with his to see if you were doing it on purpose. But it seemed as if you put all your willpower into the paper before you. Spencer noticed that you hadn't moved on from that one page in the half hour you had sat next to him. Maybe you were just as affected by this as he was.

To test his theory, he sank a little lower in his seat, spreading his legs and taking up more room. You stiffened when he gently shifted his foot to touch yours, then the other. He gauges your reactions, forming a hypothesis as to why you were so wound up.

Taking it further, his work completely forgotten, Spencer straightened up and leaned forward. This drew your attention, pulling your eyes to his like the speed of light. "I think I'm in the mood for something sweet."

Spencer relished in the blush that he brought to your cheeks and knew he was right. You felt the same pull that he felt. You were riddled with the same yearning he was. He hummed with delight, standing up and holding his hand out for you. You took it hesitantly, curious as to what had taken over him.

Instead of taking you to the breakroom like you thought he was going to, he spun you around so that your ass was pressed against the edge of your desk. You gasped with surprise as Spencer leaned forward and blocked you in with his hands on either side of your hips. The man in question was surprised aswell, his actions skewing so far away from his intentions. But now that he had you in his grasp, your perfume clouding your mind, he couldn't stop himself as he leaned in.

Your lips were as soft as he imagined. The way his whole world turned upside down the moment his mouth was pressed to yours and his hands found purchase on your hips just so he could have something to hold on to.

His mind spun as his hands uncontrollably kneaded the soft flesh of your hips and waist. You pulled back, your breath fanning across his face as you greedily took in the air he stole from you. Spencer only allowed you a second or two before diving back in, tilting his head so he could access your mouth better.

It felt like his body was acting on pure instinct, every thought, every fact and statistic evading his mind. He was sure if someone asked him about anything other than the way you felt or tasted he would come up blank.

Spencer couldn't help the groan of delight as your hands flew to his chest, skirting up his shirt and landing on his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around him, drawing him deeper into the kiss as you cart your fingers through his hair.

If Spencer believed in heaven, this would be it.

---

Spencer had you pinned to the table, his hands roaming over your backside like he was trying to memorize the feel. In a split second three things happened. Spencer slotted himself between your legs, drawing his knee up and pressing his thigh against your throbbing cunt. The sudden and delicious friction had you gasping and Spencer took the opportunity to delve his tongue into your mouth. It took only half a second for your tongues to touch before the two of you let out a shuddering moan.

The sound rang out into the bullpen, echoing throughout the empty room and drawing the two of you back into reality. Spencer looked at you with wide eyes, like he had been acting solely on impulse. "Is," He cleared his throat, closing his eyes for just a second before leaning his forehead against yours. "Is this okay?"

You pull your hands out of his hair and down to his cheeks, cupping his face so he could look you in the eyes. "It's more than okay, Spence."

Again, he closed his eyes as if he were holding something back. The next time he spoke, his voice was ragged and strained. "You taste as sweet as I imagined."

You didn't like being so far away from him, so you pulled him back to you and met his eager mouth with yours. One of his hands trailed up your body, leaving a blazing path up your side. You felt his breath shudder once he reached your heavy breast, his hand at the edge of your ribcage as his thumb gently rested below your nipple.

"Can I-" He murmured against your lips and before he could even ask you've popped the buttons of your blouse.

Spencer pulls back to admire you, his deft fingers gently pulling the fabric away to expose your bra. In a bout of abnormal confidence, Spencer slips your blouse off your shoulders and unhooks the clip of your bra.

In the dim light of Spencer's desk lamp, you could see the caramel brown of his eyes taken completely over by his blown iris. He's blatantly staring at your tits, the cold air hitting your exposed skin and sending goosebumps over your arms.

"You're," He hums again, only this time it sounds like a broken, strangled groan. "You're so beautiful."

Before you could respond, Spencer grabbed the back of your thighs and hoisted you up on the desk. Not a moment later his mouth was enveloping your nipple. The wet heat of his mouth, of his tongue, on your skin was pure ecstasy. The way he swirled his tongue over your nipple before sucking the skin into his mouth.

His other hand came up and palmed your lonely breast, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipple to mimic his mouth. He kissed all across your chest, sucking on spots until you felt blood pool to the surface.

"Spence..." You sigh, loving the feel of him but needing his skin on yours, needing him to chase the chill that threatened to creep in. When he didn't let up, you pulled at his hair and brought his face close to yours. "Spence, take off your shirt."

The look on his face was adorable, with his eyes blown wide and dark, a goofy smile stretching his face as he looked at you like you were worth the world. "Yeah," That smile never left his face. He pulled away from you only far enough to undo the buttons of his dress shirt and slip the fabric off of his shoulders.

You pull him back to you, the heat of his skin as delicious as you needed it. He met you in the middle, your chest pressed against him as his mouth ravaged yours. Spencer shifted to get closer to you. In doing this, he pressed his hips into you and you felt the hard outline of his cock in his slacks.

You experimentally roll your hips, both desperate for friction and curious as to how he'd react. He hunched over, his body shaking around you, and groaned. You did it again and he tossed his head back, exposing the delicious column of his throat.

You wanted to mark him like he marked you, so you leaned forward and latched on. You kissed and sucked all over his neck and while you were distracted, Spencer grabbed your hips and pulled you back to him.

Over and over again, he thrust into you. With his hips growing more erratic, you pull away from his neck and take his face in your hands. "Spence, Spence, stop."

Immediately he jumped back, his face flushed and his breath ragged. " Did I do something wrong? I'm so sorry, I couldn't control myself."

He was too far, the open air of the bullpen nipping at your exposed skin. Instead of pulling him closer, you hop off the desk and peel off your skirt.

"You did nothing wrong, we just can't have you coming in your pants now can we?"

Spencer was watching your every move. His eyes tracked the way you hooked your thumbs into your waistband and slowly slid the skirt off for him. Thank god you chose comfort today, you didn't know how embarrassing it would be to try and seductively take off a pair of pantyhose.

You kicked off your shoes and stood before Spencer in just your panties. He was tense, hands opening and closing at his sides as he watched you with heavy lids. Half wanting to get him adjusted to the situation and half because you were dying to taste him, you drop to your knees in front of him and slide your hands up his thighs.

"This okay?" You ask, making sure his comfort is put above all else.

He reaches for your cheek, sliding his palm into your hair so he is holding your face at just the right angle. "More than okay."

You undo his button, then his zipper, slowly pulling down his pants in the process. Just because you were selfish and desperate, you shuck off his boxers along with his slacks and finally he was free.

His cock bobbed in front of you, pulsing with desire. It was hot to the touch as you wrapped your hand around the base, giving him a few experimental strokes. The noises he was already making were pure ecstasy and you hadn't even taken him in your mouth.

"Oh, fuck-" Spencer groaned, his voice strained as you plant a little kiss on the head of his cock.

You flick your tongue out, tasting the salty precome that wept from the tip. Slowly, you wrapped your mouth around him, flattening your tongue so you could take him better.

Spencer let out a long, ragged groan as swirled your tongue over that sensitive little nerve under the head. His hands flew to your hair, gently pushing your head down and pulling you back before you could gag. You bobbed your head only three times before he was yanking you back and gripping the base of his cock.

"Hold on, hold on."

You look up at him, watching as he staves off his orgasm. You couldn't help but enjoy the sight. Spencer Reid, the passionate and seemingly innocent young Doctor was looking down at you with his cock in his hand.

You bit your lip at the sight, ready to devour him whole if he let you. Spencer closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he pulled you up by your hand. He led you back to the desk, urging you to sit back on it. You oblige, excited to finally feel full of his cock. But when Spencer gets to his knees, you let out a whine of disappointment

"I want to return the favor." He said as he stared at your throbbing cunt like a starved man sat before a buffet. But you were ready, you needed him now.

You gently tugged on his hair until he was looking at you. "As much as I'd love for you to go down on me, Spence, I need you."

"I'm right here."

"No," You look at him pointedly, slipping your hand down your stomach so you can trail your fingers through your slick. " I need you. Please, Spence."

His eyes widened and he abruptly stood. "I don't, I don't have a condom."

You spread your legs, hoping the glistning of your need was enough to persuade him. "I'm on the pill, it's okay."

He let out another shuddering breath, his hands tentatively taking your legs and wrapping them around his back. With a hand on his cock, he aligns himself with you. Spencer didn't break eye contact as he slowly pushed in.

The stretch of him, the burn, was like nothing you've ever felt. A loud,, echoing moan wrenched itself out of you as he went deeper. He's still pushing in, pausing every now and then so the two of you can catch your breath. Once he bottomed out, his hips flush with yours, and he takes his hand to your cheek.

"You're so fucking beautiful."

Never in your life had you heard Spencer talk like this, so vulgar, so heated. He looked at you like you hung the very stars he studied. The two of you sit still for a moment, basking in his gaze and his cock and his body and everything that was Spencer Reid.

"You have to move, please, you have to move." You whisper, feeling that sudden, desperate need for him to take over once again.

"Right," He mutters, that goofy smile back on his face. It falls the moment he pulls back, keeping his cockhead inside before pushing back in.

Spencer's eyes are screwed shut as his thrusts pick up the pace. It was slow like molasses and built a different type of pressure than you were used to.

"I'm not going to last long, " He whispers, arms shaking from where they were braced by your head.

"That's okay, Spence, just let go."

You slide your hands between the two of you, your middle finger swirling across your clit to get yourself to come faster. You wanted nothing more than to become undone with him.

Spencer groaned in your ear, whispering sweet nothings as he kisses and sucks more hickies onto your neck. Once he notices your hand, he slaps it away and replaces your finger with his thumb.

It was a new sensation, his now positioning thrusts joining with the rough way he was treating your clit. You were ricocheted into an orgasm faster than ever before.

White hot pleasure flooded you as you curled into Spencer. Not a moment later you feel him settle as deep as he can and moan into your neck. Warmth is spread inside you, leaking out of your spent pussy and onto Spencer's cock.

It took the two of you a few minutes to gather your breath and remember who and where you were. Spencer was still on top of you, his softening cock slipping out as he pulled away.

That stupid, adorable, goofy smile didn't leave his face. Not as he helped you up, not as he littered your face with sweet peering kisses, not even as he watched you get dressed. You felt an ache deep within your facial muscles and realized you wore that same grin.

Spencer was still all over you, holding you close to him and kissing you wherever he could get his lips. "Can't I go down on you next time?"

"Next time?"

Spencer's face fell. "I mean, if you want a next time."

You chuckle and give him a quick peck on the cheek, not at all satisfied with him yet. "How about you come back to my place if you're still so eager?"

[venomwrites]

Inspired by @qvert's latest masterpiece because i was called out in the tags and that will not stand. Also on ao3

Dying is more peaceful than she imagined. 

It’s nice, nicer than she deserves after the things she’s done. There’s a linger of disappointment, like the aftertaste of a cigarette or a bad drink. She had been so ready to die. Right up until she found Vi in that cell. Until Vi shoved their mouths together and irrevocably rewrote all of Catilyn’s desires. Before that, the idea of dying was easy enough to imagine. She deserved it for all she had done. She could only hope that whatever part of her passed on was able to explain herself. She had tried. But she had fallen short. Like a novice shooter, she had struck the target but it hadn’t been a bullseye. That was alright though. As long as they gave her just a moment to hear her mother’s disapproving click. The arch of her eyebrow. Anything at all. If she could just have that she would go wherever was next. But then Vi had mashed their lips together and that sweet surrender turned bitter. She truly had tried to live. It was odd, none of her wounds seemed fatal but she must have miscalculated. 

Well it was one miscalculation. One of many, but she can’t even imagine the lifetime that stretched beyond her if they couldn’t salvage her eye. When her fingertips touch the skin though, there’s no damage. After another prod, she realizes there’s no skin either. Whatever she is, she is solid but not. She twists around and tries to sort through what she is seeing, but it’s very difficult. She feels as though she has many voices in her head, but they hum and move past. None actually register as she looks around. It’s baffling but they all feel equal in some strange way. Like everything that has made them them is gone. Scooped out. She has no idea what makes a someone a person if all of that is gone. She wonders if that is what death is. This strange surrender and scooping out. This return to something like light. It feels far more hollow than she would have expected. But if there are voices, perhaps one is that which she is looking for. It takes several tries to get her voice to work, but she is nothing if not determined. 

“Mum?” She calls. No response, just that same dull echo. Something like distant panic churns through her, “Mum? I’m here,” she tries again, twisting for any sign, “Mum it’s Caitlyn, are you here?”

For a moment there’s just silence. 

Then something collides into her and she’s falling. 

Caitlyn thinks she might scream but there’s no air in her lungs to scream with. She can’t remember when she took a breath last or if the need to breathe is even real. The sensation of falling is, maybe other things are as well. She’s been such a monster. Such a failure. Of course the peaceful place she was in is not where she belongs. Perhaps she is meant to fall for the rest of whatever is happening. Existence? Eternity? Caitlyn doesn’t know. She can do nothing except tumble through the impossible light. Just when she is half convinced there is no end to this, scenery roars up around her and Caitlyn barely has enough time to brace herself for the impending impact. Except everything goes molasses slow and instead of a hard landing she finds herself standing on solid ground. 

She doesn’t recognize this place. 

She recognizes vague elements of it. It’s like someone took all the cells in Stillwater Hold and the Bunker, jumbled them together and spit this place out. There were no sensations in the place of light but there is nothing but sensations here. Bruises appear and heal, mildew and mould tickle her nose and then are replaced by the smell of old dust. It’s an overwhelming nightmare that makes her dizzy for a moment as she fights to get her bearings. Her fingers wrap around the bars as she peers down an impossibly long hallway. Somewhere at the very end she thinks she sees the light of the elevator, but her eyes can’t seem to focus on it without it moving away. Caitlyn wonders if this is where she will exist for the rest of time or if this is another temporary place. If the next will be worse. She manages to draw in something resembling a breath and thinks to call for help. 

“Don’t!” A voice whispers. 

The hairs on Caitlyn’s neck stand up at the harsh, desperate whisper. She would know that voice across time and space. That voice has been inked into her marrow. Caitlyn made her peace with her own death. But not with this one. This was the death she wanted to prevent above all others. Some part of her screams in denial but she’s still not certain she can make a sound. And even if she can, the voice told her not to. 

When Vi asks, Caitlyn cannot deny her. 

Slowly she turns around but whatever she’s expecting, it’s not this. Vi is standing behind her but it’s not her Vi. It’s not even the broken Vi she dragged up from the depths of the earth. This Vi is only recognizable in parts. The scars on her face, the pink of her hair, the color of her eyes. Everything else is radically different. She’s whip thin. Painfully thin. Her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is runny. Her hair is shaved on both sides in an severe undercut, the kind that requires another pair of hands. There are no tattoos on her. Not even the VI under her eye. She’s bare faced, inkiness and utterly terrified. The prison garb she’s wearing is shockingly clean and cuffed several times at the ankles. It hangs off her slender frame. Her hands are wrapped but she’s bled though them already. Her hands twitch between wrapping tight around her middle, swiping under her eyes or nose or lifting up near her face. It takes a moment before something fractionally relaxes on her. 

“If they hear you they’ll beat you,” she says in that same desperate whisper and the panic in her eyes breaks Caitlyn’s heart. 

This isn’t her Vi. 

“We’ll be quiet,” Caitlyn whispers and Vi relaxes a little more, “I’m Cai—“

“No names,” Vi says, “they don’t like that. I’m 5-1-6,” she says in a horribly rehearsed way, “but some of the guards call me Pink.”

“I’m Cupcake,” Caitlyn says. 

Vi’s eyes light up. 

“No way,” she says, “I get my sister a cupcake for her birthday every year. It’s like having a whole cake to yourself,” her face falls a bit, “I was saving up for it before—“ she stops herself from speaking and her eyes go panicked like she’s said too much. Her hands rise up, “I don’t have any money the guards took it.”

“I don’t either,” Caitlyn offers, holding out her hands to show she isn’t armed, “I just got here. How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks,’ Vi says and chews her bottom lip, “I think. It’s hard to tell.”

A few weeks. Caitlyn feels sick. A few weeks and ten years to go. She’s one of the few who has seen Vi’s file. Caitlyn has no illusions that the file only scratches the surface. The file is horrific and it is only what people bothered to write down. Or what they were forced to. Stillwater Hold is notorious for having incomplete files. If the guards are not ignoring others atrocities, they are pretending not to have committed their own. It’s a hellish place. It was before Caitlyn had any idea how hellish it truly was. Before she even knew Vi her skin crawled at the thought of it. She had been nervous on that boat ride over. Only her own stubbornness got her off when even the captain of the boat leered at her. Everything in her screams to get Vi out. To save her. But she is fairly certain that she is not in the past. Not really. 

“You’re very strong,” Caitlyn says, coming a little closer, “saving money for your sister’s birthday like that. You’re going to survive this.”

Vi makes a tiny noise before she grabs her arm and twists away. Like even that noise will send the guards running towards her. Maybe it did in the past. Maybe it will now. Caitlyn doesn’t know how she will witness that knowing there is nothing she can do to help. Not really. 

“I don’t want to,” Vi whispers to her and a few tears break free, streaking down the grime on her cheeks. 

They’re close enough for Caitlyn to reach out and take Vi’s hand. Vi’s fingers are limp in hers. It’s horrible, the last time Vi’s fingers felt like this she was dying. Dying but still fighting with everything she had. There’s no fight in this Vi’s blue-grey eyes. She’s terrified. Even though she’s trying to protect herself the gentleness of Caitlyn’s touch seems to break something in her. One of her hands digs into her arm and her fingers weakly tighten around Caitlyn’s. Her lip trembles as she hangs her head, her eyes slamming shut. She tries to breath but every breath trembles. Caitlyn squeezes her hands back and her lips part. 

“I—“ she sucks in a tortured breath, “I want my mom,” she sobs, “I want my mom.”

Her body gives out and Caitlyn dives forward, drawing the trembling girl into her lap. One of the best things about Vi’s hugs is how all encompassing they are. How you’re blanketed in her embrace. Caitlyn doubts this slender thing could wrap her arms around her shoulders. She curls herself into Caitlyn’s warmth with a choked, horrible sob. Caitlyn tries to imitate Vi’s embrace and presses her into her shoulder. This Vi wraps her arms around her own middle but she turns her head into Caitlyn’s neck. Her tears and uneven breaths break Caitlyn’s heart as Vi tries to find comfort in her embrace. 

“I know you do,” Caitlyn whispers, thinking of how when Vi was stabbed she only wanted to go home, “one day this will all seem like a bad dream.”

“How?” Vi sniffles, “they won’t let me out.”

“One day someone is going to come and get you out of here,” she says, “and you’ll wind up in the big shiny house you always looked at when you saw the Fireworks at Progress day. You’ll have everything you could possibly want for the rest of you days.”

“I won’t die here?” The small voice asks. 

“No,” Caitlyn says, “you don’t die here. You’re strong—you’re so strong. You become even stronger in here. And that strength saves so many lives.”

“Do I find my sister?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “you find her. You find yourself,” Vi’s lips shift up, “and you find so many others. People come together because of you. People who never thought they would.”

Vi is quiet for a moment and then sniffles. She slides off Caitlyn’s lap. She still looks scared but there’s a determination in her eyes now. A bit of the Vi she knows and loves, shining through. Caitlyn grasps her hands and looks into her blue-grey eyes. They seem almost colorless in this place. Like they were the night they first met. One day Caitlyn will know every blue in them, but right now they must be grey. 

“You are so loved,” she says, “promise me you will never forget that. Hold onto it.”

“I’ll hold on,” Vi says. 

There are footsteps suddenly. Pounding towards them. Caitlyn opens her mouth and tries to push Vi behind her, but she’s falling again. Slower this time. Monstrous shadows starts to darken the cell but Vi stands tall. Her shoulders square. Her fists raise up as she faces this impossible evil. Before they get her she turns around and grins at Caitlyn. It’s the smile Caitlyn loves. That devil may care one that says this is gonna be fine. She’s got this. She winks at Caitlyn and it’s like Caitlyn can see her growing up in this hellish place. She’s older when she turns back. Ink has started to decorate her skin and her arms are broader. It’s not her Vi, not yet. Closer but not there. But this Vi grins all the same at Caitlyn. 

“I’ll hold on,” she says. 

Time jumps again and Caitlyn is somehow away and unaware of every horror. Every moment. The shadows are gone except the ones the bars create. There’s a dripping sound that Vi uses to thump her fists into the wall. It’s her Vi. The determination is full on her face, but Caitlyn can see a weariness there. One she wasn’t aware of when they met. Vi loses the rhythm and presses her forehead to the wall. 

“How long do I have to hold on?” She mutters and opens her eyes to lock with Caitlyn’s. 

Caitlyn’s not sure how to answer. When even is this? There’s more hopelessness in Vi’s face as she looks at her. A weariness that guts Caitlyn. She’s so tired. She has every right to be exhausted. The way she strikes the wall is listless. Like she has nothing left to give. Caitlyn scrambles to find the right words. It’s harder with this world weary Vi. Somehow she can stand though. She presses her hand to the nape of Vi’s neck and tries not to wince when Vi pushes at the wall. She shies away from the touch like it’s a strike but she doesn’t move to the sides. She doesn’t actually try to get away. 

“Keep holding on,” Caitlyn says, “please.”

“I can’t,” Vi gasps out, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Caitlyn counters, “I know you can. Hold on. I’m almost there.”

Vi looks at her with one miserable eye but then Caitlyn hears the sound of her own boots. They both turn at the precise steps, the ruffle of pages, the catch of an unsteady breath. Suspicion and worry echo on Vi’s face. She doesn’t know who this is but she can tell they don’t belong here. No-one comes down here alone. Vi listens for a moment longer and then squares her shoulders. If they’re here for her, if this is some new hell she’s going to face it. It’s written all over her face. Even before her grey eyes drag over to Caitlyn’s. 

“I can’t for much longer,” she says, “but for now,” her lips quirk up, "I’ll hold on."

Over Vi’s head Caitlyn watches as she walks into view. She looks so much younger. It’s hard to imagine she was ever this person. But she was. She is. Vi glances at her and then at that Caitlyn. Her Caitlyn. Even though she doesn’t know it, she can’t know it. Neither of them know what is about to happen to them. How this moment will irrevocably change the course of their lives. The cell tugs and fades and blurs. Caitlyn feels the skin under her hand shift and change as a watercolor Vi appears to stare at her Caitlyn and the Vi under her hands finally becomes hers. 

“Cait?”

They clutch each other as the watercolor world gives way to that endless place of dark and light. They don’t exist anymore but Caitlyn is certain they are together. She would have to be truly unmade to not know the feel of Vi’s embrace. Vi’s shoulders heave but they are her Vi’s shoulders. Thick with muscle and the weight of all she has been through. So impossibly strong. Caitlyn pushes her head into her shoulder and digs her fingers into Vi’s trapezius, the one that shifts more easily. 

“Fuck, Cait,” she breathes into her shoulder, “you’re here.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says. Vi’s head comes up and finally looks around, “wherever this is.”

“We’re not dead,” Vi says with more confidence than Caitlyn is expecting. Her eyes inspect Caitlyn’s face and narrow at the surprised look, “how bad?”

“What—“

“How badly are you injured?” She asks, worry starting to show on her face, “Cait is it—“

“Nothing felt fatal,” Caitlyn says quickly, “some fractures, a puncture wound in my gut. My eye was injured as well,” she tries to keep the list honest and vague. But Vi looks crestfallen all the same, “I’m alive,” Caitlyn says firmly, “Mel is with me. Where are you?”

Vi looks at her and Caitlyn watches her face fall. It’s like being back in that place with the child version of Vi. She looks so heartbreakingly young and lost. Caitlyn cups her cheeks and strokes her thumbs under her eyes. In each other’s embrace it feels like the emotions come faster. Stronger. Caitlyn wants to let go but she cannot. Not when Vi turns her face into her palm and whatever they have for hands tightens around her waist. 

“I’m at the Hexgate,” she says, “with sister and my dad.”

Caitlyn feels the same horror she felt when Maddie cocked the gun. Vi is with her dad. Again. She doesn’t need to say it, Caitlyn can tell from the look on her face. It’s not a happy reunion. How on earth could it be? She saw what her dad looked like after the blast. She can’t imagine what Ambessa and Singed did to him since. She’s on the ground bleeding somewhere and Vi is up high with her father. The fact she has Jinx with her is a cold comfort. The best case scenario here is that Vi watches her father die for a third time. Even though Caitlyn has seen untold horrors in her head, they pale in comparison to the prospect of this. Caitlyn is powerless here in any way that truly matters. But that doesn’t stop her from pressing her fingers into Vi’s cheeks and pulling her attention back to her. 

“Hold on,” she says. Vi’s brow furrows and Caitlyn has no idea if she heard her in the hell that was her past, “just hold on. I’ll find you. I need you to hold on until then.”

Vi takes a breath and looks at her with that beautiful determination. 

“I’ll hold on.”

Something is pulling them apart, no matter how much they cling to each other. Vi spirals away and just shouts across the universe. 

“I’ll hold on! I promise!”

[look-me]

PRISON BREAK (Abby Anderson)

If you’ve ever seen Prison Break, do you remember the scene where Michael shows Lincoln his tattoos for the first time? no imagine that scene… but with Abby.

The heavy, monotonous clang of chains echoed through the church as you were being escorted back to your cell. It was the only time you got a sliver of freedom outside of those suffocating walls. Your eyes wandered aimlessly until they landed on a figure that made your breath hitch.

Standing near the back, leaning casually against the stone wall, was her. Abby.

"Abby?" you called, your voice a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

She stepped forward, her presence commanding even in the dimly lit space. Her gaze locked onto yours with a calm intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I'm getting you out of here," she said plainly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You shook your head, your heart sinking. "It's impossible."

"Not if you designed the place, it isn't," Abby countered, her voice low and sure.

Your jaw tightened, but before you could respond, the guards ushered you away, leaving her words lingering in the air like a promise you couldn't believe.

Later, during working hours…

The locker room was eerily quiet, the hum of distant machinery the only noise breaking the silence. You sat on one of the benches, elbows resting on your knees, staring down at the floor.

"I told you," you said, your voice sharp with restrained anger. "It's impossible, Abby. You shouldn't have done this."

Her boots echoed against the floor as she approached, but you didn't look up.

"No, it's not," she replied, her tone unwavering.

You exhaled harshly, shaking your head. "You've seen the blueprints?"

"Better than that," she said, her voice steady but edged with a smirk. "I've got them on me."

You look up and see that Abby removed off her uniform shirt, revealing her toned upper body.

From her collarbones down to the sharp cut of her V-line, her skin was a canvas of ink. Intricate designs swirled across her chest, arms, and back. There wasn't an inch of space untouched.

Your lips parted in shock, your mind struggling to process the sight in front of you.

"Am I supposed to see something in this mess?" you muttered, your tone a mix of curiosity and irritation.

"Look closer," she said, stepping nearer, her smirk widening.

You squinted, eyes scanning the patterns on her skin. At first, it was overwhelming—a chaotic maze of lines and shapes. But then, like a puzzle falling into place, it clicked. Blueprints. They were blueprints of the prison, etched into her skin.

"No way.." you whispered, the realization hitting you like a freight train.

Abby knelt in front of you, her hand reaching out to grip your jaw. She tilted your head up so your eyes met hers.

"I'm taking you out of here, baby," she murmured, her voice low.

Before you could react, her lips crashed against yours in an aggressive, heated kiss. It was reckless, and raw.

You pulled back, breathless, staring at her with wide eyes. She was insane, reckless, but damn if you didn't feel a glimmer of hope.

Should I recreate the scene where Michael and Sara kiss for the first time? where Michael asks Sara to keep the door open for him?

(ABBY WITH TATTOOS ABBY WITH TATTOOS ABBY WITH TATTOOS)

[rafeysbambi]

bambi

part ix

summary:

kind, sweet and the definition of innocent, obsessed with pink, bows and all animals but especially deers. y/n has barely held a boys hand let alone been kissed until rafe cameron lays eyes on her

a/n:

hi new part!!! sorry for the delay i’ve been away with no signal but finally back home! someone mentioned on the last part about a tag list, please let me know if you’d like to be added to that ! hugs n kisses x

rafecameron: i’m here princess

you practically ran downstairs, seeing the message, rafe knocking on the door seconds later. you opened it to see rafe standing there smiling at you, another bouquet of flowers in his hands. “hey there pretty lady.”

“hi” you smiled up at him, “here come inside while i pop these in my room” you pulled him inside by his hand.

your father came out of his study hearing the noise, “ah hello rafe” he shook his hand giving rafe a small smile. “y/n or my receptionist i should say tells me you’re going to a bonfire tonight?”

“yes sir that’s correct.” rafe responded with a small nod his eyes glancing back up to the stairs you ran up.

“and tonight will there be drinking?”

“i won’t be drinking tonight sir no.”

“correct answer, good sport. you just make sure my y/n is well looked after son.” rafe nodded in response as you ran down the stairs.

“okay bye daddy i’ll see you later” you placed a kiss on his cheek before grabbing rafe by the arm and pulling him outside.

“you’re very eager tonight doll” rafe chucked as you lead him to the car. he opened the door for you before jogging around to his side.

“i’m just trying to save you from my fathers interrogations.”

“oh right so i should be thanking you now huh?”he smirked as he looked over at you and you just nodded your head and giggled in response. “alright doll you know what to do” you smiled at him as he handed you his phone. you couldn’t help but blush as you opened his spotify seeing that he’d added your playlists to his library and followed your profile.

god he’s so cute.

you scrolled through a playlist, clicking on juna by clairo. you watched from the corner of your eye as he listened to song, silently studying the lyrics. “do you like it?” you asked.

“yeah it’s cute baby, all your musics so cute.” he smiled reach over to hold your hand as he drove. you played with his fingers while you hummed to the music, looking at the window as you drew closer to the beach, the array of cars lazily parked indicating you had arrived. rafe looked over to you as he parked the car, “alright if anyone offers you anything, don’t take it, if you want a drink you let me know and i’ll get it for you.”

“okayy”.

“and if it feels like it’s too much, you just tell me and we can go somewhere else.” you just nod in response and he looks at you, his gaze full of concern, “i’m dead serious.”

“okay rafe, i promise you if i feel uncomfortable i’ll let you know.” you squeezed his hand before placing a soft kiss on his cheek, “i know that i’m safe with you.” rafe’s eyes softened, satisfied with your response, he got out the car to open the door for you.

“are you cold? do you want my jumper?” he looked over to you before grabbing his jumper out the back of the car not even waiting for you to answer.

“it’s still warm out rafe” you giggled looking up at him with your big doe eyes.

“i’m giving it 20 minutes before you start telling me you’re cold” he teases before grabbing your hand tightly and leading you towards the bonfire.

rafe was right, it was chaotic to say the least, there were people dancing mindlessly, people playing games with red cups, people running around and screaming. it wasn’t crazy like a murder scene unsafe crazy just completely different to all the garden parties and high tea’s you were used to.

“you good?” rafe looked down at you. you nodded in response, squeezing his hand looking around. “alright let’s go meet some people” rafe moved his hand to the small of your back as he lead you over to a group of people who all turned to greet rafe. “this is y/n” rafe introduced you to everyone, topper gave you a big smile.

“hey y/n, glad you guys made it.” he couldn’t help but to smile at the two of you, not used to seeing rafe like this. “y’all want a drink?” topper asked the two of you. rafe shook his head, causing toppers eyebrows to raise. “you not drinking tonight bro?” topper queried, causing a couple of the other guys to start questioning if rafe was okay.

“nah not tonight bro” rafe’s eyes flickered down to you for a second and topper immediately knew that this man was down bad causing him to nod and smirk.

you on the other hand were stood looking up at rafe wondering how much he would normally drink based off of the reactions he was getting. you knew it was common for people your age to drink and you were probably one of the few that hadn’t. you just didn’t know what to think, your mind kept racing back to what your brother told you, or even worse to the way ruthie and her friends laughed at the thought of you talking to rafe.

sensing your eyes on him, rafe looked down, moving his hand from the small of your back to rest on your hip, tracing small patterns with his thumb. he leaned his head down to your ear, “you all good?”

“yeah, all good” you gave him a small smile. he wasn’t buying it, grabbing your hand leading you away from the crowd. “rafe-“

“now tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head?” he asked tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“nothing i just-“

“it doesn’t look like nothing.”

“i just i don’t know what to think rafe, it’s like you’re this person with me and then with everyone else it’s someone completely different.”

“what?”

“all those guys just seemed so surprised you weren’t drinking like it was the most unrealistic thing in the world, but i guess i never really took you as someone who would party and drink a lot.” you started to ramble, each word making you feel more and more that you were just in fact putting your foot in your mouth.

“right so this is because a bunch of drunk guys wanted me to drink?” rafe pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“no that’s not what i mean” you stutter out quickly realising that you’d messed up.

“right okay well i’m going to go get a drink of soda” and with that rafe turned his back and started to walk off.

“rafe wait” but it was too late, you pulled at your hair in annoyance. you took a couple of deep breaths to compose yourself before turning around to try to look for where rafe was. somehow the 6’2 boy was out of sight. you sighed before making your way over to a bench perched around the fire. you sat down replaying the conversation in your mind over and over. you didn’t even notice when someone sat down next to you.

“you look way too sad to be at a bonfire right now” you practically jumped at the voice, turning your head to see the boy with messy blonde hair who started laughing. “woahh didn’t mean to scare you. god do i look that scary or something, you looked like a deer stuck in headlights there.” the boy was full of energy basically bouncing as he threw his head back laughing at himself

“sorry, i just wasn’t expecting it” you said softly.

“nah don’t apologise, s’all good uh what’s your name pretty?”

“y/n”

“right y/n it’s a pleasure to meet you” he stuck out his hand for you to shake, “i’m j-“

“don’t you dare touch her maybank” you looked up to see rafe storming over, he made it to you in seconds, pulling the boy up by his shirt.

“my bad cameron, maybe if you didn’t leave your girl all alone, i wouldn’t have to keep her company” and with that rafe punched him square in the face knocking him straight to the ground, people rushed over, topper and a boy sporting a bandana stepped between rafe and maybank.

rafe wasn’t interested in it though, he looked over to you grabbing your hand, “we’re leaving.” his grip was tight but not enough to be painful. the walk back to the car felt slow despite how fast rafe was walking. he opened the door for you, letting you get in before he got in himself and started the engine all without saying a word. he looked over to you, “seatbelt now.”

“rafe.” you pleaded with him, your bottom lip stuck out as you pouted.

“what?”

“are you mad at me?” you asked looking up at him.

“no, i’m mad that he nearly put his hands on you.”

“he was just going to shake my hand-“

“you didn’t see the way he was looking at you, god i should’ve punch his face in.”

you grabbed his hand, taking a deep breath, “rafe it doesn’t matter how he was looking at me because all i care about is how you look at me.” he looked in your eyes, and you felt his touch soften. “i’m sorry for what i said earlier it wasn’t fair of me to make assumptions based off of what other people say.”

“i did used to drink a lot more, you were right i suppose, it was just something we all did. but i haven’t since i met you.” he cupped your chin with his hand, you melted into his touch, “i’m sorry for losing my temper. i just hate the thought of you with anyone else, i can’t stand to think about it.”

“then don’t.” you said before connecting your lips with his, meeting for a sweet kiss.

it was perfect, better than any movie kiss, the butterflies, fireworks it was all there and though it only lasted a few seconds before you pulled away, cheeks reddened, your lips tingled with excitement for minutes after.

“not a bad night” rafe said with a smirk on his face, causing you to teasingly roll your eyes, before you placed another kiss on his cheek.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 21 - First Flat/House

@wolfstarmicrofic January 21, word count 353

“You have to jiggle the lock, and the door sticks, but it’s ours,” Sirius said proudly as he jammed the key in the lock, twisted it at an odd angle until it clicked, and then put his shoulder against the door, shoving it hard. It shuddered on its hinges as it swung open and revealed the slightly rundown flat. “Look, I know it needs a bit of love, but we can make it our own,” Sirius darted forward and spread his arms out. “We can put a sofa here, and a bookcase here. Monty said we could have his old wireless, plus we can put my record player next to it so we can have the best of both worlds. 

There are two bedrooms, so James and Lily can stay over, and the bathroom has this amazing claw foot bath and the kitchen has an actual muggle oven in it.” 

Sirius led Remus all over the small flat. He looked at Remus hopefully once the tour was over, waiting for his verdict. 

“Sirius,” He said fondly. “It’s perfect,” Sirius leapt into his arms.

“You mean it? You really like it?” 

“Yes,” Remus chuckled.

“Brilliant!” Sirius beamed. 

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Remus turned around and pulled it open, with Sirius still clinging to him. Two burly men were standing on the other side holding a bed between them. 

“Delivery for a,” The man looked down at his clipboard. “For a Mr Black,” He looked back up at them. “Either one of you, Mr Black?” Sirius let go of Remus and handled the delivery. Remus watched as item after item was brought up the stairs and into their new flat. Once everything was set up, Sirius made sure to give the men a good tip, with help from Remus to pick out the right notes, and shut the door on them. 

“So, party?” Sirius asked. Remus laughed and pulled him close for a kiss. Something he could do whenever he wanted now without the prying eyes of others. It was a heady feeling and one he hoped never went away. 

[shoukokus]

Beautiful day/night (or afternoon) may I request how the overblot characters in twisted wonderland would react to s/o culture clothing? (For example: spanish people have those beautiful colorful traditional spanish dress)

I tried not to make it too specific, so as to not exclude anyone!

Riddle Rosehearts

He firsts sees your cultural clothing while attending a ball in his hometown

It was just for a couple of days, and everyone in Heartslyabul was invited, Deuce, Trey, and Cater were there too. Ace didn't want to go to a stupid event

It took you all day to get ready, and Riddle was beyond curious why you were being so secretive

But when you finally came down the stairs, your stunning garb on display, Riddle knew it was worth the wait

When you explain the significance of your outfit, he's very touched

You waited all this time to wear something so important to you, for an event important to Riddle? Someone hold him, he's about to start crying in the ballroom

Leona Kingscholar

When his family invited him home for a long weekend, the only thing that would make it tolerable would be your presence

He said something about some fancy dinner party really offhandedly, and you came up with an idea to make even THAT fun for Leona Kingscholar

Outside of your room in his palace, he waits for you, tugging at the tie you gave him for some reason

When you come out, ready for the dinner, it all clicks into place. His tie matches your outfit and its colors. But more than that? You look incredible

He smirks as he twirls you around a little, eyeing all the details and any skin that's showing....

You tell him that you wanted to make a good impression, to be proud of your history and culture like his family is... Well, let's just say he's thinking about how to mix those two cultures

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had potential investors coming to visit, and he was unbelievably nervous the night before

He was pacing, and triple checking all his accounts and even the freshly pressed suit laid out

He reminded you multiple times to have your own outfit ready, and you would assure him every time, don't worry... you got this

When Floyd and Jade escort you into his office a few hours before the event, he looks up and nearly breaks his pen in half

You look incredible! He stands and sputters as he compliments you. How did he get so lucky?! Where were you hiding this? It looks amazing on you and perfectly goes with your features

When you tell him the significance, he starts tearing up. He hugs you, whispering how much he appreciates you and the mindfulness you always give him

Jamil Viper

You and Jamil are having a cozy night in when the topic of cultures came up

With your full attention, Jamil tells you about the Scalding Sands and the society he grew up in

When the topic of clothes come up, you get excited, an opportunity presenting itself

You tell him to wait for just a little bit as you run to your room. He waits curiously until you finally come back

Your attire has been changed and Jamil is stunned. You look amazing!

He watches you with loving, soft eyes as you explain all the details of the outfit and what they mean

Vil Schoenheit

It was the first major event that Vil had invited you too, and the desperation to make it a good experience was palpable

A simple luncheon was surely like the jungle in Vil's world... but he was insistent that you could wear something simple yet elegant

With your cultural clothing, you decided to take the chance

Of course you would need Vil's approval so you invited him over the day before

When he enters your room and sees you inspecting yourself in the mirror, he's immediately entranced. What wonderful colors on you, how it works with your figure and features...

Telling him that it's from your culture, he's not surprised. Of course it would look perfect on you! With a kiss on the head, it is officially Vil approved

Idia Shroud

Idia finally wants to take your relationship to the next level... By showing off his costume collection!!

He has outfits from all sorts of different shows, movies, and games. It may seem silly, but they're very important to him

So the next day, you decide to reciprocate in a similar way

You invite him over for the usual game and snack night, but when he opens the door, he's greeted by you in a new, brilliant outfit

He thinks it's amazing, but is unclear on what it means. When you explain that you wanted to show him care in your own way, his hair turns a light pink

You.. showed him your important clothes in response to his important clothes? Yeah, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had just bought you a ton of new clothes. It's not unusual for him to go buying up things for you when the impulse strikes

This time he had been thinking about how wonderful you'd look in some traditional Briar Valley clothing, and then... nine outfits happened

When it all arrives, an impromptu fashion starts as you try everything on to test sizes and styles

He's helping you sort through everything and hang things up when he spots an outfit he's never seen before

You tell him that it's the only change of clothes you came to Twisted Wonderland with, that it was important to your culture and meant a lot, but just hadn't the time or reason to wear it

Immediately demands to see it, and you agree. When you come out looking like the sun itself, he pulls you close and promises to keep your heritage alive and well