#you have never done anything wrong ever and i love you

[berrryparfait]

shower head ✩⋆｡˚

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier, caleb x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: feeling curious, playful, and pent-up, you decide to surprise him by stepping into the shower and giving him head. you've never done anything like this before. 「my girlfriend can be quite surprising at times. and bold.」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] literally just smut, lads men being needy while you suck them off, dubcon but deep down parties involved could not have been more willing (they told me personally)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: bathroom – montell fish

✧ a/n: hihi!!! wow, it's been a while! this is my first fic on this account—i used to run @.starfellforyou but got a little bored of writing genshin fics and decided to hop right on over to another one of my hyperfixations instead... this also happens to be my first ever nsfw fic (i told myself to stop daydreaming and start writing lol), so please lmk if there's anything i'm doing wrong/missing out on as i'm fairly inexperienced when it comes to tumblr etiquette. hope you like it! <3

SYLUS squints at you, his hands stilling in his hair as the last suds of shampoo run off. "Are you lost?" he drawls, voice dripping with honey. He steps away from underneath the overhead shower and turns to fully face you—he's gorgeous, muscles slicked with running water and face slightly flushed from the heat. You simply stare at him with a mischievous glint in your eye, a teaser for what's to come. "It's unlike you to show up like this, unannounced." He smirks at you, unabashedly eyeing the length of your naked body and tracing your gaze to his semi-hard cock. You return his lewd expression. "I do love to keep you guessing." Slowly, you kneel before him, rivulets of water gushing down the side of your face and between your bare breasts. He leans against the wall as you open your mouth to take him in, his movements lazy. It's a struggle at first, but the low groan that escapes his lips turns it into a challenge. You run your tongue along his length, eyes glistening with cruel anticipation as it hardens to the point of no return. Determined, you begin to push deeper, moving back and forth as he sighs and throws his head back against the wall. With a delicious "pop", you release him from your mouth and begin teasing his tip. You circle his favorite spot and try your best to resist a smile when he squeezes his eyes shut, breaths coming shorter and faster and in white puffs of steam way above you. "Fuck..." His hands find their way to the back of your head, where they gently but firmly grasp your hair and begin to pull. Your mouth is guided back around his cock as you begin to suck him off harder, sounds of pleasure that beckon you to pick up speed echoing overhead. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. His hands around your head get rougher—more desperate—and you reach out to grab his thighs as his tip slams against the back of your throat. Hot spurts of cum fill your mouth, drip down your chin, coat the impressive length of his cock. There's so much of it. You both pant in exasperation, completely spent, only partially satisfied. The look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. I'm getting fucked tonight. "Get up, we're going to bed."

ZAYNE works hard. So hard that you feel he deserves a little treat. Dr. Zayne may dedicate his life to helping others, but you want to dedicate your life to helping Dr. Zayne. A simple equation, really. The look on his face when he sees a very exposed you enter the shower while he's in it is pure gold. He frowns in shock, his cheeks turning pink as he backs away from you and makes a feeble effort to cover himself and protect his decency. It's endearing, the genuine confusion on his face. Need to make him cum hard. Really hard. "W-What are you doing in here?" He darts his eyes from side to side as he tries to avert his gaze from your breasts, now inches away from his chest. You shut the door behind you and get down on your knees. "You've had a long day at work, Doctor. Let me help you relax..." You gesture for him to sit down on the shower bench, and he reluctantly complies. "I'm afraid this isn't a good idea—" "Shhh..." You cut him off with a devilish grin as you breathe onto his growing cock, and a flicker of uncertainty—and begrudging intrigue—ignites beneath his pretty features. "Be a good boy for me and hold still..." You gently glide your tongue down his length, teasing him with slow, languid strokes as he writhes and struggles to stay silent. It isn't long before your mouth is enveloping his cock, eliciting whines of pleasure from deep within his throat, the small sounds driving you crazy with need. You pick up the pace, and soon his moans grow louder, more desperate. He begins to pathetically thrust skyward, helpless against the blinding pleasure of getting his cock sucked and stroked by a natural talent. "I'm gonna cum—" he whispers, strained, as you stop torturing him with your mouth and white streaks of cum shoot out in every direction, landing on your face, your tits, the walls, his thighs. You almost feel bad for him, the way he's just sitting there shivering with leftover ecstasy. But you know that once morning comes, he'd no longer be deserving of anyone's pity.

RAFAYEL may be a god, but that doesn't mean he's beyond enjoying the fruits of worldly labor. So what if his baths are the most luxurious and elaborate you've ever seen? One has never had a good bath until they've experienced shower head. You've convinced yourself of this much—now it's time to convince Rafayel. He looks ravishing as always as you enter the large shower room, his movements elegant and naturally seductive. He startles slightly at the sight of you. "Oh? Looks like I have company." He drags his eyes up and down your body, a playful smirk playing on his lips—but you know it for what it really is. An invitation. To give Rafayel exactly what he wants. Bubbles fill the room as he spreads himself across a large shower seat in the shape of a clam. Your prince. Your pearl. As if coerced by an invisible force, you gravitate towards him with a dark anticipation in your gut. He's sprawled before you, clearly getting harder by the second. Soon, he's going to get demanding—whiny, even. You need to please him fast. You circle his tip with your tongue and plant wet kisses along the length of his shaft, your way of preparing him for what's to come. His eyes are heavy-lidded, drowsy, drunk on the look in your eyes as you take him in whole, a delicious moan escaping him as you push his thighs further apart. Slow strokes, then faster ones. Repeat. You can tell he's in pain, yet somehow still in control of himself. That just won't do. "Not good enough, Your Majesty?" Your right hand moves to caress his balls, a gesture that sends him into overdrive. "Ugh, this girl—" His voice comes out garbled with a pained groan that makes your heart leap. You back away just before he cums. Can't let him off too easy. The frustrated noise that leaves his lips satisfies you more than it should, and you don't let him wait too long before you're sucking him off again, drawing out his orgasm until he nearly blacks out. He glares at you in petty indignation as his cum explodes into your mouth, both consumed by pleasure and immensely frustrated. You swallow it all down in a single gulp, feeling proud of yourself. "Who has the higher ground now?"

XAVIER jerks away from you as if you were a bad omen, instinctually bringing his arms up around himself in an attempt to block your view of him. It's no use, of course—he's as exposed as you are. "Uh..." A violent blush tints his cheeks as he fumbles for words, vivid blue eyes unable to meet yours. "Can I help you?" How could someone come off as so shy and judgmental at the same time? The thought makes you smile. "I'm here for you, cutie." He doesn't seem to understand, but it doesn't matter—you'll just have to show him. You grab his arms and gently coax them away from his body, baring his semi-hard length to you and making him squirm. Your fingers wrap around the base of his shaft, stroking gently as he gasps and twitches. The expression on his face has shifted, dark and cautionary. "Kneel," he orders, and you obediently get down on your knees. He pushes his length against your lips and groans, any trace of the bashful, reserved boy who'd almost pushed you back out the door completely gone. You lap at his precum, the taste of it salty and slightly bitter on your tongue. He nods once, giving you permission to take him in whole. Oh god. Overwhelmed, he closes his eyes and throws his head back against the flowing water, pure bliss written all over his face. "Just...like...that..." His tortured moans are like music to your ears, a symphony giving you new resolve as you begin pumping him with heightened speed. Your hands are looped around his knees, which you notice are shaking slightly with the threat of release. A spark of excitement ignites within you as you picture him coming undone, wholly and undeniably submitted to you, a beautiful mess of your own creation. He stares down at you dangerously. You look up at him with doe eyes, because two can play that game. Who is predator and who is prey? With one last luscious stroke of your tongue along the base of his shaft, he lets out a strained cry of pleasure, planting a hand on the wall behind you to steady himself. Strings of his seed land on your face and tongue as you smile up at him, already giggling at the adorable change in his demeanor. Back once again is the Xavier you know; introverted, demure, and utterly embarrassed with himself. "No more coming in like this..." He sounds serious at first, but then he glances away and chuckles softly—and your heart explodes.

CALEB doesn't even give you time to explain yourself. One second you're stepping into the shower and the next you're sitting against the wall, your thighs flush against the stone floor. "Interrupting me again?" His tone is intimidating, so different from the way he spoke to other people. For a split second, a jolt of delicious fear shoots through you, settling right between your legs. "What, too scared to speak, Pipsqueak? You're the one who came in here." He takes a step slower, his dick inches from your lips. He's already hard. Too hard. The look in his eyes is ruthless—predatory. You begin to question your capabilities, but it doesn't last long. He slides his length into your mouth, all the way, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent yourself from gagging. "You look so pretty with me in your mouth..." The thought sends waves of pleasure through you, punctuated by sudden, hard thrusts as he fucks your face with concern for little else but the devastating pleasure coursing through him. This power dynamic, this feeling of being dominated—it's all too much. Don't stop. I don't want him to stop. Your moans are muffled and weak beneath his own savage grunts and he continues to push into your mouth, hands braced on the wall above you as he pushes against his own weight to gain momentum. "Fuck, I'm so close..." Your eyes well with tears as he thrusts deep into you one last time, warm bursts of cum filling your throat and coating your tongue. His breaths are belabored, sweat and water dripping down his chest as he looks down at the mess he created. Your face is streaked with tears, and the sight makes him smirk. For a moment, it's as if he's back to being the kind little boy you once knew. But any semblance of innocence vanishes with the next words that leave his mouth. "I'm not done using you yet, Pipsqueak."

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[minswriting]

CLOSET RENDEZVOUS- S.R x Reader

About: You wear a form fitting skirt to work and Spencer can’t help but run off to the janitor’s closet to get off. You follow him and sexy fun time ensues.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, masturbation, perv!spencer, unprotected sex, p in v, semi-public sex, use of “good boy”, porn no plot

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: border made by @esote-rika !! please support your creators by commenting and reblogging! thank you to @gold-onthe-inside for proofreading for me!!!

Spencer was someone who prided himself on his intelligence. It’s the one thing no one could ever take from him. Not his bullies, parents, friends, or a lack thereof, and he certainly didn’t think you’d take it either. That was until you came into his life.

The day you stepped into the bullpen on the seventh floor, dressed in a professional pantsuit that fit you wonderfully, looking nervous about your first day, Spencer knew he was a goner. You are the embodiment of beauty, the goddess that blessed him with your presence while he was nothing more than a mere mortal, gawking at your existence. And that day, Spencer couldn’t think of anything other than you.

It was wrong, of course, to be attracted to you. You were a member of the team, have been for three years now, and are a wonderful friend to everyone. With the way you are highly skilled and your deduction skills are something to be admired. And how you are so loving and caring to those around you, especially after something really bad goes down. Spencer knew he shouldn’t harbor feelings for you, that they cloud his judgment, but he just can’t help it.

Especially when you look so pretty in everything you wear and everything you do. You never failed to have Spencer hard in a heartbeat. It was rather pathetic, really. The way you’d just walk into the room and Spencer’s already got a raging hardon. And when he thinks he’s finally alright, he'll get a whiff of your perfume, and he’s hard again. The amount of times he’s jerked himself off to you over the past three years was ridiculous. He should be disgusted with himself and yet, he continues to do it.

When you had come into work wearing that stupid form-fitting skirt, Spencer knew he was immediately done for. The way the black material hugged your figure had blood rushing straight to his cock, his IQ of one-eighty-seven dropping down to sixty. The black pencil skirt, going down to your knees, hugged your butt so beautifully that Spencer could imagine how it looked underneath it.

“Hi, Spencer,” You greeted, smiling brightly as you walked towards his desk.

Spencer blinked a few times as his brain tried to process what had just been said to him. “Uh-,” Spencer tried to conjure up words but nothing came to his brain as he looked at you. “Hi,” his voice cracked as he said the small word.

The way you beamed at him, always smiling so brightly whenever you walked into the room, Spencer really shouldn’t feel such a way towards it. You’re his coworker and someone he’d consider a good friend. But ultimately, he was just a man with urges and his biggest urge was trying not to pin you against his desk and take you right then and there in front of everyone. He knew it was his biology, the hormones and all. Perhaps he should think more logically about it, to not allow such feelings to control his thinking. And yet, you had that pathetic effect on him.

“Spence?” You said, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head as you looked at the genius, pulling Spencer out of his thoughts.

“Hm?” He said, blinking a few times as he looked up at you. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked how you’re doing.” You said, eyebrows softening. “Are you alright? You seem so out of it today.”

Spencer took a deep breath, nodding his head. He was perfectly fine until you came in but it’s not like he could say that to you. “I’m fine,” He said, pressing his lips into an awkward smile. “Just tired. I didn’t get much rest last night.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, nodding your head. “Would you like me to grab you a coffee?” You asked softly.

God, you were perfect. Always so kind and caring, ensuring everyone is doing good. He cleared his throat, nodding his head. “Uh-yes, please, if that’s alright,” He said, eye lowering to the file on his desk. Right, the file. He was supposed to be doing paperwork right now to help with the case you guys had just finished.

And yet, all Spencer could think about was how much he wanted to bury his cock inside of your pussy.

As soon as you walked away from Spencer’s desk and to the coffee area, Spencer stood up and beelined to an empty janitor’s closet, walking in and closing the door behind him. His cock was aching, to say the least. The way you looked in that tight pencil skirt had Spencer’s brain reeling. The usual relatively-composed doctor was reduced to nothing more than a horny, pathetic man. His thoughts were consumed by images of you. Oh, how desperately he wanted to fuck your cunt from behind, seeing the way your ass bounced as his hips collided with your skin.

Spencer hurriedly unzipped his pants, pulling them down just enough to let his cock breathe. He was already so hard and his tip was red, leaking with precum. He was incapable of helping the small whimper that escaped his lips as he gripped his cock, eyes fluttering shut as he began to tease his tip, spreading around his precum. The image of you on your knees in front of him flashed in his mind and he wondered what it would feel like to have your lips wrapped around his cock. Your mouth was likely so warm and would feel so good around him. God, he craved you so badly.

Just as Spencer was about to properly stroke himself, the door opened. Spencer jumped, eyes widening as he immediately moved to cover himself as he looked at the door. There you were, closing the door behind yourself, as you looked at Spencer. To say he was mortified was an understatement. You had just caught him red-handed, about to jerk himself off.

“So this is why you’ve been acting weird today, huh?” You spoke quietly, ensuring no one could hear the conversation if they ended up walking past.

Spencer didn’t speak as he looked like a deer in headlights, unable to formulate words to try and get out of this. He expected you to berate him, to be disgusted with him, and to stomp out of the room to immediately go tell Hotch about what you had seen. Instead, what you did was smirk at Spencer and take one step closer to him so that you were almost pressed against him in the tiny closet.

“I notice the way you look at me, Spence,” you murmured. “The way your gaze is always looking at my tits or fixated on my ass.” You placed your hand on his chest, causing Spencer’s breath to hitch. “Do I turn you on, Spencer?”

Spencer didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he swallowed, nodding his head.

“Use your words,” you commanded softly.

“Y-yes,” Spencer whispered, his breath shaky.

You hummed in acknowledgment. “Good boy,” you murmured, causing Spencer to let out a soft whimper as a shiver went down his spine and straight to his cock. His hands were still covering his cock as you brought your hand down to his, pulling them away from his length. “Do you want me to help you?” You breathed out as you looked at Spencer’s cock. He was hung, that was for sure.

“H-how?” And so, Spencer’s dream of a lifetime became a reality when you lifted your skirt and bent over for him, placing your hands on the wall to hold yourself up. “Are you sure?” He asked, suddenly breathless.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” You replied softly. “Please, Spence.”

That was all he needed to pull your panties aside and drag his cock along your folds. He ran the tip along your slit, gathering your wetness. He couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his lips as he did so. You were soaked and he hadn’t even done anything to elicit such a reaction from you. Spencer lined himself up to your entrance, slowly easing himself in carefully.

You had to stop yourself from moaning, putting a hand over your lips as Spencer pushed his cock inside of you. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Spencer whispered, staying still as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“So big,” you breathed out, eyes fluttering shut. After a few moments, you clenched around Spencer’s cock, signaling he could start moving.

And so, he did. Spencer pulled his cock out, his eyes fixated on your pussy as he thrusted back in. It took everything in him not to whine at the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock. You were so wet, tight, and warm. It felt like absolute perfection wrapped around him and Spencer knew that regardless of what happened after this, nothing would ever compare to the beauty that was you and your pussy.

Spencer didn’t bother to take his time with it, regardless of how much he desperately wanted to. The two of you were still at work, in a government building, nonetheless, and jobs to focus on. He moved his hips fast, his thrusts messy and desperate but neither of you minded as it was still very pleasurable.

“Oh my god,” you whispered against your hand, moving your hips in sync with Spencer’s as you met his thrusts. The closet was filled with the sounds of your pussy squelching around Spencer’s cock and the subtle sound of skin slapping. You hoped no one walked by otherwise, they’d definitely be able to hear what was going on behind the door.

The hand that was on your mouth moved to your clit as you rubbed circles, bringing yourself closer to the edge. With Spencer’s cock thrusting inside of you, grazing that special spot of yours, you could feel the heat building inside of you. And with the way Spencer’s hips stuttered with each thrust, you knew he was getting close too.

It wasn’t long before you came with a gasp, thighs shaking as you tried your best to hold yourself up with your one hand. Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist, supporting you a bit as he chased his own high and with a whimper, he began cumming inside of you, filling you up with his cum.

And when you were both finished, he pulled out, carefully placing your panties back and rolling down your skirt, making sure you were back to your nice and pristine self. The two of you were breathing heavily, mind reeling from what had just occurred. You stood up, turning to look at Spencer as he tucked himself back into his pants.

“Come to my apartment tonight,” you said, smirking at Spencer. “Perhaps I’ll let you try other things with my body.”

To say Spencer was surprised would be an understatement but it was certainly not unwelcome. And with a small nod of his head and a hoarse “S-sounds good,” it was a plan.

“It’s a date then,” you exclaimed, winking at the genius before opening the door and closing it behind you, walking back to your desk and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts once more.

You were going to be the death of him.

[killerlookz]

Have You Seen Her Lately? | Joost Klein - Heartbeat! AU

yet another prequel in the heartbeat! au, meant to take place a few days after it can't be that easy (should be read after that part!)

description: joost klein x f! reader- after a messy drunk encounter with Joost and his new girlfriend has left you more heartbroken than you thought was ever possible, a spontaneous text from Joost has you wondering if anything will ever truly be over between you two. | inspired by have you seen her lately by pulp (aka the greatest song of all time i swear)

content: 18+ sexual content, dry humping, angst, hurt/some comfort, cheating, toxic relationship, honestly both reader and joost are kind of the worst in this one (which is why they're made for each other), not proofread

THIS FIC CONTAINS RPF AND HAS BEEN TAGGED AS SUCH, IF YOU ARE HERE YOU SEARCHED FOR IT!

word count: ~7.5k

"So you didn't…" Julie trails off, settling into the back of your sofa, raising an eyebrow as she lifts a flute of cheap Prosecco to her lips.

"Didn't?" You furrow your eyebrows, cocking your head, "Oh god, have sex? No we didn't!"

"Good." She smacks her lips, nodding as swallows down the bubbly liquid. "Did you want to?"

"I don't know…" you think, trying to recall that treacherous night, "I guess I did."

"Wrong answer." Julie shakes her head in clear disappointment.

"Well, I didn't really… I don't know, I was drunk, with a sprained ankle, I don't think it would have been enjoyable anyways."

"Well." Julie pauses, "Even if he didn't try to sleep with you, he's still a dog. I mean, brings his new girlfriend around you and sprains your ankle in the same night, what an asshole!"

"I mean, I guess the ankle thing is sorta both our faults"

"Uh uh" Julie takes another sip from the nearly empty glass, "Nothing is ever your fault, babe. Learn to blame everything on Joost, trust, you'll get over him like that!" She snaps her fingers.

"Well the girlfriend thing is definitely his fault." You concede.

"Did he tell you anything about her?" She perks up, suddenly interested in the potential gossip, "Have you found her instagram? Can I see it? I bet its awful!"

"It didn't come up." You shrug, "I guess your new girlfriend isn't really polite conversation when your ex girlfriend is sitting in your lap."

"I guess not." Julie places the now empty glass onto your coffee table, "Well, now that you got whatever that was out of your system… things really are done right… like really?" Her stare is intense as she asks. You feel almost as if you're on trial, the prosecutor grilling into you, and your life is on the line.

Wow it is not that serious. You try to tell yourself, but you value Julie's opinion, and above all you're embarrassed. The shame eating away at you about how easy it was to fall right back in Joost's arms even after you ended things. Pathetic wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt.

"Right right." You nod fervently, unsure of who you're trying to convince more, her or yourself. "I didn't even mean for whatever that was to happen, just drunk and stupid. It's over."

"Thank god! I mean I love Joost like a brother but…" She rolls her eyes, "I just- I can't! I can't with him right now."

You take a hard look at Julie, noting the lines in her forehead as her eyebrows furrow, the scowl on her face, she really is mad at him, he didn't even do anything to her, why aren't you mad like that? Why can't you be mad like that?

"And you!" Her face softens, "I love you! I love you way more, but please, please promise me you won't entertain this anymore."

"I promise." Your stomach churns as a sheepish grin twits its way onto your lips. You feel as if you've just made a deal with the devil, a promise you can never take back. Betraying your best friend for a boy? That's low.

"Good." Julie pauses to look down at her phone, "Oh well shit!" She sits stiff, straight up, "Didn't notice the time, fuck, I was supposed to meet Anton, for dinner tonight. He said it's important!" She sighs, "I gotta motor, are you gonna be okay, girl? I'm sure he'd understand if I cancel-"

"No, no." You shake your head, "Go! Have fun." You attempt to keep the smile on your face, like it doesn't kill you to know she'll be off having the time of her life with the love of her life, while you're stuck here, heartbreak making you an immovable object on this couch.

That was what frustrated you anyways about your conversations with Julie about your relationship predicament. Her and Anton had been together since they were 15. When she had told you as much the first time you met him you almost couldn't believe it. It all sounded so absurd, being together, with someone, for seven years? Let alone someone you met as a teenager. You could only wish for as much for yourself.

"Ugh, you're the best!" Julie hops off the couch, shimmying over to you, "Remember, Do not text him!"

"I won't." You shake your head, "Swear!" You were only digging yourself deeper.

"Good, Okay I really gotta run, love you!" Julie bends down to place a quick, entirely platonic kiss to your cheek before scurrying out of your apartment before you can even get a word in.

You watch as the apartment door slams shut, leaving you once again in your solitude, the bars on your self inflicted prison cell locked once more.

You should go out. Put on a skimpy little outfit and get free drinks at the bar all night. Go home with an absolute dime piece and try your best to forget about Joost for tonight.

It's tempting, but you know it won't work. You'll try to find him in every man you meet, becoming so frustrated with conversation you can barely listen when they aren't just like him

Part of you had hoped that that night, just a few days ago, when Joost had taken you home upon deciding you were too drunk to be by yourself, you'd be able to remedy the terrible mistake you had made by ever breaking things off with Joost. Of course things were far far from perfect when you were together, but that night, sitting on his lap while you sobbed into his shoulder, even as miserable as you were it was so much more bearable when he was around.

You weren't quite happy either way, what was the point of being unhappy and alone?

Of course, you knew deep down you couldn't go back, couldn't un-break what you had broken. Nothing had been resolved that night. Joost had been kind enough to lay in bed with you until you fell back asleep, a gentle hand on your back was all. You didn't know how long he had really stayed with you that night, but you were certain that he had gone back to the couch almost as soon as you had fallen asleep, as you awoke to an empty bed. A familiar sight these days.

Joost had retained his offer of taking you to urgent care the morning after to get your ankle checked, but you knew a sprain when you felt one- the nausea bubbling in your stomach only added to the agony, not wanting Joost to see you an an even worse state than the one you had been in last night, you just wanted to flee his apartment as fast as you possibly could.

Joost didn't even try to push to get you to stay, or at the very least get your ankle checked, he had just accepted that you wanted to leave with a smile, hugging you goodbye like you were just one of his "boys" complete with a firm tap to your back, it had been nothing like you were used to. "Stay well, okay?" He said as you had exited the building, ready to limp down to the uber that had been waiting outside for you.

Much to your dismay it seemed he was not in the mood for remedying things as you were, he had just been being nice.

You look over at your phone, facing up on the coffee table, uncomfortably void of notifications.

You contemplate picking it up, just getting it over with, texting Joost- what was the worst that could happen? He doesn't respond? It isn't like you aren't already certain you won't be seeing him again.

The temptation looms over you, putting you in a hypnotic state, weak to any form of suggestion. You feel your body slowly pulling forward, like you have no control of yourself, at the mercy of your desperation.

Just as your hand begins to raise, you catch yourself, blinking a few times, what are you crazy?

Stiff, you fall against the back of your couch, and sigh of exasperation leaving your lips. You supposed it was probably another night of takeout and doomscrolling, truly a match made in heaven. Or, more likely hell.

You stare at your phone for a few moments longer, unmoving, unsure of how many more nights like this you could take before you truly went insane.

So lost in your own self pity it almost startles you, even in the warm orange light that bathes your apartment in the final moments of sunlight of the day, the way your phone suddenly glows. It's not something you're used to, having almost entirely shut yourself in since your breakup with Joost.

You sit up, and you can't help but to feel a deep sense of embarrassment at how excited a small little notification has you. It used to be that a day couldn't go by where you didn't feel like you had a million plans, every waking second consumed by the presence of your friends. Now here you were, unable to contain your excitement over one measly notification as you lunge forward to grab your phone. Knowing full well it could be nothing.

But it wasn't nothing.

Nowhere close.

The capital letters of the contact name scream at you: DO NOT TEXT!!!!

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Joost.

Unable to see the message until you unlock your phone, your heart races, anticipation coursing through your veins, nerves trembling as you hold your phone in your shaky hands. What could he possibly want? It feels as if your stomach has fallen straight out of you, the sharp pangs of anxiety making you feel somehow both hollow and heavy.

You tuck your bottom lip behind your front teeth. The floorboards creek beneath you with each rapid tap of your foot.

-hoi! just checking to make sure ur ankle is all guud :)

How endearingly informal. Although you would have much preferred a long, drawn out confession about him still being in love with you, how he will never get over you, begging you to give him a second chance. But you guess you'll take whatever you can get.

Your fingers are almost too fast for your brain, racing to give Joost a response while he's most likely still on the phone.

better! thanks for ask- You can only get so far before you remember your promise to Julie. Not even an hour ago swearing that you and Joost were over, and that you most certainly would not text him. That was much easier said than done when you were under the impression he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.

You're back to staring at your phone, unsure of your next move. Are you really ready to cut things off completely? To never see him again.

But then again do you have to be ready? How often are you truly ready for things before you do them. Almost never, you suppose, but its probably high time that things end here, before they become an even bigger disaster than they already were.

Well, that's no fun.

better! thanks for asking, can finally walk on it now.

You wait eagerly for a response, hoping the adrenaline of purely just getting to talk to Joost is enough to ward of the impending feeling of regret and shame that will inevitably come with not only lying to your best friend, but not even pretending you had the strength to cut Joost off in the first place.

-good :) sorry abt that again

A moment later, another text

-BTW was supposed to get drinks w bruno tn at that bar by ur place, but he cancelled last min, im near u wanna do smthn tn?

A tempting offer.

Your chest thumps, as you anxiously hover your thumbs over the screen, spinning them in small circles as you search for the right words to say. You know you shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't.

But how could you not?

You try your best to seem nonchalant, attempting to not give away the fact that this is really all you had been hoping for the last few days.

do what?

-im almost at the bar now. u wanna come around?

Alcohol and Joost were never a great mix, but you just could not turn him down, despite the glaring alarm bells going off in your head.

sure. can be there round 8, that work?

-perfect :)

***

You aren't as nervous as you expect to be as you approach the bar, perfectly primed for the occasion by having finished off the bottle of Prosecco Julie had brought over earlier while you touched up your makeup.

The building is dark, still early in the night there are people scattered here and there but not a big crowd. Evidently it isn't hard to find Joost, you could spot that mop of blonde hair from a mile away. He's alone, leaned up against the bar, pint glass fit snuggly in his hand, scanning the place, in search of you, you suppose.

Staring straight in his direction it doesn't take long for his eyes to meet yours. A soft smile appearing on his face once his gaze locks onto you, his free hand lifting up to wave you over. You return a polite smile, unsure of what Joost's true motives were behind inviting you out, that polite smile is all you can muster for now.

"Long time no see." The smile lingers on Joost's face as he greets you.

"Well if a week is a long time…"

"Too long to go without seeing you." He chuckles, its sweet, and you can't help but wonder if he's already wasted or if he's really attempting to flirt with you. The smile on his face turns sheepish, and suddenly he's the shy boy he once was when you first met him- taking you back to better times. It somehow quells your nerves, this doesn't need to be as awkward as you have the tendency to make things.

"Did your hair somehow get longer since the last time I saw you?" You reach a hand up to brush the messy strands of blonde out of his face, immediately going for some form of physical contact to put out some feelers for how tonight might go. When Joost doesn't move away you're certain you can put the moves on a little harder, maybe your dreams of somehow reconciling were not so far out of reach.

Its a move you've done time and time again, you almost forget how intimate it is, staring deep into Joost's eyes, strikingly blue, impossible to not be mesmerized by. Seemingly caught off-guard by how attractive you find Joost to be, despite your knowledge on the intricacies of his appearances, you resist the urge to let an I love you roll off the tongue, just as it had so casually many times before as your fingers brush against his blonde locks.

"I know I know," He laughs, "I need a haircut."

"No," You shake your head, "The messy hair suits you." You finally let your hand rest back down at your side.

"Well how can I ever cut my hair now?"

*** It somehow felt as if you and Joost were complete strangers, having a drunken meet-cute as you get to know each other for the very first time, yet simultaneously the night was drenched in nostalgia, the bittersweet of better days looming over each of you. Everything and nothing had changed, attempting to reconcile the breakup of a whirlwind relationship with the niceties of tonight seemed impossible.

There was some trepidation about what was to come next, yet there seemed to be somewhat of an understanding between the two of you about how this night would end. Joost's eyes constantly straying from your gaze to stare at your lips as you talked, you throwing your head back and laughing a little too hard at things that weren't really all that funny, your hands occasionally brushing over his shoulder or outer arm.

It hardly startled you when Joost, who had approached you from behind after returning from the bar, leaned over, his lips dangerously close to your neck as he talked in your ear to be heard over the chatter and music of the now crowded venue,

"How bout I finish this and we head home, hm?" His voice is low, not loud enough to hurt your ears from his proximity to you. His breath tickles your neck, causing you to shiver slightly, goosebumps forming on your skin. Head home.

"Mmm" You hum, pursing your lips, "Yeah sure," You turn your head, a slight smirk tugging at your lips, as you look behind you, Joost still very much intruding on your personal space. Of course, you don't mind much.

You've never quite seen someone finish a beer so fast in your life, but by now the tension of the night is wearing heavy on the both of you and you're racing to get back to your apartment so you can finally break it.

"Shit." Your keys fall from a shaky hand as you attempt to open your front door. The intoxication and anticipation clearly making a mess of your motor skills. They hit the ground with an irritating sharp jingle, and you lean over to pick them up, accidentally bumping Joost who stands behind you as you bend down.

"Wo-hoa save that for inside," He chuckles,

"Oh shut up." You scoff, but its all very lighthearted, and a much needed confirmation of what was to come.

Finally, you manage to shove your keys into the lock, nearly falling into your apartment as you open the door.

Joost follows closely behind, closing the door behind him with a thud.

"So…" He starts, suddenly freezing up like you hadn't done this a million times before, his eyes shifting around the apartment.

"So what, turning shy on me now?" You bite the inside of your cheeks as you attempt to meet his shifting gaze, was he having second thoughts.

"N-no I- no I just haven't been here in awhile," He blinks a few times, clearly trying to push away whatever it was that he was feeling.

"Oh," You furrow your eyebrows, looking down at the floor, "Yeah, I guess so."

"Sorry," He chuckles, "Did I kill the mood?"

A smirk suddenly appearing on your face as you look back up at Joost,

"Not at all."

"Good," He smiles back, finally stepping fully into the apartment, "Where were we…"

"I think…" You start, cheeks getting hot, thinking about what was to come, you can hardly make eye contact with Joost now, maybe you were the one getting shy.

Too lost in your brief fantasies about where things would go next, you'd hardly realized how close Joost had gotten to you, too fingers pressing under your chin, beckoning you to look up at him.

"Here?" He asks, hovering over you, his lips just barely about to graze yours.

"Yes here."

It isn't long before he's kissing you, really kissing you, not those short, pity shoulder kisses he had been giving you as you cried to him the other night. This was deep, hot, romantic even? Any moment now you were certain you'd be waking up, that this was nothing but a dream to be ripped away from you right as you got to the best part.

But it continued, low hums of content vibrate through the kiss. You can't get enough, lifting yourself up on your tip-toes to shove yourself further into the kiss, feeling your movements beginning to get sloppy as the two of you are finally overcome with pure, carnal desire.

Your legs wobble from your position on your toes, and Joost's hands come to your back to keep you stable. His touch so familiar, his hands knowing your flesh even better than you knew yourself.

"I've got you." He mumbles.

You were so easy, three simple words of reassurance driving you insane. But as strong as his grip on you is, your calves strain trying to keep to his height, and you're more than certain this position isn't great for him either.

You pull away, "Couch?" Voice slightly horse.

Joost leans back, and you finally plant your heels on the floor,

"Ja, ja, lets."

Your fingers graze Joost's tattooed knuckles, intertwining with his, tugging harshly as you rush to pull him over to the couch, eager to get your lips back on his.

"H-hey, I'm not going anywhere" He laughs.

"Am I moving too fast?" You stop dead in your tracks, worrying you're taking things too far too quickly.

"We'll move as fast as you want," An earnest smile on Joost's face as he closes the arm length distance between the two of you, your fingers still interlocked with his.

"Like the sound of that." Your voice barely a mumble.

You're nearly pushing Joost onto the couch, but he seems just as, if not more eager than you as he grabs you by your wrists, pulling you down to sit on his lap. The fabric of his jeans is rough beneath your skin, your skirt rolling up as you straddle Joost's waist, exposing bare thighs. Joost wastes no time getting his hands on you, his fingers trailing up the flesh now visible by your bunched up skirt. It's hard not to let out an immediate moan as the pads of Joost's fingers dig into the supple skin of your thighs, its been so long since you've been touched at all, much less touched like this.

You feel your muscles tense, flexing as you push yourself forward into Joost, almost involuntarily, your most primal urges taking control of you in order to get exactly what you want. You place a hand on Joost's chest, stabilizing yourself as you lean forward to let your lips meet his once again.

Joost's hands leave your thighs, now firmly placed around your waist, holding you to him, any movement of your hips at mercy to his grasp. You waste no time with polite pecks to Joost's lips, instead, immediately resuming to hot, wet, open mouth kisses.

It feels lethally hot in your small living room, and you almost can't wait to shed some of your clothes off. Of course, however, the anticipation of good sex was almost as enjoyable as the real thing and it was not worth rushing the passion of a moment like this.

You arch your back, digging your hips into Joost's, feeling the large metallic buckle on his belt dig into your lower stomach. You gasp slightly, savoring the friction from the rough seam of his jeans below the thin lace of your panties. You let your hand trail from Joost's chest to the back of his neck, pressing your palm into him as you do so, to really feel him under you. You wrap your other arm around his neck so you can fully embrace him, wanting to close every gap between the two of you.

As Joost's palms dig into your sides he drags your hips backwards, once again making you aware of the friction you so desperately need. By now it's obvious that Joost is growing hard beneath you, the already sturdy fabric of his jeans growing stiffer as he once again guides your hips forward.

"Don't be shy," Joost mumbles, tilting his head back ever so slightly to pull back from the kiss so he can get a word in, "Move those hips."

Which is what you would do if it wasn't for the sound of Joost's ringtone suddenly interrupting the moment. You sit up, Joost's grip on you suddenly becoming weak, and then non existent as he awkwardly shuffles with you still on top of him to take his phone from his back pocket.

You watch Joost's face, you ponder if he was really going to take a call at a time like this,

"Shit, shit. I'm sorry," He fumbles with the phone in his hands, his face twitches once the screen glows in his face, eyelids blinking rapidly, "Sorry," He chuckles, before a sigh falls from his lips as he quickly silences his phone, placing it face down on the couch.

"No its-" You cut yourself off, eyes trailing over to where he had put his phone down before whipping your head back to look at him, "Was that important? Who was it?"

"No, nothing. Don't worry about it, pretty, come here." A smirk pressed to his lips as his hands find their way back to your hips, ready to return back to your previous activities.

You let the slight interruption go, just as eager to move things along that you don't care to press about his social life.

You don't meet Joost's lips this time as you lean forward, instead pressing languid kisses to his jaw. Theres a slight stubble on his chin, tickling you as you nuzzle against him.

You continue your kisses, egged on by Joost's heavy breathing, the way his chest rises and falls below you mixed with the sparse groans you illicit from him as you lick over the right spots. Joost seems almost desperate to feel you against him once more, strong hands nearly forcing you back against the bulge in his jeans. Of course you can't complain, the now slick fabric of your panties separating him from your clit so flimsy you're sure you're getting much more pleasure from this than he possibly could be.

"God," You groan, rocking forward, your fingers gripping at the hair that falls at the back of his neck. You dip lower, your tongue licking a stripe up the throbbing artery in his neck, tasting his skin. You attach your lips to the pulse point, placing a small kiss to his flesh before opening your mouth wider, a sloppier kiss now before pressing your teeth to the fluttering vein, hollowing your cheeks to suck at the skin.

You feel Joost's hands suddenly grip into your arms, firm, pushing back, practically ripping you from your spot against him,

"Woah, kijk uit," (watch it) He attempts to laugh but there's a genuine concern in his voice.

Your eyes widen, like a deer in headlights what did you do?

"Huh," You breathe out, clearly bewildered, your eyes roam his figure, what did you do? You think for a moment, as Joost's hands finally loosen on you, dropping to his sides,

"I'm sorry- just,-"

"Oh my god," You feel your heart drop down to your stomach, any arousal immediately leaving your body, he was worried you'd leave a mark, "It was her that called wasn't it?" Accusation rich in your voice as you stare deep into his eyes.

"What?" Joost furrows his eyebrow, his voice stepping up a few pitches, you can't tell if he's genuinely confused or if he's attempting to feign innocence.

"Your girlfriend, you dog!" You climb off of Joost, your backside hitting the couch much harder than you had intended. It was funny, Lina hadn't even crossed your mind, Joost had been putting on the moves almost the second you two locked eyes tonight, perhaps you figured that sometime between now and the last time you saw him they had broken up.

As horribly as you had wanted him, you never really meant any of that stuff you had said to Julie the other night about wanting to homewreck a relationship. It wasn't fair, as much resentment as you held towards Lina, you don't think you could really go through with this knowing there was another girl in the picture. All you could think, what if Joost had done that to you?

"Was it?!" You ask again, harsher now, practically begging for the confirmation.

Joost can hardly make eye contact with you now, barely raising his head, refusing to meet your gaze.

"Yeah- I-"

"You what, Joost? At what point were you going to tell me that you were using me to cheat on your girlfriend?" Any intimacy that had preceded this moment was lost, it all feeling like a complete lie now. Here you were thinking that perhaps this was finally a chance for you to right your wrongs, to make things work with Joost- when apparently he was searching for nothing of the sort.

"Using? I wasn't- I thought you knew?" He seems just as confused as you are, like you should just find this no big deal, "I thought you wanted this?" And the thing is, he's right, you wanted this. Maybe it was your bad for assuming that by attempting to hook up with you Joost was confirming that what he had with Lina was over. How could you have known?

"Being the other woman, is not what I wanted." You cross your arms, and bring your knees to your chest, wanting to just curl up and die right here on the couch.

"It that what you think you'll be?" Joost asks, the confusion draining from his voice, truly just asking now.

"What else do you call the woman you hook up with outside your relationship?" You turn to face away from Joost, closing yourself off from him.

"You're not- fuck" You can't see his body language as you stare at the wall now, your mind reeling, just trying to process all of this- any hope of you and Joost getting better now completely ripped from you, but you can hear the nerves in his voice, unable to tell if they're coming from genuine regret or solely because he got caught.

You bite your lip, tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over your waterline, eyelids fluttering rapidly to try to suppress the small droplets from cascading down your face.

"I just- I thought-" You inhale, feeling yourself about to cry, exhale, "I thought you wanted to see me because you missed me."

"Please-" He pauses, voice strained, "I didn't mean to mislead you, you saw us together."

"God, Joost, why would I have assumed you two were still together after you kissed me." It seemed so simple to you, "Why would I have ever assumed you to be some sort of cheater?"

The room is silent for a moment, save from you sniffling, still attempting to stifle a sob, not ready to cry in front of Joost again.

"I just, I guess, didn't expect you to think anything highly of me." You hear him breathe in deeply, "Het spijt me, you seemed so upset the other night because of me, so I just, I wanted to make you feel better."

You blink a few times, still refusing to turn your heard towards Joost, you can't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"By making me a one-night stand?" You furrow your eyebrows, voice becoming accusatory.

"No- god, nonono, I wasn't even planning on that, I just wanted to catch up, but then, you seemed like you wanted to… so then I wanted to… and I wasn't even thinking I just, I let it happen." Joost's words are rushed, jumbled, like each syllable, each sound is racing out of his mouth.

"That's the problem," You huff, "Isn't it, Joost, you don't think."

"I just never know what you want." He stops for a moment, "I mean- I think I know and I do it, and I am always wrong."

"So this is my fault…" You trail off, confused at what he's attempting to get at, "You thought I wanted you to cheat on Lina with me? That's why you did it. Thought I'd get some satisfaction from that?"

"This wasn't about her, it was for you, I wanted to see you. I didn't leave my apartment with the intent to do that tonight, but what I told you was true, Bruno cancelled, when I realized I was in the area, I had to at least try to see you."

"But it is about her Joost, you cheated, you were going to cheat, it was so easy for you, and I just can't stop thinking, what if you had did it to me?" A tear finally rolls down you cheek, unable to convince yourself any longer of Joost's presumed innocence. Had Joost ever "not thought" when it had come to you? Just let it slip his mind that he had someone waiting up for him, and got into bed with another woman.

"No, don't say that," He sounds defeated now, "I couldn't do that to you, I thought I was going to marry you, how could I do that to you?"

"But you could do this." You try to maintain your demeanor, not wanting to give into Joost's words of reassurance, giving into the cycle that had ruined your relationship to begin with, perhaps there really was no saving it now. But it's hard not to fold, to be reminded of how much you meant, or do mean to him.

"I swear-" He pleads, "I'll call her, I'll break it off, please if it just gets you to look at me."

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek.

"No," you let your head hang, "No, no don't do that right now." You shake your head, unsure of where to go from here. You slowly uncross your arms, and finally turn to look at Joost, who seems visibly shaken, his chin quivers slightly, eyes blinking rapidly. He really did seem torn up about this.

You stare at each other in silence for a few moments, both of you hesitant to make the first move. You take in his appearance, timid, distraught, hardly the careless heartbreaker you had been making him out to be. Perhaps you had been wrong too, too quick to anger, too quick to conclusions, you're left stumped, trying to figure out what to make of all this, what to make of each other.

"Will this ever stop?" Your voice wavers, worried about the future for the two of you, worried that the only way to stop the arguing and toxicity between you is to never see each other again. No matter how hard each of you tried, it never seemed to work, your emotions too deep, too intense to ever think rationally when you were around each other.

Joost doesn't answer, and the room remains silent. It's not a comforting silence, no, it eats away at you, every second that passes consuming you with guilt and fear for the future, fear that this may once again be the last time you see Joost. You figured it would have to get to a point, you thought it already had after you had broken up with him. But that's why you broke up with him, knowing at least if you really wanted to you'd have some control over reaching out and talking to him again. If it had been Joost who ended things, who knows? Maybe he would have had a stronger will than you, maybe he wouldn't be so willing to have you around.

Finally Joost speaks,

"You know I love you, right? I mean, whatever happens next, I don't know- just, I love you."

You're nearly brought to tears again, and you wonder if its possible to love someone too much.

"I love you too." You blink away the tears from your eyes, sighing, "I'm so tired." You mean it in every sense of the word, you're drained, physically, mentally, fed up. But most literally you can feel your eyelids growing heavy.

"Why don't you lay down?" Joost asks, scooting over on the couch to give you space, patting next to him.

"Yeah- yeah I should." You nod, slipping off your shoes before curling up in the couch. You're far from comfortable, still in your clothes from the bar, feeling forced to make yourself as small as possible to not take up Joost's space.

"You want to watch some TV?" He asks once more, hesitance in his voice, like he's unsure of his place now.

"Sure," Voice hoarse, "Put on whatever."

The light of the television sears your already stinging eyes, Joost flips through the channels until he finds something that vaguely peaks his interest, your mediocre Dutch making it so you only understood about half of what was being said. When you and Joost had been together, when you'd watch something in Dutch together, or his friends were having a conversation in Dutch in front of you Joost would always lean over to you when he noticed you seemed confused, quietly explaining in your ear what was going on or what was said. But perhaps sensing the mood, Joost made no effort to explain what was happening on the television now. Not that it mattered, feeling as if you wouldn't be able to keep your eyes open much earlier to pay attention anyways.

You squrim in your spot on the couch, unable to get comfortable in the clothes you're in, but unwilling to get up to change.

"Joo?" Your voice is small, quiet, peaking your up from its spot on the couch cushions.

"Ja?" He asks, turning his head towards you.

"Can I have your shirt?"

"The one I'm wearing?" He seems confused, but you simply nod, not in the mood for much speaking. "Sure, I guess." He shrugs before beginning to pull at the collar, lifting it over his head.

If you'd been less tired perhaps you'd spend more time musing at Joost's half naked body, the tattoos that litter his soft skin, just how inviting and at home he looks returning to his relaxed position on your couch.

"Alles goed?" He asks, handing you the plain white T-shirt he had been wearing. You hum in response, content as you sit up from your curled state.

Still sitting, you turn away from Joost, not that you really cared if he were to see you changing, and not like he couldn't see you now. But you assumed perhaps some modesty was needed in this very moment. You lift the shirt you had been wearing over your head, letting it drop to the floor, before discarding your bra in that same pile. You slip the shirt Joost had given you on, you inhale, smells like him. The familiar scent invades your senses, overwhelmed as if he wasn't sitting right next to you. Its reminiscent of the many of times you had found yourself with your face buried in Joost's neck or chest, nuzzling against him, taking in the smell of him, it was comforting, the reminder of the presence of someone you love dearly.

You shimmy out of your skirt, letting that too, fall to the ground before lifting your legs back onto the couch in an attempt to actually get comfortable this time around. You turn towards Joost, who, evidently had been staring at you this entire time.

"Watching me change?" A small giggle escaping your mouth, it was all you could really muster, "Pervert." You smirk

"Well I'll take your little smile as you don't want to kill me that much anymore." He jokes.

"Well," You sigh, "Yeah, you're lucky its hard to hate you when you're half undressed on my couch."

"Mhmm" Joost nods, "I do recall taking off our clothes is how we used to end most arguments." You know he just means to be funny as he says it, but it stings just a little, knowing your arguments were such a memorable part of your relationship.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. You lower yourself back to the couch, not trying as hard to squeeze yourself onto the opposite end, but you still give Joost his space, unsure of the etiquette for the moment.

You fixate your eyes back on the television, more so staring through it than actually look at it before your eyelids become to heavy for your to keep trying to keep them up, sleep quickly overtaking you.

***

You stir slightly, eyelids fluttering as you slowly slip back into consciousness. As your vision adjusts you find you're no longer on your couch, instead in your bedroom, laying in bed.

"Did I wake you?" You're startled by the sudden voice, forgetting Joost had been with you when you fell asleep. You notice he's standing at the end of the bed, comforter in his hands.

"I think so." You concede, voice groggy, unaware of how long you had been out.

"Sorry," He chuckles, "Thought the bed would probably be more comfortable for you."

"It's okay," You give a slight smile, appreciative of the small gesture.

"Do you want me to go?" He asks, as he pulls the comforter over your chest, tucking you in.

"Would you stay?" Your voice is meek, still uneasy about asking such a thing of a man who is technically in a relationship.

"Of course," He nods, smile on his face.

"Lay with me?" You pat the mattress next to you, forgoing your morals at least just for tonight, unsure, unwilling to wake up to an empty bed for another night. Joost nods, walking around to the other side of the bed. You roll over onto your side, watching his movements.

His belt clinks as he begins to undo the buckle before sliding the thick black leather out of the loops of his jeans. You continue to watch as Joost fumbled with the button of his jeans in the dark of your room, the glow of a crescent moon and warm orange street lamps the only light entering your windows. Joost slips his jeans down his thighs, kicking them off to the side as they hit his ankles.

Joost places two hands on the mattress, leaning over before he crawls into bed with you. It all feels so familiar, as if this was just another night you were spending together. But of course, you know its not, the constant threat of how easily things crumbled between you two looming over you. You were sure Joost would return to Lina in the morning, perhaps doing some careful explaining as to why he had been ignoring her calls, after he realizes that this has all just been some great mistake but tonight, tonight he was yours.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before Joost reaches an arm out, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb,

"This is nice," He smiles, reaching his fingers to the back of your head, tangling them in your hair.

"I agree." closing your eyes as you enjoy the gentle massage of Joost's fingers against the back of your head for a moment before speaking again, "Would you hold me?"

"Yes," Joost's fingers slip from your hair, "Natuurlijk, (of course), come here." He holds out his arm, ready to embrace you.

You turn to your other side, so your back is to Joost's chest, he wraps a firm arm around your waist, making sure you're pulled against him tight, just as you wanted. His breath tickles your neck with each deep exhale, he seems tired too.

"Wish things could be just like this forever." Your voice is slow, low, just above a mumble, you're just thinking out loud.

"I know, I know" Joost coos, placing a quick kiss just behind your ear, "I'm so sorry, lief meisje." (sweet girl) giving no reassurance that they ever would be, just a concession that he too was mourning what could have been. You can't blame him for not giving you the assurance you desired, knowing how fast things went from bliss to disaster, but you could be glad that at the very least you and Joost seemed to be on the same page, that you still loved each other, that you still regret how things turned out. And that was good enough, for now.

"Please don't leave before morning," You plead softly, "I don't want to wake up alone again."

"I'll be right here, promise."

With that, you can truly relax into his touch, enjoying the gentle reassurance it gave you. Despite everything that has happened, and that may happen in the future, at least he was here now, what more could you really ask for? Tomorrow didn't matter quite yet, figuring you'd cross that bridge when you got there, but tonight, Joost is yours, and you can pretend as if nothing had ever changed, as if this was just another night shared between the two of you.

"Goodnight Joost." You sigh, nuzzling your cheek into the pillows, "Ik hou van jou." (I love you) a small, content smile pressed to your lips, remembering how much Joost had loved it when you, at least, attempted to speak Dutch with him, especially when it was something sweet. You hear Joost chuckle lowly before he speaks too,

"Goodnight, schat." He lifts his head slightly to press a kiss to your cheek, "Slaap lekker, ik hou ook van jou."

[elizabethsblogg]

~Dean Winchester headcanons-

✨Dean Winchester x Reader✨

••••••••~••••••••~••••••••~••••••••~••••••••

How you met:

-You lived next door to one another. And just as Mary was a hunter by her family heritage, so were you and your family. Once John started training the boys to be hunters you eventually started tagging along and traveling with them. Because of your family situation it wasn’t safe for you to be at home so when you turned 18 and Dean offered for you to come with him from town to town you went in a heartbeat. Now years later it’s you, him and Sammy in the Impala fighting the otherworldly creatures.

How you started dating:

-Sam definitely gets the credit for getting the two of you to admit your feelings for one another. Although Dean won’t admit that his brother was the reason why the two of you are together.

-You both had harbored feelings for one another for years. But of course you guys were equally stubborn, and scared to ruin the relationship you both and built over the years. So you didn’t actually officially start dating until after Dean reunited with Sam (season 1); because Sam played the part of the wingman and pushed you both in the direction of admitting your feelings to one another.

What kind of boyfriend he’d be:

-Definitely very protective. In the series he’s obviously very protective of Sam so it would make sense that he’d be even more protective of the love of his life.

-But with that said he’d also be the type of boyfriend to say “You wear whatever dress you want sweetheart, I can fight.” So he’s protective but not controlling.

-Oh yeah, his pet name for you is sweetheart. I think this, because Lawrence Kansas is in the south and southerners definitely view sweetheart as a term of endearment. Other pet names would be, doll, sweet girl, pretty girl, my woman; things like that.

-Unfortunately being the son of John Winchester, Dean grew up with little to no affection. Which left him not really knowing how to show affection. When you first started dating Dean didn’t really say I love you, and was kind of awkward with physical touch. Things like hugging and holding, sweet nothings, thigh grabbing, anything along those lines. Eventually you talked to Dean about it and he opened up to you and told you how he felt. It came down to the fact that he just didn’t know how to do those things the right way. It’s not that he didn’t want to show you affection he just didn’t know how. After that conversation you pretty much showed Dean that it wasn’t awkward to do those things and you pretty much taught him how to show physical affection. You also showed him that it was okay for people to love him. It took him a really long time to believe that he was worth you taking care of him.

-Dean definitely has rejection sensitivity, and very co-dependent with your guys’ relationship. He’d always making sure that the two of you are on good terms and that he hasn’t done anything wrong (again with the way John raised him, he was never able to do anything right in his dads eyes. And he had to earn his father’s love so he thinks he has to earn yours.)

-Once he got comfortable with physical touch, he did it all the time, whether it was holding your hand, waist, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, or when at a table he’d grab your thigh, especially when driving the impala he’d have his hand on your thigh, occasionally going a bit higher. He always had to be touching you.

-I feel like if you were dating Dean you make mixtapes of his and yours favorite songs

-He would definitely let you drive the impala, at first he’d be terrified of you scratching Baby but he’d eventually get comfortable with it.

-We all know how much Dean loves pie. Every town you visited you’d try the local diners pie. So much so you started a little Polaroid book filled with Polaroid pictures of every pie you both tried and rated them in the book, so if you were ever passing by that town again you’d know where and which pie to get.

-One of the gifts he’s gotten you was a pocket knife engraved with his and yours initials and the date of your first technical ‘date’

-When Cas pulled him back from hell it was difficult. Very difficult. Most nights he either couldn’t sleep or if he did eventually fall asleep he’d have night terrors. Once he freaked out and thought you were Alistair and pinned you against the wall, once he came to and woke up he was terrified; of himself. He couldn’t believe he’d hurt you like that. After you convinced him you weren’t mad he broke down crying, he’d been gone for 40 years from his perspective, he’d missed you desperately. Every night he held you tightly and just tried not to loose it at the thought of ever being away from you for that long again.

(If you have any other ideas that you want me to add, my messages are open ! Also this is literally like the first thing I’ve ever written besides some fanfics on wattpad a few years ago so please be kind🤞🏼)

[gamesetattach]

Please Look Back

Jannik Sinner x Reader An accompaniment piece to a previous break up blurb, the same, but in Jannik's POV.

---

He told himself it was the right decision.

It had to be. He needed to give everything to this—this version of his life where everything mattered, where every match had weight, where every margin could mean the difference between winning and fading. He had plans. Goals. A career on the rise, to maintain, and not a second to spare.

He loved you, he had for months. That wasn’t the problem.

It was that he loved you too much to do it halfway. And lately, everything outside of tennis felt like it had to come second tier. His schedule, his focus, the way his mind wandered in the middle of matches or practice to whether you’d landed your flight or gotten out that game or had a bad day that you'd tell him about later. He’d scroll through your texts before bed, smile at them before your hour-long calls. He’d wake up thinking about you, and he couldn’t afford to start his days already distracted. And you didn’t deserve to be deemed a distraction.

He decided before he even knew it, and he never truly wanted it to happen the way it did—to have the comfort of loving you feel like a leaden weight beginning to be too much to bear. But he couldn’t keep burying it. It wasn’t fair to you. 

He didn’t voice his uncertainties in the month that they had come up, didn’t discuss the dilemma with you. Selfishly, he knew you could convince him to stay without much effort at all, so, silently, he convinced himself he had to let you go.

Then he ended it—and you couldn't have seen it coming.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped, and forced the words out with a steadiness he didn’t feel.

"I can’t do both right now. You and tennis. I need to give everything to this." It was a wonder his voice didn’t crack. It felt like someone else entirely was speaking through him.

He almost wanted you to fight him on it—he held his breath for it. For you to yell, cry, anything. But you just nodded. Even smiled. Told him you understood.

That was the part that gutted him. The grace.

You left his room like something hadn’t just broken for good between the two of you, and so he thought maybe nothing had—maybe not for you. 

He just sat there, staring at the door long after it clicked shut.

For weeks afterward, he kept waiting for it to feel easier. But the pain never let up.

He trained harder than ever. Played with a new kind of desperation, letting the training of the off-season take up all of his conscious space in his mind. Slept longer because all his waking hours seemed to be filled with missing you. The quiet in his room felt wrong. Your absence echoed in the smallest details—two toothbrushes still by the sink, the way he reached for his phone before bed, forgetting there was no longer someone on the other side waiting to laugh and drift off with him.

His phone lit up with notifications that weren’t from you. His victories felt smaller without your hand to squeeze after the last point. He scrolled through pictures he hadn’t deleted yet and told himself it was for the best. That he’d done what needed to be done.

Still, the ache didn’t dull. It just settled deeper.

And it threatened to rip out of him at Melbourne.

He spotted you from across the walkway to the warm-up courts. Even before your face came to view, he could read it was you from the way you walked. The way you carried your bag. The way the air stilled inside his chest, and the way your name sat just inside his lips.

You were walking toward him, with no clean way to avoid it. Not that he wanted to—not really—but he hesitated when he thought maybe you did. But you continued towards him, ever so casual.

And, god, you looked good. Strong. Steady. Like you hadn’t missed a step.

But when your eyes met, he saw a flicker. Just a flash of something soft and sad, the same thing he felt blooming low and constant in his chest.

You stopped in front of him and he offered a smile, though it felt foreign on his face.

"Hey." He started, afraid to hear your voice in response—he wasn’t sure he could take it, he clenched his fists in the material of his pockets.

With a polite, practiced smile, you replied easily. "Hi." 

And he did feel himself give out a bit when you spoke, he had to hold in a sharp exhale at the familiar sound. But he didn’t manage to hold back the way he stepped towards you after you spoke, though he opened his arms to cover up the action—hoping the offer of a casual embrace wasn’t going too far.

You accepted, and the hug was brief. Just enough to feel the shape of you again, to remind him how little time had done to lessen the pull.

He wanted to ask something, anything. About everything, maybe. But he didn’t know how to start the words, or if he had the right to at all. 

You continued instead. "How’s training going?"

"Good. Busy." Always thinking of you when I’m not, he nodded the thought away. "You?"

​​"Yeah, same here." And it sounded forced to Jannik, but he figured he couldn’t claim to know that anymore.

You looked composed. Confident. Even sounded cheerful. Like you’d rebuilt something in the months since. He didn’t want to knock that down or assume otherwise just to soothe the ache still sitting in his own chest.

Another pause. You glanced through him and behind him, and he resisted turning to follow your gaze and see what it was that held your attention—hoping it wasn’t going to pull you away from him too soon, no matter how stunted and awkward the reunion was. 

Then you sort of took a step back. "I should probably get back to it. First match tomorrow.”

The run-in was wrapping up too quickly for Jannik, but it seemed you’d decided it was over. He wasn’t about to keep you when you so clearly wanted to walk away, so he decided to let you go a second time and, impossibly, it felt just as hard. His response was brief and concise. "Yeah. I saw. Good draw."

And he hoped it didn’t come off rude and choppy, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. The truth of it was, he’d checked your line-up in the tournament before his own. The way he always used to.

You nodded pleasantly, and stepped to the side of him. "Good to see you, Jannik. Take care."

He breathed in deep as you walked past him to continue on, trying to soothe himself and catch the scent of you at the same time. And when he saw you were smiling at him as you passed his shoulder, he hesitated. He wanted to say, Wait. To ask how you really were. To tell you he missed you. That nothing had felt the same since you left.

But the words caught in his throat. What could he even say? That he’d made a mistake? That he would think about you every time he passed by the quiet corner in the player dining where you'd always steal five minutes the last year, when you had just met? That seeing you now only confirmed what he'd tried to deny? None of that would do. For so many reasons.

So he swallowed hard and nodded once more instead. "You too." 

And he had to wrench his head away from you to let you go.

Every step you took away from him felt like something was falling apart all over again. He turned back to look at you, hoping that maybe you would too. So he could at least get another look at you. 

But he watched you walk away all the way until you disappeared from his sight, and you never once broke your stride. Never once turned back.

And how could he stop you—just because he was still hurting watching you leave?

He knew he was the one who asked you to go in the first place, that you’d gone in peace, and—though he’d been stuck in a hurting battle with himself ever since—he knew wanting more and being justified in asking for it were two very different things. And, really, he wasn’t entitled to either. Not anymore.

---

Okay fast turn over, but I was feeling inspired for it. Lowkey don't think I've even fully written from Jannik's POV and it was fun—especially when having something to reference. Actually proud of how it pairs side to side with the other, so if you want to flip back and forth between them to check it out, feel free... xx

[anonmousegosqueek]

Angsty one that you're going to HATE love me for ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ

Before Gary died, it wasn't exactly a secret that he and Simon were a thing. It was, at best, an open secret that they gave little kisses to each other when no one was looking. It was, at best, an open secret that they'd have some...alone time in one the closets in the more deserted side of the base. No one said anything, but everyone knew, especially Johnny. And he hated it.

Well, hates a strong word, it bothered him. Why wouldn't it bother you that the guy he'd been crushing on was very obviously going out with someone else? But he never said it out long, just told himself he was happy for Simon. And then, Gary died. Unexpected and expected, his recklessness would catch up to him one of these days...

Johnny and Simon did date after Gary's passing, but Johnny wasn't some vulture, swooping in on a grieving man. It had just been a random kiss one night, that turned into more. This is were Johnny likes to say the story ended, him and Simon were happy, the end!

But deep down he knows, he knows who Simon thinks about when they kiss. He knows who Simon thinks about when they go to bed. He knows who Simon thinks about in the nights of passion. And he knows it's not him, not fully. Simon does love Johnny, and he knows that, he wouldn't let himself be some rebound. But...Johnny knows Simon loves Roach more.

When Price died, it wasn't dramatic, he wasn't doing anything anymore besides laying in bed, it was best to pull the plug. That night, Johnny heard Simon mumble, of course he turned to comfort him, and then he heard it:

"Gary...Price is..." Is what he heard Simon say before he devolved into unintellibility. After all these years, Gary was still number one. Simon didn't question the dampness from tears on his chest the next morning. Price passing affected him too, I mean, why else would Johnny have been crying?

The years passed, and Johnny kept hearing it, realizing. Like little paper cuts that told him who was Simon's real love, even if he had the ring on his finger.

And then Simon passed, when they were old and wrinkled. Johnny could tell when he got in bed, he was too still, too cold. And Johnny laid next to him, like he'd done for the past few decades. And he blinked away his tears, he wasn't going to cry, not on his last night. He refused, even if he knew that if an afterlife existed somewhere, Simon was in Gary's arm's, hugging and kissing the man he loves the most.

(Sorry)

WHY

I'm literally crying, like real tears are coming from my eyes. This isn't a joke, I'm actually crying. You underestimate how weak I am, I genuinely can't handle angst at all.

I'm not usually one for "fixing art", but in this case I need to. (Kinda a joke, I'm genuinely not into fixing art I just wanna give them a happy ending.)

So cut to the afterlife (I have my own private au, there are rules and stuff but I don't wanna explain them right now).

Soap is the only one alive.

Obviously Roach was first. He remembered the fire, the pain, and then... Nothing. Calm. For the first time in years, there was no pain.

Then came Price. Mission went wrong, comma, no way he was waking up. But he did. And who was there, but... Gary? Alive and breathing, happy as ever. Price could walk better than ever, no pain or joint ache. He spent the first few days just cuddling Roach, the boy he thought he lost (and that he blamed himself for the death of)

Surprisingly enough, Nikolai was next. They dunno how he died, he doesn't say. All they know is that he disappeared, few months later he was in John's arms. Young like when he first met him.

Gaz was... Gaz was the worst. No one was at his funeral, no one there to bury the body. His corpse just rotting on a random battlefield. He remembers a slow and painful death, only to wake up in Roach's lap. Looking up at someone he dreams of every night. I think he clings to Price a lot now, never fully recovering during life when he lost his captain, taking his time in death.

Finally. Ghost.

Forever sleep, literally. Days melding together, his memories fuzzy and unclear.

Once he woke up, once he found Price and Nik and Gaz and...

He cries when he hugs Gary for the first time.

Cut to all of them, watching Soap continue on. They see his sluggish state, they see how he's practically dead already. I think the worst part was when Ghost (in Ghost form, obviously) was sitting next to Soap. He remembers watching his love, his Johnny, crying. He remembers hearing him sob about never being enough, about how he was never Ghost's like Roach was. He remembers laying down. Holding his love, now old and weak, yet just as beautiful as ever. He's always loved Johnny, he hates that he could ever think he didn't. Yeah he missed Roach but... He loved both of them. He will always love both of them.

He just needs to tell Soap that.

Ghost... No, not Ghost anymore. Simon kills Johnny.

There's not much he can do in ghost form, basic haunting at most, but somehow (and maybe with some help from Nikolai, the unmoral brothers) he does it.

Cue Johnny waking up, feeling strong and youthful as ever. Simon's sobbing face looking down at him, instantly pulling him close.

"'m so sorry luv, I'm so sorry."

Gary is there too. He doesn't look mad, he doesn't look jealous, if anything he looks... Happy?

Anyways, they talk it out and it turns out Gary had a pretty big crush on Johnny back when they were alive.

NOW THEY'RE ALL HAPPY AND TOGETHER AND Y'KNOW WHAT? KYLE JOINS IN AND SMOOCHS GARY AND ITS ONLY WHOLESOME.

[mossterunderthebed]

Jujutsu Kaisen Observation # 18358503893742653

okay so. hm. how to say without being immediately pelted to death by hammers?

i was a little... surprised? at the scene where gojo was sealed. and like the whole plan and exposition and everything leading up to it, cause like. stsg are made out to be such an unquestionable Thing that i had almost expected more from the source material- and there was Plenty to work with if you're going the shipping rout dont get me wrong- but... i just. maybe it just feels like a dissatisfying sort of portrayal almost?

because it feels in some ways like such an acknowledgement that people just. dont Get life-changing relationships outside of romance anymore.

i think they were soulmates. i think they were friends. i think they changed each other's lives and were unfathomably, unspeakably precious to each other. i think when they broke they shattered and cracked and the splinters of that ache are still lodged in the soft spaces between their bones. i think it still affects them, because that's the kind of thing you dont just get over.

i dont think it was sexual. i dont think they had a romantic relationship. like, i just... it was really strange, because while this big Proof of Romance thing was sort of playing out on screen the only thing i could think was that this was how i felt when i lost one of my friends because i just Didnt know how to be there for them when they needed support.

in the end we, who thought we would be friends for the rest of our lives, ended up never really seeing each other again because we just. didnt have what each other needed anymore. and i still hope they're happy, and want them to be well. and i still regret how things went down.

but i couldn't have done any different because what i did was all i knew HOW to do. i WAS offering support it just wasn't the kind of support they knew how to do anything with.

and i just think that for gojo, that's what suguru is, though likely amplified and worsened due to their respective family situations and upbringings. he's 'i wish' and 'what if' and 'im sorry' and 'i wanted to be there' and 'did i ever know you at all' and 'why did things happen that way, why didnt i know better- HOW could i have known better- i wish i couldve helped you, i wish i couldve saved you, i miss you, i love you, im sorry im sorry im sorry'

i dunno. everyone has different interpretations and viewpoints. i just think they're so 'friends so close theyre practically siblings' coded. they dont need to have been dating to have been the focus of each others lives and to know each other inside and out.

*sighs* whatever. maybe im just blabbing into a void. it just was surprising that after all that hype the vibe i got from them the most truly was just a pair of high school friends that got messed up somewhere along the way and couldnt stick together because their edges rammed right into each other's sore spots.

nobody's fault- tho u could def argue it was suguru's fault if ur looking at it from the mass murderer and genocidal maniac angle tho jjk does magnify things a lot to a gruesome degree bc thats kind of the whole Point, AND to tell the truth i dont focus on a lot bc i mainly think of suguru as the version he was in his high school years because to me thats the one thats most fun to play around with- its just what happened.

and that's not even touching on what all getou did and HOW the whole thing broke apart in the first place or the trauma from whence the cracks started to form and etc etc etc. sometimes stuff happens and people DO split apart and theres nothing you can do but mourn.

im sure for gojo the mourning was a heavy burden, yeah.

but also, if my best friend that i killed myself had suddenly appeared to come back from the dead, i too would blue screen for a whole fudgin minute i mean come on. be serious. like you wouldnt stand there with your mouth hanging open out of sheer stupefaction and disbelief and confusion. fr.

ppl arent supposed to do that.

[theuniverseofchaos]

Cassius huffed out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat, one arm draped over the back of the booth. “Ain’t never met a set of parents who didn’t have their own damn definition of what real work was,” he mused. “Some folks think you ain’t workin’ unless you’re breakin’ your back. Others think if you ain’t wearin’ a damn suit, you ain’t serious.” He lifted his coffee to his lips, taking a slow sip before adding, “Either way, seems like you found your way through it. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with takin’ what they taught you and turnin’ it into somethin’ that makes you happy.”

He watched as Elio dug into the chicken fried steak, nodding approvingly at the reaction. “Told you,” he said, smirking slightly. “Place ain’t fancy, but they know what the hell they’re doin’ in the kitchen.”

But then Elio got back to talking about the horses, the way he spoke about it making it clear just how much the whole thing meant to him. Cassius wasn’t sure he’d ever loved anything like that—something that made a good day just by existing. Maybe boxing came close, but that was more about control than passion. And law? It was less about loving it and more about needing to make sure it was done right—done better than the assholes before him.

At the offer, though, he arched a brow, lips pulling slightly at the corner in amusement. “Do I ride?” He let the question hang for a second, shaking his head before taking a slow sip of coffee. “Ain’t been on a horse since I was a kid, and even then, I think I lasted ‘bout ten minutes before the damn thing decided it didn’t like me.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “But hell, guess there’s worse ways to spend an afternoon.” His eyes flicked back to Elio, considering. “You tellin’ me you can actually teach me, or you just lookin’ for a laugh watchin’ a grown-ass man try not to bust his ass in front of a bunch of kids?”

Cassius smirked faintly, shaking his head as he took a slow sip of coffee. Yeah, he gets it, he thought, watching Elio work through his own words, his own justifications. The kid was smart. Self-aware. He knew what people thought of him before they even said it—spoiled rich boy playing cowboy—and from the way he talked, Cass could tell he was constantly trying to prove something, whether to himself or to everyone else.

“You ain’t dumb,” Cass said finally, setting his mug down with a quiet clink. “And you ain’t gotta prove shit to anybody but yourself. If you make it work, then it works. Ain’t gotta be profitable right out the gate to mean somethin’.”

He leaned back in the booth, “Sounds like they didn’t let you do shit,” he muttered, dark eyes sharp with understanding. “Sounds like they tolerated what they could stomach, long as it still fit into the neat little world they built.” He tilted his head slightly, watching Elio. “But now you’re out here, doin’ your own thing, whether they like it or not.” His smirk twitched. “Guessin’ they don’t check in every Sunday askin’ how the pastures are lookin’.”

The mention of Berkeley made Cass nod slightly. “That’s a good school. Bet they were real proud of that one.” His tone was neutral, but there was an edge of something knowing behind it. “Let me guess—talked you through every major decision like you were draftin’ a business proposal, made sure you understood investments before you learned how to drive?” He exhaled through his nose. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with understandin’ money. But not everything’s about numbers on a page.”

Cass studied him for a beat, fingers drumming once against his coffee mug. “So what about you?” he asked. “You runnin’ this place because you want to? Or because you feel like you gotta prove you can?” His smirk returned, slow and knowing. “’Cause there’s a difference.”

[onblondes]

I think I have convinced myself that I contemplate Evie a normal amount, but it's only because I have integrated it into so much of my day. It feels mundane, but it is actually a severe sickness.

[redlipsanddaydreams]

idk if this is controversial or not but i believe with my whole chest that every Album of the Year win for Taylor aside from folklore should belong to a different taylor swift album than the one it was awarded to. (Politely asking each to share their gold as it’s only fair since the winningest albums have gotten gold to begin each time)

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[cemeterysgirl]

ㅤㅤsasha doesn't know why she said it. if anything, she instantly regrets it. not because she doesn't mean what she said, but because she didn't think it should've been said for the first time here. as if she'd ruined the sanctity of some sacred ritual that was a part of dating, another thing she'd gotten wrong. it doesn't feel like the right place, or the right time, but is there ever such a thing with her? she was deep in her own thoughts, mentally wading knee deep in overthinking even as he slammed his seed into her — happily distracted by the kiss as her neck craned to let him silence her. her stomach felt tight again when he said it back, usually pale cheeks only flushing redder as she kissed his words away with half lidded eyes. she was still trying to get used to that warm feeling she now understood to be love.

ㅤㅤshe was uncharacteristically awkward, reserved, even, once they'd finished. a small hand pressed at his chest as if to move him away, but she didn't even try to resist when she was tucked back against him — her nervous gaze actively avoiding his. half expected to be ambushed by questions when all she wanted to do was turn to cowardice by pretending it had never happened. the kiss was welcomed, though; happy to have an excuse to not have to talk or answer for herself as she mirrored his greed but amped it, her tongue slipping past his lips to brush against his before he'd slowed to repeat words that made her tattered heart positively ache.

ㅤㅤthe hand that wasn't on his chest was cupped at the underside of his jaw, the pad of her thumb brushing tenderly against the apple of his cheek as they rested in each other's embrace, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. " i know you do. " she breathed, shoulders relaxing as if an unknown weight had departed when she leans in to steal another quick, fleeting kiss. " and i— you know... you too. " dimples formed as her smile turned sheepish, and then into one of embarrassment at her own sappiness. " maybe we should just keep these on and pay with the tags. for a quick escape. not because i want to wear this for the rest of the day or anything dumb like that. it's just a tacky costume. " but she didn't mean that. no, it made her feel beautiful. she was just flustered, and when she was flustered, she turned defensive.

ㅤㅤshe spared him one last kiss, a sweet but fleeting peck to the corner of his mouth before she wriggled away from him — coffin-shaped nails making quick work of fixing up the lace of her corset, turning back to her reflection for guidance. but she still couldn't quite bring herself to look at him. she fixed the dress before unnecessarily fixing her hair, considering it looked no different once she was done. " so— what do you want to do now, then? i'm working tonight. not 'til late though, and not for long. " which felt strangely bitter to say, considering she'd mentioned wanting to quit minutes prior to their spur of the moment rendezvous. " do you love me all of the time, or just some of it? " she found it hard to believe that anyone could love her when she came home from 'work'.

For a while there he completely forgot where they were and what they were wearing these outfits for, after all he could simply lose himself in the sensation of being inside Sasha. That was not out of the ordinary either, it was like she could put a spell on him to empty his mind and simply feel everything in that very moment of their bodies being one. He imagined it was similar for her based on the zoned out expression on that beautiful face which he could to admire through the reflection of the mirror. Hands pulled her body back onto his cock with each thrust, feeling that chest perfectly fitting into his grasp so his fingers could squeeze and tease her nipple, simply raining every single sensation he could upon her. Combine that with his greedy mouth spreading her dark lipstick along with bruises against her neck and shoulder and it was hard to deny that they may as well be drunk on one another. Each other's true vices in life. Nothing could have gotten him out of this daze. Wrong. Words swirled around his mind as they left her lips, his body not even able to stop from pressing her flush against the cool surface of the mirror as for another moment he pistoned into the invitingly dripping, squeezing walls of her cunt that welcomed him so greedily. Slowly each letter sunk in, had eyes look down to her as he leaned back just a little to watch pale features flush harder than sex ever could, no orgasm of hers ever had her looking this way to him. The sight was adorable, arousing and confusing all the same. It didn't make him stop though. With his heart squeezing tight in his chest he sloppily pulled her into a kiss, tilting his neck some more to reach her as grunts disturbed their tongues from rubbing together, huffs of air from his nose as he rode out his own orgasm, loving the way her body welcomed the warm spurt of his seed inside her despite it slipping back down her thighs soon enough. "I love you too." This was not how he would have planned to say it, if he would have ever had the chance to, but it was something he had wanted to tell her for so long but couldn't. In fear it would push her away from him, make her leave him again. No, Sasha needed to be the first to say it so it was save - even if she did look like a deer in headlights. Reality hadn't hit him yet even as Sasha moved, released him from her body and turned around in an attempt to get them moving. How could her with the way she looked, make up smudged, pale skin rosier than ever and hickey littered body still obscenely exposed despite the elegance of the dress. With an arm still curled around her waist he pulled the smaller woman close, his other hand brushed against her warm cheek to pull her up into another kiss. It was greedy still but muted, tender with love and adoration to make sure she did not feel spooked by what had just overcome her. "I love you too, Sash." Aoto repeated in a quiet whisper against her lips, forcing to hold on a moment together, forehead against forehead and a light brush of their noses. Just a moment to calm down and settle.

[mazojo]

I wish the ultimatum had a period where the couples go to therapy

[mo-ok]

What's a Red without their Blue?

Power Rangers Lost Galaxy

Leo Corbett & Kai Chen

[shire-ivy]

Who in Bridgerton deserves sm better and why is it Edwina Sharma: an essay

[flowvis]

"a lot to learn from this week" says team that has never learned a damn thing