#changed the plot halfway through lol

[theorphicangel]

a thought of shy sukuna...who spends new year's eve trying to stir up the courage to kiss you at midnight.

it's the norm for most couples of course but your relationship with sukuna is far from normal as he strays away from pda. not that you mind, it makes his affection in private even more special.

but now that the two of you are at this new year's eve party he's thinking about the classic kiss at midnight, for good luck of course.

he's hesitant on asking you, hoping that you would make the move first.

in trying to get the courage to ask you he keeps downing glasses of alcohol to the point where you get concerned.

'Are you okay, 'kuna? you don't even like that brand of alcohol.'

'i'm fine.'

you nod at him with a smile, rubbing his arm for comfort. when he gets...tipsy, you do notice the blush on his face which starts from his cheeks and leads all the way up to the tips of his ears. he avoids eye contact with you for the rest of the night until there's two minutes until midnight.

everyone's outside waiting to countdown and for the firework ceremony, you're standing next to sukuna who looks in the opposite direction, fiddling with the glass of champagne in his hand.

'are you sure you're okay-'

'yeah.'

you stare at him up and down, his face heating up all over again. sukuna bites down on his lip, waiting for the final countdown.

10

'I have something to ask you...'

9

'what is it?'

8

For the first time in your life you see Sukuna struggle to get the words out.

7

'are you going to ask to kiss at midnight?' you ask

6

'no.'

5

'oh.' you raise a brow, surprised that you thought wrong. 'what is it then?'

4

Sukuna takes a deep breath, hesitant on his words.

3

'marry me.'

2

'sukuna-'

'that's not a yes' he interrupts.

1

you lean in for a kiss on his lips, taking him by surprise. Cheers of people exclaiming 'happy new year' surrounds the two of you, fireworks setting off all around you.

blue, red, gold, purple fireworks reflect around the two of you. the taste of alcohol on his lips is sour but now you know why he was so nervous the entire night.

pulling away, sukuna's gaze is full of nothing but anxiety as he waits for your response, his face now entirely red.

maybe you didn't hear him right, maybe you're going to say no, maybe you're annoyed that he had to get shitfaced drunk just to ask-

'yes I will, you idiot.'

[artficlly]

this is (not) fine [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x personal assistant!reader

personal assistant rules: don’t crush on bucky barnes. definitely don’t misinterpret a flower purchase and spiral into silent heartbreak, and absolutely never ever get stuck alone with him in an elevator.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, oral (f receiving), public (ish) sex?, wall sex (?), okay they fuck in an elevator guys, kissing, angst, miscommunication (not badly), hurt/comfort, there's some plot if you squint, insecure/self-conscious reader undertones, reader is an overthinker, reader is horny lol, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 9.1k

A/N: hi, hopefully this will keep you all fed while i work on part five to lessons in lovemaking. finally getting around to some of these requests in my inbox. this one is based off this request, but i changed it up so the reader is a PA instead of an avenger. lmk your thoughts thanx for reading <3 sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You’d never pegged Natasha as the type who enjoyed flowers.

No, she struck you more as the encrypted-flash-drive-on-a-park-bench type, the kind of woman who appreciated mysteries with teeth. A custom leather jacket, stitched with the same precision she used to dismantle a glock. One of those sleek, low motorcycles. Not daisies. Not peonies. And definitely not whatever soft, pastel nonsense Bucky was currently handing over cash for.

You stood a few feet away, halfway hidden behind a sidewalk sign advertising oat milk lattes and gluten-free muffins, clutching a cardboard drink tray and a bag full of vegan pastries in a death grip. The barista had spelt ‘Bruce’ as ‘Broose’ again, and under any other circumstance, that would've made you laugh, but now it felt like the most irrelevant thing in the world.

You liked Natasha. You respected her. You just didn’t think she had it in her to giggle over roses like the girls in those sappy rom-coms Clint insisted he hated (right before he would watch three in a row, a beer in each hand). But there Bucky was, brushing pollen off a bouquet of pale pink ranunculus, face soft in a way you’d never seen during mission briefings or sparring sessions.

And suddenly, you were building a list in your head of all the things you were sure Natasha Romanoff would rather receive as a romantic gesture: a knife, balanced perfectly for throwing, an expensive bottle of vodka, a vintage chess set with hand-carved pieces, a bottle of expensive ink and a fountain pen with a sharp nib, cookies—messy ones—overloaded with chocolate chips, or simply just black coffee, straight from the pot, no sugar, no cream. Yet, as Bucky handed it over to the redhead, she smiled. Smiled. And suddenly you felt like you were witnessing a scene you were not welcome to. 

Truthfully, it stung. Maybe it stung a little more than what was appropriate. You’d been harbouring a quiet crush on the dark-haired, sullen supersoldier from the moment he joined the team. Fresh out of Wakanda, new vibranium arm in tow, and god, he was handsome. Not in the polished, television commercial way Steve was, but in a way that made your pulse skip and your thoughts stall mid-sentence. He had the kind of face you didn’t know how to look at for too long, sharpened jaw, stormy-blue eyes, and a mouth that always looked on the verge of saying something he’d regret.

There was something electric about his stillness. Like if you leaned in close enough, you’d hear the hum of danger beneath his skin. He walked like a man who never quite trusted, drifting through the tower like he expected a fight around every corner. He barely spoke, but when he did, his voice was low and gravel-worn, something that settled right in your gut and made its home there.

He never smiled. Not really. But sometimes—sometimes—you’d catch a flicker of it when Sam teased him, or when Steve nudged him just right, and it was devastating.

And yeah, maybe you had a soft spot for broken things trying to heal.

As the Avengers’ personal assistant, it was your job to keep everyone comfortable, informed, and running like clockwork. You were a one-person organisational machine, constantly juggling the chaos that came with managing a tower full of enhanced individuals with the emotional range of a brick wall to a nuclear reactor. Your days were a blur of colour-coded schedules, back-to-back briefings, and the never-ending group chats.

You coordinated mission debriefs, booked international flights with military clearance, and handled press requests that would make most people cry. You endured complaints when Thor overloaded the power grid again, trying to make toast, and even replaced the mugs he shattered before anyone noticed. You wrangled Clint’s kids when they came to visit, sourced obscure snacks from remote parts of the world because Sam liked those protein bars, not the other ones, and Steve wouldn’t touch anything processed. You replaced a record number of coffee machines, hunted down whatever special detergent could get oil out of Tony’s designer shirts. You knew which brand of muscle balm Banner preferred and how to order it without triggering a random Homeland Security check.

And then there was Bucky.

With him, it was always a little extra, whether he noticed or not. His schedule came first in your Monday morning rounds. You made sure the pantry was stocked with the Eastern European tea he liked but never asked for, and remembered the exact setting he preferred on the tower’s training room temperature controls. You adjusted group plans so he’d be paired with Steve or Sam, just in case the crowds and questions became overwhelming. When he disappeared for a few hours, you didn’t ask questions, but you made sure no one came looking. You even swapped out the scratchy tags in his mission gear with soft ones, because he never complained, but you noticed the way he fidgeted with them.

Every day, you’d beam at him like some hopelessly love-struck idiot when you handed over his usual coffee—black, two brown sugars, just the way he liked it—and in return, he’d offer little more than a grunt. A low, barely-there sound that most people wouldn’t even register as a greeting. But you did. Somehow, that grunt became the highlight of your day.

So yeah, maybe seeing him hand over flowers to Natasha broke something in you. Not just a hairline fracture, but a quiet, splintering break that left your chest aching in places you didn’t know could hurt. Still, you understood. Natasha belonged to his world, effortlessly cool, all smoke, shadows and secrets. Yet she was kind. Not cold or unapproachable, just… carved from something rarer than you. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to be extraordinary, she just was.

And you? You were the sweet, well-meaning assistant who made people laugh in the kitchen, who fetched dry cleaning and remembered everyone’s birthdays. You were the one who labelled tupperware and chased down Clint’s kids with bandaids. You were an afterthought, the background noise in the buzzing hive which was the Avengers Tower. 

So maybe you could justify feeling jealous, but angry? No. Not really. They didn’t know. They couldn’t know. And it wasn’t their fault that you’d let yourself hope.

—

Two weeks later, and you timed it perfectly, like you always did.

Just as the door to Bucky’s apartment clicked open, you rounded the corner—folder in hand, clipboard tucked tight to your side. The hallway was quiet, save for the low hum of ventilation and the soft thud of your heels against the carpet. Bucky stepped out, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, hair tied back, and his hoodie sleeves shoved up just enough to show the gleam of vibranium. Predictable. It was routine, every morning just before six he would meet with Steve in the gym. On Mondays, you’d catch him just as he exited his apartment, unload the details for the week, a freshly printed schedule and all. 

“Morning,” you said lightly, handing him the week’s itinerary. His reply was his usual, a grunt. Not annoyed. Not grateful. Just Bucky. That gruff, barely-there sound that once felt like a small victory. The kind of grunt that used to warm your chest when he followed it with a question, even if you knew the answer was printed in the folder you’d triple-checked. You always answered anyway. You liked having his attention, even just for a few seconds.

You used to dress the folders up with care, multicoloured sticky notes marking key tasks (blue for meetings, yellow for reminders, red for anything urgent and green for personal events). You’d highlight sections like traffic lights, add stickers you thought might make him smile, sometimes even scribble little crooked cartoons in the margins with cheesy encouragements—seize the day! 

The folder looked rather sad today, just a plain manila folder packed with stapled papers. No colours. No stickers. No effort. Just the essentials. You didn’t let your fingers dawdle when he took it. Didn’t smile like you used to. Just handed it over and kept your gaze somewhere past his shoulder.

Bucky took it slowly, eyes flicking down at the cover like he was trying to spot something that wasn’t there. His brow pinched, barely, but enough for you to notice. His fingers lingered on the edge of the folder, like he thought maybe he’d missed a note tucked inside.

You nodded and turned to leave, forcing yourself to shift your mind to your next chore mentally, restocking med supplies in the Quinjet, cross-checking Clint’s revised travel forms, hunting down the coffee machine Tony had threatened to ‘repurpose as target practice’. You’d have to order a replacement before the morning debrief. Double-check everyone’s dietary preferences. Update Steve on the tech room schedule. Get maintenance to repaint the lines in the training room because someone (probably Thor) had scuffed them again.

You stayed busy. It helped. Kind of.

But the guilt still trailed you like a shadow.

It was probably obvious how abruptly you changed. The way your voice had lost its warmth. The way your gaze dodged his like it might burn you. You wondered if he noticed, if he thought you'd simply grown tired of him. Maybe he had. That was better than the truth that you couldn’t stand to be near him, not when every glance felt like pressing fingers to a bruise you’d caused yourself. 

You had made your choice, professionalism. The kind of cool, curated detachment you admired in Natasha, only it felt all wrong on you, like an ill-fitting coat. You knew it was for the better, not mixing up work and matters of the heart. You’d already let your little crush spiral too far, thinking maybe—just maybe—if you tried hard enough, you’d earn more than a grunt. That he might see you as something more than the charming assistant with her clipboard and her stupid stickers. But he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. And that was fine. It had to be.

You couldn’t afford to fall apart over a man who had no idea he’d broken your heart.

But it was Bucky’s voice, soft and unsure, that startled you from your thoughts. “Hey.”

You paused mid-step and turned, forcing a tight smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes as your fingers curled against the clipboard. “What’s up?”

He shifted his weight, clearly caught off guard by the fact that you stopped walking at all. He was rather devastating to look at when he grew all shy and unsure, fingers fidgeting against the edge of the folder like he didn’t know what to do with them. He didn’t quite meet your eye as his weight shifted nervously, like he hadn’t thought before he called out. 

“Uh. Nothin’. Just—” He raised the folder slightly, an awkward gesture. “You usually give me the rundown. Y’know… what everyone’s doing. Who’s where. Who I’m stuck with.”

You swallowed. Of course, he’d noticed. Of course, he’d grown used to your chatter about meetings and mission rosters, about who was off-world and who was due back, like it was the weather. The casual, effortless way you used to tell him what movie was playing, who cheated at Monopoly the night before, or which team member had stolen the last protein bar. You’d always done it to help, keep him grounded, and make him feel like part of the team, like he belonged. 

But after what you’d seen two weeks ago, you were sure he didn’t need that from you anymore. Natasha would look out for him now. She’d keep him balanced, keep him fed, keep him from slipping through the cracks.

“Nothing interesting’s happening,” you shrugged. “Just the usual.”

He didn’t move. “Well… there’s that dinner. On Friday.”

You gave a curt nod, tone clipped. “Yes.”

“Wanda’s dinner,” he added, as if you hadn’t already acknowledged it.

“Correct.”

He hesitated again, brows drawing together in a faint crease of worry. You could see him floundering, stuck in some internal scramble. It made your chest ache because you knew that look. You’d helped talk him down from that look more times than anyone else in the tower probably realised.

You sighed quietly through your nose, against your better judgment, against every wall you’d tried to build in the past week, you caved. He looked five seconds away from spiralling.

“It’s in there,” you offered gently, nodding toward the folder. “On your schedule.”

“Right. It’s just… for me, you usually…” His voice trailed off, frustration and uncertainty knotting in his brow. “Sorry. You’re probably busy—”

That felt like a punch to the gut. 

You shook your head and, before your pride could stop you, your feet were already moving back toward him. His eyes dropped as you reached into your pocket for a pen, scribbling ‘Wanda’s Dinner – Friday’ on a green sticky note. Green for personal events, always. You hesitated, then added a smiley face underneath. You peeled it off and stuck it neatly onto the folder in Bucky’s hands. 

His eyes dropped to it, finger brushing over the paper like he didn’t quite understand why it mattered so much. “Thanks.”

You just nodded, already stepping back, spine straight, pretending your heart wasn’t hammering in your throat.

“She said…” Bucky cleared his throat, clearly not done with the conversation. “Wanda said she’s going to do curry.”

You paused, unsure what to do with the information. Why was he telling you that? Why was he still talking?

“That’s nice,” you said carefully, not sure what to do with this strange, lingering version of him.

“Are you going?” he asked suddenly, and you frowned.

“I wasn’t invited—” You began, already covering from the invasive thoughts, already working to mask the sting. You didn’t want to imagine them next to each other over curry, leaning close, whispering in the way people did when they thought no one else was watching. It would only make the crack in your chest worse.

“You should go,” Bucky said quickly, cutting across your thoughts. “I’ll tell Wanda you’re coming.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll be busy that night anyway…” You lied through your teeth, heart thumping hard against your breastbone as Bucky’s face crumpled a bit. You cut in before he could argue any further.  “You’re going to be late. For the gym. It’s nearly six.”

“Right, shit, yeah. Sorry, I just…” He trailed off again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if you were more confused or stunned by his sudden jitters.

—

Before the whole flowers incident, you made it your unofficial mission to ‘accidentally’ bump into Bucky as many times as humanly possible in a day. Now? It was the opposite. Every hallway was a trap to avoid, every room a potential ambush. Navigating the Tower had turned into something between a tactical stealth op and a personal game of hide-and-seek.

Unfortunately, your strategy for quiet withdrawal hadn’t gone unnoticed.

In fact, Bucky had picked up on your sudden cold shoulder almost immediately. The folder debacle had only been the first of many increasingly awkward run-ins.

There was the time you’d practically sprinted away from the elevator when the doors slid open to reveal him standing inside, a brow raised and coffee in hand. Or when you turned a corner too fast and walked straight into him, muttering a rushed apology before disappearing again like you were being hunted. Then there was the silent, painful breakfast you’d shared at the communal kitchen counter, where you busied yourself with peeling an orange for ten minutes straight while he sat beside you, occasionally glancing over like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin.

You’d even pretended to be asleep on the common room couch when he walked in one evening, piles of paperwork scattered, laptop still open, only for him to drape a throw blanket over you before quietly leaving again.

And yet, instead of giving you space like you’d expected and hoped for, he seemed to find any excuse to be around you. He trailed after you like some misplaced puppy whenever he wasn’t buried in a mission or holed up in a meeting.

You’d assumed that the moment you stepped back, he’d naturally gravitate toward spending more time with Natasha. It made sense. Why wouldn’t he want to be around her? They were obviously dating, even if they hadn’t made it official yet. Maybe it was one of those quiet, close things kept just between friends, like Steve and Sam. Who were you to come barreling in and expose their secret entanglement? You expected Bucky to be relieved to no longer be on the receiving end of your babbling, your perfectly-timed coffee deliveries, or the not-so-subtle gifts you littered around. 

But if anything, Bucky seemed determined to figure you out. Like your sudden shift had become his new pet project, and he was personally committed to cracking the case.

You’d taken the back hallway, the long, winding route that steered well clear of the gym on your way to the shared office. High-traffic areas were too risky now—too many chances to run into him. But clearly, Bucky had caught onto your little detours, because as you turned the corner, there he was, headed straight toward you.

You froze for half a second, pulse quickening. Turning around would be too obvious. Suspicious. He’d know exactly what you were doing, and then your carefully-constructed avoidance strategy would unravel entirely. If he suspected anything now, you were one panicked backpedal away from confirming it.

It was a nightmare. And a daydream.

A part of you, some soft, hopelessly romantic piece, ached at the sight of him, at the quiet way he seemed to look for you, worry always etched into his brow like you were some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. But the rational part of your mind, the part that had dragged you into this self-imposed emotional lockdown, screamed that letting him get closer again would only undo all the fragile healing you’d managed to piece together.

So you steeled yourself.

Shoulders squared. Laptop and paperwork clutched like a lifeline. Eyes locked on an imaginary point just past his shoulder. If you kept walking and moved quickly, calmly, maybe he’d let you go. Perhaps he’d pretend not to notice how your pace picked up and your gaze carefully avoided his.

You nearly made it.

But of course, he noticed.

“Hey, wait—”

His voice was hesitant, just enough pressure to pull you to a stop. Your footsteps faded into the hush of the corridor, your spine straightening instinctively as you turned. Bucky stood a few paces behind, one hand lifted halfway between reaching and retreating, like he’d almost grabbed your arm but lost the nerve. 

He looked sheepish. Timid, even. It killed you.

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

He scratched the back of his neck, boots scuffing lightly against the floor. “Did I… forget to grab my coffee this morning? Or… did you not bring it?”

A pause. Too long. You could feel the beat of your pulse behind your sternum as you forced a casual shake of your head.

“No, sorry. That’s on me. Slipped my mind.”

The lie didn’t sit well in your mouth.

It hadn’t slipped your mind, in fact, it was still sitting on the corner of your desk, cooling beside a stack of unfinished paperwork. You’d brewed it, as always. Even used the brown sugar he liked. But then you’d walked away from it, deliberately, like some idiotic breadcrumb trail you hoped he might follow.

God, you were pathetic.

Your stupid fucking brain couldn’t even decide what it wanted anymore. One half of you was charting escape routes through the tower to avoid him, the other was fantasising about him pinning you to the nearest wall. From the way your thighs pressed together now, breath catching as his voice brushed over you, maybe the answer wasn’t distance at all. Perhaps you just wanted to taste him—

He didn’t move. Just stood there, one brow lifted, faint worry creasing the edge of his expression.

“You’re usually down by the gym by nine,” he said, his voice low. “It’s eleven.”

“I’m running a bit behind today.”

“You usually text me if you’re running behind.”

“Well,” you said, shrugging like it didn’t matter, “I didn’t this time.”

He paused, the silence between you laced with something dangerously close to concern. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a small laugh, trying to shake off how his low, worried voice made heat pool in your gut. “Yeah. Why?”

“You seem off.”

There it was. Soft, plain and far too knowing. He said it in that maddeningly sincere way that only he could manage. Like he actually gave a damn. Like this wasn’t unravelling you by the day.

Your shoulders tensed. “Off?”

“Yeah,” he said gently. “Just… I dunno. You’ve been quiet lately.”

He didn’t know. He couldn’t know about the hours you spent spinning in your head like a lunatic, trying to compartmentalise this crush until it shrank into something survivable. About the way you’d stared blankly at Tinder profiles, your phone clutched in your hand, wondering why no one else ever came close, why none of them were him.

Why you couldn’t stop thinking that if you’d just told him—confessed that stupid crush before Natasha did—maybe you wouldn’t be standing here now like some stray mutt, sniffing around for scraps of attention.

Maybe then he’d be yours.

Maybe then you wouldn’t be fantasising about quitting just to put yourself out of your own misery like some lame racehorse.

“I’ve just got a lot on my plate,” you finally mustered, tone strained. “Tony’s soirée. The fittings. Admin crap. Didn’t even have breakfast today.”

His brows furrowed further. “That’s not good.”

“I’ll survive.”

Would you, though?

Would you survive the heat that flared low in your stomach every time he got too close? Would you survive the ache that gnawed behind your ribs every time he glanced over at Natasha like you didn’t exist? Would you survive the constant, desperate craving to be touched by him? To be looked at like she was looked at?

He didn’t speak for a second, and for a moment, you were sure he could smell the reek of desperation on you.

“The oranges in the fridge are gone.”

You blinked. “What?”

“And the tea. The fancy one,” he added. “The one with the dried raspberries in it. You’re the one who always restocks them, aren’t you?”

You looked down, fingers clenching around your folder. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, stepping forward a half-inch, enough to make your breath hitch. “I just… I didn’t realise it was you. Doing all of that.”

Of course, he hadn’t because you’d made it invisible. Seamless. That was the kind of care you practised—silent, anticipatory, never asked for, never returned. You had cared for him with a thousand tiny efforts, but he never noticed until you stopped.

You looked up, and the hallway felt suddenly too narrow. His face was open in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time. Gentle, confused, like he was trying to work you out and couldn’t quite bear not knowing.

You dropped your gaze. “I said I’ll do it.”

He paused. You could feel him thinking again.

Then, to your disappointment, he slowly nodded. “Okay.”

But he didn’t move. Not right away. He lingered like someone who hadn’t yet decided if leaving was the right call, like he was caught between concern and curiosity. 

“I’ll leave you to it, I guess.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You just nodded and turned, walking away quickly before he could see your face fall, before he could catch the naked want in your expression, the way your heart was clawing against your ribs, screaming for you to turn around and ruin everything.

—

If time travel were an option, you'd gladly launch yourself into a wormhole and strangle your past self for being stupid—no, lovesick—enough to organise this little errand. You deserve it, really. A swift kick to the gut from future-you for being this hopeless.

It had all started a month ago, when you, like a fool, volunteered to collect the tailored suits and dresses for some little soirée Tony Stark had decided to throw. Of course, in true Tony fashion, what was pitched as a ‘casual get-together’ had evolved into a full-blown, black-tie spectacle. The first warning sign? Tony footing the bill for everyone to have custom outfits made to their specifications. Translation…this was going to be a thing.

You’d spent weeks wrangling Avengers into fitting appointments, helping them choose fabrics and cuts, managing last-minute alterations and tracking shipments. It was exhausting but under control…until the catch. The aggravating, absurdly attractive, brooding catch currently sitting across from you in the tailor’s waiting room, his knee bounced like it was transmitting a detailed morse code manifesto on every possible way he planned to ruin your day.

The plan had been simple: grab an Uber, pick up the garments, pressed, stitched, and boxed to perfection and head back to the tower. But then you got the call. The one that told you Bucky Barnes had missed his final fitting, and that his suit needed some last-minute adjustments...

Of course he did.

Of all your perfectly laid plans, it only took one missed appointment to bring it all crashing down. Now here you were, stuck waiting beside the man who occupied far too much of your brain lately, silently praying the tailor would finish quickly so you could escape before your sanity, or your dignity, completely unravelled.

“I really am sorry,” Bucky said for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Between the brooding and the nervous leg tapping, he’d spent the last five minutes watching the side of your face with an expression so guilty it was practically carved into him.

“Like I said, it’s fine.” You replied, though it came out a little too tight, a little too forced, like you were speaking through clenched teeth. Which, maybe you were. Not that it mattered. Not when you could smell his cologne from how damn close he was sitting. God, you wanted to lean over and bury your face in his chest and just inhale—

You straightened abruptly, shoulders stiffening as the tailor entered the room, and mentally reacquainted yourself with the concept of boundaries.

It had been an hour—sixty minutes of waiting while Bucky’s suit got its final adjustments. An hour of you trying to distract yourself with work emails and unanswered texts, pretending the man beside you wasn’t single-handedly causing your emotional stability to nosedive. At least when he’d stepped away to get re-measured, you could breathe without risking spontaneous emotional combustion.

This wasn’t like you. You weren’t usually this wound up. Maybe it was the exhaustion, days of juggling your regular duties with Tony’s ever-growing list of soirée demands. Perhaps it was the heartbreak. Or the missed meals. Or the fact that you genuinely had no idea what day it was anymore.

“Would you like to try it on before we package it up for travel?” the tailor asked, her voice gentle. A measuring tape hung loosely around her neck, her pinned bun fraying slightly at the edges.

Bucky looked at you again, eyes flicking toward yours like he needed permission. You swallowed what was left of your pride and gave him a slight, strained nod.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “Go on.”

“I’m sorry—again—this is probably eating into your whole afternoon, I know how busy you are—”

“It’s fine. Really. Just go.”

He offered a sheepish smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain, tugging it closed with a rustle. You pressed your fingers to your temples, let your head drop into your hands, and exhaled through your nose like it might stop your heart from trying to break out of your chest.

Across the counter, the tailor glanced up at you with a sympathetic look as she readied the boxes for the other garments. “Long day?” she asked gently.

You lifted your head, managing a tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Only going to get longer.”

You were still nursing the tail end of your sigh when the velvet curtain swished open again.

And then your brain stopped working.

Bucky stepped out in full formal attire, sharp navy suit, tailored within an inch of its life. The cut of it hugged his frame perfectly. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, long legs. A deep navy waistcoat peeked out beneath the jacket, the subtle sheen of the fabric catching the light just enough to look expensive without being flashy. His tie was already perfectly knotted, like he’d done this a hundred times, and the sleeves of his shirt revealed just enough of the polished metal edge of his vibranium arm to make your mouth dry.

He cleared his throat softly, tugging at one cuff. “How’s it look?”

You blinked. Opened your mouth. Closed it again.

Words? No. Words were gone. Your vocabulary had packed up and left the building.

Bucky shifted his weight, clearly mistaking your slack-jawed silence for disapproval. “It’s weird, right? The waistcoat maybe doesn’t work, I told her I wasn’t sure about it—”

“No,” you said quickly—too quickly. “No, it’s… It’s perfect. You look… great. Seriously.”

His brows lifted slightly, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place crossing his face. Relief, maybe? 

“Yeah?” he said, glancing down at himself, tugging slightly at the jacket hem. “I feel better about it now. The sleeves fit properly this time. Thanks for waiting.”

The tailor beamed from behind the counter, clearly proud of her work. “Wonderful. I’ll box it up immediately once you’re out of it.”

Bucky nodded, but the tailor turned to you with a friendly smile before he could disappear again.

“And for you, would you like to try your gown on as well before I pack it away?”

You blinked, suddenly snapped out of your holy-shit-Bucky-hot-hot-hot haze. “My what?”

She gestured toward the row of garment bags. “Mr. Stark sent over your measurements earlier this month. There’s a gown here for you.”

You frowned. “That must be a mistake. I’m just the assistant. None of those are for me.”

The tailor hesitated. “I don’t think so… He was very clear. Your name was attached to the order.”

Before you could argue, Bucky cut in smoothly, like he’d seen this train coming and stepped in to redirect it.

“Tony probably just wanted you to look the part, too,” he said, voice low and casual. “You’ve done all the work, he probably figured you deserved to enjoy the night a little. Might as well try it on, just in case.”

You glanced at him, but he didn’t look smug or teasing. Just… earnest. Calm. Like he meant it. Which made it all the harder to protest.

“Fine.” You sighed, scrubbing a hand down your face. “Just to check it fits.”

The tailor clapped her hands together. “Wonderful. It’s a beautiful gown, I promise.”

You gave Bucky one last side-eye before following her toward the changing rooms, the fabric bag already in her hands.

From behind, you could hear him chuckle under his breath.

“Just wait 'til you see her,” the tailor murmured to herself, and you weren’t sure whether to be flattered or deeply, deeply nervous.

The gown was heavier than you expected. Luxurious fabric slipped off the hanger like water, pooling in your arms as she handed it over with the kind of reverence usually reserved for wedding dresses.

“I’ll give you a minute,” she smiled, disappearing to finish boxing up the suits.

Left alone in the changing room, you peeled out of your clothes, letting the gown slide on over your hips, your waist, up past your ribs. It clung like it had been sewn directly onto your body, the bodice snug, the neckline just daring enough to make you blush. 

You twisted to try to reach the zipper at the back, fingers fumbling and straining, but the angle was impossible. You spent the better part of five minutes twisting in the mirror like a lunatic, trying to reach the zipper that refused to budge. Your arms ached. The corset bodice was half-fastened. You were flushed, annoyed, and far too aware of the sliver of bare spine still exposed.

You were about to peek your head out and ask the tailor for help when a low voice cut in behind the curtain.

“Need a hand?”

You flinched, fabric clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bucky! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was rougher than usual, like he’d just cleared his throat. “Heard you cursing. Tailor said she’d be a minute out back.”

You hesitated, and your voice came out thin. “Yeah. I—I can’t get it up.”

“Okay,” he replied, oddly determined. “Turn around.”

You cracked the curtain open a pinch. He ducked inside, too broad for the narrow space, his frame practically filling it. He was careful not to look at you directly, at least at first.

You turned slowly, presenting your back. “Just the zipper,” you murmured, barely trusting your own voice.

“Sure,”

A single fingertip, cold metal, dragged up from the base of your spine to the dip between your shoulder blades. It barely touched the skin, but you shuddered from the sensation. Bucky wasn’t even fastening yet, just tracing the line the zipper would follow. The sound you made was too soft to catch. 

The zipper came up slowly. Agonisingly. His knuckles brushed your skin every inch of the way, not by accident. No, this was too slow, too precise, to be innocent.

He was savouring it.

His other hand steadied you, palm ghosting just over your hip. His breath fanned warm against your shoulder.

“You’re trembling,” he commented.

You swallowed hard, unable to muster a response. 

When he reached the top, his hand didn’t fall away. Instead, he swept your hair off your shoulder completely, fingertips grazing the line of your throat as he let it fall over one side.

He leaned in. Not touching, but close. Mouth just behind your ear. The heat of his breath against your neck. 

“Should’ve let me help sooner,” he whispered, voice like a purr. “Would’ve had you dressed in seconds.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your lips parted slightly, breath caught somewhere halfway as your lungs deflated in shock. And maybe it was the gown. Or the silence. Or the way your thighs pressed together of their own accord, but you didn’t move. You didn’t step away.

You leaned in.

Only a fraction. Just enough.

He noticed.

You could feel it in the slight shift of his stance. The faint sound of him exhaling a chuckle through his nose. The way his hand brushed ever-so-slightly along the small of your back before falling away.

And then he was gone.

He stepped back like nothing had happened. Like the tension wasn’t choking the air between you. You turned toward the mirror in a daze.

The dress shimmered in the soft light. Deep, elegant, form-fitting. The neckline exposed the curve of your breasts, the slit at your thigh scandalous enough to make you self-conscious.

You caught his reflection in the mirror. He was watching you, but not with the restrained professionalism you were used to. It was only the sudden reentrance of the tailor that made him hesitate in whatever words were forming on his tongue. He stepped aside, finally giving you space to exit. And you did—legs shaky, palms sweating—like a deer walking straight back into the forest fire, pretending it wasn’t about to burn.

—

Your plan to avoid Bucky after the tailor incident had gone off without a hitch, maybe a little too well. You'd buried yourself in helping Tony pull together the final touches for his ‘soirée’ (which, if you were honest, was less soirée and more ‘black tie circus in a penthouse’).

You'd been so laser-focused on your tasks that you'd almost managed not to think about Bucky in that goddamn changing room. His fingers ghosting up your bare spine like a spark setting fire to dry kindling. You’d folded instantly. Your body betrayed you instantly while your brain screamed to keep it together. Pathetic.

The moral implications of whatever that moment had been were filed away for another day. Were you the other woman? Was Natasha going to slit your throat in your sleep? What was Bucky doing, touching you like that—in a public changing room, no less—when he had a bombshell redhead waiting for him back at the Tower?

No time for that now. Not when Tony’s precious ‘soirée’ was already in full swing upstairs and the caterers had somehow forgotten an entire section of the food. You’d scrambled together an emergency order from some overpriced restaurant Tony swore he was ‘basically family’ with, and by some miracle, they came through in the nick of time.

Now you were in damage control mode, hauling three boxes of overpriced canapés up to the penthouse. Your heels bit into your feet with every step, your dress clung too tightly to bend properly without your tits spilling out, and your patience was hanging on by a single goddamn thread.

You pressed the elevator button with your elbow and exhaled as the doors slid open.

Drop off the food. Grab a free drink. Drown your Bucky-related sorrows. Maybe, just maybe, keep the beast between your legs from waking at the mere sight of him.

The doors began to close. You shifted your weight, careful with the boxes balanced in your arms—

Then someone slipped through at the last second.

Him.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

Tall and devastating as usual in his dark navy suit, his tie loosened just enough to suggest mischief, or maybe carelessness. You weren’t sure which one made you feel worse.

Your breath hitched. Instinctively, your gaze dropped to the floor, feigning sudden, all-consuming interest in the stability of your precarious tower of hors d'oeuvres. But teetering stacks of overpriced finger food or not, Bucky didn’t seem inclined to play along with your avoidance act. Not now. Not when the elevator doors had sealed you in together, finally, and you were without escape.

You winced at the sound of his sharp inhale, the question already pressing past his lips before the elevator even jolted into motion.

“Did I do something to piss you off?”

You didn’t look up. Eyes fixed firmly on the floor, you muttered, “What?”

“I just…” His voice was rough. Tired. “It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.”

Shit.

He stepped forward slightly. Not enough to be invasive. Just enough to make your stomach flip.

“You hardly talk to me anymore,” he continued. “Won’t even look at me unless it’s about work. And even then, it’s like you’re somewhere else. Did I do something to offend you? Hurt you? Just tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

The elevator hummed to life beneath your feet, gliding upward smoothly. You shifted your weight, bracing against the cool metal rail, eyes stubbornly fixed on the buttons, anywhere but his maddeningly perfect face.

“You haven’t done anything,” you said quietly, the words tasting sour the second they left your mouth.

“Then why are you doing it now?” he asked, eyes searching yours. “Why won’t you even look at me?”

“Bucky…”

“Please. Just tell me.”

You hesitated. His hand twitched like he meant to reach for your arm, then faltered, falling back to his side. Your grip tightened on the containers, your fingers slick with sweat. “It’s not you,” you murmured. “It’s me… I just…”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“Please,” he said again, quieter now. “Tell me the truth.”

And that was what did it. The tremor in his voice. The way his brow creased like he couldn’t stand not knowing. Something broke open inside your chest, raw and unhealed. The dam cracked, split, then gave way completely, and the truth came spilling out before you had the chance to swallow it back down. You were exhausted. Wound tight. Running on fumes and nerves and far too many feelings. You’d tell him, you decided. Then drop off the canapés, quit on the spot, and flee the country if necessary. Stark would write you a killer reference. You’d survive.

“Okay,” you said, breath hitching as a nervous laugh bubbled out, half-bitter, half-resigned. “You want the truth? Fine. You’re going to think I’ve completely lost it.”

He stayed quiet, letting you spiral.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered. “I like you, Bucky. There. I said it. I like you. And it was fine—manageable—until it wasn’t. Until I started imagining things. Thinking maybe… maybe you liked me too.”

His eyebrows lifted, surprised but unreadable.

“I’ve had this massive, embarrassing crush on you since the moment I met you. And I know it’s weird, and probably unprofessional because you’re kinda my boss, but not. Technically, Tony’s my boss, but I basically manage everything around here, and—ugh, I’m rambling.” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I like you. And I’ve been avoiding you because it was getting out of hand. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And it felt wrong. Especially since you’re dating Natasha, which just made everything worse—”

“What?” he interrupted, voice sharp. “I’m not dating Natasha.”

Your eyes snapped open. “That’s what you took from all of that?”

“No, I—wait. You think I’m dating Natasha?”

“Yes!” you burst out, cheeks flaming. “I saw you! At the Sunday market about a month ago with the flowers—”

His brow furrowed. “What flowers?”

“The bouquet you gave her.”

“I didn’t give Natasha flowers.”

You let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. “I saw you. It was that dumb little market Tony makes me go to for those overpriced vegan pastries Pepper loves—”

Bucky stared at you, confused. And then, slowly, understanding clicked into place. His face contorted like he’d just remembered he’d left his stove on.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “The flowers. Those weren’t for Natasha. They were for Wanda.”

Your heart stuttered. “What?”

“Vision,” Bucky groaned. “It was their anniversary. He was stuck on the phone trying to get a fancy reservation and begged me to pick them up. Natasha tagged along because she was hunting for jewellery for Maria’s birthday. That’s all it was.”

You blinked at him. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Bucky replied earnestly. “I didn’t know you thought that. I swear, I’m not with Natasha. I never was.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh god.”

“Hey—”

“No. No-no-no.” You squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to sink straight through the floor. “This is mortifying. I literally thought you were in a secret relationship. I’ve been avoiding you like the plague. I’ve been thinking about moving cities. I googled how hard it is to change your name legally.”

He snorted. “You’re not serious.”

You opened your eyes, and the horror must have been plain on your face because Bucky’s expression melted into something far too amused. “Oh, you are.”

“I might never recover from this,” you mumbled. 

“Hey, c’mon. It’s not that bad.”

“I confessed my undying crush and accused you of being in love with someone else in the span of like, sixty seconds.”

His mouth twitched, lips threatening a smile. “You’re kind of adorable when you’re spiralling.”

“I’m going to chuck these hors d'oeuvres at your head.”

As if mocking your attempt at dignity, the elevator gave a slight mechanical whirr, nearly at the top floor. The distant hum of the party pulsed just beyond those sleek doors.

You straightened suddenly, panic creeping into your chest. “Okay, I’m going to deliver these and then I’m leaving. Possibly forever. Please never speak to me again.”

But Bucky, ever faster than you, stepped in.

And before you could react, he pressed the emergency stop button.

The elevator jolted to a halt. The tower of overpriced hors d'oeuvres wobbled dangerously in your arms. “Oh my god,” you gasped, teetering.

Bucky was already moving, steady hands catching the top box before it could topple, plucking the rest from your shaking grasp. He crouched to stack them on the floor carefully, then rose slowly, smirking as you stood frozen, mouth agape in pure horrified disbelief.

“Bucky, what the hell are you doing?”

“No more running,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

You could barely breathe. “You stopped the elevator?”

“Didn’t want to risk the doors opening and you disappearing into the night,” he said, a little too pleased with himself.

“I hate you,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He leaned in, just close enough for you to feel his breath. “No, you don’t.”

You were going to die right here in a metal box. With your dignity in ruins and the man of your dumb, desperate daydreams giving you that look.

And somehow, somehow, you didn’t even want to stop him.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t shut down. Please.”

You glanced up at him, finally meeting his eyes and immediately wished you hadn’t. They were dark. Hungry. That gaze alone could melt you to the floor.

He stepped closer again. And again. Until his frame caged in you, his arms braced on either side of your head, the heat of his body swallowing you whole.

“I like you too,” he said, low, rough, like it was pulled from deep inside. “Christ, I was so blind. I didn’t see it. It didn’t click until that day at the tailor, until I saw you in this damn dress.”

Your breath hitched.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “I’ve been looking for excuses just to be near you. I keep the notes you leave me with the stupid little drawings. I like looking at them. Thinking about you.”

Your heart felt like it might crack your ribs.

“I smelled every shampoo at the store one day,” he confessed, almost sheepish, almost proud. “Hoped I’d find the one you use. Because you smell so fucking good. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“Bucky…”

“I don’t know. You make me feel special. Seen. Like I’m not some monster, like I’m normal. And then one day you were just… gone. I didn’t realise all the little things you did for me that I never noticed.” He groaned, somehow pressing closer. “I missed the sound of your voice… and it made it hurt even more… I lie awake at night, every night, thinking about you and how much I want to kiss you—”

“Bucky.” You interrupted, and he looked back at you with a barely contained hunger. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

And then his mouth was on yours.

Hot. Messy. Desperate.

You gasped into it, and he swallowed it whole, groaning as he pressed harder, deeper, hands sliding down to your thighs as he grabbed one and hitched it up around his waist. You clung to his shoulders, lips parted as he slotted himself between your legs, guiding you up until your ass was perched on the elevator’s handrail bar.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth. “Tell me that you want this, tell me that you want me.”

Your head fell back against the wall, lips swollen, breath shaking. His mouth travelled to your jaw, your throat, hands digging into your hips.

It was dizzying. Chaotic. Perfect. 

“I want you, Bucky.” You panted.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered again, but this time it was different, lower. Hungrier.

His hand slid along your thigh, fingertips brushing beneath the hem of your dress. You panted as he kissed across your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. His hands settled on your knees, then slowly, deliberately, he spread them apart.

“Bucky—” your voice was barely more than a whisper, a tremble of anticipation and disbelief.

But he didn’t answer. He dropped to his knees.

Right there. In the goddamn elevator.

You almost came on the spot at the sight, lips swollen and slick with saliva, pupils blown, the slight smudge of your lipstick on his chin. His hands slid up the back of your calves, kneading into the flesh like he was savouring the shape of you. Your dress inched upwards, his mouth suddenly pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

Your breath hitched. Your hands shot to the railing behind you, clutching tight.

“You have no idea,” he said, voice wrecked with want, “how long I’ve thought about this.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark with something dangerous. Devotion, desire, something molten and drowning. Then his mouth moved higher.

Another kiss. Inner thigh this time. Then another, and another, slow, lingering, like he was memorising you. He disappeared until the fabric of your skirt, only the back of his head, dark locks messy peaking out from between the slit. 

You moaned, soft and involuntary, your hips twitching at the heat of his breath through the thin fabric of your panties. He nuzzled in close, his nose brushing against you, and his hands pressed firmly to your thighs to keep you spread.

“I’ve thought about how you’d taste,” he muttered, lips grazing the soaked lace. “How you’d sound.”

You whimpered.

And then, he peeled your panties to the side.

The groan that tore from him was obscene.

“Jesus,” he hissed, voice muffled. “You’re fucking perfect.”

And then, his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Relentless. You cried out, one hand flying to his hair, tangling in it as his tongue licked into you with precision, with hunger, with something close to worship. He devoured you like he was starving. Slow circles, then quick flicks, his mouth dragging across your clit with maddening rhythm. You writhed against the rail, your leg still wrapped around his shoulder, the other trembling against the elevator wall.

“Oh my god—Bucky—fuck—”

Your words slurred together, breath coming in ragged gasps as he groaned into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. One of his arms snaked around your thigh, pinning you in place, as if he thought you might try to escape. As if he’d let you.

His tongue slid down, dipping into you, then back up, his mouth latching onto your clit with a filthy, wet sound that made your spine arch. You were unravelling, fast, dizzy, overwhelmed.

He pulled back just enough to pant. “I could stay here all night.”

His mouth was merciless. His grip was unrelenting on your thighs, mouth working you over like a man possessed—

Bzzzzt.

A shrill, sudden buzz sounded from the elevator’s emergency panel, followed by a crackling voice.

“Hello? This is Tower Maintenance. We’re registering an emergency stop on lift three. Is there an issue?”

You froze. Every muscle in your body went rigid, as if someone had cracked open your spine and poured ice water down it. Dread spread like frost through your veins. Your heart thudded painfully in your throat, threatening to climb up and out entirely.

You could barely breathe. Could barely think.

This was it. This was how you died—legs spread, Bucky between them, and Tower Maintenance on the fucking line.

Bucky, in sharp contrast, did not freeze.

He groaned softly with wicked glee, his mouth still very much between your legs. The sound vibrated against the most sinful part of you, and then he doubled down. Mouth and hands working with infuriating, diabolical precision, like he’d just taken the intercom as a challenge.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, the other shaking as you reached blindly for the emergency call button, trying not to sound like you were seconds away from being ruined.

Your voice came out like a panicked squeak. “Hi! Uh—h-hi, yes, sorry! Must’ve been a—a small electrical fault. I’m fine! Everything’s… fine!”

Bucky nipped at your thigh in response.

There was a pause. You could feel the suspicion through the line.

“Ma’am, we’re not showing any electrical inconsistencies in that shaft. Did you press the stop button?”

You shot a wide-eyed glare down at the man currently devouring you.

Another wave of pleasure threatened to knock the air from your lungs. You were barely holding it together, every nerve ending aflame, skin flushed, thighs shaking. The cool metal of the elevator wall against your spine did little to ground you.

You cleared your throat, struggling to piece together something—anything—resembling human speech. “Oh. Oh, that—um, I must’ve bumped it. With my elbow. While holding a tray. It’s, uh—crowded. In here.”

Bucky chose that exact moment to suck hard, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the helpless sound that nearly escaped.

A longer pause. You could practically hear them frowning.

“…Right. Well, we’re releasing the stop now. Please remain calm.”

The line disconnected.

The elevator jolted slightly as it roared back to life.

Bucky gave a dark chuckle. “Crowded, huh?” Then—with zero mercy—he sped up.

“Bucky,” you gasped, head falling back against the wall, “I’m—I’m gonna—”

You shattered.

It hit hard, hot and blinding. You cried out, thighs clamping tight around his head as he groaned against you, mouth not stopping for a second, drawing it out, milking every twitch, every whimper. You barely had time to breathe, let alone moan, your hands flying to steady yourself just as the elevator dinged cheerily and the doors slid open.

Right into the penthouse. Packed full of people, who by some miracle, were utterly oblivious to your predicament. 

You staggered slightly as Bucky stood smoothly, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, one arm slipping around your waist to steady you while the other casually reached down and grabbed the stack of forgotten canapés off the floor like he hadn’t just—

“Evening,” he greeted a passing staff member, utterly unbothered.

You were glowing crimson, pupils blown, lips parted, trying hard to fix your face. Bucky guided you forward, his hand warm on your back, keeping you between him and the crowd as your legs trembled. You barely managed to set the tray on the nearest table before someone whistled.

“Well, damn,” came Sam’s voice from the drinks bar. He gave you both a once-over, a wicked grin spreading. “Buck, next time you’re gonna eat face in the elevator, maybe wipe the lipstick off your chin first.”

Bucky only smirked and licked his bottom lip slow, on purpose, you were sure of it.

You nearly combusted on the spot.

“Bathroom?” he murmured into your ear, low and gravelly.

You nodded quickly and wordlessly.

He guided you with all the smugness of a man who had no regrets, his hand just a little too low on your back to be innocent.

---

hi, if you enjoyed please let me know! drop a comment below, reblog or send me something through my inbox! thank you for reading my work :) if you want to stay up to date with any series updates or new one-shots being posted, follow my sideblog @artficlly-updates and turn on notifications.

[grey-wardens]

finally managed the impossible (finished a fic draft)

now to rewrite it into something that is actually coherent

[enha-stars]

Meddle About ; P. Jongseong

I'd take you back to my house, so we could meddle about

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jay x F!Reader

Synopsis: Jay’s been a bit busy at work and hasn’t given you the attention you deserve, and now, you’re making him work for it. No problem, he loves the chase. (7.7k)

Warnings: Porn with almost no plot at all, SMUT, p in v, MDNI, alcohol, clubbing, kissing, praise, fluff, minor exhibitionism (in da club), oral (fem), spit, reader is shorter than jay, overstimulation, teasing, pet names, yn lowkey a brat, (minor) brat!tamer Jay, reader has long-ish hair, fingering, think that’s it! 

A/N: Gasp! She’s alive! Yes, I am. Barely. But! I wanted to get something out before Ramadan (lol) and originally Jake's hands were making me feel some type of way but then Jay... yeah. Anyways. Enjoy! Sorry if it sucks. Reblogs appreciated!

The warm steam still clings to your skin as you step out of the bathroom, a towel loosely wrapped around your body. Your damp hair drips onto your bare shoulders as you walk into your dimly lit bedroom, the soft glow of the city skyline filtering through the window. A slow, sultry beat hums through your speaker, something from your ‘Sexy Nite’ playlist that you can’t even name but it lulls you to sway your hips in rhythm, moving to the vanity. 

You take your time, dragging a shimmering body oil over your legs, watching the sheen catch the low light. The scent of vanilla and amber lingers in the air as you smooth it over your collarbones, letting the moment stretch, relishing in the quiet anticipation of the night ahead. It has been a busy week, meetings and presentations getting the best of you, but for now, it’s just you, the music, and the slow, deliberate ritual of getting ready. 

A night out on a warm Friday was all you needed to drown out the misery and exhaustion of the week. You weren’t originally going to accept, choosing to stay home with your boyfriend but when he texted you, letting you know that his meetings are running later than usual, you accepted the invitation. 

You slip into a purple lace bralette, fingers trailing along the delicate fabric, thinking back to the time you had first bought it, the way it was gently stripped from your body by Jay, his eyes lingering on it, long enough for you to buy a few more. You reach for the top draped over your chair and just as you’re about to pull it over your head, you hear a faint click of the front door unlocking. 

Then, footsteps. 

“Baby?” Jongseong’s voice, low and tired from the day, echoes down the hall. At the sound of his voice, one you hadn’t had the chance to hear today, your lips curved into a small smile, an ease settling into your bones. 

Before you can respond, he steps into the doorway and his eyes land on you, frozen mid-motion, the top still halfway in your hands. You turn to face him, a soft smile on your lips, and his gaze, once tired, darkens, slowly raking over your figure. The exhaustion from his day evaporates instantly, replaced by something huskier, something that makes the air in the room heavier, despite the seeping steam from the bathroom. 

“Shit” he exhales, his voice thick with something you recognize all too well. His tie is already loosened, sleeves pushed up, but now his fingers flex at his sides, like he’s debating whether to close the space between you. 

He hasn’t seen you all day, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he ran out the door this morning. He’s missed you, he always misses you, so as soon as his meeting finished, he flew out the door and sped home, hoping to catch you before you left. 

A smirk tugs at your lips as you slip the top over your head, watching his jaw tighten, his eyes lingering a second too long. You bought this top, black and lace, with him a few weeks ago. He made you try it on and then he took it off you in the changing room, mumbling against your skin about how beautiful you looked. 

“Hi, baby. You’re home early,” you murmur, turning back towards the mirror, pretending not to notice the way he’s still looking at you like he wants to ruin your plans for the night. You would’ve let him, but you were feeling a bit mean tonight. 

Jay exhales a slow, amused breath, leaning against the doorframe, head tilted slightly as he watches you. You catch his eye in the mirror briefly and have to look away instantly because the heat in his eyes, the love and promise, was enough to make you cave. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Lucky me.” 

He blinks slowly, trying to ease the want and desire that drips out of him. He’s not sure why he’s having such a visceral reaction to you, but he knows it could be anything. A combination of your body wash, the sight of you in that top, or just you, looking so pretty and relaxed. 

You pretend not to notice the way Jay’s gaze lingers, hot and unrelenting, as you turn back toward the chair where the rest of your outfit is laid out. The music pulses through the room, wrapping around you like a second skin, heightening the thick tension that settled in the room. 

With knowing slowness, you reach for your mini skirt, sliding it up your legs inch by inch, smoothing the fabric over your hips. It’s a little tight, tighter than you would like, but with the way his eyes were drinking you in, you knew you couldn’t change it. You can feel his stare like a touch, burning into every movement you make. The hemline barely covers what it should, and when you glance at him through the mirror’s reflection, his jaw is locked tight, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he’s trying to keep himself in check. 

You loved this look on him, the loose constraint, the way his lips were pinched tightly, almost as tight as his jaw. It made his tanned skin glisten, the veins in his arms making an appearance. He looked absolutely edible. 

Jay breathes sharply, then lifts his hands to his collar, tugging his tie looser with slow, measured movements. The silk slides between his fingers as he pulls it off completely, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watches you shift, adjusting your skirt in place. He has half a mind to usher you to bed, using his tie to keep you from squirming. 

“That’s the outfit for tonight?” His voice is rough, deeper than before. His throat is parched and he feels like a bitch in heat but he can’t help it when you look like that, when you look at him like you want to eat him as much as he wants to eat you. 

Your smile twists into an innocent pout and you finally turn to face him. “Yeah. Why? You don’t like it?” You can see the physical evidence of how much he likes it, but you wanna hear it. 

Jay lets out a low chuckle, but there’s no humour in it—just heat, thick and dark in his tone. He pushes off the doorframe and takes his time walking further into the room, every step heavier than the last, like a predator closing in. 

“I like it,” he answers quietly, eyes never leaving you.

“You look beautiful.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, one arm resting on his knee while the other rakes through his hair. He looks devastating like his—tie abandoned, top buttons undone, sleeves pushed up, the definition of dangerous, divine, and delicious. You want nothing more than to push him back on the bed and kiss his skin, knowing how he’d taste. Like oakwood and sweat. 

You swallow the lump of heat in your throat, heart thrumming in sync with the low string-heavy song playing. “Are you going to shower? I thought you were tired.” You were baiting him, he knew it, but he couldn’t help but want the hook anyways. 

Jay tilts his head, watching you carefully. “I was.” His lips curl into a smile, something sinful. “Then I walked in on my girl looking like this. And suddenly, I’m not so tired anymore.”

You step towards the vanity, pretending to focus on your jewelry, but the weight of his gaze makes it impossible to do anything. He’s in full control of the room without even trying, and when he leans back slightly, one arm keeping him up and one running a hand along his thigh, you know exactly where this is going.

“You weren’t planning on coming,” you say, reminding him as you fasten a gold necklace around your neck, one he had bought you for your birthday. 

Jay hums in agreement, rubbing his jaw, his fingers grazing his bottom lip. “Changed my mind.” 

You raise a brow at him through the mirror, amusement and knowingness dancing in your expression. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

His tongue swipes across his lip again before he finally stands, closing the space between you in a few strides. His hands find your waist, fingers grazing the bare skin between your top and skirt, pulling you in just enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. 

“Because,” he says, his lips brushing just over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “There’s no way in hell I’d miss seeing you in this little outfit.” 

Your fingers play with the strings of your top, struggling to breathe for a moment before you meet his eyes in the mirror, the heat of his body seeping into yours. His scent wraps around you like a second skin and you breathe him in. 

“Hook this for me?” You ask him, voice softer now, laced with something breathless. You push your hair to one side, exposing your semi-bare back to him.

Jay exhales through his nose, a quiet but familiar sound, but you hear the way his breath stutters slightly. His hands find your back, warm and steady as he sliders the clasp into place. His touch lingers, fingers grazing along the curve of your spine before trailing lower, skimming over the exposed skin above your skirt. 

“Are you doing this on purpose or am I losing mind?” His voice is rough, strained.

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing a smirk, but before you can say anything, his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you back until your spine meets his chest. You gasp, just slightly, but he catches it, revels in it. 

“Missed you, baby,” he breathes, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just behind your ear. “I’m sorry I’ve been so fucking busy. Haven’t had a second to touch you.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine but settle your heart. You had been busy too, but you were still home sooner than him and he knew it. His hands start to roam, slow, pressing, like he’s relearning every inch of you. The tension between you both becomes suffocating. He palms your hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of your waist before sliding down over your thighs, gripping at the soft flesh. 

Before you can react, he moves.

In one smooth motion, he forces you to step back with him, turning you, and pulls you down onto his lap, your back flush against his chest. His hands find their place again, gripping, kneading, taking his time. You feel him everywhere. The heat, the need, the way he’s been holding back for days. 

You press your hands against his thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress pants. Your head falls back just as his hands inch towards your breasts. Your mouth feels dry and there’s heat pooling in your stomach. 

With one firm movement, he lifts you slightly, maneuvering you off his lap and onto the bed, your ass hitting the plush covers. A small whimper escapes your mouth, so incredibly turned on by his sheer strength, the way his entire body reacts to you. Just as you blink away the need that clouds your eyes, Jay sinks down to his knees in front of you, his hands slowly trailing down your thighs as he looks up at you, spreading your legs so he slots himself between them. 

Your breath hitches. “Jay–” There’s need in your voice, clear as day, and he smiles at you sweetly, a dark contrast with the blistering heat in his eyes. 

His fingers press into your thighs as his lips ghost over the inside of your knee. “Please?” 

You wet your lips and almost nod, but just as his lips press against the skin of your knee, you inched your foot up and pressed it against his chest, pushing him back. He looks up at you with bright eyes. 

“I don’t wanna be late, Jay. If you’re coming with me then you need to change.” You cup his cheek and stand, sliding your hand into his hair and patting his head. You brush your calf against him as you walk back into the vanity, picking up your rings. 

You watch him through the mirror, the way his shoulders drop and he exhales a long breath. He pushes himself up and glances at you, unbuttoning his shirt. His smile is sharp, borderline threatening. 

“Whatever you say, princess.” 

The city lights blur past in neon streaks as Jay drives, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rests on your bare thigh. His fingers flex every so often, tightening slightly, like he’s reminding himself that you’re right there. That he can touch, but only so much. 

He knows the game you’re playing. He knows you're teasing him, testing him, simply riling him up so when he does taste you, when he does slide into you, you’ll understand how much he misses you, how much he loves you. 

You shift, crossing your legs deliberately, your skirt riding up just enough to make his grip tighten. Just because he knows what you’re doing and that he accepts it, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t effect him. He’s losing his mind.

He doesn’t look at you, just clenches his jaw, the muscle feathering under his skin as his fingers press into your thigh. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he mutters, voice low and dark. 

You hum, leaning slightly towards him. “Maybe.”

Jay exhales a loud breath, adjusting his grip on the wheel, but you see the way his knuckles whiten. He still wants to be here with you, still wants to play along, even as frustration simmers just beneath the surface. He’s not sure how long he can last. 

When he finally pulls into the club’s parking lot, the tension between you is thick, electric. The second the car is in park, Jay shakes his head, lips twitching in amusement. “You’re a menace.”

Instead of answering him, you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the edge of his lips. “I’m glad you’re here, Jay.” 

His eyes and exterior soften and he lifts his hand, resting it gently on your cheek. He brushes the skin under your eyes lightly, afraid he might mess up your makeup, and guides your lips to his. 

The kiss is soft, his pink lips moving against your glossy ones. He pulls away too quickly, like he’s afraid he won’t be able to stop if it continues. “Me too, baby.” 

The moment you step inside, the club’s atmosphere crashes into you–thich bass pounding through the floor, music loud enough to drown out every other sound. The air is heavy with heat, bodies moving in sync, the scent of liquor and perfume mixing together in a way that makes your head spin. 

You’re glad you’re busy enough to only accept a few invitations a month, if that. The club scene isn’t one you love, but it is nice once in a while. 

Jay moves behind you, a steady presence as you weave through the packed space. His hand finds your lower back, warm and firm as he presses against you, guiding you through the throng of bodies towards the bar, where your friends are waiting. 

Jake and Sunghoon spot you first, both grinning as you approach. Jake pulls you into a quick hug as Sunghoon slaps Jay on the back, teasing him about his new promotion. Letting you go, Sunghoon pulls you into a quick hug and only frowns when you mess up his hair a bit. Jake has his arm around Jay’s shoulder, a bright smile on his face. 

“Glad you could make it, dude,” Sunghoon says, a small smile on his face. “It’s been a while.” 

You watch as Jay’s shoulders relax, as the music enters his skin and the stress melts from his body. His smile is genuine and your heart flutters at the sight. “Thanks, man.” 

Before you can say anything, Jay leans in, Jake’s arm dropping, his lips brushing against your ear, voice thick and warm against your skin. “I’ll get our drinks,” he murmurs, his hand giving your waist one last squeeze before he pulls away. 

You nod, barely getting the chance to respond before Giselle suddenly appears, grabbing your wrist with a bright, excited grin. “Y/n! You’re here! Come on,” she shouts over the music, eyes gleaming. “We’re dancing.” 

You only have enough time to toss Jake your purse before she’s pulling you into the sweaty crowd. She pushes through bodies with her elbows until she reaches Karina, shouting your arrival. Karina pulls you into a quick hug and immediately starts swaying her hips.

The music takes over, and soon, you’re moving, letting go. The bass pulses in your chest, and the rhythm controls your every step. Giselle laughs, spinning you, before pulling your hips against hers. Karina quickly finds someone that captures her attention but stays close. You three are completely lost in the music. 

And you don’t notice Jay watching. 

He stands by the bar, drink in hand, but his gaze is locked onto you, his grip tightening around his glass as he slowly brings it to his lips. The club’s neon lights flicker across his sharp features, highlighting the way his eyes darken as he watches you move. 

It’s like you’re completely unaware of the effect you have on him. But he knows that you know. 

Jake and Sunghoon notice. Jake nudges Sunghoon, tilting his head towards Jay. “Dude, look at him.” 

Sunghoon raises a brow. “Oh, he’s completely whipped.” They both snicker, knowing what he would have said if he had heard their conversation. 

Jay doesn’t even register them. 

Because you’ve just caught his gaze. 

And you smile.

It’s subtle, enticing, but it’s enough. His jaw flexes again and before he can think twice, he throws back the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass down with finality. 

To Jake and Sunghoon’s shock, Jay moves. He mutters something about your drink, how he’ll buy you a new one, and moves through the crowd, through the flashing lights and moving bodies, straight to you.

You don’t notice at first, not until you feel the warmth of his hands, strong and sure, as they find your hips from behind. You can recognize him by touch alone and a sharp inhale catches in your throat as he pulls you back against him, pressing close, the heat of his body settling against yours. 

“You’re fucking killing me here, princess.” His voice is low, right against your ear, thick with amusement and something darker. 

You smile, pressing yourself into him as you roll your hips in time with the music. “Took you long enough.” 

He laughs quietly, fingers tightening around you. You bring your hand to his neck as he moves against you, not as smooth, but still to the beat. He’s pushing your back flush against his chest and when your ass perfectly brushes against his hard-on, his hips jerk into you. 

Gasping, you spin in his arms, needing to look at him, needing to watch the way his eyes dance with different emotions, so much more expressive than the rest of him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he slots one of his legs in between yours. 

He’s guiding your hips back and forth, finding his own rhythm. His jean-clad thigh brushes closely against your pussy and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. He watches you carefully, taking in every single twitch of muscle and movement. His grin widens when you start playing with the hair at his nape, pulling him closer, until your lips are just shy of touching. His breath is heavy, warm against your mouth, and his eyes make your stomach clench in want. 

His hands slide lower, fingers splaying over the small of your back before he drags them down your ass, squeezing once. Your head falls into the crook of his neck and the friction, the heat, its dizzying, almost too much, but not enough all at once. 

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, Y/n. You know that?”His thumb dips below your skirt and massages the skin there. His breath is hot against your ear as he angles his body, making sure his dick rubs right against your pussy. “Bet you’re just as wet for me as I am for you.”

He nibbles on your ear, dragging his tongue across the lobe. 

You tilt your head up, eyes glazed. You knew what you were getting into when you pushed Jay away back home, but you didn’t think he’d let you continue your little game. You should have known better. Here you were, underwear almost ruined as he nips and licks your skin. 

He uses one of his hands to lift you a little higher, presses you harder against him as his fingers graze the skin of your inner thigh. “Will you let me check, baby?” His voice is sinful, borderline gravel. 

You can only nod, too buzzed by the music and his scent, the heat of his body, to answer him. You knew if you opened your mouth, you’d moan out his name and you had some shame. Even without any alcohol, your mind was hazy, overcome by lust and desire. 

Jay smirks against your head as you continue to grind against him. There’s so many bodies pressed up against you both but he only cares about you, about the way your nails dig into his scalp as his fingers inch closer to your heat. 

He can feel the slight stickiness before he reaches your cunt and he bites back a groan. Here he was, losing his mind, and you were dripping for him on a dance floor. Matching your pace, he waits until your hips press against his pelvis and then he brushes his index finger against your underwear, eyes rolling into the back of his at how wet you are. 

He does it once more, arm tightening around you as your legs shake. He doesn’t press hard enough to offer you any relief, simply brushes against it featherly, but it's enough to coat both his fingers.

He removes his hand, dropping your skirt before lifting it to his mouth. You watch him with wide eyes, a sight to behold. He looks so sinful, lips curved into a devilish smile as the lights bounce on his sweaty skin. 

His arm is still around your waist as he lowers his slick coated fingers to your lips, a full blown smile spreading on his face when you tilted your head, mouth parting in invitation. He touches your bottom lip with his fingers before sticking them in his mouth. His eyes flutter at the taste and you watch with dazed amazement as he sucks his fingers clean, eyes hooded as they stare you down. 

You can’t help the small whimper that leaves your mouth and it has Jay surging forward, capturing your lips with his. His lips move roughly against yours, nothing like the sweet kiss you shared in the car. He licks your bottom lip and slips his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your groan as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

He cups your cheeks and deepens the kiss, not a single thought in his head besides you and how much he loves you and all the things he’d like to do to you. You nip at his lips before kissing down his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to keep still as you suck on his skin. When you lick his skin once more, he knows he’s had enough.  

Threading his fingers into your hair, he pulls as gently as he can to pull you away from his skin. You look up at him with plump lips, covered in spit, eyes wide and blinking. He tilts your head and kisses you once before his lips are pressed against your ears. 

“Please, princess, let’s go home. Let me take care of you properly.” Despite the desire that drips from his words, you hear the plea, the need. He’s never, not once, let things get this far before he’s made you cum on his tongue. 

Hurriedly, you nod at him, your own need evident in the way you clutch his shirt. “Yes, okay, let’s go.” Hand still on the neck of his shirt, you step into the crowd but he tugs you back, arm wrapping around you. 

“What about your friends?” His eyebrows are furrowed and you have no idea how he’s thinking about anything that isn’t your pussy or his dick but your eyes soften and you pat his cheek. 

“I’ll text them.” You clear your throat, trying to look as composed as Jay. “Though, they can probably guess.” Eyes raking over him, you take back your words. He doesn’t look composed, not at all. His hair is slightly messy and his thin sweater is all rumpled. 

“Okay, baby,” he says, taking a step forward and guiding you through the sea of bodies, hand in hand. He doesn’t spare Jake and Sunghoon a single look as he pulls his keys out of his jeans. 

Hiding a bright smile, Jake tosses your purse to you and you simply wave, too embarrassed to look them in the eye. Jay rests his hand on your lower back as he guides you out of the club and outside, taking your purse with his other hand. 

Once you get to his car, he looks down at you and there’s a wicked glint in his eyes. He unlocks the car before he places the keys in your hand. You look up at him in question and he shrugs as he opens the driver door for you. 

“I’m drunk.” He states, simply, eyes ablaze. 

You clutch the keys tightly, already coming to terms with his plan. “You had one drink, Jay.” 

He smiles at you, dimple forming. He leans against the car, arms crossed. You swallow, breathing heavily. Under the moonlight, he’s glowing. He looks so handsome, so fucking beautiful and you’re about to lose your mind. 

“There’s still alcohol in my system, baby. Can’t risk your safety, can I?” His words are sweet, but with the way he tilts his head, licking his lips, you know that your safety isn’t the only thing on his mind. 

When your shoulders drop in defeat, he pushes off the door and raises an eyebrow at you. Sighing, you quickly made it to the drivers side and sat in, trying to adjust your skirt. Jay leans down and grabs the seatbelt, face close as he buckles you up. The faint click rings in your ear when his eyes meet yours and before you can lean over and kiss him, he moves back and gently shuts your door. 

You blink at the space he just occupied before taking in a deep breath. It was only a ten minute drive. You could do this. All you had to do was ignore him and the wetness between your legs and then you’d beg him to fuck you. 

Jay slides into the passenger seat and clicks his seatbelt into place. He watches you out of his peripheral vision as you start the car and pull out. He watches the way your throat bobs and your fingers shake on the wheel. 

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue to suppress an amused laugh. You look the way he looked driving here. A small, miniscule part of Jay reveled in it. In the way you kept squeezing your thighs shut, glancing at the rearview mirror when you had the urge to look at him. 

“You okay there, baby?” Jay sounds genuine and you know he is, he always is, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a twinge of mockery in it. 

“Just perfect,” you grit out, turning at the light. 

“Yeah?” He rests his hand on your thigh, an innocent enough gesture if you hadn’t just almost cummed on his fingers in the club. His thumb starts rubbing your skin and you exhale sharply, trying your best to focus on the road. 

His fingers inch towards your heat slowly and you unconsciously spread your legs, skirt hiking up even further. He smiles at the way your body responds to him and grazes his nails close to your cunt. 

“Jay,” you whisper, a bit broken and a bit out of breath. “Please.” You meet his eye for less than a second before gripping the wheel harder, eyes back on the road. 

He leans back in the passenger seat, legs spread. His bulge is incredibly noticeable and it’s taking everything in you not to acknowledge it. His index finger brushes against the soaked and thin fabric and he tsks. “Are you dripping all over my seats, Y/n?” 

You don’t respond and he chuckles, eyes bright. He uses two fingers and slides them across your covered lips, eyes zeroing on the arousal that has soaked your underwear and slowly drips onto his seats. Your legs shake and he presses the palm of his hand into your thigh, keeping you still. 

“Focus on the road,” he murmurs, voice low but curt. It has you squirming but you listen anyways, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. 

Slowly, Jay uses his middle finger and hooks your underwear to the side. It’s sticky and ruined and he’ll definitely be pocketing them later, but for now, they’re in the way. He slides his middle finger between your folds, back and forth, mesmerized, before he watches your greedy cunt swallow up his long, bony finger to the knuckle. 

Your entire body jerks forward and a breathy moan escapes your lips, eyes fluttering at the first intrusion into your pussy in days. You’re gasping as Jay slides his finger in and out of your pussy slowly before curling it, pressing just enough pressure to have you leak arousal all over his hand and leather seats. 

Just as he picks up the pace and you almost swerve the car, he pulls out and you yell, tears of frustration on your lash line. He presses on your clit once, grinning ear to ear at the moan that rips out of you. 

He pulls his hand away completely and sticks his finger into his mouth, staring at the side of your head the entire time. He makes sure to make a show out of it, swirling his tongue around just like he would in your cunt, purposefully being noisy. 

You’re shaking, legs trembling as you turn onto your street. The sight of your apartment is enough to have you press down on the gas, not caring about the speed limit or how Jay sighs at your behaviour. 

“Watch your speed, baby. There’s cops on this street.”

He leans closer to you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers brushing against the shell of your ear.

“You’re so fucking mean,” you whisper, voice broken and hoarse. You’re not really thinking as you say it, more focused on pulling into your designated spot without crying or cumming. 

Jay simply raises an eyebrow at your words, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. “Am I?” 

Your heart jumps at his words and you put the car in park. You keep your eyes forward when both of your words registar in your mind and your head snaps to look at him, an apology on the tip of your tongue but he’s already out the door.

You watch helplessly as he rounds the car and opens your door. You say nothing as he undoes your seatbelt and gingerly pulls you out of your seat. You try to ignore the way your thighs stick to the seat or the sheen you leave behind, focusing on Jay’s hand wrapped tightly around yours. 

Wordlessly, he gently guides you inside your building, still holding your purse with that small smile on his face. You look up at him and he looks down at you as you wait for the elevator. You part your lips, ready to apologize, when the doors open and he pulls you in. 

Pressing the button to your floor, he leans against the elevator wall, still holding your hand. You look down at your joined hands, at how soothing it feels to have his strong, slightly calloused hand in yours. Jay watches you, a softer smile on his lips when you bring your joined hands to your lips and kiss his knuckles. 

It says everything you haven’t yet. 

Following your lead, before you can drop your hands, he lifts them to his mouth and kisses your knuckles, eyes staring directly into yours. Then, he kisses the back of your hand before slowly dropping them, eyes focusing on the elevator doors again. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and press yourself into his side. If he wasn’t mean earlier, he definitely will be later. You purse your lips, want and desire leaking out of you, dripping down your legs. 

Finally, the elevator dings open and he’s pulling you towards your apartment, footsteps fast as you try to match his pace. When your door comes into sight you have the urge to fall to your knees and beg Jay for forgiveness. He unlocks the door slowly, turning the key like he has all the time in the world and you unconsciously squeeze his hand in anticipation. 

He pushes the door open and you stop breathing, mouth going dry. He doesn’t turn to look at you as he guides you into your home. You watch as he sets your purse on the little table, along with the keys and his wallet. 

“Jay, baby, I’m–” He cuts you off by turning quickly and slamming his lips against yours, pushing you into the door, a hand on the back of your hand and hip. He swallows your gasp of surprise and kisses you ferociously, pressing his chest against yours. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back just as messily, teeth against teeth. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you clutch at his hair. He sucks on your tongue as he fits his leg between yours, his thigh once again, rubbing against your pussy. 

You can barely breathe but you kiss him deeply, head falling back when he pulls away and begins kissing down your neck, nibbling and licking down your throat, hand unclasping your top and pulling it off of you, only pulling away to pull it off your head. His lips reattach to your neck and he kisses down to your collarbone, biting down on your skin. Your hands tighten in his hair and his grip on your hip becomes bruising. 

You grind on his knee, moaning at the friction. Jay kisses up your neck before capturing your lips in another hated, messy kiss. His hand travels up your body and he slightly presses down on your throat sucking on your tongue before pulling away.

“I wanted to be mean. Show you how mean I really could be,” he pants into your mouth, lips hovering over your swollen, bruised ones. His thigh rubs against your pussy and you whimper, eyes opening. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before brushing his nose against yours.

“But I missed you, baby. I’ll take care of you, yeah?” His voice is soft, loving, unmistakingly ridden with lust. He begins kissing down your body again, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the skin above your collarbone before he unclasps your bralette, tossing it on the floor. 

His lips hover over the skin between your breasts and his eyes flicker up, meeting your dazed ones. “Did you miss me, princess?” 

There’s tears in your eyes as you nod, sniffling from the overwhelming urge to cum and bare yourself open to him. “Yes, Jay, Gosh, I missed you so much.” 

He smiles at you before kissing your skin, licking and sucking, swallowing the sweet taste of your sweat and vanilla. You were a mess above him, head thrown back and eyes sewn shut, incoherent mumbles and whimpers leaving your lips as you pull and scrape his hair at the nape of his neck. Your entire body is on fire. 

Jay presses a soft kiss on one of your breasts, his fingers brushing the nipple of the other. He kitten-licks the aching bud before latching on, sucking and circling his tongue. His other hand pinches the other nipple before he latches onto that one. He jerks his leg upwards to give you more friction and you’re overwhelmed, almost to the point of hysteria and tears. You can feel your orgasm building up and you mutter something to him, something incoherent, but he knows. 

Sinking to his knees, Jay looks up at you and you don’t even notice the bit of drool that drips down your chin. Your knees buckle at the look he gives you before he slowly pulls down your skirt and underwear, tantalizing and slow. 

He lets the skirt drop and you step out of it. He stares at your dripping, glistening pussy with a hunger you don’t normally see. He wets his lips as his eyes darken completely and he surges forward and buries his face in between your thighs, nosing your clit. Your head hits the door when he inhales, almost crying out when he presses a wet kiss to your pussy. 

He spreads your legs even further, gets impossibly closer. His nose brushes against your slick folds. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Prettiest pussy in the world, princess.” The vibrations of his words went straight to your core and you whine. 

You pull at Jay’s hair and he moans as he licks a harsh stripe of your core. You arch your back at the feeling and he presses his face closer to your cunt as his tongue pushes in and out of your sopping hole, licking and sucking loudly. He drags his tongue along your pussy, holding your hips still as he sucks on your clit. 

The tears in your eyes become heavier as he presses his nose against your clit and you moan out a broken, whiny version of his name as he laps up all your juice. The sounds he makes, the slurping and lip smacking has your legs shaking and you feel the tightness in your stomach, the orgasm that’s been building. 

He curls the tip of his tongue upwards and you almost scream, tears falling down your cheeks at the sheer pressure of pleasure. “Yes, Jay, yes” you chant, not caring about who hears you. You begin feverishly moving your hips against his face and Jay grants into your cunt, making your insides vibrate. Your legs are pulsing and your walls clench around his tongue and he knows you're close. 

Using one of his hands, he spreads your folds open wider and licks you even harsher, teasing your clit with his nose as he fucked his tongue into you. “Oh, Jay–” Your vision blurs as you moan, loud and broken, your stomach uncoiling as your orgasm washes over you and you gush all over Jay’s face. 

He hums in pleasure as he continues to push his tongue into your pussy, greedily swallowing your juices. He licks and sucks until your legs begin to shake and you pull at his hair harshly, trying to pry him off you. You’re mumbling something, a string of sentences neither of you can decipher as he slows his tongue, kissing your cunt once. 

You glance down at him and your legs buckle at the sight of him; eyes wide and hair wild as your cum and slick coats his face, his sun-kissed skin glowing with sweat as he smiles at you with swollen lips. 

He licks the skin around your pussy, cleaning you up a bit and then kisses up your thighs. You thread your fingers into his hair and tug, he stands slowly and you pull his face to yours. His eyes rake over you, grinding slowly at the fucked out look on your face, the tears staning your cheeks, swollen lips, and wide pupils. 

You tilt your head and kiss him, pressing your lips flush against his, licking his bottom lip, slipping your tongue into his mouth. You groan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. He deepens the kiss, holding your trembling legs up as you quickly pull his top over his head, working on undoing his belt. 

You pull away from his lips and kiss down his throat, licking and sucking his skin. His hands work to undo his belt and his breath hitches when you kiss his adam’s apple, licking a long stripe of his neck. “Fuck, baby.” 

He pulls the belt off, throwing it somewhere and undoes his jeans as you lick and bite his collarbones. He slides his jeans off, stepping out of them as you work your way up his neck. He wraps one hand around his hard, leaking cock and slides up and down once. 

“Still okay, love?” Jay kisses your cheek, concern in his eyes. You kiss his chest and wrap your hand around his, squeezing the base of his cock, eyes widening when his entire body shudders. 

“Fuck me, baby.” Your thumb brushes against his pink, leaking tip. “Need you so bad.” 

Jay swallows and brushes the back of his hand against your cheek before he presses you into the door and slides his hand under your thigh before lifting your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist. 

Exhaling, Jay grips his cock and lines up with your entrance. The soft scrape of his tip against your pussy makes you both groan and he slowly pushes himself in. The satisfying tightening and burn of his veins against your gummy walls make you both moan in unison and his head falls into the crook of your neck as your pussy swallows his dick. 

“Fuck,” he groans against your skin. “Fuck, baby, feels so good.” You press a soft kiss to his neck and he jerks his hips upwards, filling you to the brim. He kneads the flesh of your ass before he grips your hips tightly and thrusts in you. 

He begins fucking into you at an unsteady pace, your jaw going slack from pleasure as his tip presses against your cervix, making your eyes roll back. You could feel every vein bulging against your walls as he pounds into you, your hands clawing at his back as his pace becomes rougher. 

He sucks the skin of your neck, licking as he bites into your skin sharply, almost breaking skin, and you whimper loudly, tugging his hair. He hips have a mind of their own as he fucks into you roughly, bringing you both closer to your release, abdomens twisting and churning.  

Your walls squeeze around his cock and desperation claws at him as he thrusts erratically and he pushes your body flush against his, forcing your hips to match his bruising pace as more slick poured from your cunt, down his legs, your needy moans mixing with his broken ones. 

“I’m, oh, close–” you stutter out, eyes fluttering shut as Jay’s fingers brush against your clit. Your walls squeeze around him again and he feels the euphoria build in his chest. Stars dance around your eyes as he tilts his head and presses his lips against yours, mumbling against your lips. 

“Cum for me, baby. Please, cum all over my cock,” his voice was desperate, sweet. 

He thrusts into you a few more times and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you come undone for him, falling limp against him as your legs shake. Jay’s hands are all over your body, caressing your skin and mumbling sweet nothings to you. 

His lips press soft kisses to your skin as you coat his dick in your cum, thrusting into you once more as warm ropes of his cum fill you up. He mumbles your name like a prayer as he continues to kiss you, continues to cum, filling you up. He’s hips are still moving slowly against yours as he fucks his cum into you, whispering quiet praises of love against your skin.

Your entire body is shaking and you can barely feel your legs and Jay slides both of his hands under your thighs before lifting you up, your legs wrapping around him securely as his dick twitches inside your sopping cunt. 

When your eyes meet, he parts his lips to tell you he loves you, but you pull him into a burning kiss, tongues and teeth clashing. You moan into his mouth at the intimacy of it all–the way his cock is still buried inside you, the way your mixed juices leak out of you and down his legs, the gentle caress of his hands as he whispers loving praises into your mouth. 

You pull away and your lips curve into a smile at the way Jay’s lips glisten, at the way he keeps his eyes shut for a moment longer before his eyes meet yours. You’re both sweating, panting, ignoring the fact that your neighbors definitely heard you. He smiles at you and you brush the hair sticking to his forehead. 

“I love you, Jay.” 

His eyes soften considerably and he presses his forehead against yours, nose brushing yours before he smiles. “And I love you, baby.” 

You cup his cheek and a wicked, insatiable glint enters your eyes and Jay’s cock twitches inside you, making you both hum. You tilt your head and smile at him widely before grinding your hips against his, pulling a groan out of him. 

“Now,” you press a kiss against his jaw. “Fuck me on the bed.” 

Jay’s already moving to your shared bedroom, making sure to walk slowly as his cock slides in and out of you at the movement. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“As you wish, princess.” 

[ashlynlovestlou]

birthday girl ;) ellabs x reader

꩜ synopsis: ellie and abby give you a special birthday present

꩜ cw: ellabs x reader , smut with a little plot , sub! reader , dom! ellie , switch! abby , double penetration , dirty talk , praise , strap use , no use of y/n , reader sometimes referred to as "birthday girl" , fem! reader , possessive! ellie (only at the beginning) , ellie and abby have a bulge , strap use , reader is 21 , they eat cake off of reader's body (lol) , overstimulation , pet names , tummy bulge , implied wax kink , pussy slapping

nsfw!! men dni. masterlist

☆—-------------------------------------------------------------—☆

You weren't drunk. Just mildly buzzed, nothing more and nothing less. But the whiskey Dina got you for your birthday was coursing through your body, and you'd be damned if you couldn't feel it.

Ellie was the one that initiated your surprise party, Abby helping her with planning it. It didn't take them long, because they both equally knew you weren't hard to please. Just your favorite people, some music and some booze was all it took to make you happy.

Of course, it wouldn't truly be your birthday without a birthday dress. This morning when you were getting dressed you were couldn't decide between the purple dress that Abby got you, and the pink one that Ellie got you. You couldn't wear one without pissing off the other. But you made an internal compromise with yourself. Wear Abby's for the first half of the party, then Ellie's for the second half.

You were halfway through with Abby's dress. And you could tell Ellie was getting pissed off. Her hand was gripping your thigh every time you sat down, but it wasn't sweet. It was possessive.

Abby sits on the other side of you, her arm settled around your waist, her fingers lightly tracing the spaces in between your ribs. Neither of them could take their hands off of you, but both of them had different intentions.

"Why aren't you wearing the dress I got you?" Ellie mutters, her tone having an undertone of harshness.

"I wanted to wear both of yours." You respond bluntly, the nonchalant shrug pissing her off to a higher degree.

"You look better in pink." She says, loud enough for Abby to hear. Which, she does. But she pays no mind.

"Why don't you tell our girl how good she looks instead of getting all pissed she's not wearing your dress?" Abby says, an utter calmness in her voice.

"Why don't you shut the hell up?" Ellie counters, her and fingers mistakenly digging into your thighs. You squirm a little, and she loosens her grip.

Abby merely rolls her eyes, her grasp on your waist tightening, "Let's not fight on her birthday." She says, seemingly calm despite the argument.

For the rest of the party, Ellie wouldn't get her hands off of you. She was always touching your shoulder, your hips, your waist, the small of your back, etc. She was clingy as hell, and you knew why.

Once the last guest said goodbye, her entire demeanor changed, "You want your birthday present?" You nod, your tipsy smile brightening up. "Go lay down. Abby and I will be there in a second."

Obediently, you go lay down on your shared bed, kicking off the heels that had begun to rub on the back of your feet. Not long after, Abby had joined you, shuffling through the bedside table.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" You ask, watching her meticulously.

Abby chuckles before pulling out her strap. It was the longest and most girthy one the three of you owned, and it was your least favorite. It sting and you could never get used to the thickness, "Per Ellie's requests."

"Abs, I can never take that one, I-"

"I know, honey. We'll take care of it." She says as Ellie walks in after them. Her anger had faded from earlier, her expression now only filled with lust.

"Y'ready cupcake?"

Just at her words you could feel dampness pooling in your panties, and you subconsciously rub your thighs together. Of course, Ellie notices and shoves your knees apart, causing your dress to ride up your thighs, "How many times you wanna cum, baby?"

Your eyes widen at her bluntness, but you hold up one finger. She and Abby exchange glances before Ellie tuts you, "How about... we give you the number you just turned. How's that sound, birthday girl?"

Your jaw drops in sheer shock, the thought of having 21 orgasms making your head spin, "S' too much."

You earned yourself an eye roll from both girls, "You can take it. Afterwords, we'll treat you. How's that sound?"

You nod, biting your bottom lip to settle your nerves. Abby presses her plush lips onto yours, a sudden warmth bubbling up in your tummy.

"Get it nice and lubed up. Don't wanna hurt the birthday girl." Ellie says, slowly taking your panties off and throwing them off to the side of the bed. Your dress was next, leaving you completely naked.

"So pretty, baby." Abby coos, handing the monstrosity of a strap-on to Ellie, who immediately fastens it on over her clothes.

For a moment Ellie doesn't move, just watching you and Abby. Until you realize what she was waiting on. Abby was putting a strap on too, this one much more tolerable than the one that Ellie was currently wearing.

"Wanna take us both at once?" Abby asks, earning an eager nod from you.

After a few minutes of maneuvering around, Abby settled beneath you and Ellie behind you. Both girls had firm grips on you, Abby's hands playing with your ribs and Ellie's rubbing up against your ass.

"Tell us when you're ready, baby girl." Ellie says, teasing you by bumping the tip of the strap up against your hole.

"Who goes first?" Abby asks from below you.

"Let's get the hard part over with. I will." Abby says, slowly sliding the silicone into your ass. You yelp, your hands instantly squeezing onto Abby's shoulders.

"Shhh... you're okay." Abby coos, gently rubbing your skin with her calloused and oddly cold fingers. Ellie let's you adjust to her strap before she turns to Abby, nodding to her. Without warning, Abby eases the cock into you, both of the girl's only being separated by a thin layer of flesh, "Theeeere we go..."

You wince at the burn, feeling your stomach bulge just at the full feeling in your dripping cunt.

"You okay, baby?" One of them asks, but you're too busy focusing on the feeling to tell. You just nod, sinking your hips down onto both of their faux cocks at once.

"Good girl." Abby says, holding your waist to help guide you up and down.

All that was heard was the sound of the squelching between your legs and not one, not two, but three different sets of moaning. You looked so pretty to both of them, your plush tits on display for Abby and your ass out for Ellie, both of them equally as pleased with the view.

"S' too much." You whine, trying to squirm away from the burn. Ellie does you the favor by pulling you black and slamming the toy back into your hole, bottoming out in one go. You scream out, and Abby shushes your cries with gentle and tender kisses on your lips. She was always the one to comfort you, drying your tears and kissing your cheek while Ellie ever so mercilessly pounded you. It was never an uncommon instance.

"You've got it, baby. Breathe." She coos, giving Ellie a death stare as if to tell her to be more gentle. Meanwhile, Abby's strap was hitting you right where you wanted it. She moved her hips to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves. The spongey spot inside you that makes you moan.

"I've got an idea." Ellie says with a snicker, slowing her movements. She pulls out too quick, making you groan at the emptiness of your ass. Abby slowly pulls out too, letting you fully collapse on top of her.

You're a complete mess, crying into Abby's shoulder as she rubs your bare back as Ellie runs off.

"You wanna try something?" She asks when she returns, her arms full of things. You weakly pull your head up, glancing at the haul she as. You can't make out the objects, except for a bottle of whipped cream and a can of cherries.

Abby laughs at the sight of it, knowing exactly what she's doing.

"I think the birthday girl deserves her cake, don't you think, Ellie?" Abby says, gently shifting you off of her so you're laying face up on the bed.

Before you knew it, Abby was spraying mounds of whipped cream over your tits. It was colder than you'd expected, shivering as it hits your smooth skin. Once both of your boobs were perfectly covered, Ellie does the honor of placing the cherries on top.

"Look at you, honey." Abby can't help but giggle, grabbing the discarded whipped cream and spraying a dapple into your mouth. You laugh and gladly lick the rest of the white treat off your lips.

Ellie takes out a small box of candles, a stupid smile on her face as she rips them open and places them meticulously in the whipped cream. Abby grabs the lighter right out of her hands, lighting the candles right up on top of you.

The pink wax drips down from the flame, slowly creeping down to your skin. It burns for a millisecond before the wax settles and hardens. Ellie lets out a low groan, relishing in the sight of it.

Abby bends down, licking a fat stripe of the whipped cream off your nipple. Everyone giggles and laughs at the movement, Ellie mimicking her and licking off the whipped cream on your other breasts.

Abby grabs a fistful of your birthday cake, smearing it all over your stomach and thighs. You were more of a mess than before, covered in your own slick, your girls' saliva, whipped cream and now chocolate birthday cake. The white and pink icing smears all over your skin.

Ellie bends down, licking a thick strip of cake off your thigh and nibbling you in the process. Abby grabs another handful of the icing, drawing a line with her finger from your belly button all the way down to your clit. She licks it up and relishes the taste of you.

"Ellie, you've gotta try this." Abby says, taking some cake and smearing it in the same fashion for Ellie. She smiles, lifting your legs up and placing them over her shoulders to get a better angle, then attaches her lips to your skin. Her warm tongue travels down until she latched onto your clit, sucking vigorously on it and pulling moans from your lips.

"Gonna' make you scream." Ellie says, easing a finger into your hole.

You squeak, squirming slightly until Abby holds you down. She pecks your cheek, shushing you softly as Ellie pumps in and out. She curls her fingers, still sucking and licking on your clit.

"E-Ellie-" You whine, everything from the waist below starting to tingle.

"This is what you get for not wearing that pretty dress I bought for you." She states simply, her tone not angry or disappointed, but plain emotionless.

"I'm sorry, Els, please let me cum." You plead, your legs tensing up and beginning to close around her hand.

She takes her hand out, shoving her fingers into Abby's mouth, who closes her plush lips around her knuckles and licks up your slick, smiling down at you as she does so. It was almost sadistic the way they touched you and looked at you like this.

"Now... are you going to be a good girl for Ellie?" Abby says, gently pressing a kiss to your temple.

You have no choice but to nod, the only thought going through your mind being that this is going to be a long night.

[sammigrll]

thibking abt college frat boy bf Ron im spiraling he so fine i wont him🙁

frat house rules | ron weasley

warnings: underaged drinking, 18+ characters, it gets a little steamy

|an: yayyy this is a lot of plot kinda not enough dialogue but pt 2 ganna bc sm better & steamier i swearsiez this is also lowkey based on real events LOL

w.c: 1.2k

part one part two

“oorrrr…we could pregame here.” you said, finalizing the last few touches of your makeup, slight worry was laced within your words, evident to your best friend beside you, who was straightening her hair. 

“yeah, OR we could drink with a bunch of hot frat boys surrounding us,” your friend said, looking at your face for a response, which she received in a worrisome facial expression. a large sigh from her filled the room before she spoke again, “c'mon, we need to get out there more. and the guy i’ve been talking to is actually really cool. i don’t think it’s one of those freaky frats.” she’d said, already up and changing into her clothes for the night with you following her lead. 

“yeah, okay, well, i'm ready, so let’s just go.” slightly frustrated, you finished lacing your sneakers and huffed out in feigned annoyance. your friend, knowing you, smiled and rolled her eyes as you smiled back. although the thought of getting drunk with a bunch of random guys left you a little anxious, you were still excited to party with your best friend. 

“it’s all a part of the college experience, babe. i’ll be right there with you, eevenn if my tongue is shoved halfway down dean thomas’ throat.” you felt your worries begin to subside as you let out a laugh at her statement while you both walked, arms linked, out the door.

“i’m telling you, ron, total BOMBSHELL! you’ll see when she gets here for the pregame…and i think she’s bringing a friend...” dean said as he looked at ron and raised a brow.

ron laughed and shoved his friend as let out a laugh, beginning to work on inserting a tap into their keg of beer. 

“i don’t know, dean, i just got out of that weird situationship with lavender… i don’t want to seem like a man-whore or anything.. of that nature.” ron said, turning the tap clockwise into the insert until it was snug enough to his liking. 

“you mean your snogstuaonship? come on, mate, i don’t think it was that serious.” dean said, chuckling and clapping ron on the shoulder, trying to convince his friend. the only response he received was an unsure look from ron. 

“listen, man, offers on the table. i could set you up if you meet her, and if all goes well.” dean offered with a sympathetic smile, leaving ron to sit with his thoughts as he exited the room to join the other brothers in setting up for the party. 

“i think i'm going to throw up.” you told your friend as you walked up the stairs to the door of the frat. anxiety bubbled in your stomach as you heard the music that was already blaring through the walls, but the lights were still on. 

“you’re not gonna throw up.” your friend said, rolling her eyes in feigned annoyance, calling dean on the phone to let him know you guys were there.

you waited a few moments before the door swung open and the music, once muffled, was now damn near deafening. 

“girls! come in.” dean said, moving to the side and staring only at your friend with the biggest fuck-me eyes you’d ever seen. it was going to be a long night for you, you could tell. 

the pregame had gone well so far; you mostly kept to yourself and spoke only when spoken to, making light conversation as you stood in a group with your friend, dean, his friend ron, and two of their other brothers from their frat. 

you were drunk, however not drunk enough to not realize how absolutely ridiculously hot dean's friend ron was. as a matter of fact, you thought the drunker you got, the easier it would be to talk to him.

little did you know that ron felt the same. when you and your friend walked in, he gawked at you a bit before elbowing dean and giving him a sly smile. elated, dean slapped him back before mouthing an ‘i told you so.’

ron stared at you in awe, feeling a bit nervous before shooting his shot in the form of pouring you all your shots. declaring himself as your ‘drinking buddy’ for the night and taking all of them with you. He decided it would be easier to make his move drunk off his ass as compared to stone-cold sober.

you and ron were getting along so well, feeling the liquor invading both of your senses; you started getting progressively touchier as you engaged in random conversations together that derived from topics the group mentioned, because he didn’t care about what everybody else had to say, he just wanted to know more about you.

then all of a sudden, the boys decide it’s time as people start pouring in from all openings of the frat. shutting the lights off and turning the music up just a bit louder, if that was even possible. your friend immediately grabs your hand, ripping you from ron and leading you to the dance floor. 

as the night progresses, so do yours and ron’s drunken states, as you both start eye-fucking each other from the separate groups you’re in on the dance floor. feeling a warm heat pooling between your legs, as well as a surge of confidence, you decided it was time to make your move. 

your move being making eye contact with him, then looking at the bathroom a couple feet away and cocking your head toward its direction. he got the memo and shot you a goofy grin, nodding his head in agreement. 

you shuffle your way through the crowd and walk past him, stealthily grabbing his hand on the way, ripping him from his friend group, which went pretty unnoticed from his friends, and pull him into the bathroom.

“were you going to keep eye-fucking me all night or make a move?” you stated with a smile before he backed you up against the wall farthest from the door, slotting his hands under your arms and around your waist, pressing your hot bodies together. 

“regardless, it seems like i got you right where i wanted you.” he said before connecting his lips with your own. you sighed into the kiss before bringing your hand up to tangle your fingers into his red head of hair; his grip on your waist tightened as you pulled slightly on the hair laced between your fingers. 

eager for more, ron dragged his tongue along your plump bottom lip, asking for permission to elevate your kiss. you gladly let him in and let the heated kiss became messier as the sounds of smacking lips and moans filled the room. 

ron pulled away for a moment to attach his hot, wet lips to your neck, licking, sucking, kissing, and biting at the flesh as you began to whine and work on the belt of his jeans. 

knock knock knock 

you both instantly froze in your positions. fear stilling your movements as you thought, ‘maybe they’ll go away if we stay really quiet.’

knock knock knock 

“ron? you in there, man?” he heard seamus’ voice from the other end of the door. ron muttered a ‘fuck’ before remembering the rule that was introduced to him the day he was initiated.

“roonn, 10 minutes is up. you know the frat house rules, dude.” the smirk plastered on seamus’ face could be heard from behind the door.

frat house rules? 

[moon-and-candlelight-0501]

Five Times Daisuke Didn’t Fall for her Touch (and the one time he did)

Daisuke x Reader | NSFW!! | ooc | Reader is AFAB and uses She/Her | Friends with Benefits | Plot HEAVY | Car sex | P in V | Cunnilingus | Inexperienced Daisuke (lol) | Blowjobs | Handjobs | Cum mention (?) | Dirty talk if you SQUINT (not rlly though) | Weed | Sex under the influence (weed) | Kissing/making out | Swearing | Implied Art Student!Daisuke | Alchohol mentioned | The curtains are NOT just blue | Angsty

A/N: The warnings make this look so much scarier than it is lol I promise this is VERY vanilla. Yeahhh these were supposed to be just a couple smutshots but I got way too into the story. I’m a sucker for fwb.

story is supposed to have a kind of beachy setting, but picture it as you will.

Wc: 4.3k

One - Remembering the important things. Such as (but not limited to): Dates, places, names, articles of clothing, jewelry, words that were distorted by pleasure

He had met her at a party, or she was watching from the sidelines of the baseball field. Actually, it might have been through a mutual friend on instagram. Whatever, whenever, wherever it had been, he knew he wanted her.

He knew he wanted her when her tanlines peaked out from the green halter-top she wore (or maybe it had been orange?)

He knew she wanted him when her fingers ghosted over his for longer than needed— just to pass a water bottle, or something of the sort. Her fingers left dripping condensation on the coke or sprite bottle, and Daisuke knew she wanted his warmth too.

Daisuke’s assumptions were proven correct when she pulled him into her apartment to “make a change of clothes”, and in all fairness they do technically get halfway there by the time they reach her unmade bed. [Name] is mumbling apologies into his lips — something about her strewn clothes across the room — but Daisuke is feeling much too hot and bothered to care or even notice.

They needed to meet their friends at a bar in an hour, but the way they got down you’d think they were already running thirty minutes late. He couldn’t help it (he also couldn’t deny that he wanted nothing more than to spend hours exploring every inch of [Name]’s sun-kissed skin), they only had so much time together and he needed to get off, like, now (and, fuck, she’s so warm. Maybe it’s the high temperatures, but whatever it is, it’s getting him there fast).

“Shit. you’re tight. Fuckkk, g’na cum quick”

“Dai, pull out-”

And he does nothing less than to oblige immediately. He finishes himself with his hand, cursing under his breath as he does so. When he looks back towards [Name]’s bed, she’s looking straight through him whilst leaning back against her forearms.

“You uh… you didn’t like, finish, huh?” Daisuke asks softly.

“Nah, but you’re good. I don’t have to- shit!”

He’s on his knees faster than she can register it, gently spreading [Name]’s legs apart for easier access.

He’s far from experienced, tongue only just missing her clit every time he ran it up and down. [Name] is quick to guide his head though, right over where she needs him.

Experience he didn’t have, and it was evident, but eagerness? That he did. And it was working for [Name].

Lost in pleasure, [Name] didn’t even notice his hand tracing its way under her thigh and towards her entrance. He slipped a finger in, moaning softly at the warmth he had missed. [Name] on the other hand was practically singing for him, choking out moans into the back of her hand when he slipped another finger in.

“Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He snaked his unoccupied arm under [Name’s] thigh, pushing it up and allowing him to hit new spots inside her. His choices were met with the sweet reward of her gasps, followed by barely coherent words.

“Shit Dai, keep doing- keep doing that… oh my god… don’t change anything jus- just keep doing that.”

When she finished with a squeal, Daisuke pulled away quickly, giving [Name] some space to cool off. Wordlessly, she sat up and scanned the messy bedroom while Daisuke collected himself, shoving his cargo shorts and t-shirt over his body.

“m’gonna change before we leave” [Name] finally stands up, snatching an orange floral bikini and some mini shorts on her way to her bathroom.

It’s a small apartment, and Daisuke finds that simply stepping outside of the room, he is met with her living room that he had not had the time to appreciate earlier. It wasn’t an eyesore or anything, but it definitely had personality that he was too busy (for lack of a better word) earlier to notice before. A large cork board with photos of [Name] and friends, more clothes scattered over the sofa (He’s starting to add up that [Name] is very picky about her outfits), an ashtray in the shape of a sun resting atop a dark oak side table. On the table, there's what seems to be the first strokes of green paint over it, as if she had started the project but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the time. His analyzing is interrupted by [Name] finally leaving her bedroom, now in a pink and orange striped tank-top and light-blue jean skirt.

“You have a nice apartment.” Those are the first words he says after having sex with her within less than eight hours of meeting?

“Uh… thanks? You ready to go?” [Name] asked, grabbing her keys and wallet off the less-than-half-painted side table.

When she takes the lead out the apartment, Daisuke pinches his nose bridge in embarrassment and shakes his head at his own words.

The walk to the beach bar was silent, Daisuke preferred listening to cars and bikes passing by, the birds flapping their wings, and music fading in and out as they strolled past different shops and restaurants. He was burning up, and couldn’t tell if it was because of the high UV or current situation he was in. Granted, it was a short walk. Before he could reach to open the bar doors, [Name] reached for his wrist.

“Daisuke, we’re, like, cool? I mean, it was a nice time but I don’t want to make anything weird or… different… we’re cool?”

Her warm fingers were still on his skin, no different than before. So, Daisuke pulled his hand away from hers and gave her a thumbs-up with a smile.

Two - Following Alcohol Runs and Nicknames, Fogged up Windows are to be Expected

In his cheap Toyota, they have cheaper small talk. The weather, school shopping, all the works. Daisuke hopes that [Name] doesn’t notice the soda stains on his gray microfiber seats, or the smell of weed disguised by his “Caribbean Colada” scented tree hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Dai.” [Name] breaks the silence, and Daisuke freezes up in the driver's seat. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. It’s been a while, I was starting to miss you.”

It’s not like he was trying to avoid her. As the summer died down, the memory of that end-of-June (maybe it was early July?) afternoon did too. Different one-night-stands and complicated almost-somethings made that day seem to just be another drop in the pile of summer flings building for the both of them.

“Shit.” It’s like something snapped in him, Daisuke makes a quick turn behind a Walmart that had already closed for the night. He parked in the middle of the large space, and immediately rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes shut. “Uh, Dai?” [Name] called, but he only groaned against the steering wheel and ran a hand through his dyed hair, “fuckkkk”

“Daisuke. You’re freaking me out a bit.”

He mumbled a few more curses under his breath before raising his head to look at her with those deep brown eyes. Even in the dark lighting [Name] looked so hot. Yeah, she had opted for a zip up hoodie, but by now it had fallen off her shoulders, and Daisuke noticed the very low cut purple tank top she wore under.

“M’sorry” He said against the steering wheel.

“For what?” [Name] leveled her face to meet his eyes.

“Nothing was supposed to be different. It’s just, I dunno. You said my name, and like, everyone calls me Dai, but you just say it some type of way. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

By now Daisuke had turned away from her, but [Name] knew what he was feeling. He got fucking turned on from her saying his name. Well, his nickname. And in all fairness, she understands. The only time she had ever called him “Dai” was when he was between her legs.

Well, she thinks, they’re behind a Walmart after-hours, it’s dark, and no one’s around anyways. What’s another sexual encounter before school starts?

Daisuke felt a hand gliding up his thigh, and he whipped his head around to face [Name].

“I think I need to return the favor from last time” She did her best to speak seductively, but had to bite back a cringe at the fake voice. For Daisuke though, he was way too into it to care.

“What do you mean?” He has to resist the urge to hit himself on the head for this question, but [Name] just chuckles and shifts her body to face him from the passenger seat.

“Dai, just put the seat back.”

Deciding it’s best to not speak, he listens and lies back against the seat, waiting for [Name] to make her move.

“So pretty, you know that?” She praises him as her palm only ghosts over the denim covering his bulge. Daisuke let out a shaky breath, and [Name] decided they really didn’t have any time for teasing. With Daisuke’s help, his jeans and boxers were pulled down in a blur, and [Name] grasped his cock from the base, gently of course. As she leaned over the console, she gingerly kissed his tip and was rewarded with a strewn moan from Daisuke— who was clearly very sensitive, judging by how quickly pre had collected on his tip. [Name] doesn’t waste any more time and takes all that she can of him in her mouth. Daisuke swears he’s died and gone to heaven, completely lost in bliss.

“Fuck, [Name], you’re so good. Feel so good. God, just like that, you’re so good. So pretty.”

He doesn’t say it, but [Name] could feel Daisuke twitching in her mouth and knew that he was about to finish, so she pulled off and looked at his wrecked face. He had a hand tangled in his own hair, mouth open and eyes screwed shut as he whined out, “No, no no.”

He looked almost betrayed at her, eyes glossy like he was about to cry. “Why’d you stop?”

[Name] only chuckled and pressed his chest down onto the carseat, crawling over his legs and going in to kiss him, “Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

The kiss was anything but slow, Daisuke nearly shoving his tongue into her mouth and whimpering against her lips. He only pulled away to moan when her hand found its way back to his cock, stroking him softly. His hips bucked up into her hand, causing her to bounce, giving Daisuke a nice view of [Name]’s tits in that low cut tank.

[Name] sped up her strokes, and Daisuke was practically arching into her touch, the only word he could repeat was “Please, please, please, please.”

When he finally came, most of it dribbled down to his thighs, but a particularly far shot splashed onto [Name]’s tank top, causing Daisuke to ramble apologies as he was still coming because she was still working him through it. when all calmed, [Name] slipped back into her seat and properly zipped her hoodie up.

Daisuke also got himself decent, and they both just sat in the heat of the car.

“Your windows fogged up.”

“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his head in embarrassment

“Nothing's different right?”

And this time, Daisuke was confident in his words,

“Nothings different.”

Three - Ashtray is Put to Good Use (And so is an Art Major)

“Shit, Dai.”

[Name] had her bare back draped over the arm of her couch, the cool leather sending shivers down her spine. Daisuke was above, her waist in his grasp as he placed open mouth kisses trailing from her collarbone down to her abdomen.

“Who taught you about foreplay?” She chuckled and reached for the sun-shaped ashtray on the side table behind her, pinching a near burnt-out blunt between her fingers.

“I’ve gotten some experience in since last time” Daisuke mumbled against her skin, and looked up at her with a coy smile. [Name] rolled her eyes and blew smoke towards him, to which he responded by pressing two fingers against her core through her lounge shorts.

“Fuck.”

Normally she would never be this sensitive, but the weed and the way she was practically on display for him made every nerve spark ten times brighter everywhere his touch lingered.

It was Thanksgiving break, and [Name] had a fat blunt that might as well have been rolled to share. All friends were home or on their way home, except for Daisuke.

It’s not like he didn’t miss his parents, but maybe he didn’t dwell too hard at the first google search revealing that there were no flights home available. Maybe another month to prepare before dealing with the inevitable questions about his future, followed by food being shoved in his face, wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

Not when he could be here instead, between [Name]’s legs. And when she unravels while calling out for him, fingers gripping harshly onto his grown-out roots, for a moment everything is just the same as the first time he went down on her, his head is void of deadlines and applications.

“Damn. Definitely better than the last time.” She teased while pulling up her bottoms, as Daisuke leaned over her to take a last drag from the joint. He hovered for a moment, before she guided his jaw towards hers and spread it slightly to shotgun the smoke. When he pulled away, [Name] tapped his chest lightly, as to signal that he give her some room to sit up, “Thanks.”

“I mean, it wasn’t for you…”

“Hey not that this wasn’t great, but are we gonna keep taking turns going down on eachother or are we actually gonna fuck again at some point?” [Name] disregarded his statement, and Daisuke scoffed before sitting back comfortably against the couch,

“I mean I would. But I’m like actually hungry. Munchies, man.”

[Name] rolled her eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, making her way to the kitchen (it was only on his way home the next morning that Daisuke realized it was his t-shirt she had picked up, and forgotten to return, resulting in an awkward shirtless drive in the middle of November)

“Not that your decor isn’t great or anything, but your side table kind of throws it all off.” Daisuke chatted to her from the couch.

“Eh, I didn't see the point in finishing it. Didn’t have the right supplies, or patience to see it through. Like you said, great decor.”

“You have the paint still?”

“Yeah, Why? Gonna put that Art Major to work?” [Name raised an eyebrow at him from the kitchen, as she grabbed a couple different varieties of chips.

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Four - Broken Heaters and Absent Roomates Aligned

“Thanks for letting me crash, Daisuke.” [Name] sighed, as she threw her duffel bag to the side somewhere beside his second-hand couch. Daisuke nodded, “Yeah of course. They said the freeze is supposed to be pretty bad. Wouldn’t want you sitting in your apartment with a busted heater.” Without words, [Name] acknowledged that any traces of roommates were missing. It was still only just after New Year’s, and Daisuke was clearly the only person who made a beeline to get back on campus.

1:25 AM, and [Name] had only managed an hour-or-so of sleep. She groaned and pulled the thin blanket Daisuke had oh-so graciously provided her with over her shoulders and made her way towards his bedroom.

Her fingers were shaking as she pushed the door open, she could just barely make out Daisuke’s sleeping silhouette, and the edge of his bed. Deciding she had little to lose, [Name] crawled into the bed and shook him by the shoulder slightly.

“Dai. Dai, wake up. Don’t freak out.”

She was only met with a groan, signaling that he was only slightly conscious. “I’m freezing out there, all you left me with is this thin-ass blanket,” she feigned sadness to get his attention.

“No one told you that you had to sleep out there.” He muttered into his pillow.

“I was trying to be appropriate!” She can’t see it, but Daisuke raises an eyebrow at her remark, as if to say, ‘Seriously?’

“Look, my fingers are basically gonna freeze off”

“Let me see,” Daisuke takes her fingers into his grasp and thinks for a moment, “Feels the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno. Your fingers are like, always warm. No different now.”

“Well I feel cold.”

“I know what’d warm you up” He rested his head on the palm of his hand to face her, trying to analyze her face with the little moonlight that hit her just right. She only smiled and lowered her voice,

“Are you serious?”

“If you are,” Daisuke let his head hit the pillow again, and sighed “I’m too tired to move though.”

“God, you’re such a tease. Here, roll over. I’ll get on top.”

Daisuke did as she asked and gave her a loopy smile when she climbed over him.

“So pretty like this.” He ran his hands up and down her clothed sides as she reached into his sleep shorts and gently pulled his length out.

[Name] began to softly stroke him, until he was hard enough to slip in. Daisuke was already huffing out and tightening his grip on her waist. She lifted herself up a bit to slip her bottoms off, and when Daisuke went to assist, his hand was met with thin silk.

“No shorts?” He chuckled and she playfully slapped his chest,

“Shut up. Are you ready?”

“Mhm.”

[Name] inhaled and sunk herself onto him slowly. Daisuke was groaning at every inch of her core that he felt. When her hips finally met his, [Name] gasped and entangled her fingers with his, pinned beside his head.

Yeah, the sex felt great. It always had. but the view Daisuke had right now, [Name]’s bottom lip caught between her teeth, hair in every direction. He thought she was more beautiful than any beach sunset, late night drive or joint shared between two lonely people. Here, in her oversized tee, was the most gorgeous work of art Daisuke had ever seen, sat on his dick.

When her hips started rocking to a steady pace, he brought her right hand to his lips and mumbled praises into her fingers.

“So good for me.”

“You’re gorgeous here.”

“Just like that, keep going.”

They finished at the same time. [Name] rolled onto her back beside him, still catching her breath. Daisuke turned his head to meet her eyes, but she wasn’t looking back.

“It’s different.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, slightly panicked.

“We’re at my place this time, you were on top, and you’re staying over. In my bed.”

“Yeah. In your navy blue sheets. Nice.”

“Do you feel different?” He pushed, but her eyes still wouldn’t meet his.

“You told me how I feel, Daisuke,” she sighed “the same, right?”

He nodded and looked back up at the ceiling,

“Warm.”

Five - Finding Comfort in Activities Other than Sex; Baking, Reading, Calling up a friend, Painting, etc.

The biting chill of winter had long dissipated, April showers had passed and May flowers were blooming as they do every year. Pinks, oranges, greens, they bloom before [Name]’s eyes, and it’s almost as beautiful as the days and nights spent with Daisuke.

Almost.

Finals season.

This afternoon pens are scattered around her living room floor, along with forgotten notebooks and sticky notes with words scribbled on that mean nothing to either of them, what matters is their connection, where they connect. Between each other's legs, on [Name]’s brown leather couch. The familiar summer breeze made for a sweaty study-session-turned-hookup, but [Name] is in her element. She’s almost too lost to notice the puffiness on Daisuke’s face, how his eyes are screwed shut, lips tucked in. Almost.

“Wait- Daisuke, stop.”

He halted any movements immediately, all hands off her skin. He was trying to catch his breath and search for any signs of discomfort on her face.

“Is it, um, are you-“

“Daisuke, are you crying?”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is, you could’ve at least let yourself finish”

The second [Name] saw the smallest tear pricking at his eyes, she pulled herself away from him immediately, and suggested that they both get decent.

“I couldn’t possibly in good conscience hook up with you when you’re clearly upset.” She explained, whilst handing him a coke and taking a seat next to him. Daisuke muttered just a small ‘Thank you’, opened it, and took a drink immediately as if to show that he didn’t feel like furthering the conversation.

[Name] sighed and propped herself up on her palms, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But you’re more than just some fuck-buddie to me, okay? I’m not gonna send you home after you clearly had an emotional experience.”

Daisuke took another sip of coke.

“Hey, since we have the time, think you could finish painting my table for me?” She nudged him.

And paint he did. At some point Daisuke wondered how little patience [Name] must have to not complete such a project. Her side table was a standard square one, the hardest part being the wait between each coat of paint. On the third and final, Daisuke finally decided to speak up about the earlier situation,

“My mom got me an internship.”

[Name]’s eyes lit up, “Oh my god! Daisuke, that’s really awesome. Where at?”

Daisuke painted over the last small area that needed its final quote. As he put his brush down, he turned his body towards her,

“Space.”

She laughed.

One - No excuses.

July 27th.

The air was still sweetly sticky with Summer, every fan unit blowing in [Name]’s apartment.

Today, there was no meetup to attend. No late night convenience store runs, no smoke to share, no broken AC unit, and no finals to pretend to study for. There wasn’t an excuse, just an “I’ll be there in 10” text. [Name] dressed herself up without knowing why. It’s another outfit that will be thrown on the floor the moment that boy walks through the front door. She glossed her lips, and rolled her lashes with mascara, but she knew that the gloss would be kissed off within the hour, and she has to hope that the mascara won’t run by the end of the night.

Without much surprise, no words are exchanged when he walks into her apartment. In fact, the door isn’t even closed before her lips are on his. It’s messy. As a matter of fact, she might have missed his lips the first time because pink lipgloss smudged against his cheek, but neither of them seemed to notice.

When they make it to her bed, all clothes are off. Daisuke pressed his lips against her neck as he lined himself up with her. When he pressed in, he started off with strings of praises. But the closer he was to finishing, his words began to sound like whispers of goodbyes.

“I’m gonna miss you, fuck, so much.”

It was slow, and careful, and nothing like the first time. And when he kissed her, it was like he was trying to make up for every individual day he would be gone on that goddamn ship.

“I love you.” Daisuke whined as he came with her. [Name] pretended like she didn’t hear.

They didn’t exchange words that night. Both of them took turns cleaning themselves in the bathroom, and then crawled into her queen bed. It’s not weird to hold a friend who you won’t see for a while, so that’s what they did.

Daisuke woke up first the next morning, [Name] still in his arms. The sunlight had already begun filtering in through her blinds, and it made her look majestic. He took this time for himself, to trace shapes on her bare back. To brush the hair from her face, and memorize her features. When she stirred awake, [Name] did her best to avoid eye contact, a common tactic she used in these situations. Surprisingly though, Daisuke believed this was his first time seeing her anywhere near bashful. He kissed the top of her head before speaking,

“It’s all different now.”

And [Name] almost winces. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Daisuke chuckled and pulled back from her a bit, “No, it’s different.”

“Why though?” [Name] sat up now. She was trying to salvage anything left of what they had. Trying to salvage the year they had, as if she could make it extend, and they could stay 22 forever.

“Because I don’t expect you to let life pass you by, waiting 382 days for your friend-with-benefits,” he explained, “but up there, It’s like I’ll be frozen where I am now. When I come back down, I’ll still feel 22. I’ll still want to leech off my parents and drop important things just to do stupid shit like painting a table.”

“It’s only a year.”

“A year that I will only be able to think about you the entire time. As long as I see the sun I’ll think of the summer I met you, and as long as I see the moon I’ll think of how you took me in my own car, or how you crawled into my bed that January night.”

Silence fell between the both of them now that there were no more words to say but goodbye. Leave it to Daisuke to find something else though,

“Why’d we do this anyways?” He asked, more directed towards himself than anything. Still, [Name] replied,

“Why’d I keep the side table I was never gonna paint?”

[mirainwonderland]

Hi,hope you are well and doing fine. So ,today I was playing Stardew Valley, loving the spring,and although it rains a lot,the sound it's very soothing. I was on my way to see( my crush and in the game because it reminds me of Leon. Don't know why. Maybe because he works ? I don't know.) Alex,and I had the urge to get in Tumblr ( to read specially Leon's fics ofc.) ,and then I read your fic,your most recent one. As if your fic about Leon acting intense when jealous didn't already made me imagine somethings and making me wanting to kiss him more than I usually do,your last fic made me feel my cheeks burn. Gosh ,how bad I just wanted that to happen! Gosh, you write such yummy bits. I can't help but wanting to ask if you could,at least just , I don't know,write a short one shot of the continuation of your last ? Goodness, I really wanna keep being able to read your delicious thoughts.

You are so sweet 🥹 this means so much that someone likes what I spew out of my brain. Also loving that we both love Stardew Valley and RE! I really should post more content about how that’s going because I’m doing a Leon play through rn cause he deserves a little peace and quiet.

Anyway my head immediately went to the ribbon one shot (Read Here), so I wrote a continuation for that, I hope that’s okay! I haven’t written smut in a hot minute, so idk how good this is it flew out of my fingertips at like 1AM don’t y’all come for me lol. I’ll see if I can’t cook up some inspiration for the others you mentioned ☺️ thank you for the request and enjoy <3

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Tags: MDNI, smut little to no plot, Leon x afab reader, kinda vanilla actually, doggy (i think?) and prone, cunnilingus (f receiving), technically unprotected but not explicitly stated (?), m dom x f sub implied, praise praise praise (so much yummy praise and being talked through it ugh)

2.5k words

Enjoy :)

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“Leonnn!” You’re half-laughing, half-whining tone isn’t deterring him much as he marches down the hall with you in a secure grip. He bounces your legs draped over one arm, reminding you just how stuck you are. You’re going nowhere, and the only struggling you can do is wiggle your torso and kick your feet. Which isn’t very effective, by the way. Halfway there, he puts you down, and you think for a minute that he was just bluffing after all and is gonna let you go.

Wrong.

He readjusts his grip on you and slings you over his shoulder like a delicate sack of potatoes. Even when he’s rough he’s gentle, and you have a heartbeat in two places all of a sudden.

“Leon!” You squawk, but he just chuckles, and you can feel the rumble through his shoulders. It vibrates through your body and makes it tremble in anticipation.

Begrudging anticipation, of course. Which unsurprisingly won’t last that long.

“No, put me down!” You whine as he kicks open the bedroom door and crosses the floor.

“Sure, babe.” He huffs as he all but throws you on the bed. You bounce on the mattress. Hands still bound together flop above your head and the fingers of one of his big hands wrap around them, keeping them put. He leans over you, settling a knee against the edge of the mattress.

“How’s that?”

You puff out your cheeks in annoyance, but it melts away when he gives you a soothing kiss. Your frown relaxes, even if the slight petulance in your eyes lingers for a beat longer.

“You’re mean.” You say, without the previous bite in your voice. Your eyes scan over the lines of his face, studying the expression that regards you so intimately now.

“To you? Never.”

He tugs open your neckline and descends on your neck with nothing short of an open mouth and a wet tongue. Your eyes slide closed, an agreeing sound slipping from your lips for a change. His mouth his hot and soothing, the way his tongue laves over the skin. He kisses up toward your ear, letting his breath hit the shell in the way he knows sends goosebumps down your spine.

Sure enough, you shiver.

“Yeah… you’re a pretty package, alright.” He hums into it, forcing another shiver through your vibrating bones. You’re all wrapped up in a pretty little bow just for him. And you look so flushed and innocent beneath him, with the tip of your nose matching your cheeks, that he has to bite back a groan himself. His jeans feel a little tighter.

His hand on your wrists slides down your forearm a bit, stroking the sensitive skin on the inside with a gentle thumb motion. That produces a satisfying sound.

A sound he likes a lot.

Your whole body jerks, and you writhe beneath him, your body rolling with the waves of sensation and electricity he sends through you with that simple touch.

“Leon that tickles!”

“Yeah, you like that?”

“Stop!” You stifle an amalgamation of a laugh and a moan.

The corner of his lip lifts. He leans up over you so he can trail his lips down the inside of your forearm, making you twitch. Your wrists writhe in their silk prison. His chest touches your nose, and his scent fills your lungs and numbs your brain.

“C’mon, Leon. Untie me.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

Normally he’s not such a menace. But work’s been hell, and when you’d distracted him with that pretty little ribbon of yours he just couldn’t help himself.

He gives your forearm a little nip, and then he’s pulling back again. He looks down at you, with his arms braced on either side, and studies your expression for a minute.

“You wanna stop, you tell me to stop. Understand?” He searches your eyes, double checking to make sure you really want this.

“Okay.” You say, the sound of your voice so cute and meek, he has a hard time not getting hard.

“Okay.” He repeats, leaning back to he can tug his shirt off, eyes fixed on you watching him with rapt attention. You want this, he can see it in your eyes. You’d tell him if you really didn’t.

His shirt is off his back and on the floor, and he’s leaning in again, sweeping his tongue into your mouth. You breathe in sharply through your nose, choking on a moan as he comes in stronger than you expected.

But it’s not unwelcome.

Your bound hands come down from above your head to rest against his chest. It’s about all the touching you can do, and you whine at him for it, giving him those eyes that say ‘please, baby’. He’s almost half-inclined to untie you at the pathetically cute look on your face, but he digresses. He has plans, and you’re not gonna foil them.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart.” He kisses behind your ear as a soothing apology.

He goes to tug off your tank top, and realizes too late that it’s damn near impossible with your hands tied together like they are. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, knowing you’re gonna hate him for this— but he does it anyway.

There’s a prominent SNAP as the straps are ripped off your shoulders, and your tank top is tugged down and off your body.

“Leon!”

“Shhh, sh sh sh.” He immediately swoops in to soothe you with kisses everywhere. “I’ll buy you a new one, baby.”

You can’t really be too mad. He kisses you to shut you up, and trails his tongue down your neck to pepper more smooches over your braless chest.

It’s easy to forget about the ruined tank top.

“Ah!” Your back bows half an inch off the bed.

“That’s it baby, sing for me.”

Your pink buds stiffen, and he nudges his nose against one of them before taking it into his mouth. Your eyes roll back and your vision goes static for a moment as the sudden rush of pleasure has your back arching again.

He works down your body, kissing and touching all the skin he has access to, and uncovering more. He works down to the waistband of your sweats and tugs them off without ceremony. The whole while, you whine his name and writhe underneath his ticklish kisses like you’ve never been touched before.

He nudges his nose against them when you’re left in just your panties, breathing you in through the damp fabric. A dark flush comes to your cheeks and you close your eyes, only to feel his hand snake its way back up your body and gently nudge your chin down toward him. On instinct you open your eyes.

“Ah ah, baby. Look at me.”

Your whole body feels like it’s trembling from the inside. Like a shiver that won’t quite come to fruition, making your muscles clench and groan with delicious tension that makes you want to make noise. You bite down on your lip, clenching the sheets in your hands above your head.

He mouths your clothed folds, making you whimper and jolt. His teeth snag the edge of your panties and peel it aside, nuzzling his way underneath.

Your eyes roll back when his tongue licks a long strip up the entire length of your sex. You let out the most satisfied moan, and get the sexiest grunt vibrating against you in return.

“Fuck baby, look at you.” He mumbles from against your mound. His tongue licks again, lapping at the path of your nectar to its source. His tongue slides inside shallowly, making you moan and clench the sheets a little harder. Your knuckles turn white.

His tongue laves lazily in and out for a moment, until his hunger takes over. He brings his hand up to hold your panties to the side so he can take a proper bite out of you. And then his tongue goes to work again, with a mission this time. The sounds he draws out of you are pure sin and sugar.

His mouth wraps around your clit and sucks on it, earning a satisfying reaction. His tongue circles it, trailing the tip of it down through your slick folds to your entrance. He teases and prods you without really giving you what it is you want. His tongue slides inside, teasing that sweet spot by barely touching it with the tip of his tongue, and then he retracts it again.

And again.

And again.

“Leon, please!” You pant, unable to squeeze your legs closed and relieve some of the tension he’s creating. He holds your thighs open, getting his fill of your sweet flavor.

“I know, baby. Just be patient.”

He comes up, wiping his chin of your juices, his hair slightly disheveled. God, he looks so sexy like this, and there’s nothing you can do about it. So you whine your heart out.

He chuckles, passing the back of his hand over his mouth.

“I know. I got you.”

His clothes (sans boxers) are gone in the blink of an eye, and he leans over you again. You pout up at him, so turned on you’re gonna fucking scream if he doesn’t just give it to you already.

Just as you think he’s about to lean down and give you a taste of yourself, his hands grab you and flip you over onto your hands and knees. You can hardly get out a startled cry before his weight is over top of you, caging you in under him. He has your head between his arms as he braces himself up on the bed, sensually rubbing himself against your dripping slit through both your underwear as he breathes against your ear.

“Yeah, just like that. Easy, girl.”

You gasp and moan, trying to keep yourself upright underneath his weight with your hands tied together.

“Leon-“

“Good girl. Hold that position for me.”

He reaches down behind you, fingers gently skimming your naked side on the way down, making you twitch and shiver. You’re shaking under him, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

He loves pushing you to your limit. If he can make you utterly exhausted by the end of this, then he’ll cuddle you a happy man.

His fingers hook the waistband of your soaked panties, and pull them off you in a smooth practiced motion.

“Easy, baby.” He encourages as he fumbles for his own, working them off too so nothing is standing in between you and him. His boxers hit the floor.

“Atta girl.”

He doesn’t give you much of a warning. One second his palm is soothingly massaging your ass, the next minute, he’s halfway sunk into your tight heat.

“Oh!” Every muscles in your stomach clenches, your ovaries moan in pleasure. You flutter around him as he slowly sinks himself all the way in and bottoms out. Your head drops forward, heavy breaths and moans mingling together as you try to maintain form.

“C’mon baby. Good. You’re doing so good.” He coos when he feels you clench around him. Fuck, you feel good. His mouth leaves soothing kisses across your shoulder blades. He nuzzles the back of your neck.

And then he’s moving.

Slow, lazy pumps at first. In and out. In and out in a predictable rhythm. But once you’re adjusted and he just can’t take it anymore, he speeds up.

The chorus of your moans is music to his ears as he thrusts into you from behind in time with your rapid heartbeat. You start shaking even worse, and it just fills him with a sense of pride that he’s doing his job right. Your head spins, and you really don’t think you can hold yourself up anymore.

“I can’t-“

He watches you closely. He knows your tells. He drops a kiss to your shoulder.

“I know.”

He pushes you down so you’re prone, stretching your pretty ribbon bound wrists above your head. You sigh as your flushed cheek meets the mattress gently. His arm slips underneath your tummy, arching your hips and curving your back. He presses his forearm into you, putting pressure on your tummy just the way he knows gets you.

His thrusts get just a little more powerful and insistent.

You whimper loudly, high-pitched and needy. The thin sheen of sweat gathering on both your bodies is making you stick to each other, and he loves it. Every part of you can’t get enough of him. He feels a wave of self-satisfaction wash through him that makes his chest feel warm, and his dick twitch.

“That’s it. Pretty girl. You gonna cry for me?”

You nod frantically against the sheets, the knot winding up tightly in your abdomen.

“C’mon then. Be a good girl.”

“Ngh! Hah hah!” You grunt, panting hotly against the sheets. “Leon, please-!”

“Let it happen, honey.”

“I need it!” Your chest jolts against the bed.

“I know. Whenever it comes. Just let it, okay?”

The way you’re erratically squeezing and clenching around him, he knows he doesn’t have that much longer either. He grunts through his teeth, gripping your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“C’mon, c’mon.” He coaxes. He leans forward, rubbing his nose against your spine. He presses a few kisses down it. He feels you tighten up and he straightens again.

“That’s a good girl. Let me see you.”

And that’s when it snaps like a rubber band. You bury your face in the sheets and scream as wave after waves of mind-numbing sensation shakes you to your very core.

“There—” He pants. “—there she is.”

You clench down hard, and take him with you. He grunts as his hips jerk forward, the tension snapped for him too. The world turns white as his vision blurs and his muscles convulse. Just watching the way you tremble beneath him gets him grunting in your ear and biting the shell.

Everything feels so quiet after that. All that’s left is your heavy breathing. No more slapping of skin, or high-pitched moaning, or anything really. Your brain feels numb and quiet and the world feels reverent in the silence of the afterglow.

Sheets rustle, a soft kiss on your lobe. He gets off you, rolling you to your side so he can see your face. The back of his finger touches the apple of your cheek gently, and you let your unfocused eyes close softly with a gentle smile.

“You alright?” He hums, his voice a low, sexy vibration in his chest. He sounds a little raspy in the aftermath, and it’s your favorite thing.

You manage a nod and he gets up, tugging your hands free from the ribbon. You feel boneless and mind-numb, and you’re not really sure you want to leave this feeling behind anytime soon.

“Leon?” You murmur as you lay there while he cleans both of you off with his t-shirt.

“Hm?”

“Can I be your pretty little package again?”

You hear a deep, throaty chuckle. He leans in, and leaves a soft little kiss against your nose.

“Anytime you want, baby.”

[stellar-collective]

I'm asking real niceys for you to talk about beebo!! 🙋‍♂️

holy CRAB this took a long time to get to, so sorry about that, my thoughts on the game were so disorganized i kept putting it off lol!! when u see how much i have written down u will understand. u will understand.

this is gonna be my ~spoiler review~ where i ramble incoherently about character and plot beats i liked! this will assume that you have played the game and remember it well. if u want the spoiler free version, that one can be found here! you have been warned!

ok so a lot of this are taken straight from the notes i jotted down whilst replaying the game! very stream of consciousness style lol

alrighty! right off the bat, this game just has SO much quality of life stuff that you’d think would get overlooked bc it’s such a small project but no! like seriously this game is way better than some Big Company games i’ve played that have cost, y’know, money. like for example, i touched on this in my spoiler free review but the way the dialogue changes throughout the loops? first loop, all of Oliver’s observations are brief and impersonal, leaving plenty of room for them to develop as the loops progress

i said in my first ramble post that Mari made me laugh out loud towards the beginning; this was incorrect, it was actually VIVI who made me laugh with her “i arrive.”

speaking of Vivi, she’s just peak. in general. i love her so much she’s such a vibe and i don’t think there was a single scene she was in that she didn’t make me laugh or smile like what an icon

the introduction to the time loop was KILLER ooh it had so much intrigue behind it already. also the IMMEDIATE implication of the memories carrying over with Oliver quoting Ángel’s “this isn’t the best place to get trashed” (they’re down so bad already AUGH)

haunted houses. oh my gosh. put those things up there with taming robots from Oneshot for “game concepts that make me BONKERS” like. i gained so much appreciation for that lore when i got all the endings. it’s delicious.

also the relationship between haunted houses and the concept of ghosts and how both relate to Oliver…

also love how every loop there’s a way for Oliver to learn the code without the player just knowing it! the fourth wall remains intact (we ain’t playing deltarune…)

I HEART DOOMED/TOXIC SIBLING RELATIONSHIPSSSS and oh how i love how much the characters in this game act like deeply irrational people with layers of relationships and trauma and love that muddles things up and affects their actions it’s so nice <333

Nina’s “mad at me island” joke was a one hit KO for me

after the explosion when Ángel is reaching THROUGH the panel borders and the clock echoes slow and loud AHHHH (also “i never got his name. he looks like an Angel” KILL ME KILL ME NOW)

i LOVEEE how the loops echo and echo and echo with the memory loss being imperfect and how that makes you the player never doubt that it can be cracked and sets up the endings

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE COLORS i knowwww it’s simple but SHH i’m having fun. absolutely ADORE how everything is Eugene’s purple until they break the house and his hold over them and then everyone gets their own colors back. also love how you don’t even realize that they HAVE their own colors until the flashbacks (maybe) or the end when you’re like “ohhhh that’s NOT normal.” the house changes u. filters u. ur only halfway urself. AND THEN IN THAT ONE ENDING WHERE OLIVER DOESN’T GET OUT AND THEN HE’S PURPLE. HE LOST HIS COLOR AGGGHHHH

the fact that Oliver made one joke calling Ángel a seraphim years ago and he named his company that. soulmates fr

their banter drives me crazy i have so many notes in this document that are just quoting them bc it’s all so good. like Oliver showing Ángel his guitar callouses and Ángel wanting to make puzzles for him and just ADHLSJSK

also hugeeee shout out to autistic Beebo once again the grounded writing shines thru in how he takes all the jesting comments one step too literally. and like the whole bedroom misunderstanding? autism moment fr

“you have the look of a man who would be hunted for sport” Vivi is the funniest character ever written end of sentence.

the thief instincts showing up with Ángel yoinking Oliver’s hat. it’s so cute

OK I NEED TO TALK ABOUT HOW GOOD THE ART GALLERY SECTION IS. this is a puzzle game. you’ve spent the last two or three hours of gameplay making things fit neatly together. that’s Oliver’s favorite thing; solving puzzles! and then the art gallery… it’s tantalizing. it feels that there’s rhyme and reason to it. like there’s a pattern you just can’t quite see. but… there isn’t. but there has to be. the game doesn’t end here, does it? and just like Beebo, you start to wonder if you’re doing something wrong. if you’re missing something. when you get trapped between those two rooms— oh man, i was panicking just as much as Oliver

and then!! the solution is to CHANGE THE GENRE!! this ain’t a puzzle game anymore, this is a doom style fighting game. and you’re gonna kill that house. i LOVE it when games pull stuff like that

OK THE KISS. it was actually SUCH a smart plan dude and also the fact that they GOT THEIR COLORS BACK because the house CAN’T wash out or dilute that kind of emotion? mm. genius. showstopping.

also like. there’s something there about the angel vs ghost iconography. the divine versus the natural. the house is breathing. the house is watching. the house has a purpose that breaks the natural world. fear not. you should be scared. i’m not making any sense but Man

ok the decision to make Ángel not know what cells or dna is so the player can hear a differently flavored explanation this game is really just a masterclass on how to repeat information without getting stale (there are many games that could do with this lesson)

the love this game shows for a mundane life is SO sweet and important to me like here’s this villain that’s so so so sosososo scared of death that he misses out on his life and like. that IS the story that timeloops have to tell. that you have to live the imperfect life because that’s all that matters!! immortality don’t mean nothing if you’re a hermit!! existing in a coffin, aging without living, that’s what a ghost freaking is!! and you don’t wanna be one of those!! you wanna be alive!! like a lot of games n movies n books n stuff make you want to go out and have a wild adventure but i rlly appreciate this game for gently taking ur hand and saying “the REAL adventure is the friends u make along the way and the best part of the story is the holiday parties and the sleepy mornings and the board game nights and the pottery classes and the vinyl records and the sunrises and the love” bc it’s RIGHT.

anyway. thank u for coming to my ramble. i should become a youtube video essayist or smth i’m so good at yapping to an audience of No One. i’m not normal about anything ever and that’s never gonna change sorry

[melrosing]

so stuff I’ve not liked about the finale and S2 more generally…. unfortunately it’s a lot and i'm thinking i might need to say this in several parts but first and foremost: the pacing really was shit and i don't just mean there weren't enough action scenes i mean the whole season they've had almost nothing to say about these characters and have just been making us think they do by having them repeat the same ham-fisted monologues about power and peace and the cost of war and whatever whilst moving at a glacial pace from one minor plot point to another and by the end of it most of these characters STILL haven't changed, and where they have it feels undeserved, and yes they really are at roughly the place they started so what have they even got to show for these eight hours of TV?? like damn

and I do get that the writer's strike has really effected them here and HBO hacking two eps off their season affected them too and that really can't be helped. but the pacing has been pretty poor from kick off and I can't just put it down to this being a more 'internal' season. i do not care about big battles. it's fine to have a season of a show that’s more about the characters’ interiority rather than plot action. that’s the exact reason why I like AFFC so much.

but these characters barely have interiority like idk what to say. some like Rhaenyra, Jace and Alicent have been spouting the same monologues every episode about wanting peace/wanting agency/wanting peace again etc etc, and the more interesting moments like Alicent's apparent suicide attempts, Rhaenyra's butchering of the dragonseeds etc... I mean where IS the interiority here?? unless they are spelling out a character's thoughts in the most literal way they can (as per Jace's diatribes about the dragonseeds), they leave their audience to do absolutely all the work by showing us nothing, and just leaving us to figure that the characters must be having some kind of thoughts but y'all can decide what they are.

and even Daemon, whose entire ARC was about his interiority.... like look I was so so ready to love this arc. i love fucked up little dream sequences. i love harrenhal. i was really enjoying the angle they took with alys. i was here for it. but now we've seen the whole of his S2 arc, im going to say yes, it was intended as a redemption adjacent kind of arc, and it isn't a very good one. Daemon has a handful of weird dreams, gets shouted at by some Riverlands folk, and he's a changed man.

consider the character everyone compares Daemon to (and who I'm always more than happy to talk about) and that's Jaime. and look at the sheer ground covered in ASOS: Jaime breaks out of a dungeon, Jaime meets a younger version of himself, Jaime gets his hand hacked off, Jaime reveals his anime villain backstory in the bath, Jaime deals with Roose Bolton, Jaime has a weird weirwood dream, Jaime fights a fucking bear - and at this point we're still only about halfway through.

now in contrast, what have they actually managed to do with Daemon this season. where has that finale moment with Rhaenyra been earned. this is not slow pacing for the sake of powerful character development, it's slow because they don't have anything else to say.

and also look at the state of characters like Aemond who seemed really promising in S1, yet in this season he barely reflects on the fact that he hadn't meant to kill Luke, and this war is an accident that he started, etc etc - he's just a killing machine lol. there were some nice touches in there, like i say i enjoyed Helaena telling Aemond how he'll die in the finale. but I no longer trust these writers to do anything with their more inspired ideas because they just consistently fail to do so.

look at Baela!!! like my god, has Baela had the opportunity to do anything except A) what she's told and B) counsel men on their feelings. she has like one moment looking at Daemon and you feel like the series is going to explore how complex it is to be Daemon Targaryen's daughter.... but my god they never do!! so where IS this interiority we've spent eight episodes on! what have they got to show for it!!

and i talked more weeks back about how frustrating i've found the writing of women more generally in this series and as of the finale I am finding it so egregious and so condescending. women want peace. women want to protect their children. women are tired of men. women are tired of war. women are trying to end this war peacefully. women are pacifists. women hate violence. and so on and so on and so on like jesus christ who am i even talking about here. even i don't know. it's so boring. it's so dry. and it requires female characters to always be the paragons of virtue, never do anything truly condemnable, never be unlikeable, never fucking anything except stand around saying how much they hate this. im bored of it and it makes me angry that they would do this in a series that specifically seeks to make everyone grey and everyone complex - they keep suggesting that might extend to the women before abruptly shutting it down again. see Alicent and Rhaenyra even STILL, after EVERYTHING, trying to peacefully shut down the war for the sake of love and friendship in the goddamn finale. I don't believe it anymore!! it's not cute! it's just dull!!!

and finally that just kind of brings me to how shortsighted a lot of the plot developments seem, when you see how the characters fail to reckon with their pasts or shit that just happened. Rhaenyra and Mysaria make out, and then that's never mentioned again and the tone never changes between them. Rhaenyra is done thinking about Luke. Helaena is done thinking about Jaehaerys. Aegon actually didn't mention Jaehaerys in the list of things he's 'lost' in that finale. Alicent's relationship w Viserys was just now condensed to 'we were fond of each other but he always liked your mum better'

like idk it's just. if this season's pacing is all about giving characters the chance to change and grow into the people they'll be when this war REALLY kicks off.... do it. write it. do not just write the same monologue a dozen times and hope it'll hit harder with each. doesn't work like that. sorry.

[erinwantstowrite]

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

[shakespearean-dream]

TW!!! — blood, scarring and mild body horror ahead 🥲

benny’s turn!

before i start i wanna clarify i hesitated a bit on posting this because lovely mutual @vor-leser just posted his benny interpretation (go look at it and follow him btw), and idk if we like mind melded or smth but our human benny’s are super similar LOL. i damn near scrapped the whole thing out of fear someone would get mad at me but i Would Not be able to start over and get this done ever so this is as good as we’re gonna get. 😭 my apologies niko love u /p

this has been like a full 7 days in the making 😭😭 the art block that i felt coming on while doing ellen and ted hit me like an optimus prime sized semi truck this week along with a depressive episode so i definitely appreciate that happening and i am not upset about it at all! /s i’m totally good so don’t worry or anything /gen, mental health is just weird and i also wanted to explain the gap in my posts 😔

i do not know how to feel about this drawing if i’m so fr with you; i’m proud of myself for AM-ified benny cause i think i got the slowly rotting from the inside out primal freak energy down pretty good, but on the other hand this feels kinda empty?? i usually have a lot more commentary squished in here but i think my brain’s a little fried 🤦‍♂️ i love drawing me some beautiful buff men though so drawing normal ben was familiar territory. however his wack ass haircut i gave him is his punishment for being a PRICK!!! go sit in the corner and think about ur actions benjamin.

like ted n the rest of the sillies i’m not straying too far from canon with his personality, he’s an ass and a murderer and a hella smart dickhead who desperately needs to be punished by the universe (thank you for that one AM). hot take i did not like his “redemption arc” in his game scenario and i don’t think with how he was throughout the entirety of his life (and also throughout the game, main example his inner dialogue) he would actually go out of his way to help the kid because he means it??? n prove he changed to the guys he killed cause he means it??? i dunno maybe AM torturing him made him have a main character “omg i’ve been in the wrong this whole time!!1” moment like the game suggests i’m just not buying it 💀 i’m sure it’s just cause bennys scenario couldn’t be too long and they couldn’t fully flesh him out which i won’t fault the game makers for. i’m a steven universe fan, i know what time constrictions can do to a plot and redemption arc 😭 looking at you white diamond…

his wife n kids are up top and they’re kinda neat to me— i was considering the hc that part of the reason manya (his canon wife) left him is because she realized she was a lesbian which would be funny as fuck considering benny’s also One Of Them Queers 😭. i think during the brief times he was home and able to parent his daughters they got really scared and tired of him, one because he’s just a very threatening powerful and overbearing man, but also because i feel like he would’ve been on their ASS about everything. grades, extracurriculars, friends, wardrobe, this guy was micromanaging his family to an annoying extreme (ofc because of his perfectionist complex). he probably loved manya and the kids in his own weird way, but it was more contractual to him than any real personal relationship. maybe he inherited that from his own parents?? i doubt he ever talked to them after he moved out.

that’s about the end of my thoughts on this fucker. 🥲 funny storyyyy i just remembered i have laundry to finish so im gonna go do that, lord help me. thank you for reading all this if you did!!!!! we’re over halfway through so who do yall want next? wanna save AM or nimdok for last? i’ll see u guys later :]]]

[fairlylocalkatiee]

heyyyy!! i’ve been back on my tøp bs and i have been on the hunt for writers.. therefore here i am. 🫡

this won’t be a very detailed request because i’m not very creative LMFAO however the jimmy fallon performance CHANGED! MY! LIFE! i was wondering if you could write a tyler x reader where tyler is going to perform, either at jimmy fallon or yk his own show. and the reader is just 😍 obsessed with this man. and tyler knows this so he subtly flirts with reader on stage, gets a kinda bold you knowww..

and yeah, after the show reader can’t take her hands off of him. and tyler gets cocky about it & teases her. just that concept, of course if this is overstepping or anything feel free to ignore this LMFAOAOA

Hello anon!! This was my first request and Thankyou SO much for it! I hope you don’t mind that I basically turned it into Porn without much plot 🤣🤣🤣 anyways— I was also heavily obsessed with that preformance and if you haven’t seen this one I describe in this fic from the takeover tour I highly recommend it 😫 here. I kinda took this request and ran with my own little spin on the idea so I hope you like what I chose to do with it! Requests are still open 🥵🤩

Word count: 1684

Content warnings: This is straight porn. You’ve been warned lol. Unintentional but not unwelcome praise kink.

Read with Ao3

Painted

——

The familiar beat of message man began to thrum through the arena as you danced with the fans on the side of the stage, watching your boyfriend Tyler perform. You loved seeing him in his element. There was something so sexy about watching how confident he was on stage.

He locked eyes with you for a split second as he slid off his jacket, revealing a fitted white button up that he left halfway unbuttoned revealing his chest tattoos and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The collar of the shirt stained with paint from his neck. Paired with fitted black pants and his docs you could feel your body physically reacting to how mouth watering he looked.

“Holy fuck me,” you couldn’t help but stare wide eyed, knowing what was coming next as he stood next to the bowl filled with black paint.

As the music played he locked eyes with you one more time, the smallest of smirks played on his lips for just a second before his intense look of concentration replaced it.

He slid his hands into the bowl and you noticed he’d filled it a little bit more tonight, the paint practically spilling out as he completely covered his hands in it, starting to rub it up his forearms just slightly, before raising his hands and letting the paint slowly drip down them, accentuating them.

You felt yourself biting into your lip hard as you watched, and then as he grabbed the mic off the stand with one hand, he pressed his other hand to his naked chest, smearing the black paint over it.

You felt your knees go weak.

As the song finished, he started to make his way toward you at the side of the stage, and as the lights blacked out he reached you. Taking your face in his paint covered hands he pulled you in for a hard kiss. His lips sliding over yours feverishly as he pulled you closer to him, not caring that he was covering you in the paint.

He brought his lips up to your ear before he said, “Meet me in my dressing room after the show.” and then he pulled back with a smirk and a wink, leaving you standing there, stunned as he got back onstage like he hadn’t just given you the best kiss of your life.

You realized as the lights went up and Tyler started singing again that the people around you were definitely staring, and the fans who could see what just happened and the paint handprints he left on your neck, oh boy. This was going to be all over Twitter in a few minutes.

—

For the rest of the show, you tried to concentrate on the music, you really did, but the memory of his lips against your ear, his hands on your neck…

When Trees finally closed out the show and Tyler disappeared into the back, your legs couldn’t move fast enough.

Making it to the dressing room you let yourself in, finding Tyler lounging on the soft couch adjacent from the door, his shirt still in that half unbuttoned state that was driving you wild and his hands propped behind his head as he relaxed.

He beckoned you with one finger, “Come here.” He said simply, tapping his lap. His voice huskier than normal.

You felt your skin heat up at his words as you followed his order. Swinging your legs over his lap so you were perfectly face to face straddling him. His hands immediately found your waist and held you there, your hands pressing to his chest as you felt the dry paint on his skin, mesmerized by how gorgeous he looked, even when he was sticky with sweat from performing.

“You looked so pretty out there, with this all over you…” He ran one hand over the smudged handprint on the side of your neck, making a shiver run up your spine and you arch slightly into him on his lap, bringing you closer to his growing bulge beneath you. “Letting everyone know who you belong you…”

“Tyler please…”

“Please what? Tell me what you want, Baby” He looked up at you innocently, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. He knew the affect he had on you, especially in this state. He could practically feel your wetness in his lap through your leggings. His hands traced up your thighs for a moment, before you watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips.

“I want you…” He pressed his lips to your neck as you started to speak, sending electric shocks through you. “To…” You tried again, as his hands rested on your hips, guiding you gently to grind on his lap. Feeling his bulge underneath you grow as he trailed kisses along your skin.

“Please Ty… I can’t-”

“Say it.” His fingers dug into your hips again, grinding you on him more roughly this time.

“I need to you fuck me, right now.” You finally choked out, and he finally met your eyes again with a bold smile.

“That’s more like it.” He purred, pulling you into a searing kiss.

Finally his hands worked on you, sliding under your shirt, leaving your skin on fire where he touched you as he unclipped your bra from behind and slid off your top in one easy pull, his lips then latching onto your neck as he repositioned you so your back was on the couch and he was hovering over you. His lips worked their way down the sensitive skin before moving over your collar bone, one hand cupping your breast and his mouth latched onto your sensitive nipple, sending another shockwave of pleasure throughout your body as he sucked. You could live in this moment forever and die happy.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as he continued to nip and suck at your skin, surely leaving behind marks for later.

Arching into him “Ty,” you sighed his name, he groaned as you said it, his hands hooking into the waistband of your leggings and panties and pulling them off swiftly beneath you.

You heard the sound of him undoing his belt, and then he slid down with his hands on your hips, opening your legs to reveal your soaking wet center.

“You are so beautiful” he grinned up at you, his hands running over the soft skin of your thighs, making good bumps rise. Pressing a series of soft kisses on your inner thighs, making you squirm as he held you in place as he made his way down to where you wanted him.

You felt his mouth on you in the next second, and you struggled to stop yourself from moaning too loud as he swirled his tongue around your clit, “you’re already so wet for me baby, such a good girl for me.” He pressed a finger inside your dripping entrance as he spoke, making another moan escape your lips.

He added another finger and worked them in and out of you while still sucking and swirling his tongue on your most sensitive spot.

“Anything for you.”

You watched half-lidded as he pulled off his boxers, revealing his gorgeous cock, dripping with precum. He knelt between your thighs and propped up your legs so you could hook them around his waist.

Taking his cock in his hand, you watched as he stroked it twice, his eyes devouring the sight of your body laid out below him. He ran his sensitive tip against your clit making you moan before lining himself up with your entrance.

“Ready for me Baby?”

“Yes! Tyler, Please!” You begged, then he finally pressed himself inside you, filling you up completely.

Staying still for a moment savoring the feeling of being fully seated inside you. You wrapped your legs tighter around him as he slowly pulled out of you almost completely before thrusting back in harder, letting you adjust to his size.

“You feel so perfect baby, Like you were made just for me,” Tyler sighed against your lips as he found his rhythm.

“I was” you smiled onto his lips, feeling your heart flutter in your chest at his words.

Using one hand he pressed against your clit, you could feel your orgasm starting to build and you dug your fingers into Tyler’s back, holding onto him as he fucked you. Before you could finish, he lifted you back up so that you could straddle his lap, this time with his cock buried inside of you.

“Im not done with you yet.” his hot breath whispered against your ear as he fucked into you, rising your hips to meet each thrust, feeling him hit that spot perfectly inside you.

“Cum for me, (Y/N).” He kissed your lips as he spoke.

You felt the coil inside of you tighten until you couldn’t hold it any longer, your body spasming as your orgasm ripped through you with a loud cry. Not caring that anyone could walk back and hear you coming undone.

Tyler gripped your thighs and continued pounding into you, and with one final thrust he came with you, his cock pulsing inside as he filled you up with his seed. A tangle of limbs and lips as you rode out your orgasms together.

With your arms wrapped around him you buried your face in his neck and inhaled his musky scent that you loved so much. Feeling the beat of his heart in tune with yours as you slumped against him, chests pressed together as he softened inside of you. Eventually you fell back onto the couch with a satisfied sigh feeling like the luckiest person alive. Tyler leaned over and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead as he stood up.

“Are you going to wear that on stage every night?” You asked breathlessly. He smiled as you watched him button his pants back up, before grabbing a towel to help clean you up.

“If it gets you that turned on every time, absolutely yes.”

______

AHHH SO HOW ARE WE FEELING GUYS (I haven’t written smut since 2019) please be nice ilyyyyyy

[leejenowrld]

hi, it’s me again lol just wanted to ask on how do you pump out creativity like this back to back? esp with back to you’s storyline, just how did you form it??

- 💐

hi angel! this is gonna be a very long response. so ‘back to you’ has always felt so natural for me. i think it’s because i’ve had the core of it in my head for so long—ever since writing ‘love me back,’ i knew i wanted it to be a two-part character study, with mark’s story coming first and jeno’s second. jeno was always going to be the nathan-coded character. i just knew i wanted to push it further—to make it sexier, messier, more mature, something that really explored boundaries and spirals and self-destruction in a way that still felt deeply personal.

i always say this but ideas really just come to me when i’m watching one tree hill. it sounds silly but the show is such a huge inspiration—it gave me the blueprint, and from there, everything just built itself out in layers. when i’m watching scenes from the show, i get these flashes of my characters in those settings or having those conversations, and it kind of snowballs into scenes and arcs and full episodes of their own. sometimes i’ll pause an episode halfway through just to go open my notes and write a scene that’s completely unrelated but emotionally triggered by something brooke, lucas, nathan, haley or peyton said. there’s certain lines + plots that are directly drawn from/heavily influenced from oth too

and ‘back to you’ in particular has grown so much thanks to all the behind-the-scenes stuff i’ve done for it. the moodboards, the lore, answering asks about the characters, creating timelines, writing drabbles, ask the characters, #facts — backtoyou, building family, friendship, sexual dynamics—when i say every single thing is connected, i mean it. there are entire mini arcs and parallel structures in place that haven’t even surfaced yet, but they help keep the story coherent in my head. it’s like i’m constantly talking to the characters—what would jeno do if he saw that? how would y/n react to this? what secret is karina keeping from the group that nobody knows yet? those little questions lead me to huge plot beats.

so yeah. it’s a combination of always visualizing things vividly, pulling inspiration from my favourite stories, and letting the characters tell me where they want to go. and once they start speaking, it doesn’t stop. ‘back to you’ has always felt incredibly natural to me. from the very beginning, i had a clear vision of the world and characters—especially jeno. writing him doesn’t feel challenging or forced; it flows, like i instinctively know how he’d react, how he’d touch, how he’d love, how he’d hurt. i’m comfortable inside his voice, inside his contradictions, and that ease is what’s made the story so long and layered. the ideas never stop. they come to me at night, when i’m walking, in the middle of conversations—because this world lives in me so fully now, it moves on its own.

guys i'm about to drop exclusive never shared before information: the main character in love me back was originally meant to be jaemin, not mark. i wanted it to be him because at the time i didn’t think i could write mark naturally (lol look at me now). but to make the brother dynamic work, i ended up choosing mark because of the “lee” thing. i could’ve done donghyuck, but i just didn’t want to go in that direction for this story. i really wanted jaemin, lmao, but i’m satisfied with making it mark. i never thought i’d be able to write him the way i did—but now, i wouldn’t change a thing. i crafted his characterisation precisely. he’s hot, understated, dominant in an effortless and attractive way. there’s one think about mark that resonates with me. i wanted to show that he’s grown up very loved and wanted despite growing up without his biological father. i wanted to show that he knows what love is, what it looks like, what it’s like to love and to be loved.

and the truth is, the first two chapters of love me back are really short because i didn’t know what the fic was going to become yet. i was still getting a feel for it. but once i saw how people were reacting—how emotionally invested everyone was—it gave me this rush of inspiration. i started brainstorming with friends who love my writing, sending them ideas at 2am, sending them entire character arcs, sketching out outlines with songs and quotes and hypothetical heartbreaks. and from that, ‘back to you’ came alive. it was already alive but it really came alive. that’s why you should always interact with me and send me asks and messages as those who interact are ones i get close to and i talk to them a lot about my fics !!!! for example i became very close with orbi (@hyperbolicheart) after i reached out to her when she commented on ‘love me back’ and since then we haven’t gone a day without speaking about ‘back to you’ i love to give credit and recognition when it’s due. 1 — orbi chose the name of the fic, she suggested ‘back to you’ to me and i loved it. 2 - she’s helped me come up with a lot of essential key plot ideas you guys love through our brainstorming and she’s even come up with some of the plots which i’ve adapted snd included. send me an another ask if you wanna know which ones, if i explained them here if be here forever. 3 - orbi knows how ‘back to you’ will end, she knows how the tl will be, she sees exclusive content and full scenes, she basically knows the plot!!! apart from me, she’s the only one who knows the ending and how each chapter will end and the ins and outs of the plot :))) my point is i love meeting new people so if you’re one of those readers who are too scared to interact with me don’t be!!!

so yeah. a huge part of that flow is because of my love, orbi. we truly do brainstorm and talk about the fic every single day, and her support is everything to me. she doesn’t just listen—she gets it. she reflects things back in such a poetic, achingly beautiful way that it sparks something deeper in me every time. the way she words things? it’s like pulling emotion straight from the center of something intimate and raw. it brings clarity. motivation. the feeling of the story. she understands bty not just intellectually but emotionally, and it makes all the difference. she’s been with me through every messy thought, every twisted plot, every “what if.” and her love has been constant.

also, my discord community and everyone who's ever reblogged, sent an ask, messaged me—you make this universe feel alive. it’s so heartwarming to see the love bty has found. the way people pick up on symbolism, moments, dynamics—it’s surreal. it makes me feel like this world isn’t just something i made—it’s something we’re all in. i write back to you the way i do because i know every corner of it. every in and out. every secret. every heartbreak. this kind of universe-building lets me breathe inside the story, and that’s what makes it special to me. thank you for seeing it, for feeling it, and for loving it back.

[britishsquidward]

Who is your favorite non-riddler 66 rogue? Who do you think is the zaniest? Who had the best gang?

FUN QUESTIONS, thank you! I'll go through these one at a time:

Q1) Either Bookworm or Penguin (Joker's close behind). Bookworm is such an interesting character in general, and I feel there could have been quite a lot more to explore if they'd given him more episodes (they should have!!). I really enjoyed Roddy McDowall's performance, and how Bookworm may seem not as dangerous at first glance, but really is. His knowledge gives him quite a lot to bounce back on and his trap would have succeded just if he'd considered every angle! He's very fun and I would've liked to have seen more of him.

Penguin is so funny. I love a lot of his schemes and I just in general think Burgess Meredith was perfect for the role. I love the little laugh and the waddle, and I think he's got the perfect amount of energy behind him. He's absolutely terrible to most of the surrounding people but it's done in such a hilarious way that you can't help but like him.

Joker's just hilarious, he's having so much fun just constantly and that's honestly admirable. I will never get over the part where he projects himself out of prison with the aid of a giant spring. There is nothing quite like seeing that scene for the firts time when you didn't know it was coming.

Q2) It would... make sense to say Riddler here, wouldn't it? WHICH... well he is perculiar in the absolute best way possible, but it's a tough thing to talk about with him because whilst he's excitable and all other the place, he's also incredibly calculated, so if we're talking over all, maybe Joker? Riddler definitely shows it more, but I think it affects Joker more. in essence, Riddler gets hyped, but it's just that. Joker gets a zany idea and manages to contain himself somewhat (in that he's not as jittery as Riddler), but he does find it highly amusing for a less conventional reason than Riddler does. Zaniest-feeling plot, though... may have to go to False Face despite some of the other wacky instances, just because it was the first 66 episode I saw and it absolutely sent me, it was hilarious. He drove around one corner and his van changed colour entirely and then he got out and clicked his heels LMAO

Q3) The best gang?? Oh gosh. I like a lot of the lackey groups in the show but I may have to bestow the honour back onto Riddler just because with how he treats his goons, they're all very equal-feeling, despite his thinking a lot of them are complete idiots, and in this way we get to know those characters a lot more personality-wise. Take Season One, for example. We learn a lot more about Molly (!!) and the Molehill Mob in Hi Diddle Riddle/Smack in the Middle than we do for, say, Hawkeye and Sparrow in Fine Feathered Finks/The Penguin's in a Jinx. It's mostly a case of development and how the plot treats them because I can't say it for ALL Riddler's associates, but most of the time, yes, at least narratively.

If we're talking best in aiding a plan? A lot of Penguin's goons do a good job, and I would've said False Face too, except Blaze changes sides halfway through which is good on a character perspective but not so much a "helping out the criminal" one, lol

Thanks for the questions!!

[the2020haikyuuphase]

miwalisa headcanons

miwa definetly had alisa on her pinterest board or her inspiration wall before she actually met her LOL

didn't meet through their brothers. i like to think alisa's usual makeup artist called in sick before a shoot one day and sent miwa as a stand-in for them

miwa showing alisa her damn inspo board and alisa wanting to change her original look to something that aligns more with miwa's vision. artist and muse fr.

they go for coffee and then slowly become friends. they both have similar interests and get along very quickly. don't realise the other has a brother in volleyball until, like, their third meet-up. then it's like... DUH! how did they not realise their brothers are from volleyball clubs??? and from nekoma and karasuno?? the biggest rivals, no less..

surmised they probably sat very close to each other in their game during spring nationals because alisa remembers seeing saeko sit close to her and akane, and miwa was sitting with saeko.

find it hilarious

alisa forcing lev to get his hair and makeup done by miwa too. he's always resistant but half-hearted about it. tobio gets embarrassed asf it's so tickling to miwa

they have the relationship where they believe they just really really REALLY like each other as normal friends. yknow... nothing gay going over here. we just have a lot of similar interests! and yknow she's definetly not gay anyways. not that i was thinking about it!! but just look at her... she's so pretty i bet she already has like three boyfriends on a consistent rotating roster. she doesn't want me. which idk why i thought that or anything because we're only good girl friends!! not girlfriends— girl friends!

anyway. gay as hell. miwa hates all the men alisa shows her on her dating app for validation. alisa defends them when miwa calls them trolls but she's secretly dissatisfied with all of them too.

miwa takes alisa on unofficial boba dates and its always the highlight of each others week. but remember! just as friends!!

the trope where someone is doing the makeup of someone else and they’re so close to kissing and the tension goes crazy. but plot twist its alisa trying to do miwa’s makeup for once

miwa’s more beautiful than all the other models alisa works with. according to her.

they get together when one of them can’t hold it in anymore (probably alisa) and bursts into confused gay tears about it that eventually lead to an intense but needed makeout sesh

they’re both shell shocked the other is gay and into them even though it was so painfully obvious to everyone around them including their damn brothers, which is how you know they were disgustingly in love

actually tobio thought they were dating the entire time and had to be sat down one day

also they think the other is out of their league even though both are the most beautiful women to walk this earth

THE black cat gf and golden retriever gf

alisa calls her milaya

alisa also will dirty talk to miwa in public in russian cuz she knows she’ll get away with it (lord help lev if he has the misfortune of being there at the time)

miwa has to be fired from doing alisa’s hair and makeup eventually because it always leads to both alisa’s hair and makeup getting absolutely ruined when they eventually aggressively make out halfway through the process

VERY popular couple. theyre so beautiful together. people love attractive couples and the last guy alisa dated looked like a cave dweller so miwa is an immensely appreciated upgrade

they are definitely the type to get married and have the most glamorous wedding ceremony ever. and an even more glamorous honeymoon

lev and tobio brother in laws era 💀

miwa’s meh about having kids but i can see alisa wanting to be a mother. she’d probs have a surrogate too, she wants the whole package deal

beautiful fucking babies it goes without saying

tobio tries to Project Volleyball his nephew/niece. i can see him having a similar relationship to them as oikawa and takeru. the child is raised by miwa so you know they're gangster asf.

they're wayyyy too aesthetic they probably own the most loveliest house you’ve ever seen in your life. like they are really living the dream with each other. sometimes they think its too good to be true. how many others wake up dreaming?