#WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANNA MAKE CHRISTMAS CARDS

[qbwr]

I was more of a Joe/Ja’marr girlie but the angst in Buffalo is way more compelling to me rn

joe'marr is compelling in it's own right but there's something about josh and stef.... it's so.....

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from an in-progress DP x DC soulmate AU starring Jazz Fenton, a very unfortunate mugger, and a smoothie. Oh, and I guess Jason is there too.

Jazz meets her soulmate in, of all places, Park Row. Or as the locals call it, Crime Alley.

Seems about right for her life, she decides as she kicks the shit out of the guy who was trying to stab him for his wallet fifteen seconds ago. Her soulmate watches her curiously, seeming unconcerned by the fuss, and takes a sip of his smoothie.

Also seems about right, for her soulmate. A guy who got too nervous when necessary violence happened was not going to survive Thanksgiving in Amity Park, much less Christmas.

Well, it is Gotham.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi, sorry, one sec," Jazz says, then leans over the groaning mugger and offers him a card to the best local crisis center she's managed to track down via research and word of mouth in the four months she's been in Gotham. Not her card, obviously, since she just roundhouse-kicked the guy in the head to protect her soulmate from him and that's arguably a conflict of interest. Or close enough, anyway. "So you should check these guys out, they've got a very high success rate in their job program and there's an associated food bank and rent assistance, if you qualify."

"What?" the mugger says dazedly.

"Also if you ever touch my soulmate again I'll make you wish for the cold mercy of the Infinite Realms," Jazz adds pleasantly. The guy goes very, very pale. Then he snatches the card from her and runs for his life and eternal soul.

"This is the nicest thing the universe has ever done to me," her soulmate muses, taking another sip of his smoothie.

"Getting you mugged?" Jazz asks wryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you religious? Do you want kids?" her soulmate asks. "Also, who's your favorite Bat?"

"Robin, obviously," Jazz says. "The overdramatic and feral little stabby one, I mean. He reminds me of my little brother. Makes me feel a little bit maternal, to be honest. So that answers two out of three, and as far as religion goes, I only believe in Psychology Today, highly customized guns, and my mom's ninth-degree black belt."

"This better not awaken anything in me," her soulmate mutters under his breath.

"That seems unlikely, or we wouldn't be soulmates," Jazz says.

"Point," he says, sipping his smoothie again. Jazz didn't even know anywhere in Crime Alley sold smoothies, but she is new around here. "Wanna go break my bed? Or maybe go get coffee?"

"You've already got a smoothie," Jazz says.

"So I do," he says.

Jazz looks him over. He's her soulmate, so she's not surprised to find him gorgeous. She wasn't ever expecting a familial soulmate–Danny is a very intense sibling to have, and her parents are very intense parents to have, not to mention everything about Dani, and "soulcousins" aren't typically a thing–and she's never been especially interested in keeping around too many close friends, so considering all that, she was already expecting her soulmate to be a romantic one. If they are platonic, it's definitely only going to be because her soulmate is an aromantic asexual. Which he probably isn't, since he already asked about kids and religion and if she wanted to go break his bed.

Then again, she's met people who'll posture worse than that. Especially guys, and especially ace ones with a clear investment in their masculinity, and given this particular guy is built like a brick house could only dream to be, chances are he has some feelings about his masculinity. Though he's also drinking a visibly pink smoothie, not a neutral-colored protein shake or generic black coffee, so . . . fifty-fifty there, maybe?

Further inquiry will probably be required.

"I'm Jazz," she tells him. "What's your name?"

"Robin," he says. Then he–pauses. Blinks. "I mean–Robin."

He looks very confused for a second, and Jazz blinks too, and refocuses her eyes a bit. Oh, is he–

"Are you overshadowing that guy?" she assumes. For the love of–of course her soulmate would be a ghost, she thinks dryly. Who'd want a soulmate their mom and dad wouldn't want to grill for information and ask a thousand invasive questions, after all? "I mean, he's really hot, don't get me wrong, he looks good on you, but I'd rather meet you for real."

"'Overshadowing'?" Robin looks bemused.

"I'm Danny's sister," Jazz clarifies. Robin does not look less bemused. "You know, the new king?"

"What?" Robin says. Jazz frowns a little, feeling a bit bemused herself.

"Do you not get out much?" she asks.

"Never, actually, but also yes and constantly and way too often," Robin says. "My job is kind of demanding that way."

"What's your job?" Jazz asks curiously. Ghosts' jobs are always interesting, even if only for how they interact and manifest with their Obsessions. She wonders what his Obsession is, actually, because smoothies seem like an unlikely option but she doesn't have much else to go on here.

Can't be weirder than Box Ghost, either way.

"I'm a Bat," Robin says, then looks absolutely alarmed and also absolutely horrified.

"Huh," Jazz says, tilting her head. He seems really big to be one of the Robins, and a little too old besides. A year or two younger than her, maybe, and even the older Robin she's pretty sure is at best Danny's age. Though that's assuming this body is the one he fights crime in, admittedly. Although it's kinda funny if one of the Bats is just named Robin. Must get annoying on patrol, though. "I didn't know any of you were dead, but I guess that's not actually a surprise either, given the profession."

"Why did I say that to you?" Robin asks tightly.

"I told you, I'm the new king's sister," Jazz says. "You know, it's the royal family thing. Technically I'm his regent, legally speaking, but only because I'm better at paperwork and he doesn't count as a legal adult in the Infinite Realms yet. Hasn't been dead long enough, you know how it is. But I've been alive long enough to, apparently? But his 'being alive' technically stopped tracking at fourteen. It's complicated, basically."

"What the fuck does that mean?!" Robin demands.

"It means you can't lie to me because you're one of my brother's subjects," Jazz says, really not understanding his reaction. Every ghost knows this, after all. The only ones who wouldn't know it are too young to be away from their guardians' haunts or even leave the Infinite Realms at all. Definitely a ghost who knows how to overshadow someone this thoroughly and fully is old enough and experienced enough to know it, though. "Whose body is that, anyway?"

"It's my father's," Robin says. Jazz's eyes widen a little and she has several very concerned internal reactions before he chokes and sputters–"I mean–it's not–he's not–!"

"You realize there is no healthy way to mean that, right?" Jazz says. Robin looks frustrated and freaked out and she feels bad about it, because she didn't mean or want to upset him, but she clearly has. "Sorry. I mean, I still secretly feel like I'm the one parenting my parents half the time, you're not the only one with weird feelings about yours."

"I'm his," Robin says, then grits his teeth in visible pain. He's this close to crushing the smoothie cup he's holding but hasn't actually done it. Jazz wonders if that's an example of deliberate self-control or subconscious restraint.

She's pretty sure Robin didn't mean to say that, though.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a little concerned. Normally ghosts just stop talking about things they want to lie about, when they realize who she is.

"No," Robin says. "I'm just his. I've always been his, I always will be, his good soldier, his worst mistake, not his actual fucking son, why am I telling you this?!"

"I don't know," Jazz says, frowning in increased concern. "Usually people can work around the inability to lie a little bit, but you sound like you're being compelled to speak. Increasingly like, actually. Hm. What's your Obsession? And what kind of core do you have?"

"What?" he says.

"They might be making you unstable, is all," Jazz says. "I don't think it'd be a soulmate thing but to be fair I don't really know how that works. Are you dead, or are you a manifestation of something?"

"I'm dead," Robin says, staring at her. "That bastard clown beat my head in with a crowbar and blew up what was left of me. I woke up in my grave and–I–how did you know that?"

"Well, I didn't, that's why I asked," Jazz says reasonably, idly wondering why the Joker isn't dead yet, since this is Gotham and obviously it wouldn't be another "bastard clown" Robin was referencing, even if he wasn't a Bat. But like, at least dead via the court system, if nothing else. The Joker is insane, yes, but no one can argue he doesn't know right from wrong at this point. Does New Jersey just not have the death penalty, maybe? She hasn't thought to check. "Maybe it's the guy you're in? He's not drunk or high or anything, is he?"

"I hate drugs," Robin says, gritting his teeth again; tightening his grip on the smoothie again. He's trembling, just barely. "I hate them. I'd never touch them. I don't know what you are. You're scaring me. Please stop."

He definitely didn't mean to say that, Jazz can tell.

But . . . he doesn't know what she is.

He doesn't know.

Well, that's a problem.

"Robin," she says gently, and for some reason his face twists painfully at the sound of his own name. "Can I see your core? Please?"

[m0nsterqzzz]

(wife) Natasha Romanoff x reader

word count: 1.8 k

- Snow Day -

summary - snow days with your wife and kids

a/n - ahhhhhh i love snow and natasha.

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

The moment Natasha jumps on top of you at 7am is the moment you decide to divorce her. 

Not seriously, but you did threaten to as she shook your body and practically screamed, “It’s snowing detka!” You opened one eye and sure enough, there was ice frost covering the outside of your bedroom windows and you could see snow covering the trees. 

“That’s nice honey. Now go back to bed.” She shakes her head, jumping off the bed and yelling as loud as she can- which is pretty fucking loud if you didn’t know-, “Kids! It’s snowing!”

Just like Natasha, your kids love the snow more than anything. Probably more than they love you. It's a few seconds before the cheering begins, and then your oldest sons come running into your room and jump onto the bed. “Wake up! Wake up!” Lev, the oldest, practically screams in your face, and then Andy- short for Anthony-, the middle child, lays his whole body weight on top of you. He’s fourteen years old, only two years younger than his older brother and eight years older than their little sister, but after years of working out with Natasha, he’s very strong and putting his whole body weight on top of you means basically cutting off your ability to breathe.

The sound of little footsteps entering the room makes you all stop, and Lena, your six year old daughter and youngest child, enters the room with her stuffed monkey in hand and crawls into the bed next to you. She loves the snow, but she also loves sleep just like you.

“Come here принцесса.” Lev mutters, grabbing his little sister from the bed and holding her in his arms. Her big brothers are her protectors, and if you and Natasha aren’t there to treat her like a princess, her brothers are.

“You wanna build a snowman little spider?” Andy asks, tickling her stomach as a method of waking her up. She giggles, a tired grin taking over her face as she looks out the window. “Snow day?” “Snow day Lena.” She nods, suddenly much more awake as she climbs out of his arms and back onto the bed. You think she's coming back to cuddle with you, but you should know by the devilish grin on her face- one very similar to your wifes- that is not true. She stands up on the bed, then lets her small body free fall onto yours. Was naming her after your sister in law (the one that totally did this shit to you a few months ago) a good idea? Probably not.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

And that's how you ended up gathering up all the scarfs in the house, which only turned out to be 4. Luckily, one of them was really long so you and Natasha can share it once you get outside. While the kids are in their rooms putting on thousands of layers, Natasha is in a tank top and leggings like she's about to go out on a run in the summertime. “Natalia. Where is your sweater? Sorry I meant, where are your sweaters? Plural because it’s fudging freezing outside.” 

She shrugs, continuing to make six cups of hot chocolate despite it being 7 in the morning. You chuckle. “The kids only need one cup each Nat.” She nods, looking down at the cups with a nervous smile. “I know…..three of these are for me.”

You grab a few sweaters for her, forcing her to put them on and then standing in front of her holding in a laugh at the now balloon shaped form of your wife. “You look um….you look amazing honey.” She can't see you considering the beanie going down to her nose and scarf up to about the same place but she can hear you searching through your pockets for your phone. “I know what you’re doing! Do I look stupid to you detka?”

“Yes….and this is going on the Avengers Christmas card.” You snap the photo, running away from her when she begins waddling towards you. 

You go stand out on the porch with her, waiting for your kids to come out and join you in the cold. Why they love the freezing temperatures will always be a mystery to you. When they come out, each kid is handed one cup of hot chocolate that they pull down their scarves to chug. They boy’s aren't too big as they’ve grown a lot over the years since you bought the pieces of fabric, but the new one you bought for Lena when winter season started is practically covering her whole head and Natasha has to pull it down in order to see the little girl's bright smile.

You take your seat at one of the rocking chairs you and your wife bought for your wrap around porch, piling several blankets over your lap and watching with a smile as the kids- that's including Natasha- run out into the chilly forest. When Lev was two years old and you had first adopted the few month old baby Andy, Natasha retired from her job as an Avenger and bought you and your kids a large piece of property and a big house. The land is filled with trees that kids spend evenings placing hide and seek in, and in the summer they go horseback riding with their mom. Natasha takes care of all the animals that live around the property and in the barn, and you spend days doing whatever you wish whether it's helping her or staying inside the house relaxing with the kids.

A snowball flies past your head, and you look up to glare at your wife. “Hey! Why are you looking at me? Look at them!” The redhead points to the kids, who stare at her bewilderment. “You know what? Fuck this.” You mutter, removing the blankets from your lap and running out into the snow. You form a snowball, hiding with your kids behind a stack of hay that Natasha left out the other day. Your wife was an Avenger, a spy, and a shield agent. That's all true. But you live with her. It’s not too hard to pick up on her habits. 

You can hear her crunchy footprints coming up behind the hay, but the kids have already formed even more snowballs so you hold up three fingers, slowly putting each on down until you have zero left. They all jump up, practically yelling war cries as they hit their mother with snowball after snowball. You take this chance to run into the forest nearby, hiding behind a tree with several snowballs in hand.

Once they run out of snowballs and the laughter dies down a bit, you sneak out from behind the tree and begin throwing the snow at the back of your wife. The children laugh, but she turns to you with a devil-like grin and you instantly know you’re in deep shit. “Okay Nat….Nat….our kids are watching. They can't see me go like this.” You dramatically tell her, only bringing more giggles out of your kids. 

“Get her mom!” Lev cheers, and your eyes widen as you look at him in mock offense. 

“Whose side are you on kid?” You ask. He shrugs, holding up another snowball and throwing it at Natasha's head.

“Neither. Every man for themselves!” He sprints into the forest, Andy close behind him and Lena standing out in the open with no snowballs in hand. 

Natasha grins at her, opening her arms for a hug. “Come here and give me a hug, little spider.” The six year old narrows her eyes at the Russian woman before sprinting after her brothers, but Natasha is already forming four snowballs when the little girl gets to the edge of the tree line.

You watch with a grimace as your wife throws each snowball at the back of the little girl, and the force of the snow makes Lena fall face first into a pile of coldness. You smack Natasha’s arm. “Natalia! She’s six years old!”

The redhead just laughs, turning her back to the forest as she grins at you. “She's my daughter. She can handle a couple snowballs to the face.” While she was defending letting her child get hypothermia, Lev and Andy were sneaking up behind her, each with a large pile of snow in their arms.

“Um….Nat-” You start with a giggle, but it's too late and the boys are lifting up the piles to drop them on top of her head. It breaks over her head, falling down in front and behind her like snow and leaving it all over her head and shoulders. “That was for Lena!” Andy yells and then they take back off to the forest, Natasha not far behind.

A few hours later, you watch as Natasha and the kids come back out of the forest, and then plop down in the snow with erratic breathing. You get up from your seat on the porch, walking onto the cold field and then laying down in it right next to your wife.

It's silent for a few minutes, but then the sound of shuffling begins. You look to your side to see Natasha moving her arms and legs, forming an angel looking shape in the snow. You all spread out a little before copying her movements. So that's what you guys do for like three minutes, before standing up and admiring your guy’s work. There are five different sized angels in the snow, the perfect replicas of you and your family.

“Mama. I’m cold.” With a small smile, Nat grabs her by her under arms and hoists her up on her shoulders. 

“I think that calls for more hot cocoa.” “Tasha-” You go to tell her that they’ve already had too much sugar and that Lena is practically shaking due to a sugar high, but she’s making her way into the house with the boys trailing behind her before you can say anything. You chuckle to yourself, following after them.

She’s already grabbing the packets of cocoa powder once you get inside, and the boys settle themselves on the couch as you snatch them from her. She groans, sending you her best pout. You've been married to her for a very long time though and rarely fall for that anymore. “No. They can have something else.” The redhead widens her eyes, trying to put on a puppy dog's face that has you laughing harder than you ever had.

“Fine.” You’re not going to tell her that the only reason you said yes is because Lena was doing the face too. The little girls were much cuter. They cheer, beginning to heat up some milk to put in the hot drink as you go sit down on the couch with your boys. 

Natasha and Lena join you guys, the older of the two sitting behind you on the couch so you can lay your back on her chest, and the boys let their little sister choose a movie which is why you end up watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Your wife isn’t focused on the movie though. She’s admiring you, how you chuckle at the funny parts as your eyes sparkle with joy.

Snow days are her favorite thing, but it’ll never compare to you.

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

[seijorhi]

invidia ii

a (very belated) christmas present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy who has, for two years straight, begged me for more shinnosuke content. i hope you like it bby! kuroo tetsurou x female reader, kuroo shinnosuke (oc) x female reader part i w.c 3.1k tw: noncon/dubcon, slight daddy kink, (forced) infidelity, yandere themes, nsfw, smut, age gap, i guess hints of breeding kink, dilf kuroo

“Why did your parents split up?”

Mid-way through pulling on a pair of old, grey sweatpants, mopping at beads of water from his shower still rolling down his bare chest, Shinnosuke throws you a curious look, but shrugs easily enough.

“They weren’t ever really ‘together’ to begin with. They tried the whole co-parenting thing to start with but mom… they never loved each other. Hell, I don’t even think they liked each other most of the time beyond–” he breaks off, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost makes you laugh. “Anyway, dad always said she had one foot out the door from the start. Dad was the one who stuck around to raise me.” There’s no animosity in his tone, he says it like it’s the simple truth. You’ve never met the woman, never having shown up to any of the Nekoma games, his graduation, any of it. You’ve seen a picture or two, overheard the odd phone call, but for as long as you’ve known him, the only real parent in Shin’s life has always been his dad.

If there’s anyone he idolises, it’s his father.

 Which is why the words that he says next – casting aside the damp towel in the general direction of the laundry basket (boys) and sauntering on over to join you in bed – take you entirely by surprise. “We’ll go visit her in Golden Week. I want her to meet you.”

And again, the words are just that; words. Shin kisses you, a sweet peck on your lips, and wastes no time in scooping you back into his arms and settling back with a contented sigh. They’re just words, but there’s this look in his eyes when he says it that makes you think he means something more. 

Your stomach flutters.

—

‘You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?’

—

“Still not feeling any better?” Shin asks, brushing your hair back to feel your forehead. The beginnings of a frown start to take shape, teeth gently burrowing into his bottom lip, but he straightens and sighs, and that hint of discontent smoothes over like it had never existed in the first place. He strokes your hair again and offers a small, sympathetic smile. “No temperature, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

You’re a coward.

“It’s not my head, I just…” don’t have any visible, plausible symptoms for the fake illness that’s currently keeping you curled up in Shin’s bed. Away from the creep who’d smiled and fucking winked at you Christmas morning. “I just feel off.”

“Poor baby,” he coos, laughing when your face screws up and you swat at him.

Right now, swaddled in his hoodie, his fingers carding through your hair and that stupid, impish, almost believable grin beaming down at you, you want to forget. To pretend. 

Because there’s a pit in your stomach. A bitter, gnarled, seething mass. This moment right now, in Shin’s bed, it’s like glass, paper thin and already cracked, it can’t possibly last, and yet you’re clinging to it so desperately, head buried in the sand, willing yourself to pretend, from one heartbeat to the next, that what’s happened won’t break the two of you. 

That your stomach doesn’t threaten to upend when you catch sight of those hazel eyes peering down at you – the same shape and shade as his father’s.

You shudder out a breath, and what little levity there was between you two gets sucked out with it. Shin’s expression gutters.

Yeah. 

His fingers don’t leave your hair, though. Playing idly with the strands as though the suffocating tension in the room doesn’t exist at all. “Dad’s taking us out to dinner tonight,” he tells you. Reminds you, because you knew all of this beforehand. Everything but the party. “Do you want me to run by the pharmacy to get you something?”

Another tap at the fractured glass. 

That’s Shinnosuke all over, isn’t it? You might’ve been the manager back in the day, but it was always Shin who kept an eye on his team, on you, to make sure everyone was good. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll–” the words get stuck in your throat. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour or so. ‘m still a little tired.” 

“You want some tea, sweetheart?”

‘Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down.’

A cold sweat breaks out on the nape of your neck. No. No, no, no, no–

“Baby?”

You flinch like he’s slapped you, jerking away from the hand he’s wound in your hair. The startled look he shoots you borders on wounded, but you’re already squirming towards the edge of the bed, stumbling to your feet like a newborn foal. “Bathroom,” you manage to eke out, your voice sounding far too strangled and hoarse to pass as anywhere near the realm of fine. 

Shin doesn’t follow, doesn’t so much as utter a word – all kicked puppy confused – as you throw the door closed behind you and collapse back against it, a sweaty, ashen mess. 

He usually calls you love. Baby. Princess when he’s being a little shit. 

Sweetheart’s a rare one. 

Your heart races, a runaway train pounding in your chest. His eyes, his touch, sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.

Another shuddering breath in. Out. 

Fuck. 

There’s a knock – not at the ensuite door, the sound’s too muffled for that, and you didn’t hear Shin’s footsteps (though you’re not sure you would, over the pounding in your ribs) meaning that the knocking’s at his door. 

There’s only one other occupant in the house. Though you try your damndest to fight it, there’s no stopping the wave of panic that stabs through you. Shin’s door creaks open, soft voices barely creeping through the gap in the door, and your fingers go rigid, nails clawing at the black and white flooring as though you can ground yourself by breaking through it instead. 

You don’t realise you’re crying.

Not until the droplets splatter on the tiles by your feet.

—

You should’ve left days ago.

After Christmas, when you’d ducked out from under Shin’s arm and lurched for the nearest bathroom, when it’d finally clicked for him that you violently hurling your guts up wasn’t the result of a simple hangover, you’d tried. Short of admitting the truth – and swinging a bat at the bees’ nest – convincing Shin to leave his dad’s place goes about as well as drawing blood from a stone. 

He’s even less thrilled about the prospect of you going back by yourself, leaving him to spend what’s left of the week with his dad like they’d planned.

There’s only so far you can push without breaking something. You, probably. You and Shin, almost definitely. 

Even so, you might’ve had more of a backbone if he hadn’t been so… Shin. All coaxing and concerned. Logical to a damn fault. 

‘You don’t wanna be stuck in a car driving for hours when you’re feeling shitty, love, and besides, dad’s place is bigger than ours. Comfier. You’ll probably be on the mend by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no point in us heading back.’

If you weren’t trying to salvage what’s left, or maybe clinging to the idea that you can – and want to – then it would’ve been easier just to go.

You wouldn’t still be here, stuck in the house of the man who’d– who’d raped you.

You wouldn’t be avoiding your boyfriend’s eye.

You would’ve screamed the whole house down before Kuroo Tetsurou ever bent you over the kitchen counter.

But the gentle extrication in the early hours of the morning, Shinnosuke’s lips brushing against your cheek, the sleepy rasp of his voice as he mumbles a quiet, “Love you,” before slipping away – you barely stir, cozy and safe and content.

He loves you. Shin loves you. 

A while later – minutes, maybe, or hours, it’s hard to tell when you’re still in the grips of sleep – the mattress dips under Shin’s weight, and those strong, sculpted arms seek your warmth again, you only sigh and lean back against him. 

“I love you,” you whisper, not yet willing to open your eyes and face another day of lying to him. 

The arm slung over your waist curls tighter, his face nuzzling into your neck. The kisses he leaves there aren’t affectionate, exactly, they’re not gentle, when teeth catch, nipping sharply at your skin, only to be soothed by a lave of his tongue.

And the laugh that rumbles at your back – a shade off your boyfriend’s – is anything but nice. 

“Yeah? Fuck, you’re sweet in the morning.”

This time, you don’t hold back. You shriek, kicking out like a wild thing – or you would have, if Kuroo’s hand hadn’t clamped down on your mouth, if his weight hadn’t shifted so that rather than lying curled up behind you, he’s half on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress with a thigh lodged between yours. 

“Uh-uh-uh, we were doing so good, kitten. Don’t you wanna be daddy’s good girl?”

Your only answer is a ragged noise, torn from somewhere deep inside of you. He chuckles again, grinds against you, his cock a thick, unignorable presence pressed at your ass. There’s nothing but the thin cotton of your sleep shorts separating it from you, and from past experience, that barrier won’t do much to deter him for long.

Kuroo rolls you onto your back and slots himself nicely between your legs. Naked, you realise with a fresh stab of fear.

You scream the moment his palm leaves your lips to capture your wrists, scream for Shinnosuke – for anyone – so loudly that it feels like you’ll bleed for it. Let him come running, find you pinned and squirming, terrified beneath the man who raised him.

Let it be the final crack that obliterates everything. 

If Shin sees you like this, utterly petrified, on the verge of being raped again and still thinks it some kind of a betrayal, let him choke on it. You don’t care anymore, you just want someone to stop this. 

(Shin wouldn’t, would he?)

But Kuroo only snickers. Leans over to lick along the edge of your lashes, where hot, glistening tears are already spilling over, trickling down to disappear in your hairline. “Your boy’s not here, but we don’t have long ‘til he gets back. You’ll forgive me if we bypass the foreplay this morning, right, sweetheart?” You shudder, goosebumps prickling where his breath washes over you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and violently – pointlessly – shake your head. “We’ll have to save eating your pretty little cunt for next time.”

All too eager, he hungrily captures your lips again and yanks down your shorts, taking your panties along with them.

Christmas morning, you’d been shoved face down over the kitchen counter while he’d fucked you from behind. You’d give anything for that distance right now. At least then you hadn’t had to endure his suffocating warmth, having him squeeze and grope at your tits over your old, threadbare tee.

You wouldn’t have to writhe away from his mouth while he rucks your bare thighs up either side of his hips, dragging you closer.

Even with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you can’t pretend that this isn’t happening as Kuroo spits and a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock slowly – agonisingly slowly – splits you apart.

You forget how to breathe. 

Eyes popping open and back arching up into his chest, your fists clutch desperately at the sheets of Shin’s bed, trying to squirm away, only the grip he has on you makes sure there’s nowhere for you to escape to. He’s big, long, mostly, and you’re too tight to take him easily, especially without any prep. The spit doesn’t help any, and Kuroo doesn’t care, groaning out in pleasure as inch by inch he pushes himself deeper, until at last he’s seated firmly inside of you. “Good fucking giiiirl,” he purrs, a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.

A tiny, drawn out whine is all you can manage when your lower half radiates pain. 

“Gonna fuck this perfect pussy nice ‘n full,” he tells you. “Give you everything you need, sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can, you just gotta breathe for me.”

But unlike last time, he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a minute to adjust. His hips draw back and punch forward, jolting another mewling gasp from your lips. And again. And again. The pace isn’t violent so much as intense, like each thrust ignites something inside of him that burns for more.

He clasps your wrists in one hand, pants into your open mouth between frenetic kisses, groans out your name in that shuddering gasp.

“Mine,” he pants, beads of sweat dripping from his chest, his chin, rolling down onto you. “You’re daddy’s girl– fuck!”

Your cunt reacts accordingly, flexing around his cock, easing its passage so that the wet, lurid sounds of him fucking you quickly fill the air. A betrayal that has your cheeks flaming. 

The muscles in your thighs burn, Kuroo all but forcing them back towards the bed, his weight driving into you with fervour. A quick adjustment to the angle of your hip and his cock hits a spot deep inside of you that has you choking on a moan of your own, a burst of bright, sizzling pleasure bleeding through the pain.

Kuroo grins ferally at the sound of it. Drops his weight on an elbow and bucks into you, hitting it again. Your inner walls twitch, squeezing and slick, dragging noises from you that make you wanna burn with shame – that, or cut yourself loose entirely. You can’t muster resistance when he swallows them down, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth. His momentum turns rabid, his hand no longer encircling your wrists, but entangled with them, pressing them down to the mattress. “Almost… there…” he grunts, gasping as he curls over you, abs flexing.

A shudder rolls through him, his hips faltering just as something vital shatters inside of you, toes curling, white hot pleasure exploding from your core, rippling through your whole body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With your pussy spasming around his cock, your body taut and locked with pleasure, Kuroo hurtles off that cliff right alongside you, a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping him as he pumps your cunt full of his seed, all but collapsing atop of you afterwards.

It takes a minute before he peels himself off of you; pushing himself up, braced on elbow so that he’s not crushing you entirely, Kuroo waits, buried inside your warmth, for you to stop trembling with the after effects of your orgasm, for his cock to soften and both of your breathing to even out. 

Waits for those glazed over eyes to focus back on him and once again fill with tears, stroking a hand through your sweat-dampened hair as he does so.

“You should go take a shower before Shin gets home,” he says after a minute or two, his voice a low purr. “He can’t be far off.”

But aside from rolling off you to allow you up, Kuroo makes no moves to follow you, or so much as get up off the bed. Naked, his cock soft and glistening with your juices, one knee propped up, he watches you stumble like a newborn foal into the bathroom (only half managing to close the door behind you) with damn near predatory intent, a smirk teasing at his lips.

It’s where Shin finds you a short while later, curled up on the floor of the shower, shaking through silent sobs. 

—

Shin doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home.

Uncharacteristically sober, he says little aside from the occasional murmur to check in with you – always unanswered – and keeps you tucked close, as though a fraction of distance between you might pry you from his side entirely. 

The hours pass in a haze of… nothing. Your tears dry. Numbness takes over. You move like a robot, Shin guiding you every step of the way until you cross the threshold of your apartment.

He never asks what happened. You suppose the smell of sex in his bedroom and the bruises and love bites scattered over your body tell the tale well enough. Shinnosuke’s never been stupid. He’s not dense. 

He’s not heartless, either.

In the sanctity of your tiny, shitty bathroom, you shower again. A proper shower this time, with the water turned up full blast, scrubbing viciously at your skin– or at least, you do until he steps in and takes over. You’ve never thought of your boyfriend as particularly gentle, but he pries the loofah from your hand with a delicacy you didn’t know him capable of and takes care of you, cleaning you up with a tenderness that borders on reverence.

You pretend not to notice how his eyes (so like his, sharp and hazel) narrow into a scowl every time he spots another bruise, another mark left by his father. Once or twice his fingers begin to ghost over them, burgundy fingerprints on your thigh, a love bite sucked into the delicate skin above your collarbone, only to catch himself, swallowing tightly and resuming his task like he’d never faltered in the first place. 

When you’re done, he dries you both off and helps you into fresh clothes – a pair of comfy sweatpants and an old hoodie of his and guides you back to the living room, setting you down into his lap on the couch.

“I–” his voice is hoarse. Quiet, especially in the stillness of the apartment, and when you glance his way, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I went to the pharmacy. I thought– I thought…” he trails off again, dropping his gaze. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your heart twists, and it’s your turn to comfort him. Or maybe you’re comforting each other, shifting slightly in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around him and draw him in close, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him. “No. I– it wasn’t…” but the words don’t come. You flounder. 

What are you supposed to say? It wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t yours?

You should’ve said something earlier? Should’ve fought back harder – against both of them, should’ve grown a spine?

A beat passes in the tense, thick silence, and when it becomes clear that you’ve got nothing for him, he makes an odd sort of huff that sounds almost irritated. You frown a little, but you don’t fight it when his arms pull tighter around you, when his cheek comes to a rest against your hair and his hands seek yours, curling around your wrists and stroking at the skin there. 

“We’ll get through this,” he vows. “I love you, this doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything.” His lips meet the crown of your head in a soft kiss. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

[luveline]

Hi babe! Not sure how you feel about writing ab parents so feel free to ignore, but had an idea for kbd au if Steve’s parents tried to contact him/get into their lives and he’s all like stay away from my kids

kisses before dinner —steve has a tense relationship with his parents. mom!reader, 1.5k

The girls haven't seen their grandparents for… a while. 

Steve's dad always has something to say about his life. How he's thrown everything away being a stay at home dad, or how idiotic it was to stay with you. The latter was enough for Steve to want to cut contact initially, but you convinced him not to do it on your behalf. 

Steve, pretty much everyone we knew thought I was baby trapping you, you'd said. 

Well, he'd said, attempting to lighten the mood, little do they know I baby trapped you. 

Damn. Wanna do it again?

So it was funny. His parents didn't like you but they hardly liked him, he didn't mind —he was so fucking angry because who the fuck did they think they were, how could they look at you and not love you, you, in what world was it possible?— and he put up with their passive aggressive Christmas cards and their sparing visits, but then his mom took it too far. 

He can remember it word for word. “Beth, honey,” his mom had said, her nose stuck in its permanent wrinkle, “why are you eating it like that? What do your friends at school think?” 

“Mom, don't,” Steve had butt in. Beth didn't even go to school at that point. 

“She's such a weird kid,” she said, shaking her head. 

Some could argue it was fond or that she didn't mean anything by it, Bethie is very unique sometimes, but Beth turned her face to her dad with crestfallen eyes, as heartbroken as Steve had ever seen her before, and asked, “I'm weird?” 

Steve doesn't remember the last time he spoke to his mom. A year ago at least. 

He does miss her. But he doesn't really know her, never has, and he'd choose Beth over her without a thought. It would take a hundredth of a millisecond to decide. 

That's why seeing her is a shock. He's going to see her, they live in the same town —you bumped into her a few weeks ago and had to give her the rundown. Everyone's okay. Yeah, we had another baby, she's doing great. 

Steve had blown up at her. The girls had never seen him that angry in their lives and they haven't seen it since, and the gap is impassable. 

Or so he thinks. 

“Steve!” He tenses up. “Steve, honey!” 

He can't decide what to do. He can't exactly run away; Bethie and Dove sit knee to knee in the shopping cart, Avery has her hand in his pocket, and Wren is strapped to his chest. Running would leave at least one girl behind, and where would he go? The frozen food aisle?

“Oh, it's grandma,” Avery says. “She looks… old.” 

“She is old,” he says, turning reluctantly on the spot to watch his mother rush past a stack of cans of carrots. “She's ancient.” 

“Steve, baby.” His mom stops in front of him, more flustered than he knew she could get back, struggling to maintain a sense of casualness. “How are you? Girls? It's been so long.” 

Steve doesn't have an inkling of an idea of what to say. He's not mad anymore, but he knows she'll never change, and he knows that your family is a hundred times happier without worrying what grandma and grandpa think of you. “We're perfect,” he says. 

“And this is baby Wren?” 

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, this is Wren.” 

She's only three months old but she has a good weight to her, and she's brilliantly healthy. She blinks at the woman in front of her without recognition, her dark lashes a thick hedging. She's a beautiful baby. 

“She looks like you again, Steve.” 

“Yeah, my girl's good at having babies, but she hasn't mastered the mixing process,” he jokes without thinking. Love for you falls off the tongue. 

His mother has the sense to make herself laugh. “Where is Y/N?” she asks. 

“Mom went back to get milk!” Avery says. 

“Yeah? And how are you, sweetie?” 

Steve clears his throat. He understands what she's trying to do, but he remembers Beth's crushed face and he can't abide this shit again. I believed you when you said I wasn't good enough, he'd said, he'd shouted, his voice hoarse with it as you’d wrapped a hand around his wrist arm, but I will not let you do it to them. It's not happening, mom, I won't let it. You don’t get to say that to her.

“Steven…” 

“Mom, we have to get going.” 

“I said I was sorry,” she says. 

“But you weren't.”

“Steve–” She doesn't look a thing like her son beside the similar way they begin to cry, that frown, “Please, I know I'm not perfect, we don't have to pretend I've– I'll hold my tongue. I just want to see my grandkids. I've never even held her.” 

Steve covers the back of Wren's head with his hand, her baby hair soft as down. The girls are being remarkably quiet, beside Dove, who's whispering, “Who is that?” to Bethie in her clumsy toddler drawl. 

“That's gran'ma,” she whispers back. 

Steve's mom is, at the end of the day, their grandma. And she sucks and she doesn't deserve anymore chances, and the girls are better off without her for the majority, but… 

Steve screws his eyes shut. Don't make me regret this, he thinks. 

“I just want to speak to them,” she says. 

“Alright,” he says quietly, covering Wren's ear. “Alright, mom, fine, but this is it. This is your chance. If you ever upset or insult one of my kids again, we're done. We will never, ever speak again. You won't see them, and you won't see me. I'm serious.” 

“I'm sorry,” she says again. 

“Fine.” He pulls the strap off of Wren's harness and shushes her gently as she protests, lifting her out of his arms into his mom's. She doesn't have time to decide if she's ready. This is how it's going to be. “Her head.” 

“I know how to hold a baby,” she says. 

You come around the aisle slowly, a little wince to your step, some residual tightness in your hips as you recover postpartum, but the frown you wear slips into surprise. “Terri?” 

You save Steve and take the reins, suffering a conversation on your pregnancy, birth, and Wren's first weeks of life as Steve takes a breath. His heart races, adrenaline and a sticky, icky feeling in his chest as he watches his mom. He doesn't know if he's doing the right thing. His arms ache to steal Wren back. 

It ends in an invitation for dinner. Whenever you're free, whatever you want, Steve's mom offers. 

He's glad to see the back of her. 

You put the milk carton in the cart and touch his elbow. “You okay?” He hums. Your hand moves up to his face, cupping his cheek. “She makes you so mad, babe. Do you need a second?” 

“I think I'm pissed because…” He glances down at Wren, who's happier now she's in familiar hands. “I didn't realise she was a shitty mom. I knew we didn't get along, the same with my dad, but I didn't know…” He sighs. 

“It's okay,” you say, giving him a gentle squeeze before Dove demands you pick her up. You do it unthinkingly, and that's why he's mad. 

“I know what a good mother looks like,” he says. “I know how hard it is. And I know she didn't even try.” 

You're all sympathy, looking like you wanna wrap him up in a cuddle in the middle of the grocery store. “You deserved better. It makes me angry too.” 

“Are we going to dinner?” Beth asks. 

“What, with grandma?” Avery asks. 

“Not right now,” Steve says. 

“Good,” Dove says decidedly, wrapping her arms around your neck to hug you, squishing your cheeks together. “Cocoa?” 

“Cocoa? You want hot cocoa?” you ask, pleased. 

It breaks his heart thinking about himself as a kid. He knows there weren't any moments like this, no soft touches or sweet treats that weren't begged for. You don't even think about saying no. 

“And marshmallows,” you croon, rubbing the little space between her shoulders. “And we'll have to get a cinnamon roll too, for your sister. How does that sound, Beth?” 

Beth doesn't like hot cocoa but she loves cinnamon rolls these days, and she nods her head exuberantly. As quick as that, the girls forget their grandma's interruption, and Steve tries his best to put it out of his mind. Family is messy, and it's harder now he has to make decisions for all of them, but he has you. His support beam, his sweetheart, you put Dove on your hip and sew your arm loosely through his. Tonight he'll talk your ear off about things you know already. You'll listen without complaint, stroking his hair back from his forehead if you have a free hand. His family growing up wasn't worth calling a family half the time, just three people connected by blood and a shared house, but the family he has today takes the cake. There's no competition. 

[starryeyedjanai]

words that are hard to swallow

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: christmas tags: modern au, christmas gifts, birthday gifts, accidental come ons read on ao3

Steve doesn't know what to get for Eddie for Christmas so he finds an Etsy shop that does custom candles where you can choose the scent and the message on the candle.

Steve puts in the order note that he’s getting this for someone that probably likes woodsy scents and that the message can be the seller’s choice.

He doesn't look at it before wrapping it because it gets to him a day late in the mail, on Christmas Eve when everyone is exchanging gifts, and he barely has time to wrap it before he leaves to meet everyone for dinner.

Everyone exchanges gifts around the tree after dinner and Eddie pauses for a really long moment when he gets to Steve's gift and it makes him nervous.

Does he not like the scent? A candle seemed like a generic gift that anyone would like, but maybe Eddie is particular about his scents.

A minute passes and then Eddie leans over to say, “We should probably talk later,” before putting the candle back in its box.

Steve follows Eddie to his place after dinner, wondering the entire time if he somehow mortally offended him and when they get inside, he asks, “Did you not like it?”

Eddie says, “I mean, it was a weird time to give that to me, don't you think?”

Steve is confused. A weird time to give him a candle?

Eddie sees his confusion and says, “You have no idea what it says, do you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I told the Etsy shop to surprise me.”

Eddie laughs. “Oh, you’ll be surprised alright.”

He takes the candle out of the box and turns it around.

It reads Light me when you want a BJ.

Steve is obviously mortified.

When he goes back to it later, the Etsy listing was apparently for “Candles for Him, Husband, Boyfriend, 18+ Messages.” He thought it meant there were over 18 messages to choose from.

He sighs and vows to pay closer attention to the listing next time.

—

The next time he needs a gift for Eddie is his birthday and he really does mean to pick his gift up earlier because he’s known for a while what he wanted to get him. But he lost track of time and then suddenly Eddie’s sending him a reminder about his birthday dinner and Steve still hasn't gotten the gift.

He heads to Target hoping and praying the Lego set Eddie mentioned a few months ago is in stock.

He finds it, luckily, and heads to the card aisle, but he’s pressed for time, so he just grabs one in the birthday section and hopes the message doesn't have anything age specific in it.

The cashier rings him up and places the card face down on the envelope, asking if he wants it in the bag.

He says no and asks if she has a pen because he doesn't have one in his car.

He grabs the pen from her and writes Hope you have a great birthday! on the inside, shoving it into the envelope and into the bag before taking his credit card out of the reader.

He rushes out of the store and is only a few minutes late to dinner.

He tells Eddie he’ll give him his gift at his apartment since he forgot to get a gift bag, so he meets Eddie at his apartment afterwards and brings the Target bag inside.

Eddie is appropriately surprised and happy, wrapping Steve up in a hug when he sees what’s inside the bag.

“You wanna help me put this together?” Eddie asks, and Steve says yes because that’s also part of why he wanted to give it to Eddie here.

They start putting together the set, the Bomber Starfighter, and it takes hours to get even halfway through, so they call it a night and agree to finish it tomorrow.

When Steve shows up a few hours before his shift the next day to finish it, Eddie opens the door with an envelope in his hand—his card must have fallen to the bottom of the bag when they took the Lego set out.

“So I don't know if this was a ‘haha remember the weird candle I accidentally bought’ thing or a come on, but I nearly choked on my coffee this morning when I found this,” Eddie says, letting Steve inside.

“Oh fuck, what does it say?” Steve asks, cringing.

Eddie turns and looks at him. “No fucking way this was an accident. I’d buy that it was a gag card, but there’s no way you picked this up by accident.”

“I was running late and didn't have time to read through the cards in Target. I just went with one that looked plain and simple,” he says.

Eddie hands him the card.

On the front, it says I LOVE YOU FOR YOUR PERSONALITY, BUT THAT D*CK IS A REALLY NICE BONUS.

“Jesus christ,” Steve says. “Why did Target even have this card?”

Eddie snorts. “Either the universe is trying to tell us something or you have supremely bad luck, my friend.”

Steve looks at him and hesitantly says, “Maybe it’s both?”

Eddie looks taken aback. “Yeah?” he asks with a shy smile.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “I dunno. I was… thinking about it after the last time, with the candle.”

“Thinking about…?” Eddie trails off, looking at Steve's lips, his eyes going dark.

Steve nods, biting his lip.

Eddie takes a step closer and says, “I don't know if you realized, but I lit that candle last night before you got here. It was burning while we were building the Lego set.”

Steve's breath comes a little bit quicker. “I didn't notice that, no.”

“Do you want me to light it again?” Eddie whispers and Steve doesn't even have to think about it before he nods.

They don't end up getting around to building the rest of the Lego set that day.

[icysinner]

❆⋆꙳•☃︎⋆꙳•✩⋆꙳•❅

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: eren is a better gift giver than you thought he was.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: not much, tooth rotting fluff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.093k

secret santa was arguably the only thing that made christmas as a college student exciting. everyone knows that as you grow older, christmas gets less and less interesting, but with the right group of friends, it has the potential to be just as fun as when you lived at home with your parents and siblings. sasha always organized the secret santa event, just because she took every holiday seriously as if her friends were her children.

just eren’s luck, the one year he gets to be your secret santa is the year that up until christmas, your friendship was becoming a lot more than just friends, meaning he had to put together a gift that meant a lot, he had no choice, you meant a lot. “connie, i’m fucked.” eren complained as he paced back and forth in their shared dorm room. “you stressin’ over nothing, she already likes you, she’s gonna like whatever you get her as long as you put some thought into it.” connie replied, not looking up from his phone as he offered eren the advice.

while connie was right, eren wanted this gift to be more than just a friendly gift exchange, he wanted it to mean something more than just that. “that’s the problem, i have no thought.” eren said, his tone completely serious, making connie laugh at him. “okay, that’s fair. ask mikasa to help you, she’s a girl, she knows what girls like. plus she’s close to y/n, you’re like a close second to mikasa on her list.” connie’s suggestion showed just how little “thought” eren had, because he didn’t even think about asking mikasa, and that was your best friend.

౨ৎ⋆ ˚ ❆｡⋆⁺₊❅.

“so, are you asking her to be your girlfriend with this gift or is that coming later?” mikasa asked, being sure to throw in the whole girlfriend thing. to be fair, you and eren have been dancing around adding the title to whatever the two of you have going on. “i think i wanna ask, but i don’t know how to pair a gift with something like that.” eren said, mikasa was more surprised at the amount of time he was really putting into this, she’d never seen him think this hard before. (and they have an english lecture together, so trust her.) “i think that she’ll like whatever you get her. she likes a bunch of shit, pick one thing and do it.”

obviously eren had thought of that, but that was basic, and you have everything you like already. “okay, here’s an idea. make her a basket.” mikasa suggested, making what seemed like a lightbulb go off in eren’s mind. “actually… i like that idea.” eren said, a million ideas running through his mind at once. if you liked so many things, getting you all of them at once was obviously the best idea. oddly enough, eren trusted himself enough to make it completely on his own, it wouldn’t feel genuine if he didn’t, he thought.

౨ৎ⋆ ˚ ❆｡⋆⁺₊❅.

everyone was assigned a secret santa on december eighteenth, which gave them a full week to decide, put together and deliver a gift. eren spent the entire week buying separate things from a million different stores for this one basket. he only asked for help when he needed an opinion on a color or which gift cards he should put in the basket. he’d completed this elaborate gift, and now he had to shake off all his nervousness in order to actually give you the gift.

—

eren

wyd?

y/n

not shit

eren

perfect

eren

don’t go anywhere or do anything i’ll be there in like 5 minutes

y/n

i’m nervous omg why u so cryptic for???

—

obviously, eren was your secret santa, but that’s not why you were so nervous. if it was just a regular gift, why would he calculate everything so well? nonetheless, you were excited for whatever it was. you lived in a single dorm, but it was across campus from your friend group, which was the only downside it really had. after all of his perfectionist behavior, shifting the basket around a million times to make sure you could see everything he put in it perfectly before you took it out, he arrived at your door.

it took some building up for him to actually knock, and once he did, all of the nervousness he had multiplied yours tenfold. you nearly shot up from your seat to go answer the door, opening it to a smiling eren, holding a basket in one arm and a heart shaped box with flowers in the other. your eyes widened as your face grew into a smile. “eren, no way.” is all you managed to get out of your mouth as you stared at him in adoration and disbelief. “you’re not gonna be able to look at all of the stuff if you don’t let me in.” his words made you snap out of this trance you were in as you stepped out of the way to let him in.

eren took a couple steps forward and set the basket and flowers down on the counter, but he kept the box behind him. “look at what’s in there first.” he directed, because he knew you well enough to know that your curiosity would make you want to know what’s so special that he’s hiding it. you pulled all of the stuff out of the basket one by one, looking like a little kid under the christmas tree again. “eren, how much did you spend on all this stuff?” you asked, your eyes widening with every object you pulled out of the basket. “you worried about the wrong thing, that doesn’t matter. you like it, right?” eren asked, to which you responded with a nod. “then that’s all that matters.”

“i need to get a vase, i wanna keep these.” you said to yourself as you sat them up next to the basket to make space for the last thing eren was hiding from you. the small comment made eren smile to himself as he held out the box to you. you looked down at it, reading the red cursive letters written on the dessert. “yes, duh!” you exclaimed in excitement, taking the box from his hands and wrapping him in a hug. “i don’t even wanna eat it, i just wanna save it forever.” you said, making eren laugh at you. “you say that now, but i know you well enough to know you’ll definitely eat it.”

[kitashousewife]

be mine

an: heehee happy valentines day! there is still more to come so don't worry i'm not stopping here

pairings: timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader

warnings: little angst, lots of fluff, lots of pet names, confessions of feelings

-

the steady drum of volleyballs hitting the hardwood floor distracts atsumu's thoughts for a while. soles squeaking, teammates shouting, and the tune of the coach's whistle bouncing off of the walls. he's finally out of his head.

but, as always, the regular discussions in the locker room pull him right back in.

"how long has it been? three months? and you still haven't asked her out?"

atsumu hums, shutting his locker and giving hinata an exhausted look. "yeah, since before christmas."

"what's the hold-up?" bokuto pats atsumu on the back with wiggling eyebrows. "is little 'tsumie afraid?"

that makes him irritated. he knows he should have made things official weeks ago. the badgering isn't helping, though.

"shut up," he huffs and hides a frown with the hoodie that's pulled over his head. "until ya get a girlfriend kotaro, i don't wanna hear shit."

bokuto whistles. "okay, okay. but seriously, what's the issue?"

atsumu thinks for a second. he's honestly not really sure. he's been meaning to, he just can't find the right time.

but, he's pretty sure that's just an excuse.

"you don't have an excuse miya," sakusa smirks as they walk towards the parking lot. "i agree kotaro, i think he's scared."

"no!" atsumu quips, a little quickly. "i mean, i don't know. i really don't know. i want to, i just...can't."

"is it her? does she want to? are you getting mixed signals?" hinata rests against the hood of his car.

"no, she's always happy to talk to me. she gets excited to see me, buys me dinner, and responds immediately. she's perfect."

"soooo," sakusa raises his eyebrows. atsumu sighs.

"i just don't want to disappoint her."

his stomach flips. he's thought about it for months at this point. he wanted to make you his before the first date was over. but, his past got in the way, clouding his confidence just a touch.

past girls using him for the little money he makes. some girls accusing him of spending too much time at volleyball, and not providing enough attention. others just in it for attention, lusting after the instagram posts and twitter updates with their faces in them.

atsumu wants you to be his, and he doesn't want you to leave.

"atsumu, it's been three months. i think she knows you by now. besides, if she was interested in you for the wrong reasons, wouldn't she have left by now?" bokuto's words help atsumu to relax a little.

"yeah, yer right. god, what do i even do? i feel like a fuckin' high schooler," he whines, throwing his bag into his car.

"you're in luck. valentine's day is tomorrow, which means you have the perfect reason," sakusa slides into his car. "c'mon miya, where's your romantic side?"

atsumu thinks about that the entire drive home. he doesn't know what to do. he considers taking you out to a nice dinner, somewhere fancy and luxurious. but, reservations have probably been booked for months. he thinks about using a card, but that's lame. really, he wants to call you for advice, just like he does with everything, but that won't work.

he throws himself on his bed with a sigh.

maybe he'll never ask.

little does he know, you're in the same boat.

sitting cross-legged in the middle of your bedroom floor, you look like an art project gone wrong. glue sticks, markers, and different shades of pink cardstock litter the ground hiding the failed cards and notes from before. you sigh, putting the finishing touches on what you hope to be the final product.

a small, pink card with a bumble bee and hearts with the words bee mine in shaky cursive underneath. you're still deciding what to fill the inside with.

you don't want to say too much, but you also want to make sure you get your feelings out. it's been almost six weeks, and atsumu still hasn't made things official with you. you see him at least three times a week, he takes you to dinner but never calls them dates. he invites you to parties, event dinners, and even took you to his cousin's wedding last weekend.

what's taking him so long?

as soon as you see the clock on the wall, you groan. atsumu should be here any minute, and you haven't written a word on his card yet. he asked you if he could come over tonight, saying he was dying to see ya. since it's the night before valentines, you decide this may be your only shot. you quickly scribble something down, hearing his footsteps through the thin walls of your apartment. quick hands shove the evidence into a garbage bag before you scurry to wash up.

"honey, i'm home!" atsumu sings as he opens the door. "wait! close yer eyes!"

"why should i listen to someone who just entered my home without permission?" you say, eyes firmly closed from your spot on the couch.

"yet, ya listened anyway huh?" he teases when you flip him off from the couch. "keep em' closed pretty. i'm not ready yet."

your heart beats a little quicker. "o-okay, but i have to tell you something."

"alright sweetheart. just a second," he grunts, tripping over the strings of the five heart balloons that he holds in his left hand. he shuffles over to you at sets down a container of chocolate-covered strawberries (that he had to beg osamu to make), and a dozen roses. you smile when you hear the crinkle of cellophane.

atsumu's stomach is doing flips, but he can't do this anymore.

"okay, you can open." his voice sounds a lot more nervous than he would've liked. when you open them, he can't quite read your face.

"atsumu," you breathe. you aren't sure where to look.

"i know, it's a lot, but listen," he flops down next to you, grabbing your hands in his. "i didn't want to be lame but, i just wanted to tell you."

"okay," you ease him on. he takes a deep breath, before smiling wide.

"i think that ya have got to be the most beautiful girl i have ever seen in my life," he looks at you with hearts in his eyes. "from the moment i met ya, i wanted to make ya mine. i want to be the one ya come home to after a long day, i want to see ya in the stands during my games with my jersey on," his cheeks get a little pink.

"i want ya to be mine. my girlfriend."

"atsumu," you breathe, just like before. this time is a little more shaky, but with a bigger smile. "i want to be yours. i want you to be mine."

he laughs running his hand through his hair. "really?"

you nod, holding his face in your hands.

"really," you smile, pulling him in for a kiss. atsumu doesn't pull away until he absolutely has to, wanting to drown in this moment and keep it forever.

"baby, i don't think ya know how happy i am right now," he really can't stop smiling, no matter how hard he tries. he feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest, amazed at the instant relief he feels after telling you.

"you didn't have to do all of this!" you pull at the balloons, watching them bounce off of one another.

"yes i did! plus, ya gotta try one of these. my brother made 'em and they're amazin'." you reach down to grab one, but he stops you.

"let me grab one!" you giggle, but he smirks.

"what's in your hand?"

you freeze, forgetting all about the card that rests between your fingertips.

"nothing."

"oh c'mon angel, lemme see!"

you shake your head, but he persists.

"why not!"

"because it's stupid, especially compared to all of this!" you gesture towards the flowers and berries.

"please," he begs, giving you a large pout. you roll your eyes.

"fine, but save the comments for yourself. i worked really hard on it."

atsumu pulls the card from it's envelope slowly before giving a quiet gasp.

"i know, i know, it looks like a preschooler did it. just give it back and-"

"are ya kidding me?" he practically shrieks. "this is goin' straight on my locker. 'gonna tape it right to the front."

"are you serious?"

"mhm," he hums, smirking when he reads the inside of the card.

happy valentine's day atsumu. you're the most handsome man i've ever met, and the funniest too. i hope that you will "bee mine" once and for all.

"what's so funny?"

"nothin', i'm just thinkin' that you might have a crush on me."

you roll your eyes, scooching a little closer to him on the couch. he wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss on top of your head.

"for the record, i have a crush on ya too. a huge one."

[fuckingstrange]

——————————————————————————————————————

Tensed Up

——————————————————————————————————————

GENRE: SMUT + FLUFF

WARNINGS: Implied construction worker!reader, idk they got dirty at their job, Reid being cute, oral sex (reader receiving), handjob (reader receiving), cum-swallowing, multiple orgasms, maybe overstimulation?, spit as lube

WORDS: 1,135

PAIRING: Spencer Reid x m!reader

——————————————————————————————————————

Spencer sits on the floor of his apartment, curled up in a ball with some pajama pants on and a simple hoodie as he reads. You had just gotten home from work, exhausted and beat. The sight of him so relaxed and comfortable makes you smile, though you don't want to join him until you get out of your dirtied work clothes.

Spencer turns to see you, having heard you walking down the hall. He scrambles to stand up and runs over to you, looking like a kid on Christmas as he greets you with a hug and a kiss. “Hey! You're home!” He exclaims with a smile, peppering your face with kisses like he usually does. You reach up, gently grabbing his lower jaw and guiding him away after only a few though. As much as you do want to spend time with him, you're worried about being so dirty when he hates unclean things. His hair looks damp, meaning he just had a shower and wouldn't want to join you anyways.

He frowns a bit when you guide him away, tilting his head like a confused puppy as he asks “What's wrong?”, Thinking he either did something or you're just grumpy after work. “Nothing, sweetheart.” You assure him. “I just don't think you wanna be kissing all on me. I'm dirty.” You gesture to the dirt covering your clothes and face.

Spencer shrugs and reaches forward, using his thumb to lightly scratch the dirt off of your face, whispering “I don't mind.” This shocks you a bit, the action of him trying to get the dirt off your face making your heart melt, a small smile forming on your face again. You don't stop him when he leans forward to plant his lips on yours, letting your eyes flutter shut as you kiss back. It's soft and sweet, even as he reaches down to help start shedding you of your work clothes, mumbling something about getting you into the shower. His kisses trail down to your jaw, kissing wherever there isn't tons of dirt crusted to your skin, using one hand to reach up and scratch off wherever there are clumps.

You let him undress you, all the way down to your boxers. Your cheeks flush a light red when he slips his hand in, his slender fingers wrapping around your soft shaft and starting to pump it, feeling the way it starts to harden and even twitches in his hand. You can't help but groan, arms wrapping around his shoulder to help keep yourself up. Your body melts under the gentle touch, letting out a small whine when he pulls you out of your boxers, wanting a better angle to continue his ministrations. The cold air hits your hardened cock, making you shiver.

Spencer presses his lips back against yours, guiding you by the waistband of your boxers over to the couch. “I can feel how tense you are, baby.” He whispers as he pushes you to sit down, your cock twitches as he slips to his knees in front of you and returns his hand to your length, stroking it from base to tip before leaning forward to lick up the underside of it. Your hand shoots to the back of his head, fingers carding through his damp hair and getting a firm grip on the wettend strands. He suddenly takes you into his mouth, swallowing you all the way down. You immediately buck up with a gasp, head tossing back. He lifts his head until only the tip of your dick is in his mouth and swirls his tounge around it, the feeling making you moan out as you melt back against the couch.

His hands move up to rest on your thighs as he begins bobbing his head, gagging a bit whenever your hips buck, but he doesn't stop. “Fuck, Spencer, Please-” You choke out, knowing you won't last as long as he probably wants. He tightens his grip on your thigh, continuing to mercilessly bob his head, taking a second to flatten his tounge against your tip before swallowing you down again. You cum fairly quick, back arching as a whine slips from your lips while you spill into his mouth. Spencer chokes a bit, but swallows down as much as he can. He pulls off of you to use his thumb to push in whatever of your seed had gotten on the corner of his mouth.

Just as you think he's gonna stand up, he suddenly leans forward to start kitten-licking the head of your cock, making you twitch from the feeling. “Spencer..” You whisper, though it trails off into a moan when you watch him spit on his hand before reaching up to start stroking your cock again. “I'm not gonna stop till every last bit of tension is out of these muscles.” He whispers with a grin, caressing your inner thigh with his thumb. You whine and shudder, your cock not even having a chance to soften before he's pumping you till you're completely hard again.

His hand glides easily up and down, and each time he leans forward to lick around your tip, gathering up the salty precum, you groan and twitch in response. He massages your thigh and whispers soft words of encouragement, whenever his tounge isn't toying with the head of your cock his mouth is down at your thigh placing open mouthed kisses. Your second orgasm approaches even quicker than your first, and you can't help but melt back against the couch while letting noises flow freely from your lips.

Spencer moves his hand quicker, leaning forward to wrap his lips around the head just as he flicks his wrist, letting you spill into his mouth again. The cry of his name that falls from your lips makes him groan around you, the vibrations of the noise making you gasp and twitch, another stream of cum shooting out onto his tounge.

He leans back on his knees and wipes his mouth, stroking you until you soften and finally letting go, fucking you back into your boxers and crawling into your lap. He curls up into you and kisses your cheek, asking “Are you wanting to bathe or nap first?”, to which you answer with “Nap.”

You pull him down with you, snuggling up into him. The house is a bit cold, so you find yourself curling into him to try and get some of his body heat. You frown when he pushes you back, though watch as he sits up and proceeds to slip off his hoodie while saying “Here, wear this.” You happily take it and slip it on before snuggling up to him again. Spencer kisses you on the forehead as he gets comfortable, letting his eyes slip shut.

[talkfastlibrary]

Birthday Boudoir--Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

Authors note: thank you for your patience, I’m so sorry it’s been so long since we’ve been with Jake and Sugar🥺 but I plan to continue their story🫶🏻

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

word count: 4.5k

warnings: oral sex (female receiving)

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

You want to do something special for Jake’s birthday since he’s helping out so much with you and with Betty. With his special day coming up in the middle of the month, you and Serena went to The Lark and reserved a room for a private party and to select the food menu. The manager insisted on giving you their DJ for the night so there can be dancing. She also accompanied you to a well known bakery downtown to customize a cake.

You decided on a lemon-flavored cake with raspberry filling and buttercream frosting. You also requested it look like an aviator flight suit paired with Aviator sunglasses and Top Gun involved somehow. 

“What are you going to give him as a gift?” Serena asks when you’re while you eat lunch after your birthday errands. 

While you trust Reynolds not to say a word to Jake–it is a surprise party after all–you didn’t want there to be any chance of the surprise being blown. So you didn’t even ask him what Jake would want. You suppose you could ask Rhea, but she might let it slip on accident.

“I’m not sure…he has plenty of watches, multiple wallets, a billion ties…”

“I know what you could give him,” Serena smirks. “Birthday sex is always a winner.”

“Serena,” you groan. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not? It’d be the perfect opportunity! Or you can get sexy lingerie and do a boudoir photoshoot. Brynne knows a photographer and she can make it into a little book, it’d be perfect!”

“How am I going to afford that? I already spent so much on the room and food, The Lark isn’t cheap, S.”

“You have his credit card, right?”

“I’m not going to buy his gift with his own money, then it’s not a gift.”

“I think he’d be more than okay with that purchase, babe.”

You finish lunch in silence then when she drives you home, you pause before getting out. The drive gave you time to think.

“His birthday is in a few weeks…and he’ll be out of town for two days next week…will the book be done by then? Is she even available?”

“Yes! Ivy is wicked talented. I was thinking of doing one for Bradley so I’d love to see yours.”

“Really? You want to do one for Bradley?”

“Yeah, as a Christmas gift,” Serena shrugs.

“Christmas? Wow, you’re serious about him, huh?” you smile.

“He’s different than all the other guys I’ve dated,” she shrugs again.

“Yeah, he’s not a loser and he treats you the way you deserve. Wanna come in for some wine before Jake gets home?”

You’re both on a third glass of wine sitting out by the pool when Jake arrives and you’re surprised to see Bradley in tow behind him. 

“Have you ladies eaten?” Jake asks, eying the nearly empty wine bottle.

“We had salads at lunch,” you giggle.

“No meat?” Bradley asks.

“You’re here now,” Serena smiles coyly and then you both fall into each other in a fit of giggles. 

“All right, not what I meant,” Bradley shakes his head but looks at Serena fondly. “I’m flattered, Pooks, but I meant protein. Or carbs to soak up your wine.”

“Pooks? What’s a Pooks?” you turn to Serena in confusion. 

“You haven’t told her my nickname for you?” Bradley’s amused now and his eyebrows lift up. 

“No, it’s a secret nickname!”

“I’ll keep a secret!” you nearly shout. Jake comes closer to you stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. You nuzzle against it before slipping your hand in his.

“I call her–”

“No, Bradley!”

“I call her Pookie,” Bradley grins, his voice louder than Serena’s. 

You gush and squeal at the cuteness of it and Serena hides her face in her hands.

“You’re his Pookie! Aw!” You hug her and the guys laugh. 

“Sugar, what’re you hungry for?” Jake asks, pulling out his phone.

“Mm, pizza!” you lean back towards him and stare up at him.

“Serena likes pasta,” Bradley mentions strutting over to Serena. He bends down to give her a kiss on the temple. “I’ll get you girls some water.”

You ended up finding reasonably priced lingerie online, your favorite was a cream colored babydoll nightgown. Jake was gone on his two day trip so you had Ivy come to the house. You’d feel more comfortable taking photos at home and you finally feel comfortable calling it that. You invited Inez over so she could do your hair and makeup and she had words of encouragement for you before Ivy arrived.

Ivy was great and definitely boosted your confidence as she had you pose on his bed. She brought along some pearls and draped them over your breasts and shoulders as she snapped photos but you made sure to wear the earrings he bought you. 

“Too bad he took his aviation jacket, that would have made a great photo,” Ivy comments while you change into a baby pink ruffled set. The top was off the shoulder and the bottoms were satin with a small pink bow on the front, the waistline pulled up onto your waist. 

“You should do some in the pool,” Inez suggests. “He would absolutely lose his shit.”

“Ooh, water shots would be hot!” Ivy agrees.

“I’d have to be naked for those, right?” You bite your lip.

“Not necessarily. You can put on your last outfit and I’ll take some of those dry and you can wear it in the water.”

“Okay,” you nod.

The last outfit is also blush pink but the back is your favorite part because it has ruffles and a delicate bow that perches perfectly atop your ass. When you pose in the pool (you’re glad it’s heated) the fabric clings to your body. Inez is complimenting how hot you look. Ivy has you sit on the edge of the pool arching your back and head tilted upwards.  

With the water and your movements, the straps of the negligee fall off your shoulders.

“Oh that’s perfect, bring your arms up so you’re pushing up your breasts a little…just like that!”

“Hey Ivy…if I were to be naked…how would you pose me?”

She poses you so that the photos will lead to the imagination of your bare body. As she shows you some of the photos you’re in awe at how you look, you didn’t think you’d look this good or like how you looked this much. 

“I can have the book done for you the Wednesday before his party,” Ivy tells you as she gathers her things. You’re in a fluffy robe from your bathroom making a pot of tea in the kitchen. “Which one would you like as the cover?”

“This one…where I’m laying down on my stomach on the bed staring at the camera. I like my eyes in it and Jake always comments on my eyes…” you smile sheepishly, suddenly feeling giddy that he’ll be seeing these. You can’t wait to see his reaction. 

“Done. I’ll get to working and adding sepia or black and white effects. Would you like me to deliver it at the flower shop?”

“That’d be great, then I can hide it.” 

“Hey, Sugar,” Jake calls you from his small office off the main entryway as you arrive home from work and the store. You felt the weight of the boudoir book in your purse as you entered his room. He has his laptop open and what looks like bills in front of him. 

“Yeah?” you breathe in the doorway.

“C’mere a sec,” he motions you forward with his fingers. You step carefully inside and stand next to him in his chair, his arm wraps around your waist and you look down at his desk. You see credit card statements laid out in their trifold arrangement. 

You gulp.

“Did you buy some new clothes?” he asks pointing to the statement while his other hand around you rubs circles into your waist. 

“Um, yes,” you mumble.

“How come I haven’t seen them?”

“I”m sorry, I didn’t know–”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Aren’t you mad I bought something?”

“No!” he pushes the statements away and swivels his chair so he can stand. He towers over you leaning against his desk, his hands cup your face. “Of course I’m not mad, I’m glad you used the card I gave you. Will I get to see these new clothes?”

“It’s just one dress and some accessories,” you bite your lip. Jake uses his thumb to pull your lip away, he smooths the small indent from your teeth. 

“Can I see it?”

“I bought it for your birthday.”

“My birthday?” his brows furrowed and he fully sat on his desk. He spreads his legs so you’re standing between them and closer to him. 

“Yeah, it’s in two days and I wanted to do something special. I thought we could go to The Lark for drinks and dinner?”

“It doesn’t have to be a big to do, Sugar. I’m fine if we stay in and watch movies eating takeout,” he shakes his head.

“You don’t want to go out?” you start to internally panic. 

“It’s not that big a deal, just another day. And please don’t spend money on me, darlin’, okay?” he kisses your nose and rubs your backside affectionately. “Let me finish looking through these bills and we’ll have dinner.”

“Okay…” you murmur and exit his office like you’re a ghost. 

Now how are you going to get him to his party? 

You were thinking of different scenarios to get him to the restaurant without giving anything away throughout dinner and the movie Jake put on. When he asked if you were ready for bed, you followed him upstairs like a zombie and moved slowly through your night routine. 

“Are you all right?” he asks once you crawl into bed.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been acting weird since I asked you about the dress you bought, I swear I’m not mad at you.”

“No, I know you’re not I just…have other things on my mind.”

“Is it Betty?”

“No, she’s fine,” you shake your head. “Work stuff.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he leans on his elbow staring at you with his pretty green eyes.

“It’s all right,” you fall onto your pillow snuggling into him. “Sorry I was distracted tonight.”

“Let me know what I can do to help,” he hugs you to him and kisses the top of your head. His hands rub over your shoulders and back. 

“Can we go to The Lark for your birthday? I grew up going out to dinner for birthdays and I want to do that for you,” you confess into his chest. You hold your breath waiting for an answer. 

“You really want to?” the motions of his hands slow a bit.

“Yeah, I sort of bought that dress especially for your birthday,” you stress. 

“You did mention that…” he murmurs and you feel his smile against your hair. “Okay, we’ll go to The Lark for my birthday. I’m dying to see this dress.”

“Yay!” You lift your head from his chest and give litter his face in quick kisses. 

You took the day off from work to place some decorations in the room where Jake’s party will be held. Serena and Bradley came over to help as well, their height really came in handy with setting up the photobooth area.

“I can’t believe Jake let you set this all up for him,” Bradley says, tying off a silver balloon and tossing it in front of the shimmery backdrop. 

“What do you mean?” you ask scattering ‘Happy Birthday' confetti on the round table where the cake and presents will go.

“He hates his birthday, ever since I’ve known him he’s spent the day alone or takes up extra hours at work so no one makes a big to-do about it.”

“He hates his birthday?! Why?” You gasp and panic sets in again. 

“Not sure,” Bradley shrugs, “but he’ll do anything for you, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“He doesn’t even know it’s happening, this is all a surprise, B,” Serena says blowing up another black balloon. 

“Really?” Bradley’s eyes widen but when he meets your gaze he quickly goes back to normal. “It’ll be fine, y/n. He lo–he’ll love it because you set this up for him.”

“Are you sure? What if he had a traumatizing moment from a surprise birthday party when he was younger and now I’m going to ruin his birthday even more?!”

“y/n, it’s going to be fine,” Serena says and glares at Bradley. “Jake’s crazy about you and you could kill a hundred people and he wouldn’t bat an eye to helping you hide the bodies.”

“That’s morbid,” Bradley mutters.

“You know I’m right. He’s going to love your dress, he’s going to love that you planned this all for him and he’s going to love your gift. We’ll take care of the rest of the set-up, you go home and get ready. I’ll make sure everyone is in position by the time you get here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Serena nods, “Go home and get the birthday boy.”

Your mind was racing of all the possible reactions Jake could have to his surprise party and they were all on the negative side. You should have asked his friends if he would have liked a birthday party. Should you have invited his family? You have yet to meet them and now with you not inviting them, they’ll hate you? 

Your head was pounding by the time your shower was done and you tried not to overthink as you did your hair and makeup. Nervously, you kept checking the clock for when Jake will be home. You’d told him reservations would be for seven and you had just finished slipping into your satin dress when you heard a low whistle behind you. 

You spun around to see Jake leaning against the doorframe ogling you in your dress.

“Jake! I wanted to make a big appearance in this!” you pout, lifting the fabric in your fingers as you walk to the couch where your shoes are. 

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’d be lying. You look so damn good,” he drawls moving in front of you. 

He kneels on the floor in front of you as you fit your shoes on, his own fingers replacing yours as he lifts your foot on his thigh. With slow precision he fastens the buckle then does the other foot and skims his fingers up your calf and over the smooth satin of the dress. 

“Jake,” you warn, he leans his upper body over your lap while his eyes drag over the dress. 

“What? I’m admiring this dress my girl bought just for me to see her in it. I want to enjoy it before the rest of the world sees you,” he says and kisses your shoulder. “I was going to wait until Christmas but I have a necklace that would fit perfectly right here…” 

His lips press to the apex of your breasts where you did want to wear a necklace but couldn’t find one that would suit the dress. 

“You do?” you drag his face from your chest so you can look into his eyes. “What’s it look like?” 

“It’s a drop necklace with two diamonds,” he smiles. “Would you like to wear it?”

“Maybe,” you bite your lip. “But if it was a gift for Christmas–”

“I changed my mind. Pretend it’s a gift you bought. I’ll be right back.”

He darts away to his closet then rushes out holding a long black box which he opens when he kneels in front of you again. You gasp quietly as you peer into the box, the delicate chain sparkles but the diamonds are even more glamorous. 

“Jake! This is stunning,” you breathe. 

“Let me put it on you, Sugar.”

He removes the jewelry and unclasps the hook just as you hold up your hair in your hand. He leans around you and you suck in a breath at the coolness of the diamonds on your skin and Jake clasps it together. His lips kiss your neck, shoulder, and clavicle bone before capturing your lips. 

“Beautiful,” he mumbles.

“You haven’t even seen it on me,” you giggle into his kiss. Your fingers curl into his hair. 

“Don’t have, already know it’s beautiful on you.” 

You continue to kiss quietly and then your phone dings in a notification and you remember you’re on a time crunch. 

“Jake,” you gasp but his lips shift to below your ears. “We need to go to the restaurant and you have to change.”

“I’m not done admiring you yet…”

His hand has slid up the slit of your dress, his thumb presses into your inner thigh and he nibbles on the lobe of your ear. You almost give in and want him to do whatever he wants to you but then you remember there’s a roomful of people waiting for him.

“The sooner we go to dinner the sooner we can come back and I can give you your present birthday boy,” you push him off you and his eyes are slightly crazed. 

“You got me a present?”

“Mhm, and you’re not getting it until after dinner.”

He stares into your eyes for a beat, then down at the necklace and your dress before he scampers off to his closet. You hear hangers rattling and some grunting so you stand up and spritz some perfume on. The notification on your phone was from Serena saying they’re ready for you.

“Okay, let’s eat as fast as we can.”

When you arrive at the restaurant your stomach is in knots because you’re still nervous as to how he’s going to react to the party. The host plays her part by saying every table is full so you’ll have to move upstairs. Jake holds your hand up the stairs.

“What–”

The doors open and you push Jake forward so he can see the full effect as everyone shouts ‘Happy Birthday!’ Jake squeezes your hand as confetti poppers explode over the both of you. He faces you, eyes wide. 

“Surprise,” you whisper. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad? Why would I–”

Rooster and Coyote pull him from you declaring he needs birthday shots and drags him to the bar in the corner of the room. Music is already playing and food is placed on the tables. The girls take you away next and you don’t see Jake until it’s time to cut his cake. 

By that time, he’s slightly intoxicated and pulls you into him as everyone sings Happy Birthday to him. 

“Are you mad?” you ask trying to steady the both of you as he dances along to the singing.

“Why would I be mad? You threw me a surprise birthday party, Sugar, no one’s ever done that for me before. I’m having a great time.”

“You are?” 

“Blow out the candles Bagman!” Phoenix shouts from the lap of Brynne at the nearest table. 

Jake sloppily blows them out and hugs you close again.

“Why do you think I’d be mad?” he asks into your shoulder.

“Bradley said you don’t like your birthday–”

“I have mixed feelings about it, but you did this. For me. This is the best birthday ever,” he stares into your eyes. “Thank you for doing this for me, Sugar.” 

You frame his cheeks and give him a kiss that is borderline inappropriate given the present company. There’s catcalls and wolf whistles when Jake’s hand drops lower onto your ass which makes you laugh. 

The rest of the evening is spent taking photos at the photobooth and dancing on the dancefloor with Jake. Turns out he loves Frank Sinatra and his crooning voice made the night even more magical. The night ended with just the two of you dancing along to the duet of ‘Somethin’ Stupid’ with Nancy Sinatra and Jake loves to spin you around. 

You feel as if you’re in a movie and while dancing with him, all that’s wrong in the world disappears. It’s just you and him.

Back at home, you drag Jake up to his bedroom and sit him down on the edge of his bed. He removes his tie and jacket, tossing them in the corner of the room. Your shoes were off as soon as you entered the house and it felt nice to walk on the plush carpet. 

“Where are you going?” he asks your back as you go into your closet of his room.

“I have a birthday gift for you, remember?” 

You quickly remove your dress and put on the pink lingerie set with the bow and cover up with a robe. When you’re back in his room he’s laid back on the bed, arms wide, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Hey, no sleeping yet birthday boy. Sit up,” you sit next to him. 

When he sees what you��re wearing, he shoots straight up then looks at the gold wrapped gift in your lap. 

“This is for me?” he smiles resting his hand over yours.

“Happy Birthday, Jake.”

You hold out the gift and he grabs it. You hope he can’t hear your heart beating as he tears away the paper, you purposefully wrapped it upside down so he’d have to flip it over to see the cover. When he does, you hold your breath and he stares at the image of you staring up at him in black and white. He seems frozen so you flip the cover open and you see the photo of you laying on the bed with the pearls. 

Jake’s fingers trace over the string of pearls softly before turning the page. You sit quietly trying to gauge his reaction and you see a slight smile on his face the more he flips through the book. 

“When did you do this?” he finally breaks the silence when he’s halfway through.

“Last week while you were gone.”

He’s silent again as he continues and then it’s the pool photos. He groans when he realizes you’re completely nude. You notice he’s shifting on the bed and at the very last page he reads your inscription to him before closing the book. 

“Sugar, this is–”

“One more surprise,” you interrupt him and unfold your legs from under you. You stand up and remove your robe, letting it pool at your feet as you stand before him in the lingerie piece. 

“What…” he sets the book down on the floor carefully, his eyes scanning over you slowly. “What did I do to deserve you?” 

His voice is a little hoarse and scratchy and it elicits some dampness to form between your legs. In one swift motion, Jake lifts you by the backs of your thighs and you’re suddenly staring at him above you. On the same thought, you tug him down as he presses himself against you in a heated kiss. Your fingers pop open the button of his dress shirt, the pads drifting over his chest hair. You try to tug the shirt off but he breaks away.

“No, no, this is all about you, baby,” he shakes his head sliding down the bed, pulling you with him until you’re at the very edge.

He spreads your legs slightly and drags his hands to the flimsy fabric of your panties, dragging them down and off you. He parts your legs more, your heart is racing as you watch him raised on your elbows. 

“But it’s your birthday–”

“You’re all I need.”

He kisses up your left leg, teeth nibbling every now and then as he rests your leg on his shoulder. He does the same thing to your right leg and you’re elevated to his mouth. 

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” he mumbles brushing a knuckle to your wet core. Your legs jolt at the contact and you’re hot all over. “Can I make you feel good, Sugar?”

His green eyes are blazing as he gazes up at you and you can’t find the words to speak so you just nod. 

“Use your words, baby.” His pinky glides up your slit and that somehow brings back your voice.

“Yes…please,” you whimper. 

Jake hums and with a smirk he lowers his mouth to your very center and when you feel his hot breath and wet tongue, you fall back onto the bedspread. He uses his tongue and lips in a way that makes it feel like he has three tongues. He suckles and laps in all the places you never knew existed, and then a newfound stretch of his finger slipping inside you has you moaning. 

“Oh, Jake,” you sigh. Your hands fly to his hair guiding him to where your body is reacting the most to his actions. He hums and slips his tongue inside you along with his finger. Your mouth opens and your toes curl. 

Soon, your body is rocking with the motions of his ministrations, your legs clamping around his head. He’s making you hot, your lower back becomes slick with sweat and your stomach is full of butterflies. His one hand is gripping your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles and then he does something with his mouth and you practically scream. You bite onto your knuckles.

“I wanna hear you, Sugar,” he mumbles and makes an obscene slurping noise. “So fucking wet…goddamn.”

He devours you, putting his whole body into pleasuring you and you feel the muscles in his back stretch and flex. It’s like a band inside you is about to snap and when another finger is inserted and his tongue is moving at an even quicker pace, you rise up. 

The band starts to snap and you clutch his face to your core as your orgasm explodes out of you. You’re whimpering and moaning and saying words that don’t even sound like English until you fall back on the bed and enjoy the lingering part of your orgasm. Your fingers fall from his hair and he’s still working his mouth over you, milking the remnants of your orgasm. 

“Oh my God,” you squeak and drag your hands up your body and over your breasts. You give them a squeeze, feeling the hard peaks of your nipples through the thin fabric.

Jake doesn’t let up and your legs start to shake, your breathing turns into pants.

“Jake, I’m going to–”

“Cum for me again, Sugar,” he encourages and as if your body was waiting for the command, you do.

This orgasm is more warm and languid, turning your body into jelly. You feel like you’re floating and Jake removes his fingers from you slowly but your body reacts from the loss. 

“Sorry, Sugar, I’ll be more gentle,” he coaxes and kisses your pussy delicately before lifting his head. 

You tilt your head so you can see him, his lips and chin are glistening with your orgasm and that makes you hot all over again. 

“You know, I loved the birthday cake you got for me,” he says crawling over you. He swipes the moisture from his chin and sucks on his thumb. “But you’re my favorite flavor.”

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #11] Perry

warnings: birds! jaykay gets kissed in a club :( paint party! fun!! b and jk then proceed to have a totally platonic shower :) normal friend things!!

soundtrack: better - khalid; & cry! - middle part

wc: 5.9k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

Jeongguk ignores the look on Taehyung's face as you enter the bar that evening. It's not the hug that Jeongguk greets you with that's unusual, nor your typically sparkling appearance - but the smile on Jeongguk's lips? Yeah. Taehyung hasn't seen one like that in a while.

Still, he doesn't make a big deal of it, for Danbi's following just behind you. He's far more interested in his attempts (and failures) to chat her up, instead.

Namjoon watches on with shallow curiosity. His watchful eyes lounge on you as he takes a sip on his drink, a little more reserved than the others. Taehyung and Jimin greet you and Danbi like old friends, and in a way, it sort of feels like they are.

The club is empty - hasn't opened to punters yet, and won't for another half an hour. The suppliers hired for the paint cannons are still setting up; doing test runs into an empty space where patrons should be. It's strange to see this perspective of a club. Like a liminal space, it feels like you shouldn't be there - but the boys are unphased. Are used to it by now.

"And Hoseok?" Jeongguk questions when he notices the lack of sunshine shadowing behind you.

"Having drinks with the boys," you tell him without much care. You forget Jeongguk isn't as intricately weaved into your social life as he is into your personal life.

"The boys?" 

He doesn't mean to sound so affronted, but he'd always just assumed it was the singular boy; that your little trio was a friendship that existed within a vacuum. Of course, it doesn't. You've an entire social circle that he's none the wiser of.

You pay his confusion no mind. "Yeah. How are you? How have you been?"

The conversation moves on, Jeongguk leading you into the room behind the bar in which they're pregaming.

"It's technically the staff room," he says with a shrug. "But what the boss doesn't know can't hurt him."

There's an airiness to his demeanour; his tipsy brain just as fluffy as the clouds that float around the ends of rainbows. There's safety there. No promises of gold, just certainty of a stable foundation. 

It's a side to him you've never had the luxury of witnessing before, but part of you feels like you always knew he'd be like this. Always knew how he'd smile after a few drinks; how his giggle would sound just that little bit brighter.

"No Seoyeon tonight?" Jimin asks Yoongi as he arrives just a little after you. His cheeks are pink, the clammy heat of the club already getting to him, even when it's empty. Namjoon passes him a bottle of beer, unopened. Yoongi's unphased. Clamps the soft metal cap between his teeth and prizes it off, before he takes a sip and shakes his head.

"Nah, nah, she just dropped me off. Has brunch tomorrow with her friends so doesn't wanna be hungover," he explains as he takes a seat next to Taehyung.

Jeongguk leans over to you, quietly clueing you up. "His fiancée."

"Ah," you nod, before Yoongi turns his attention to you and Danbi.

You're reintroduced, and are quick to learn that Jeongguk and Jimin only ever seem to refer to you as Disco Ball amongst their friends. Yoongi mentions it first - 'you really do look like a disco ball' - but the rest of the boys chime in agreement. 

There's protest from you. Sure, you've got enough glitter to decorate a Christmas card on your eyelids, but your outfit is pretty subdued. Jeongguk had told you not to wear anything fancy - "the paint is water-based, but just in case. Don't want you to wreck your favourite party dress, or anything like that." - and so you'd listened. 

He doesn't tell you, 'cause he doesn't think you'll need it, but Jeongguk brought a spare shirt with him. Just a white one. Big. Wasn't sure if you'd think about the logistics of a paint party - but it isn't your first rodeo. You've been to a handful of events like these in the past, and know what to expect. 

You're in a big white shirt of your own, wearing it like a dress with a flannel layered on top.  Admittedly, the tights are giving disco ball chic - fishnets with teeny tiny gemstones sparkling underneath the dim lights of the backroom. 

Jeongguk can't decide on how the fuck to describe your style. It's not grunge - too sparkly for that. Equally, there's too much of an edge to you for it to be considered 'girly'. He doesn't understand it. Quite likes it, though. Likes that you're still wearing those black hightops you always seem to be in. 

Normally at the club you'd be in heels - but again, it's not your first rodeo. You know better than to tempt the paint party gods with a stiletto and sopping wet floor combination. Learnt that mistake the hard way back in university.

Jeongguk taps his foot against yours. No one else notices, too busy engaged in their own conversations. When you glance down, you realise why - he's in his converse, too. The only shoes he doesn't mind wrecking. They've been through the wars before. A little paint won't hurt them.

You knock his foot back. He smiles. 

There are no words exchanged, just an understanding; you and he are cut from the same cloth.

You pay attention to everyone else's shoes now. Are looking for other kindred spirits. Jimin's in Chelsea boots- black leather, a little tarnished, in need of a polish. 

Taehyung's in brogues for some reason, and you can't think of a worse shoe to have chosen for such an occasion. So many holes. So much to wreck.

Danbi, ever smart, ever stylish, is in a pair of white sneakers. She knows the game she's come to play. It's why she's in all white, too. 

Yoongi and Namjoon are both sporting Nikes, not too fussed about the evening ahead. 

And so it's just you and Jeongguk. You tap your feet against the floor and smile. "Stop copying me."

"I was here first, Byeol," he banters back, but is cut off by Yoongi declaring the need for you all to play a card game. It's one you don't think you've heard of, but make no objection. With the number of drinking games you've played over the last few years, you're almost certain you'll know it.

He deals cards and you quickly come to realise that you don't know the rules. Jeongguk tells you it's fine - "I'll help you out, c'mere." - and encourages you to show him your cards. He organises them; gets them in an order that will work for the game.

"Hey, I'm just as clueless!" Danbi pouts, and so Jimin grabs her cards to redistribute them. 

"We'll work as a team," he says, eyes flicking over to Taehyung, just to check how he feels about it. Danbi is oblivious, but you catch the way Taehyung raises his brows in Jimin's direction. There's a slight smirk on his lips. 

"Don't mind them," Jeongguk mumbles quietly, just for you to hear. "Jimin's just winding him up. Told Tae if he doesn't make a move that he will instead. Think he's just trying to encourage him. Making him be proactive, yanno?"

"He better bloody be," you muse, taking a sip on the drink Jeongguk had put in front of you when he started messing about with your cards. Tequila slammer. Fucking vile. Does get you fucked up, though.

"Jealous, are we, Byeol?" he smirks, swapping one of your cards with his. "Here, it'll help."

You don't dignify him with a response. It's a stupid thing to tease you about, because you know there's no way in hell Danbi would sleep with Jimin. While sharing is caring, sexual partners aren't something the pair of you have ever shared. Hasn't happened before, and won't happen in the future. It's an unspoken rule.

One that Jeongguk would do well to remember.

The evening carries on just as it began; light banter, drinks far too strong, and electromagnetic force somehow keeping you and Jeongguk attached at the hip. You're in the smoking area far more than you are on the dancefloor. You're not smoking, mind you, just talking nonsense. Making bets. Being stupid. 

"Have you read him yet?" You ask when Jeongguk finally presents you with Perry the paper pigeon.

He shakes his head. Bites his lip. "No. You can do the honours."

He watches your hands as you unfold the paper, but the soft laugh you produce draws his attention to your face. 

"Ask for someone's number," you read out, bemused at how shy Jeongguk apparently is.

He groans. "God, that's so embarrassing."

"Nooo," you laugh, drunk body swaying into his a little. He's giggling too, now. Can't seem to help it. "It's cute."

"So lame."

"Shut up," you beam. "It's a start! A good bloody place to start as well. Something easy."

Jeongguk vehemently disagrees. Tells you as such. Says, "imagine asking for a number and getting rejected over something so simple. Would be mortifying. A very valid fear."

"So you go for a girl you know is interested," you say. "Look, this is the best place for it. Remember how many girls find you on Instagram after they come here? It won't be any different now that you're out from behind the bar. If anything, you've got far more chances!"

He spends the next fifteen minutes moaning about it. You decide a drink is the only remedy to his whining.

You order four Purple Starfuckers from Yeonjun. Jeongguk is offended. Insists he can make them, despite the fact he is quite literally covered head to toe in paint. and has a permanent grin from just how tipsy he is. Yeonjun tells him no. Says the bar is off-limits. Jeongguk says he'll fire him, and Yeonjun just laughs in his face. 

"Alright. Bet you 10,000 you won't remember trying to fire me in the morning."

"Deal."

"Disco Ball, you're our witness," the blue-haired menace winks towards you. "Make sure he pays up."

"Aye, aye, captain," you wink back, and instantly regret the rogue pirate shtick because Jeongguk looks at you like you've got three heads. 

"The fuck?"

"What?"

"Captain," he snorts. "Captain."

"Oh, don't get jealous," you tease. "Is this because you want me to call you Daddy, again?"

This time, Yeonjun stops what he's doing. Looks at the pair of you with a slack jaw and wild eyes. Doesn't know what the fuck is going on between you, but knows he wants to watch every second of it unfold. 

When he serves you shots, he smirks. "Here you go. Captain," he nods in your direction, and then in Jeongguk's. "Daddy."

"Never call me that again," Jeongguk gags. 

"Sure thing, Daddio."

"Oh my God." 

Yeonjun walks away laughing to himself, all very amused. Will never stop calling Jeongguk Daddy now that he knows it'll get a rise out of him. Imagines you'll probably get a very different kind of rise out of him when you call him Daddy, but that's neither here nor there.

"I hate you for that," Jeongguk tells you, and you kind of believe him - but God, that broad smile of his is on full display, and the glitter on your skin is reflecting in his eyes like a clear nights sky. Impossible to feel anything remotely close to hatred around him, you think.

"It doesn't matter," you tell him, having noticed the girl behind the pair of you check him out at least three times since you've been at the bar. You kind of recognise her. Think you must have seen her before, whether it be on his follower's list or in the club. She seems like a safe bet. Interested.

"Girl behind you - look, quickly, but don't make it obvious -" Jeongguk turns around like a deer in headlights. "I said don't make it obvious! The girl with the high pony. She's been looking at you for a while now. I think she's into you."

Suddenly, Jeongguk feels very out of his depth. "Maybe we should go outside."

"Nope," you say so sternly that he feels like he's being told off at school. "Perry says you have to ask a girl for her number. Just a number. It's not a big deal. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She'll say no."

"Boo-hoo. Cry about it. It's two letters, Gguk. One word. It won't ruin your life. Here -" you pass him the final Purple Starfucker "- Down it. You've got this. If she says no, fuck her."

"If she says no to giving me her number, I don't think she'll want to fuck."

"Christ, not literally, Gguk." You spin his shoulders around. Give him a nudge. "Go. Do it."

He takes a breath. Psyches himself up. Swallows back the taste of his shot - which is a lot better than the tequila slammers he's been drinking all night - and catches her eye.

You retreat back a little bit, trying to make yourself look busy. Yeonjun watches on from the bar, even more confused than he was before. Were the two of you not just flirting? Are you not definitely boning? He could have sworn you were.

The DJ transitions into a shitty remix of an old Sean Paul song, and you wish you'd have kept Jeongguk around for a little longer to orchestrate a better soundtrack for him. None of the crowd cares how shitty it is though - cannons are launching buckets of neon paint onto revellers, covering every inch of the place in a technicolour haze. 

Your flannel shirt is in the backrooms, as is your bag. Danbi's handprints are on your tits, yours on her ass, but the rest of your shirt is just a haphazard mess of colour. There's no rhyme nor reason; just paint. So much fucking paint. It feels like you're back at work. 

A mirror runs along the back of the bar, and you use it to observe Jeongguk's adventure. You kind of feel like a proud parent as they begin to talk.

"Hey," the girl smiles. Jeongguk thinks she sounds sweet. A lot raspier than he expected. He quite likes that, though - although he can't really hear her all that well above the bass of the speakers. The way her lips curve thanks to his approach makes him feel a lot more secure in his endeavour. "You're normally behind the bar, right? I think I've seen you before."

"Oh," Jeongguk cringes, a little embarrassed. This is why he doesn't go for punters. He hates that there's never a clean slate. Always feels unfair. "Yeah, yeah. I manage the bar. I'm surprised you noticed."

"Well you do a very good job," she compliments, twirling a little hair from her ponytail with her index finger.

"I do?"

"I keep coming back," she shrugs. "So you must do. Could be something to do with how cute the bar manager is, though."

You watch on as he talks to her, bemused by the way his weight shifts from one foot to the other. Clearly nervous, you think it's wild that Jeongguk is so scared of rejection. He's a catch. Sure, his working hours are a bit unsociable, and maybe he doesn't have life figured out just yet, but you don't think he's too far off.

It'll take a little time for him to get where he wants to be in life, but he's actively working for it. He's studying, laying down foundations. Has a great social circle and is yet to present any qualities you think could be problematic for a healthy, enduring relationship. In a room of walking red flags, he's gleaming white.

"Who is she?" Yoongi asks with great intrigue as he comes to stand beside you.

"Not a clue."

"Does he know who she is?" He laughs. Knows that you and Jeongguk have only been hanging out for a little while, but can also read the dynamic between the pair of you fairly well. Knows that your opinion clearly matters to Jeongguk, and is trying to gauge your thoughts. 

"Hopefully he will do soon," you say with a warm smile. The girl is laughing at something Jeongukk has said, making his bashful gaze all the more endearing. "He's getting her number."

Yoongi chokes on his drink. "Holy shit."

It's been months since Jeongguk has even entertained the idea of another girl. Maybe even a year. Yoongi might not have known the ins and outs of his former fling, but he knows Jeongguk hasn't quite been the same since.

"Uh-huh."

"Is this Jeon Jeongguk finally back in the game?"

"Could be."

"Well, I never," Yoongi exhales. "You know how many times we've tried to get him back in the saddle?"

"You needed a woman's touch," you laugh, biting down on your lip slightly as you watch Jeongguk scratch at the back of his head. The girl is laughing, flirting, clearly. She rests her hand on his bicep, and Jeongguk seems all shy again. He looks up. Catches your gaze quickly. Doesn't let it linger, but finds himself thinking he should end the conversation and report back on everything that's happened - but when he looks back to you, he sees you engaged in conversation with Yoongi and decides against it.

"Clearly," Yoongi agrees. "I dunno what you've done to him, but he's finally acting like himself again."

"I'm just a good distraction," you shrug. 

You're right. You are. You make Jeongguk forget all about his inner turmoil, cause he's always worried about yours instead. He's thinking about it now, as the girl's hand lingers on his shirt. Trails down his arm. Reaches for his hand.

"Y'know, I've actually gotta get back to my friends," he says. He's snagged on thoughts about you. Nothing in particular. Just the fact that you exist. That you're there. That he's not hanging out with you, and he feels like he should be.

She nods. "Yeah, me too. Text me, yeah?"

He returns the nod, almost too eagerly. "I will. Have a good night, yeah?"

She pulls a little on his hand. Is aiming for a kiss she isn't gonna get.

But then Jeongguk feels your gaze on him again, and there's pressure to perform; to act as if he's doing well, as if he isn't absolutely shitting himself. He doesn't stop her when she leans in. Doesn't stop her when her palm rests on his chest. Doesn't stop her when her lips press against his. 

He wouldn't say he's encouraging it per say, but he definitely is letting it happen. He's not against it. In fact, he actually quite likes it.

"You're a miracle worker," Yoongi tells you. 

"Miracle workers deserve free drinks," you tease, because you're very much in need of one. 

"Right you are," he agrees, and turns to the bar. 

You let your eyes linger, watching Jeongguk as his awkward arm finally moves from the frigid position next to his body to the small of her back. Wonder if he tastes more like tequila or lemonade. Think it doesn't really matter. You don't like either.

"Stop staring, you perv," Yoongi calls back to you and tells you to choose your drink. Says it's on him, but you both know it's on Jeongguk's tab.

When he finally returns, there's a triumphant smile on his lips. Proud. And you have to admit, you feel a little pride, too. The Jeongguk you met a few months ago would have never kissed a stranger in a bar. 

The night rolls on without a hitch. 

Danbi and Taehyung leave first. Leave together. You don't think anything will happen - you know she's playing hardball - but it's an achievement nonetheless. Also proves that there was nothing to be concerned about when it came to Jimin, who also left around the same time with a random girl none of you knew. 

Yoongi ends up calling Seoyeon, gushing about how much he misses her and is in a taxi no more than five minutes later. Namjoon hops in for the ride, leaving you and Jeongguk to meander back to his place. 

By the time you arrive, the paint is dry on your skin; cracking. It's uncomfortable to say the least, and earned you some questionable looks when you ran into a takeaway to pick up some chips on the way back.

You blabber gibberish together like you so often do. You're both too tipsy for your own good. Jeongguk feels like he's been chewing on a ball of cotton wool. You immediately head for his fridge to retrieve a bottle of water. Just one. You'll share.

"She was pretty," you say softly, sitting on the floor of his kitchen. Side by side, you're watching the sun rise through his windows.

Jeongguk nods. Feels like he's being tested. Doesn't know the right answer, so he goes with the truth. "Yeah."

There's silence. Neither of you really want to discuss it. You're not sure why.

He steals one of your chips. Knocks his shoulder against yours. "The boys seem to like you."

"You think?"

He nods, and says, "you should meet Seoyeon, too. Next time we all do something, I'll let you know. She's always saying how we need more women around. I think you'd get along."

You smile. Yoongi is so easygoing that you're sure Seoyeon must be just as friendly. "I'd like that."

The silence resumes. There's a heaviness. It's probably just the alcohol, and it's probably nothing serious, but Jeongguk hates it. Things with you have only ever been light. Airy. Easy. It's not that it feels difficult now, just... different. Abnormal. Strange. 

"I-"

"Do-"

The jarring nature of your voices speaking over one another is unsettling. You bicker all the time. It's not unusual for you to fully disregard the words he speaks just to voice your own dumb point, and he often does just the same. There's no reason why either of you would stop talking now. 

You're holding back.

So is he. 

He takes another chip. Doesn't eat it. Throws it at you instead. 

"You little fucker," you laugh, and so does he. 

But then the silence settles again. Makes itself at home. Tucks itself into bed, says it going to stay for a little while.

"Byeol," Jeongguk eventually says, so quietly it's almost a whisper. His eyes are wise as he looks at the golden sun that rises on the horizon. 

"Hmm?"

"The longer the paint sits... the harder it will be to get out of our clothes."

"Mmm," you nod. "You're probably right."

"I am," he tells you. He knows he is. It's not his first rodeo, either. "We should..."

His words are weighted so heavily that they become lodged in his throat. He's drunk, and he knows he maybe shouldn't suggest what he's about to but he can't seem to help himself.

"We still have a bird to do."

You know what he's insinuating. Your first bird. The waterpark one. The one that was totally botched because it was more important to try than it was to be faithful to words written on paper.

"Gguk..."

He's not looking at you, just at the sunrise. "It's just a shower. Just to get the paint out. It's nothing like, deep. Doesn't mean anything."

You don't say anything. Truthfully, you think now is a really good time to do it. Things are so much easier when you're drunk.

"You kissed another girl tonight," you remind him.

He nods. "Mhmm."

"Do you not think that maybe it's a bad idea? A conflict of interest?"

He shrugs. "Think about it. Why did I kiss a girl tonight?"

"Because you wanted to?"

"Because I'm trying, Byeol. We made a commitment. Made those damn birds, and said we'd do them. You told me to get her number."

"Actually," you interrupt. "The bird did."

"Exactly. I did what the bird told me to do - but only after you encouraged me to do it, too."

"The bird never told you to kiss her. And the stakes are a little higher, here, no? Showering together surely is... I don't know. More?"

More of what, you couldn't say. Your tipsy brain isn't connecting all the dots. Nor is his. You both know it's a bad idea. You both also confusingly think it's a really good idea.

"No," he says, all rather plainly. "It's no different to the waterpark - it's just that maybe this time we'll need to wash our hair."

You consider the proposal. It's tempting. It really is. 

"Clothes on?" You ask.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you want."

"Y'know, for someone with a fear of rejection, you're pretty forward."

"I'm not scared of you," he laughs. "It's different."

And he really thinks it is. Thinks that it doesn't count. Thinks you're an exception, not the rule.

If you were sober, you'd tell him to fuck off.

But you're not sober.

And you're feeling a little irritated with the fact he's made progress and you haven't. Failure isn't something you enjoy, and being behind feels like failure to you.

So you stand. Kick your shoes off and pick them up. They'll need to go under the water, too. "Are you coming?"

For some reason, he's startled. Doesn't know what he was expecting. Maybe more refusal? Maybe he was looking for you to reinforce the boundaries already established by the pair of you.

But instead, you walk towards his bathroom. Start the shower up. Toss your shoes beneath the falling water, and call for him again. "Am I doing this alone, or what?"

You're standing by the basin by the time he approaches the door. He leans against the frame. Looks at you in a way you don't quite understand. You don't realise he took so long 'cause he had to sort his breathing out first - make sure he actually was still breathing. 

"You go first," you whisper so quietly he almost doesn't hear you above the torrent of water cascading down onto the tiled floor. 

He pauses before he reaches the water. "If you need to tap out, just say the word."

"What word?" You grin, as if anything like that has ever been discussed before. 

"Oh. Shit. I dunno," he smiles back. "Um... Chicken?"

"Chicken?"

"Chicken."

"Alright. Chicken it is."

You think it's fucking ridiculous, and you're right. It is. But it gets you both laughing. Has Jeongguk holding his hand out for you and pulling you into the water with him. Eases the weight on your shoulders as he rubs some of the now wet paint from your cheeks. 

"See, told you it'd be better to wash it off," he says a little triumphantly, his pretty teeth resting down on his bottom lip.

You reach up and reciprocate his kindness. "You're such a mess."

"So are you." 

Well and truly stained, your shirt is peach as the water runs through it. Jeongguk holds the shower head up and lets it run over your body, but there's nothing inherently intimate about it. Nothing sexual. It's platonic in potentially the weirdest way it could be - but most importantly, it feels safe. 

Again, you reciporcate. Let him take the lead. You can follow.

But then he catches you off guard.

"I'm gonna take my shirt off. There's paint underneath it I wanna get off."

The news is delivered so carefully that you almost think you're imagining it. Think that your tipsy brain has run wild - until he says, "okay?"

He waits for you to nod before he does it. 

Once you do, he grips the back of his neck, and pulls the shirt over his head. It falls to the ground with a thud. The water around it runs green. Your eyes are on the trail that seeps into the drain, and not him.

"Should I?" you ask quietly. "Should I take mine off?"

Jeongguk watches you closely. His heart thumps in his chest. He swallows. Studies your eyes; how they're refusing to look at his. Makes note of your shoulders and how they're slightly more curved than usual. You're cowering. Are a shadow of yourself. It really does seem like there's a deep-rooted fear, here. He feels guilty.

"If you want," he says. His voice is gentle. Temperate. Kind. "There's nothing to be scared of, Byeol. It's just me. Just us."

And you know he's right. The stakes are so low with him that it really feels like there's nothing to lose. What's the worst that could happen?

He'd see your body. That would be it. It wouldn't matter if he liked it or not. You're not seeking his approval. You know he wouldn't tell you his thoughts either way. Wouldn't comment on your appearance like that.

When you finally grace him with your gaze, he turns around; back to you, hands up like a white flag. You take in the sight of him; shoulders broad, the dip of his spine running like a river down his back. His efforts at the gym aren't for nothing.

You start to feel bad for evaluating him. It's all complimentary, but you shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not when you've just told yourself he wouldn't do the same to you.

"Tell me something," he says, not favouring the silence.

"Mhmm?"

"Why was this on your list?"

He hears your shirt slap against the floor of his bathroom, and then the soft pat of your feet on wet tiles as you turn around, too. It's only fair if his back is also turned. 

You're still in your fishnets, but you've only got a matching black underwear set on beneath them. Jeongguk's still wearing his trousers - until, pretty soon after your shirt is discarded, so are they.

Now it feels even. You're both are bare as one another.

"No reason."

Jeongguk knows you're lying. "I'll choose to believe you."

You smile. The way he speaks to you makes you want to tell him. Tell him everything. It's just stupid insecurities; nothing obscenely deep-rooted, you think. Chalk it up to a couple bad experiences. Underestimate just how severely Seokjin fucked with your head. 

"It's stupid," you whine.

"I highly doubt that."

And so you relent. "It's my fault, really. I... You ever just have like a gut feeling?"

"Sometimes."

"Had one of those, once. In the shower," your sentence comes out a little staggered. A little awkward. "Was with my ex and I just... His hair had smelt like candyfloss all week. Said it was a new shampoo."

Jeongguk thinks he knows where this is going. You pause. 

"Anyway, I did his hair," you continue a little flippantly. You're playing it off like it was no big deal. "He did mine. Yada yada yada, you know the rest. Realised later that evening that his shampoo was fucking mint scented. No sweetness, no nothing. So... yeah. The candyfloss scent..."

"Was someone else's shampoo?" Jeongguk guesses the end of your sentence, and is correct.

"He still denies it," you say. "I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Found myself in this god-awful cycle of insisting that we showered together - just so I knew he wasn't showering with someone else - only to end up crying halfway through it every single time. He was so fucking fed up with me by the end of it all. Told me I was fucked in the head. Said that if he did do the shit I'd accused him of, then it'd be my fault for driving him to it."

"Christ," Jeongguk hisses. He's heard some manipulative shit in his time, but that really fucking takes the biscuit.

You hum in agreement. Sound small when you say, "he smelt like candyfloss again the week before he ended things."

Jeongguk's at a loss for words. Wants to wrap you up in cotton wool. Can't believe someone would actually do that to you.

"Byeol?"

"Mhmm?" 

"Your ex-boyfriend's a prick."

"Yeah," you laugh, but it's cut short. There's a stutter in your diaphragm. You let out a deep breath. Hold back the pathetic tears you know are just dying to get out of your system. "Yeah, he was. Kind of my fault, though, isn't it? I'm the one who let him lie to me. Should have known better."

The fact you blame yourself is devastating to him.

"I'm gonna turn around," he says. "And I'm gonna give you a hug, okay?"

You nod, not that he can see it. Choke an "okay" out, and within a second, Jeongguk's arms are wrapped around you. He squeezes you tight, skin warm, heat beat firm beneath his ribs. Your back is to his chest, his head resting on yours. "He's such a fucking prick. It wasn't your fault, Byeol. Wasn't your fault at all."

He's never met your ex, but he decides there's no one in the world he despises more. Doesn't like violence; would definitely consider it for him.

You shrug. "Feels like it was."

"It wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

"Shit happens." 

He hates the way you deflect. Knows you'll never change, but dear lord, does he wish you'd realise that it's okay to struggle. 

There's a slight shift in your body, and he knows it means you're done with the hug. Been vulnerable for too long. Wanna get back to the 'normal' version of you.

You're still covered in paint, so Jeongguk tells you as such. You apologise for being such a mess - emotionally and physically. 

"S'cool. We both are, Byeol."

He leaves you to get washed up alone. Thinks you could do with a little privacy, and it means he can get his room sorted before your arrival into it. 

There's a scowl on his face as he organises the pillows. Can't believe how manipulative your ex had been. How dare he make you think you were imagining things, when it was evident he'd been straying. How dare he make you feel like that.

Jeongguk's no saint. He's done his fair share of fucked up things, but never anything like that. It infuriates him. Makes him want to fucking cry - partially out of frustration, but mainly because of how badly it had affected you.

He thinks of the night before you'd made the birds, and wishes you'd have just gone out with Danbi and Hoseok instead of seeing your ex.

You take your time in the shower. Are sad to wash off the feeling of Jeongguk's embrace, but know that you have to. You'd get too consumed by it otherwise. 

He leaves you a spare shirt outside the bathroom door, and tells you to come through to his room when you're ready. Jimin is still out, presumably asleep in some other girl's bed, so Jeongguk doesn't care too much for sneaking you around - not that he has to. You're just friends.

He takes the floor. Doesn't give himself half as many pillows as he gave you the last time. Still leaves his special pillows for you, though. 

"Uh-uh," you shake your head as you come into his room to find him already curled up in the pillow pile. "On your bed. I'm on the floor."

He shakes his head right back, defiant. "Too sleepy to argue. Go to bed, Byeol."

You're about to fight back. About to quite physically move him up onto his bed - but the soft sound of paper against pillows distracts you. 

"Shit."

Jeongguk sits up. "What is it- Oh. Shit."

You both just stare for a moment. Freeze, like you're in some kind of low-budget action movie. Look at his bed, then look at one another.

Another bird has fallen.

And as Jeongguk assesses from how bloody wonky it is, it's definitely one of yours.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[shares-a-vest]

Steve looks up from his magazine, one of Keith’s many car subscriptions that he is gifted as leftovers, to find Dustin not not looking straight at him and fiddling with the same copy of Hello! Dolly he had picked up a solid ten minutes ago.

He is fairly certain he knows Dustin’s movie preferences. And they don’t include Barbara Streisand’s matchmaking through song and big hats.

Dustin turns away, revealing a backpack that now sports a gigantic Hellfire patch sewn onto the front pocket, courtesy of Robin and Eddie’s joint sewing endeavours.

“Henderson!” Steve calls, frowning.

Nothing. The kid might as well be twiddling his goddamn thumbs as he chances a glance over he shoulder, very obviously hearing him.

Steve snaps the magazine shut and rounds the counter to the musical section. But Dustin scampers away, setting a steady pace as he comically power walks down the split horror-comedy aisle in order to double back to the front of the store.

“Hey! What the hell, man?” Steve says, taking a few strides to get ahead of the kid so Dustin is blocked right between him and the front candy display, “What the hell is up with you?”

He probably sounds more accusatory than curious, judging by Dustin’s wide and panicked eyes. The boy shrugs and looks away.

Yeah, Dustin not talking and not blabbering away about anything, let alone whatever it is that’s up? Fucking weird.

Steve looks him over, examining his young friend’s movements as he shuffles on the spot and periodically scuffs his sneakers on the sun-faded green carpet.

“Um, uhhh...” Dustin hums after a long pause.

Still strangely incomprehensible for him – but it’s something, at least.

“What is it?” he asks, voice low as he searches for a shred of eye contact.

“Do you, I dunno... maybe...” Dustin trails off, gesturing in the air as a pair of nervous eyebrows disappear up under the Cubs cap Steve gifted him for Christmas 1984.

Not that Dustin cares about the Cubs – then or now.

Dustin slips his hands under his backpack straps and rocks on the spot as he continues prattling on.

“Do you wanna hang out on Sunday? I mean, if you don’t have a date or anything.”

The kid sticks out his bottom lip and rolls his eyes, not at all appearing as casual as he seems to want to be.

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, confused.

Jesus Christ, since when is this kid all nervous about hanging out?

“Steve,” Dustin sighs deeply, pinching his nose (good, back to his bratty, if a little exasperated, self), “Sunday is Father's Day.”

“Oh.”

He must have passed by the greeting card display at Melvad’s, over and over during every lunch break as he headed in for a can of soda and whatever non Family Video-sponsored candy Keith was craving.

It’s not like he had any reason to remember. His folks haven’t been home since the ‘earthquake’ and they almost never call. Hell, he has enough of a time conversing at any length when his mother does call, let alone asking her to put his father on the phone.

Not that he wants to talk to his non-college attending, barely-high school graduate son who works minimum wage retail and has no girlfriend, anyway.

Not that all of that matters much when Dustin is looking back at him with a rare sadness in his eyes.

“I mean, your dad isn’t home – obviously,” Dustin starts, though not quite as harsh as his usual barbs, “And Will spends the day with Hop now. Eddie and Wayne go fishing. And I would be going to visit my grandpa but he and Nanna went on a cruise. I think they went – ”

“Sure, buddy,” he blurts out, offering a pat on the shoulder to make up for inadvertently cutting the kid off. He pauses and frowns, “But what about your mom?”

Dustin shrugs, “She wants to have a girl’s day with Valerie.”

Ah, yes. Valerie Richardson, Claudia Henderson’s best friend and Hawkins’ biggest town gossip courtesy of her job as the receptionist at the doctor’s office. Steve can’t help but laugh – Valerie really knows her stuff.

“I’m assuming their girl’s day will involve a charcuterie board and wine?”

“Charcuterie,” Dustin mutters, beyond displeased at the thought of dips, fruit and water crackers – a far cry from his mother’s prized lasagne.

“Alright,” Steve announces, rubbing his hands together, “We’d better pick out some movies. I’m thinking we hit the arcade, then have a movie marathon over the cheesiest of pizzas...���

Dustin grins.

[fandomkingdom18]

seven curtis brothers au but it's their family dynamics hcs

for @wannabe-goth-babe who commented and i just couldn't resist making another list of hcs

since two bit is all goofy, friendly as a kid growing up to present day, he's always been close with his siblings but ever since their parents passed, he had to slow some of his bad habits to help provide for his brothers as the only other newly legal adult in his family

so while he helps (or at least tries to) darry manage all the stuff he's responsible for, he also spends his time keeping morale up while darry is busy

but steve and soda would usually already be doing something cause they're nerds (probably a whole ahhh championship for arm wrestling)

and johnny would usually be with pony since dally is often out

but when he wasn't he would sometimes be in the middle of losing to johnny in some card game

so pony would just sit somewhere and read or be at the piano, playing around with some melodies and two-bit couldnt tell if pony was lonely or just in the zone

but two still would walk over and look at his sheet music and ask him what he was playing because he would usually recognize it because a lot of the sheet music was put together by their mother who would always play it to them

and while everyone else is minding their own business, two would sit down at the piano next to pony

and pony would teach him the things their mother taught him, since two had never wanted to learn, something he he regretted after losing their parents. passing up on chances to spend time together

and two didn't wanna make that mistake again

he learned how to identify the keys and play a few chords

and two played the lower harmonies with those chords while pony played the higher melody

(guys im picturing the scene from the princess switch if you know what i mean except platonic)

(therefore lets pretend its christmas time or smth for a moment and they're playing carol of the bells :D)

and their brothers would hear and turn around and look on in amazement because respectfully, its hard to get two-bit to sit down for extended periods of time. especially at the piano.

and after they finished the song, two would ruffle at pony's hair, pull him close into a side hug and thank him for being so patient with him

and pony feels all happy since no one really had time for something like that because no one else likes music as much except darry and he always has something to do

but two-bit was always good at making him feel seen

like two bit has common sense but he's still techncially a teen so sometimes he and pony would sneak out and do silly dumb things and go to the playground and joke around before sneaking back home as if nothing happened

mostly cause two knows that pony hasn't had as many opportunities to be a real teen since he was freshly a teenager when their parents passed so two just wants to make it feel real for him

and while two is technically still enrolled in school, he doesn't have to go. so when ponyboy or someone else is sick or smth he stays home to take care of them and cheer them up so darry doesn't have to miss work

and like brother, like brother, two and pony are both insanely stubborn when they're sick and stubborn in trying to help each other so it's chaos but they make it work in the end

unlike steve and pony when they were home alone together after catching the same cold

if they weren't so fatigued and sick they would've really went at each others throats

instead it's steve laying on the couch and pony across darry's arm chair trying to figure out how the other is responsible for the cold going through their family

(they've always had a rocky relationship)

if you were to ask steve why he "hates" ponyboy

he would say it's because the kid is a brat who has it better than the rest of them since he doesn't need to get a job and get in the stuff that mostly dally gets into

but if you were to ask him on a deeper level

he would say he's jealous. because for a while he and soda were closer than pages in a book and of course after johnny was born, they were all fussing over him, but with pony it was even more since he was the littlest of the littles

and pony always had to be included and as time went on, steve not only lost attention from his brothers, but also his parents

(and steve isn't the only one who feels like this)

(cough cough two bit cough cough dally)

dally practically got over it when he got older and two bit just ignored it for so long that he just doesn't think about it.

(it was real hard for two because he and darry had been so close but he knows that everyone else is more important)

if you were to ask ponyboy why he thinks steve hates him

he would say its because steves a dumbass who focuses all his willpower into making his life too difficult.

but if you were to ask him on a deeper level

he would say it's because he thinks hes annoying and holding everyone down

that he's too sentimental and stupid for wanting something beyond a greaser in tulsa

pony genuinely thinks that darry, steve, and dally only put up with him since johnny, soda, and two-bit do

they're working on it

or at least they're going to

youngest bro of seven on the east side of tulsa vibes

like they do NOT let him do anything out of the ordinary or potentially risky

enter ponyboy's rebellious era

(this will be dived deeper into in the fic)

darry is the same except for being more cautious and protective over his brothers

soda's the same mostly with extra love warming his heart and everyone else around him

johnny still is more of a listener than a talker but he's more confident and like soda and darry when it comes to being a curtis bro

dally still has that tough exterior from his time participating in rough gangs but it's the mildest it's been in tulsa

(the curtises have lived in other places, i'll write ab more of this in a post soon)

keith daniel curtis is still a doofus

pony is mostly the same with the trials and tribulations with darry but multiplied by 6

steve is pretty chill. no daddy issues. except for the fact he's dead. just ponyboy issues. everyone else is alright tho.

back when it was only darry, two, and dally, two was playing major middle child because hes always been an outgoing kid, but dally used to be really shy so darry would always cheer him up and two would just sit there like o_o

so basically darry would always make sure dally was alright

but growing up, it became the opposite

dally usually checks in on him and stuff to make sure stuff is going well, offers to take stuff off of him like taking up more shifts at bucks so darry doesnt have to do an overwhelming amount of work

even tho darry was older by a few years, he was always more optimistic and dally hated that their parents just had to die and all of the pieces had to be picked up by darry. he was too young to have all of that on him.

so dally takes matters into his own hands sometimes just so darry gets some rest.

just to return the favor of darry always taking care of them.

[pastanest]

Danny x gn!reader

Dating Danny Atlas Would Include

- first of all, you’re either his assistant or his assistant is viewed as a piece of furniture bc he has no interest in them if they aren’t you, period

- he’s the PINNACLE of asshole-to-everyone-except-you, but he’s still cocky as hell and we love him for it next question

- has a soft spot for you that he’ll only acknowledge in front of others in the form of soft smiles in response to things you say that he’d usually quip at someone else for

- this man will not hesitate to wake you at 3am to show you a new trick

- like a kid on Christmas morning except neurodivergent

- is very affectionate in private, but in front of others he restricts himself to gestures of affection that solely show you’re his (hand on the small of your back, your thigh, holding yours, etc)

- possessive with a capital P

- prone to jealousy but not in a fragile way, more like “oh this guy really thinks he can take you from me? watch me make him disappear” bc as soon as Danny gets a deck of cards out, you’re basically on all fours sorry, too much?

- LOVES showing off to you more than anyone else

- bc you’re his but also bc you give him the best reactions of pure glee every time

- has to learn how to show interest in your favorite things that aren’t already his, like shows he wouldn’t usually watch

- it’s funny actually bc if any of the Horsemen are like “hey Danny do you wanna watch-“ he’ll just look at them like 🤨 but if YOU ask?? he’s got a list of questions and he’s already agreed. what actors do you know are in it. why do you want to watch it. what about it appeals to you. where can we stream it. what’s the runtime. how soon can we watch it.

- you are his exception to every occasion on which he’d usually prioritize himself over anything else

- LOVES surprising you

- oh something new is coming out and you can’t wait to buy it?? preordered.

- oh a new movie is- he’s already bought two tickets.

- and your birthday??? omg. extravagant is actually his middle name so if you think Danny wont pull out EVERY mf trick in the book for you, you’re sorely mistaken

- it’d be perfectly tailored to your tastes too - if you don’t like parties, there won’t be one bc he’ll find another elaborate means of celebrating you like a super fancy restaurant or being serenaded by a band on a riverboat or some bs, but if you do like parties you can expect the biggest one and it only gets bigger every year

- LOVES trying to teach you card tricks and finds it so endearing when you just can’t hack it and get frustrated with yourself, he’s so patient when it comes to you, all like “not quite, baby, try it like this”

- which reminds me, he talks you through it

- sorry

- obviously knows your body like the back of his hand I mean have you seen him?? man THRIVES on mastering things but he’ll only objectify you if you want him to iykyk

- to the surprise of many, he’s an old-school gentleman with incredible manners in actual romance

- opening doors for you, standing up whenever you enter a room, asks for consent half a million times until you eventually tell him he doesn’t need to ask every time he wants to kiss you and he’s like thank god bc if these fools heard me-

- worships the ground you walk on

- adores everything you say and do

- will just look at you and give this sighing smile or smirk sometimes and you’re like “???” and he just says some cheesy bs that only his arrogant ass could pull off like “I think you just might be the magic I’ve been searching for”

[first-edition]

Car Clean-up

Spencer reid x reader

Smut-mas Day1

Spencer has been on edge about something for the whole day, and on the drive home you finally realize what it is that bothering him.

CW- Oral Male !recviing, oral sex, smut, cussing, cum swallowing , Sub! Spencer, dorm! Reader, 18+ language and themes

Spencers leg bounces up and down as he bites the tip of his pen starring off into space.

“Spence?” You ask your boyfriend as he sits at his desk in the FBI bullpen. He doesn’t answer you just continues starring. 

You wave your hand in front of his face as he snaps out if his trance. 

“you alright hon?” You ask. 

“Hmm..yeah sorry.”  “I don’t think you blinked for 3 minutes kid.” Morgan says laughing.

“no-no sorry i was thinking.” He replies. 

“about?” You say sitting of the side of the of his desk crossing your legs your thighs squishing together, your tight pencil skirt ridding up ever so slightly.

“nothing.” Spencer asks too fast to be real.

“Okay everyone go home its 11 pm merry christmas.” Hotch says you smile and nod to him. you sigh hopping off the desk walking back to yours and grabbing you jacket as its cold as hell outside. 

Jj and Emily have already left at this point.

“what are you two doing tonight?” Morgan asks rating his eyes brow. You roll your eyes knowing what he’s hinting at.

“Dont worry i’ll tell you exactly what were doing.” You say Morgan chuckles nodding waiting for answer. 

“none of your business.” You say he chuckles shaking his head. 

“come on Spence.” You say holding out your hand. He pulls his satule around his shoulders and takes your hand in his.  “Bye Morgan.” You say waving with your other as you and Spencer enter the elevator. He smiles waving back as the doors close. “what do you feel like tonight? I was gonna cook if we got home earlier but now i just wanna go out and get something.” You reply as you take off your heel becoming noticeably shorter. You hold ont his arm for stability as you do so.

He dosnt answer you making you confused is he mad at you, is he annoyed? He’s been acting this way all day. You sigh.

“okay then i’ll pick.” You say 

Finally walking to the car you get in the passenger seat as he gets in the drivers. And pulls out of the parking lot on the road to home.

halfway through the drive you cant help it but ask what’s wrong. “Spencer? Are you okay? I mean really okay because you kinda been on edge all day. I know this case we finished was hard but…i-if I did anything today to make you mad or annoyed im sor-”  “its not you” he cuts you off.

“It’s not you it’s me…Really your pull that card out of the deck..so it was something i did..” you say crossing your arms.

“NO-Yes..No..shit.” He says you feel a limb in your throat. 

“what then…Im sorry if i hurt you…” you trail off with a screech of the tires he pulls over the car and takes you face in in his hands holding either side of your head squishing your cheeks and he kisses your lips.

after pulling away. He replies. 

“Im in love with you!” He says you giggle nodding.  “Well, i know that. I love you too.” You say you’ve been together for 2 years its not the first time he’s said it. 

“what’s wrong.” You say your cheeks still squished. His cheek turn pink.

“its can wait for home.” He says. Turning away from you. You frown and then it clicks. He wants you. Hes wanted you all day! Its been 2 months since you’ve last had sex with your wonderful boyfriend. Not because you dont want to but because case work got in the way. And your both come home too tired to function. Morning sex was off the table bc of how early you two have to get up. 

You form a grinch like smile, squinting your eyes. “you’re horny arnt you spencer…” you say leanIng into him. He’s never really been good at telling you that he wants you. although its fairly easy to tell when he does. “that’s what you were thinking about at your desk hmm…The feeling of my body under your hands…my lips on yours…of bettter, wrapping around your-” 

“YES YES IM SORRY!” He blurts out. You chuckle glancing down noticing the tent in his pants just from you mentioning a few little things.

You look up at him through your lashes your eyes dark with lust now having the best idea.

You move your hand to his chest slowly moving it down his middle.

“im sorry i made you wait so long baby.” You reply kissing his cheek. 

“y-y/n what are you-Ngh.” He groans as your hand rubs over the bulge eventually unzipping his pants and freeing his hardened cock. He hisses at the cold air around it but its subdued by your warm hand. Thank god for your tinted windows and blizzard it weather it just looks like you two got stuck on the side of the road from the snow.

“f-fuck..” he gasps as you stroke his shaft with your hand as he shifts his hips upwards into you.

you kisses his neck unbuttoning the first few buttons getting more of his skin. 

“When we get home…if your good that is…i’ll let you fuck me raw.” You say into his ear before moving down and wrapping your mouth around him.

“F-fu-shit!” He gasps twitching in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his tip, as you suck and bob your head. You move your hair out of the way.

He chuckles breathily and pulls your hair back wrapping your long locks around his hand holding it up for you. His hips buck up into you the feeling of your warm mouth around him getting to be too much just after a few minutes. 

“Fuck y/n-!” He moans out his head falling back to the seat as you deep throat him swallowing him. Then popping off him and doing it again. 

He moans as you feel him pulse in your mouth this time cumming. You make sure to swallow him all making sure not to make a mess. He releasing his hold from your hair. You release him from your mouth smiling as his chest heaves. He looks down at you pulling your face to his kissing you. You kiss him back.

You pull away sitting back up into the seat pulling your hair up in a rubber band around your wrist. 

“So home?” You ask looking at him. He nods tucking himself back in his pants and speeds off.

[mintaii]

hiii i love your art it feels so edible to me and this might be a dumb question but i love your work so i wanted to ask someone who i looked up to: how do you know what you wanna make?? i want to make more art myself but usually all i know is “i wanna use these colors” or “i wanna try painting w this technique” but i don’t know what i wanna draw, if that makes sense. how do you pick an end goal, or even an idea?? how do you get ideas in the first place yk??? idk if you even have this issue. thank you for reading this!!

hi!! not a dumb question at all, don't worry!! and yeah. thinking of ideas sometimes is a PAIN but i'll try to answer this as best as i can...

i think u can look at it like there's 3 main starting points to jump off from: character, scenario, object(s).

with character, i usually figure out what i like about them or if there's a facet of their story that i want to portray. or maybe it's an emotion i associate them with. however, u can also pick out a specific design element u like about them and expand upon it. if the character's main color palette is black and white, why not try painting a portrait of them only using that limited color palette?

scenarios are where u can go 'i want to draw this interaction', 'i want to draw this outfit' or 'i like this specific scenario/setting, why don't i draw something in relation to it?' sometimes i work backwards from 'i want to draw them in this specific type of genre' and then think of a scenario would get the characters into that genre LOL

with objects, i kind of mean it super broadly so it includes like. the stars. pretty architecture. a microwave idk. but if there's something out there that u really like the design of, u can try to figure out what u want to do with it and combine it with a separate concept.

i.e, pretty vintage music box designs -> i could draw something from the nutcracker, since the combo gives off christmas vibes -> i could draw something also inspired by the phantom of the opera, since the musical featured a music box and the combo gives off a certain atmosphere that reflects the story as a whole. tasia.m.s on instagram does a series where she draws women in dresses that are inspired by inanimate (typically vintage) objects.

i unironically think using tarot cards– specifically the major arcana– as art prompts help with practicing idea generation for original art LOL

the names of the cards can range from abstract to very literal and each of them are tied to specific meanings and are chock-full of existing symbolism, which can assist with learning how to craft ideas in response to them

really hope this helps!! sorry it got kind of long...