#and i like the fit but did find that my pockets will start pulling them down a bit

[sttoru]

“YOUR LAUGHTER IS THE SWEETEST SOUND.”

༄ sypnosis. you’re giving your boyfriend the silent treatment and he doesn’t have a clue why. thus he decides to find out in a rather special way.

༄ note. uhhh.. satoru’s been on my mind since forever and the fic ideas just keep coming so heres another one.

༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. just pure, tooth rotting fluff. satoru loves u sm. nicknames such as ‘sweets, babe(-y).’

“satoru. i’m counting to three.”

you stand in front of your boyfriend, hands on your hips and a frown on your face; satoru had taken your phone from you and is now holding it up out of reach.

“woah, ‘m so scared.” satoru mocks with a grin like the absolute menace he is, whistling a tune as he waits for you to do something about it.

you stood no chance since that man was above 6’3. that’s exactly what annoyed you most about the situation.

the reason he grabbed your phone from you was because you had given him the silent treatment ever since the early morning. for no apparent reason— or at least— one that satoru himself couldn’t figure out.

“satoru.” you sigh, clearly trying not to lose your temper with the guy.

“you have to tell me why you’re not talkin’ to me first.” the white-haired man shrugs nonchalantly, waving your phone back and forth in the air above.

you click your tongue and grab a pillow before throwing it at your boyfriend.

to your surprise, he lets the object hit him. it doesn’t faze him after all— he’s still steadily keeping your phone up with one hand.

satoru shakes his head and lets out a deep, over exaggerated sigh, “i would’ve given it back a looong time ago if you weren’t just so stubborn.”

that was a lie. he wouldn’t have.

the way satoru stood there with one hand in his pocket and the other hand holding up your phone way above his head, pissed you off so much more than you thought.

especially due to that little sly smirk that lingered on his face the entire time he taunted you.

“you’re extremely annoying.” you scoff.

after avoiding any close contact with your boyfriend for the entire day, you finally decide to get as close to him as possible. this was done with only one goal in mind: getting your phone back.

“got’cha.”

suddenly, you were lifted up and pinned down on the nearby couch— satoru hovering right on top of you while pinning both of your wrists above your head using one hand.

he had waited patiently for you to get close to him like that so he could pull such a cheap trick.

“now,” satoru starts, looking straight into your eyes as his warm breath slightly hits your face in the current state of close proximity, “tell me, baby.”

a second huff escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, “no can do.”

“aww— well, guess you left me no choice.” satoru sighs, his expression changing into a serious one.

he retreats from above you ever so slightly. you couldn’t see his eyes since his bangs covered them for the most part, though you could sense a certain shift in his aura.

“you have yourself to blame for this.”

his tone sounded like he wasn’t playing around either.

…

you were a second too late to react before satoru did. his hands moved at the speed of the light— landing right beneath your shirt. your eyes widened as you realised what he was doing;

satoru was going to torture the information out of you. with non-stop tickles.

“hey! s-stop!” you try to keep your expression stoic and devoid of emotion, but fail miserably at that task the moment you felt him tickling you.

“hmm? can’t hear ya.” satoru teases while his fingers kept moving quickly and repeatedly over the exposed skin under your shirt.

“you!” you try to warn the white-haired man seriously, though you burst into a fit of laughter instead.

satoru’s face lights up the moment he hears the sweet sound of your laughter. he’s grinning from ear to ear like he’s just won the best prize there was, “my baby’s so pretty when she’s smiling like this.”

neither his affectionate words nor his loving gaze had been noticed by you. the only thing you were capable of doing was laugh and try to get his hands off you.

“satoru! i swear—”

it’s like both of you were in your own worlds, focused on two entirely different things: you were trying so hard to stop your boyfriend from tickling you while he was lost in your beauty beneath him.

“tha’s not my name,” satoru pouted, increasing the intensity of his tickles.

he didn’t like it whenever you’d purposely avoid referring to him with affectionate nicknames.

you did that whenever you were upset with him and that’s why he always tries his best to not get on your nerves (keyword: tries. satoru somehow always manages to annoy you, though sometimes it’s on purpose since your reactions were adorable).

“i can’t anymore!” there’s tears welling up in your eyes due to you laughing and giggling non-stop. your stomach was also reaching its limit.

“i’ll stop if you say it,” satoru chuckles along, his blue eyes staring at you over the rims of his pitch-black lenses, “say ‘pleaaase, baby.’”

his fingers continued to ruthlessly tickle your sides while you tried to escape his grasp.

“c’mon, i know you can do it.” your boyfriend adds with a small smirk on his face.

“no way!” you shake your head while giggling uncontrollably. even in this state, you were somehow holding onto that avoidant attitude of yours.

“that’s no good, sweets.”

satoru decided to use his trump card: tickling your armpits. he’ll have you begging him to stop in no time.

as expected, you squeal and squirm around underneath the snowy-haired male, your breathing unstable due to the amount of laughter leaving your lips.

“w-wait—,” you manage to get out between giggles, “please, baby, i give up!”

satoru was content with your answer and rested his hands on either side of your body.

“wasn’t that hard, ey?”

you could see that victorious expression on his face which beamed of confidence. it made you roll your eyes.

“shut up.” you breathe out deeply as you try to regain your composure.

satoru’s thumb gently brushed your tears of joy away while he looked down at you fondly. you looked extremely precious like that; teary eyed, hair messy and a slight pout on your lips.

he doesn’t want this moment to end.

and thus he starts to act dumb.

“hmm.. what did i say again just now?” satoru scratches his head with his index finger like he was thinking deeply about something.

“nu-uh. don’t you dare.” you knew that whenever satoru feigned innocence in situations like these, chaos was going to unfold a moment later.

“that i’d stop if you said ple— eh, whatever. i don’t remember.”

satoru shrugs, that fake innocent expression turning into a mischievous one in under a split second.

before you could escape, satoru started to tickle you again. you really should’ve expected him to pull another cheap trick like that; it’s the gojo satoru after all.

“you just wait, satoru, i swear i’ll kick your ass!”

“i’d like to see you try, babe.”

your laughter fills satoru’s ears once more and it’s then that he realises for the umpteenth time how grateful he is.

he’s indebted to the heavens for granting him the chance to live at the same time as you.

at this point, satoru wasn’t even concentrated on getting information out of you. seeing you all giggly and happy like this was enough for him.

he didn’t want to pressure you too much into telling him your reason for the silent treatment earlier.

he’ll find out one way or another. just like he usually does.

[xoxotria]

starcrossed | hjs

pairing: professor!hong joshua x student!reader

themes: professorxstudent relationship, flirting in public, smut

warnings: none

tick. tock. tick. tock.

time was moving painfully slow today. normally you’d find dr. hong's class interesting but today you just couldn't seem to focus for some reason.

well—you couldve been focusing on the lesson if it weren’t for your stupidly hot professor teaching, his attire slightly different from his usual because the first few buttons of his shirt was unbuttoned whilst his tie hung looser than it normally would around his neck.

it was as if the world was plotting against you to actually do well this semester because of the temptation speaking to the entire class infront of you.

you shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts for your professor (he wasn’t that much older, just your senior of 2 years as he had graduated early) but goddamn was he fine. you just couldn’t help but think of him that way—his perfect head of hair that is perfectly messy and perfectly wavy on days he doesn’t gel in place. he's tall and buff. some people describe him as somewhat on the thinner side but i can tell he has more than some hidden muscles under his suit. his big brown eyes are hypnotizing; and his pink plump lips—fucking perfect.

don't even get me started on his hands. hands that i've imagined on my body in the most inappropriate ways—gripping, spanking, rubbing, choking.

he's a profiler so he's probably picked up on the fact that you were attracted to him. and you no profiler but you think he's attracted to you some way too. he looks at you when he thinks you don't notice (but you do). and they're not just any kind of looks; they're long looks, looks that start at your legs and end at your eyes. like that one time you just so happened to wear a short skirt and thigh high socks. walking in late and stopped him mid sentence as he watched you take a seat on the front row. he quite literally choked on his words. and in that moment you felt such a boost of confidence to be able to get that sort of reaction out of him. seeing what you did to him turned you on enough to be miserable for the rest class.

today you were not wearing a short skirt and you were bored. you wanted to get his attention somehow. it's wrong—so wrong.

but this couldn't hurt right?

you remembered you were wearing a tight fitting tank top under your sweater. you decided to discreetly pull down your top and take off your sweater then lean forward and pretend to be engulfed in the subject he's discussing, showing quite a bit of cleavage just enough to get his attention.

he usually paces from one side to the other when he discusses to check if the class was still listening. and you happen to be sitting towards the right side of the room and he's walking towards the left so you wait patiently for him to turn around.

he's walking. walking. walking. and turn.

"what i find interesting is the part where jane says that a lady's imagination jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment. what do you think she—" he stopped dead in his tracks; he spotted you.

you smile innocently as you feign to be listening intently to the discussion.

"uhh, ahem" he clears this throat nervously.

"miss, what do you think she meant by this?" he improvised, catching you off guard.

people started to turn their heads in you direction so you instinctively leaned back and slightly pulled up your tank.

shit, he got me there.

you could see a small smirk form on his face as he waited for your answer.

"well..." you start hesitantly, "that women are used to being disillusioned."

"that's your take?" he cocks his head and raises an eyebrow.

"yes. that's how i interpret it. how would you sir?" you both start to engage in a back and forth. your gazes locked on each other.

"i believe she refers to women's ability to develop deep feelings for someone when they respect them," he walks a few steps forward with both hands in his pockets. you nod your head slowly in agreement.

"i suppose you're not wrong. but the two don't necessarily contradict each other." you add, feeling more confident now with your answer.

"mmm you're right miss. I can always count on you to give me good answers."

you had laid low for the rest of the class, periodically answering some questions for recitation. he had avoided lingering too much on your side of the room probably to remove suspicion on his side from his flustered outburst.

"that's all for today, class. have a good weekend."

slightly embarrassed from what happened earlier in class you try to leave swiftly, passing by the professor's desk avoiding eye contact.

"miss, may i speak to you for a second?" he called out behind me as you curse under your breath for not getting out faster.

you turned around hesitantly and saw him sitting at his desk, looking at papers; almost as if he hadn't called you over. you walk back to his desk as the last few students leave the classroom, leaving us alone.

you start to get nervous as your brain imagines all the things he could say to me.

could he be mad about what you had said in class? is he gonna call you out for your flirting? is he gonna kick me out of his class? fuck—that can’t happen. this was a prerequisite for another class you have next semester.

"the last paper i assigned was due yesterday, you haven't turned it in" he looks up at you as he props his arms up in front of him and interlocks his fingers, resting his chin on his hands.

you had let go of a breath you hadn't realized you were holding—a late paper you could handle but him calling me out or worse dropping you from his class? another story.

"i'm sorry professor, i haven't finished it yet" you make slight puppy dog eyes in the hopes he'll be the tinest bit forgiving. normally he hates it when students turn in their work late and you did not want be one of them that he mentally puts a label on for being tardy.

"can you have it done by tomorrow? i'll be in my office at around 9pm, you can drop it off then. normally i wouldn't open office hours on weekends but i can make the exception; just this once."

"i can do that. i'll have it done by then sir."

"good. you're a bright student, i wouldn't wanna see your grades suffer due to tardiness." he leaned back on his chain and places his hands on his lap.

your eyes had drifted towards his lap—it almost looked like an invitation but you knew better than that.

"thank you dr. hong i greatly appreciate it." you say with all sincerity as you watch a small smirk form on his lips.

does he like it when i call him that?

"i'll see you tomorrow at 9pm sharp, miss."

well, fuck. no escaping him now.

⋆˚🐾˖°

you've finished your paper as soon as you got home and now your mind is being filled with tempting ideas you should not be entertaining.

what if i wore a short skirt again? no. it'll be too obvious what you trying to do.

but wouldn't that be the point though? what point was i making anyways? am i really considering trying to get my professor to sleep with me? you groaned as you jumped into your bed.

the thought kept looming over my head the next morning, during the day, in the afternoon—the entire time i was awake and before i knew it it was time for me to get ready. it's settled—you want him and you wanted him bad.

⋆˚🐾˖°

you walked into the campus surprised that the main buildings are even open at 9pm on a saturday. the halls were so dimly lit, you almost couldn't find his office if you didn’t know the way to the room like the back of your hand.

you were late but that was on purpose. you were hoping it'll get a rise out of him. you decided to put on the same skirt and knee high socks as the last time, except your skirt is slightly more hiked up and you were wearing a very form fitting cropped sweater.

once you reached the door with his name on it you stop for a moment to muster up courage. you loved his name, it really did suit him.

you knock on the door and hear a faint, "come in."

you open the door to reveal a room that looks like any typical college professor’s office; but in a good way. it's lit up by a few lamps and candles, there's books on shelves and on the floor all opened as if dr. hong rummaged through it for research, there's a small couch with throw pillows and a blanket and his desk is facing the door—it was homey. you liked it.

it's not until the click of the door closing that he looks up from whatever he's doing. he does a quick double take and gulps and from where you were you could see him shift in his chair slightly.

"you're ten minutes late," he leans back on his chair and intertwines his hands together on top of his lap.

"there was traffic leaving my house i'm sorry." you lied.

"do you have the paper i asked for?"

"yes," you reached into you bag and dug out a folder with your essay neatly tucked inside and walked over to his desk and handed him the folder.

"i wanna read it over and give you your grade before you leave. please, make yourself comfortable."

you obliged, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and dropping your bag in the other.

he began reading my essay while you observed him. it was evident he was trying extra hard to focus. as he read and turned the pages you were entranced by the way his fingers moved and caressed the paper softly as if it was fragile.

at this point you were starting to imagine his hands on you again, creating a wetness between your thighs in probably the sluttiest panties you owned and if you had been a bit more entranced you wouldn't have noticed all the times he snuck glances at you while he read the paper he seemed to be approving, which was another relief.

finished he dropped the folder and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"it's a great essay, A+." he finally spoke.

you let out a breath you didn't notice you were holding.

"thank you dr. hong.”

"you're a great writer," he complimented, "but you really need to work on the tardiness."

"yes, you're totally right. i will work on that sir."

silence filled the room and all that raced through your mind was that you had to make your move.

now or never.

you stood up slowly and walked around the desk, your finger tracing the smooth wooden surface. you don't say a word and can tell he's trying to decipher what the hell you doing. once you were all the way around you sit on the desk, right in between his legs.

"what are you—"

"do you like having me as your student, dr. hong?"

he gulps and shifts in his seat, "yes."

you hooked your foot under his chair and pull him closer watching as his eyes drift towards your lips then up to your eyes again.

“what’s your favorite thing about me being your student?”

"uh, well, you're very smart and—"

"are you sure it's not staring at my ass and legs when i wear skirts like this?" you cut him off, leaning forward slightly.

he exhaled through his nose, looking deep into your eyes and you see he's giving in. concern flashes in his eyes for keeping things professional as it fades into lust and desire.

"i do like it when you wear skirts like that," his voice was no longer hesitant. he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you—and that was all he needed not to be nervous.

"mmm, why?" both of you were inching closer to each other. you could smell the perfume he wears to class that always seemed to get your attention in more ways than one.

god, did he smell divine.

"because i can imagine lifting it up to fuck you bent over my desk." his hand began sliding up your leg feeling you up as he did.

your breath got caught your throat when you heard him say it.

"that's what you're gonna do to me?"

"mhm, maybe that'll teach you a lesson on being tardy all the time." he stood up slowly, towering over you with both his hands are now caressing your thighs—his thumbs getting dangerously close to your soaking core.

"then teach me, doctor."

a smirk grew on his face as it did on your own as you challenged him. he tilted your chin up with his finger and leaned down slowly—painfully slowly. your lips graze each others as he avoided kissing you fully.

"can i kiss you?" he asked, your lips nearly touching.

"you can fuck me." you said impatiently breathing getting heavier.

"but can i kiss you?"

it confused you that he wanted to be a gentleman now after explicitly telling you he wanted to fuck you bent over his desk but then you realized he was just teasing you some more.

"yes." you breathed out before pulling him in by the back of his neck and practically going in tongue first.

he immediately pressed his body against yours, and you pulled him even closer by his cardigan. once you was clutching it you thought: why does he still have this on?

you quickly started to unbutton his cardigan as if your life depended on it whilst he slid his hand in your hair pulling on it by the roots.

"you're greedy huh? i bet you're already soaking wet."

"why don't you see for yourself?"

how you even got to utter that sentence was past you. you just needed him and you needed him now.

he grinned before attaching his lips to yours again and slithering his hand under your skirt and into your panties. you moaned softly into his mouth at the feeling of his fingers sliding in your folds and brushing against your bundle of nerves with the fingers you fantasized so much about.

"i hadn't even touched you and you were already this wet for me? all this for me?" he slid his hand out and put his fingers in his mouth and sucked—your mouth hung open in both shock and desire.

that was fucking hot.

"i wanna taste more of you, babygirl." he said looking at you through half hooded eyes.

he got down on his knees and scooted you forward to align himself with your entrance as he then began peppering kisses up ypur thighs as he hiked the skirt up more and more.

once you were exposed he kissed your clit through your underwear—at this point you couldn't help but groan as you grew heavy with anticipation. he hooked a finger on your underwear and tugged them off before he kissed your clit again. this time his lips made direct contact with your skin and a louder moan escaped your lips—you swore you could see your juices coating his soft pink lips.

he started licking softly and slowly. your hips beggining to rocking against his face almost as if they had a mind of their own. he picked up the speed just a little bit and then he stayed in that pace.

fuck this man is driving me insane. i want him like this—all day and everyday, always.

like waves your pleasure kept rolling in as he fucked you with his tongue. you could feel the familiar knot building up in you as began panting and moaning like crazy as his tongue danced slowly on your clit in circles. that's when he inserted a single finger and hooked it upwards hitting that one spot that makes you cry out in pleasure.

"oh fuck!" you cried out pulling his face deeper with your thighs as you crossed them behind his head as you heard him moan in response. your hand was tangled in his beautiful head of hair and you tugged on it slightly.

you couldn't believe it. he's moving ever so softly but you can feel so much pressure building up and then it crashed down on you—hard. body began shaking uncontrollably as your thighs clenched together locking him in but he didn't stop what he was doing.

it wasn't until you had come down from your high that he detached himself from you. this man really had you seeing stars for a moment.

he got up and kissed me again tasting yourself on him—his lips felt so nice on mine that i could kiss him forever.

"get up." he commanded softly as you followed.

he pushed his chair to the side and turned you around kissing your neck as he ran his hands all over your body with you becoming a moaning mess again.

"say my name." his hands grabbed my breasts as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head from the way he played with your nipples with his fingers.

"joshua." you moaned out.

he groaned into your ear and quickly bent you over pressing his hard dick against your ass.

"you see what you do to me? every time i see you in class you're teasing me. coming into my class late in a short skirt like a slut."

he lifted your skirt and gave your ass a slap, making you jolt and moan at the same time from the sting it left.

"are you gonna keep being a bad girl? or are you gonna take my dick like the good girl you know you are?" he whispered into your ear as he spanked you.

"why can't I be both?"

"i knew you were greedy from the start." he chuckled lightly before pulling back to unbuckle his pants and get rid of his underwear.

he lined himself behind you grabbing unto your hips for support.

“do i need to use a condom?” he asked.

i shook my head no.

“i’m on the pill.”

you heard him say a quick fuck under his breath when he realized that he could cum inside you without worries.

"fuck!" he cursed as he inserted his dick in you.

"you're so big," you breathed out as you felt as if your voice had left your throat for a moment.

"you can take it."

once he was fully in he thrusted in slowly so you could adjust to the pleasurable pain.

you gave him the signal and he started to thrust faster. small moans and whimpers can be heard from both of you along with the rattling of his desk.

he took a handful of your hair and pulled, making you moan louder and even though the building was pretty empty both of us could still be heard by guards so he grabbed your panties and stuffed them in your mouth to muffle your loud moans.

"that's my good girl." he said in between pants as he lifted your leg and placed it on top of the desk to get a better angle.

"touch yourself." he whispered into your ear as your fingers found your clit feeling him thrust in and out of you.

you were getting over stimulated feeling both your fingers and his dick sliding in and out of you at a fast pace.

you could tell he was trying to holding back moans as he panted out.

“you look so pretty taking my dick like that. it looks so much better than i even imagined in my head.”

all you could do was moan and cry into your panties. you couldn't really tell him you were so close, but he could tell by the way your walls clenched around his dick.

"cum for me my sweet girl."

you felt the knot in your stomach dissolve as your orgasm crashed over you. you swore you came so hard you squirted and blacked out for a moment.

“fuck joshua!” you cursed as he still thrusted in and out of you, chasing his own high.

he quickly turned you around feeling his high and pushed you on your knees to cum in your mouth. his mouth hung open in an O shape as his hips buckled into your mouth. you swallowed every last drop and stared at each other for a moment—both out of breath.

"quite the mess i made." you said looking up at him, slightly embarrassed after catching your breath.

"was that the first time you squirted?" he asked as you nodded.

he took your hands and helped your stand. your legs we shaking like a baby deer's as he helped you to your feet and pushed your hair out of my face.

"don't be embarrassed. it was very sexy. and i'll take care of the mess."

he chuckled as you nodded and smiled back at him.

"did you learn your lesson about being late?" he placed his hands on your waist and you rested yours on his shoulders.

"if this is what i get for being late then i'm gonna be late everyday for the rest of the semester."

and the sound of his laugh filled the room as you smiled at him.

"fine," he replied, "as long as you wear outfits like this more often."

you had placed a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away.

“deal.”

so tell me, how can something so wrong feel so good?

[clockwayswrites]

I totally didn't write this with a fever.

wc: 815, Masterpost, Shopping Montage

“What do you think, parrots and way too many leaves or palm trees and waves?” Danny said, holding the two horrifically patterned Hawaiian shirts up in front of him.

They were standing in one of Crime Alley’s better thrift stores. While Danny had agreed to let Jason buy him some clothing, he had insisted it be at thrift stores. He wasn’t ‘going to let Jason spend that much money on clothing’, he claimed.

Jason figured that meant that Danny hadn’t clocked who he was yet.

Danny waggled the offensive shirts again.

“Tuesday…”

“Ah, I see, clearly it is option number three then,” Danny said somberly before dramatically pulling out a third shirt behind the other two and, “unicorns, rainbows, and hibiscus!”

It was eye searingly bright— like a pack of highlighters had thrown up on it— and clearly whoever had designed it had never seen an ungulate, rainbow, or hibiscus flower in their lives.

“No. No, you are not getting that because I am buying it for my fashion disaster of a brother. He’ll love it.”

“Really?” Danny asked, nose wrinkling adorably as he looked down at the shirt in his hand.

“Trust me, if you knew him, you wouldn’t be doubting it.” Besides, it stopped Danny from getting it even as a joke.

“Huh. Sounds like some brother.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jason said, taking the unicorn shirt and hanging the other two up. “Why don’t we start with pants. Three pairs at least.”

Danny scrambled after Jason. “Three pairs? That means I’d have four if the blood comes out.”

“It will come out.”

“Then that’s four! And that’s way too many.”

“One pair for every two days and a back up pair if you don’t get laundry done or lose another pair to a rogue attack,” Jason explained, finding the jean section. “What size are you and what type do you like. Baggy, boot cut, skinny?”

Danny stared down at the tables of jeans, looking more than a little lost. “Um, blue? Blue is good?”

“Disaster, Tuesday,” Jason said. He sized Danny up before picking out a half dozen jeans and shoving them at the other. “Try these on.”

“Jason, I really don’t—”

“Tuesday, I’m getting you three pairs of jeans. You might as well at least make sure they’re comfortable. Go try on the pants. If these don’t work, we’ve got others to try.”

“I, um, okay,” Danny said with a little nod and disappeared into the fitting booth.

As Jason grabbed another few pairs of pants, he had to wonder when the last time that Danny actually went shopping was from how he was reacting. Having to try on the jeans to make sure they fit was pretty basic. Hoping to make sure Danny really had enough clothing, Jason grabbed a few shirts to add to the pile. Mostly he stuck with basics, but he tossed in a few shirts that seemed nerdy in a way that an engineer might like. He pushed the pile under the edge of the fitting room curtain with his foot.

“What— I don’t—”

“Just be good and try on the shirts,” Jason ordered, as gently as he could, then he leaned against the wall opposite of the little line of changing booths to wait.

The sound of the curtain pulling open had Jason looking up from his phone. Danny stood just inside the booth, tugging down at the hem of the dark red henley where it set over the navy skinny cut jeans.

Danny shifted on socked feet. (Jason made note of the holes in the toes.) “I don’t know if…”

“Gives me a spin, Tuesday,” Jason said, tucking his phone in his pocket. “You act like you’ve never gone clothes shopping before.”

“Been a good few years,” Danny drawled, but spun as he was told. The pants did surprising favors for Danny’s ass for being thrift store pants.

“Never had that sudden growth spurt?” Jason teased.

Danny huffed. “I’m a short king.”

“Well, your Majesty, put both those in the yes pile and go try on some more.” Jason shooed Danny back into the booth with a wave. “When you’re done, we’ll grab you a pack of socks and boxers from the Dollar Tree next door— no arguing— and then I’ll show you the best diner in Crime Alley.”

“Am I going to have to let you pay there too?”

“Yep, so be a good figure head of a dated governmental system and hush.”

“Or it will be the guillotine for me?” The question was muffled as Danny changed.

“You’re too pretty to lose your head,” Jason said. “It would be the dungeons with you.”

Danny cleared his throat after a pause. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason said with a chuckle and a determination to ignore that mental picture. “Now come on, show me the next outfit.”

-----

AN: And Dick wore that unicorn shirt far, far too often.

Hopefully it's coherent despite me being sick. The start of this came to me as I was trying to sleep with a 102ish fever so who am I to deny it?

Stay delightful (and hydrated) darlings!

I no longer tag for various reasons, but you can subscribe to be notified at the masterpost. (Queued this post so I'll update the masterpost when I wake)

[ghoststyles]

Missed Connections

Harry X YN WC: 6K

No smut in this one. Didn't feel right! Hopefully you like this as much as I do :)

______________________________________________________________

New York City, 1998

This dive bar is abysmal. 

Your Coach shoulder bag is sticking to the bar top while a ZZ Top-esque biker gang member chain smokes in the corner, blowing the smoke straight into your face, as One Headlight by the Wallflowers plays at a volume far too loud for your liking. 

The bartender places a poorly laminated menu, riddled with ring stains from the thousands of beers and simple cocktails poured over them. You’d be shocked if the vinyl seats don’t carry some sort of venereal disease, making you pull your jean skirt down, minimizing the direct contact with your skin. 

It’s a Thursday, your long days in the office, and the start of your best friend, Marcie’s, bachelorette party weekend. When did bachelorette parties turn into a weekend affair, anyway?

You suppose it’s because you’re the only single girl in the group; the only one to actually leave your suburban, central New Jersey upbringing to attend college and build a career in New York City. 

This is how you found yourself hosting 4 girls in your 550 square foot apartment for 3 days. Chickie’s the one with the fabulous life in Manhattan, why don’t we visit her! And who are you to say no? If it weren’t for her sister, you’d be Marcie’s Maid of Honor, so an unmitigated amount of guilt fell on your shoulders as the long distance bridesmaid. 

“Smile, Chickie, you look miserable. That’s not gonna get you a boyfriend any time soon,” Jenny teases you as she sits on the stool between you and the biker, her nose crinkling as she smells the vapor of the Marlboro reds. 

Jenny is the powerhouse of the group; the loud mouthed, opinionated friend who takes pleasure in picking on the other girls. You never pay her any mind. You thought for sure she’d eventually phase out after high school, but here she is nagging you, as usual. Even worse, she used your childhood nickname.

“I’m good, Jen. It’s not looking like my husband is going to walk through the door, anyway,” you laugh exasperatedly, looking around at the empty bar room illuminated by red lights and tons of novelty beer branded mirrors. The biker man leans back on his stool, furrowing his brows at you.

Jen laughs, lighting up her own cigarette and taking a long inhale. “You know, Andrew and I can set you up with any of his colleagues. Most of them are divorced once or twice, but, still good looking.”

Your lips purse out in preparation of a smart comeback, but your eyes divert to the door, where a group of late twenty and thirty something men walk through the door, taking seats at the corner of the bar. They huddle around one another, blocking your view of their faces. 

By this point, your girlfriends have changed the music and begin to dance on the tiny checkerboard dance floor, garnering the looks of everyone in the crowded space. Marcie is sloshing her drink around, the miniature veil in her hair slipping down as she moves. 

The biker man, your only ally for the evening, is now on a stool by the dartboard, dozing off as he nurses his umpteenth Budweiser. The bartender has refilled your gin & tonic a few times already, to which you place a few bills in his jar to your left. 

Marcie and Grace are now twirling around to You’re Still the One by Shania Twain, narrowly bumping into the group of men who walked in earlier. Marcie’s veil is barely grappling onto the top of her head, sending the two into a laughing fit.

You smile gently, still feeling the wave of exhaustion from your day in the office. In your own little bubble, your pocket of peace is disturbed when the stool next to you scrapes across the cement floors, sending an unstoppable shiver up your spine. 

“I’ll have a Budweiser, and whatever she’s having,” the new character quietly says to the bartender. Your head whips around to the gentle, but domineering tone, to find he’s not even looking at you. He fishes a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, sliding it in the direction of the barman. His brown, curly hair is unkempt, slightly hanging in his eyes as he looks down at you. 

“Thanks, but I can take care of it myself,” you brush him off, immediately turned off by the lack of eye contact.

“You’re the only one in here matching my energy tonight,” he chuckles, before turning his head to the biker in the corner. “Well, except for that guy.”

“I’m sure he’d love a drink,” you smirk, thumb picking at the laminated drink menu in front of you.

The stranger takes a swig of his beer, before placing it gently on the coaster. He finally turns to look at you, and you have to stop yourself from gawking. His striking eyes and perfectly chiseled jaw is the first thing to stand out. Looking down, his sleeves are rolled up to reveal a few sparse tattoos around his wrist and forearm.

“You’re the most miserable bridesmaid, and I’m the most miserable Best Man.”

You scoff, taking a sip of your cocktail before meeting his eyes over the rim of your glass. You place the cup down, jiggling the ice with it. 

“Bold of you to make any assumptions about me. I’m just here minding my own business.”

He purses his lips, now fully turning to face you on the stool next to him. “I’ve been here 30 minutes. You’ve only given blank stares to everyone in here, and exchanged glances with the motorcycle guy over there in whatever morse code you two have developed.”

About ready to hop off the stool and storm out, you’re intrigued at the next sentence out of his mouth. 

“I’m serious. We might as well get through this night together," he leans on the bar top, fist now supporting his chin. "How about we play 20 questions while your girls take shots and my boys stand there awkwardly watching.”

You scoff indignantly, unbelieving whether or not this twenty-something (thirty something?) man really wants to play 20 questions in the middle of a dive bar on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Laughing to yourself, you turn to face him.

“I’ll go first. Break the ice a little,” he licks his lips, placing his bottle down on the disintegrating coaster on the worn bar top. “Most traumatic childhood memory?”

As the question pours out of his mouth, you take a sip of your watery G&T, eyes bulging at the blatant bold question. 

“That—That, is what you start with? What about the name of my first pet? Name of my elementary school?”

“Who am I, your bank?” 

A smile finally— finally, makes its way to your lips. The tattooed stranger you met 35 minutes ago doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

From the dance floor, Marcie shoots you a knowing smile before pursing her lips and gyrating, taunting you, since you’re the notoriously modest friend.

You roll your eyes before meeting his — Blue? Green? You can’t really tell in the dim lighting. The Rolling Rocks neon sign is casting a hue over the left side of his face, a smile makes its way onto his face while he awaits your answer.

“My mom left me at a Walmart and didn’t realize for about thirty minutes. I stood with the old man who greets everyone at the door until she came back. Then he bought me a bouncy ball out of the machine in the vestibule so I’d stop hyperventilating.”

He sucks his lip in, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. Hesitating, he speaks again. Reaching for your hands folded neatly in your lap, he places his grotesquely large ones over them, staring into your eyes earnestly. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” his voice dripping with sarcasm and mirth. 

Balling up your fists, you shake his hands off of yours. “You asked! I was only 7. It took me months to go back to Walmart, let alone look that poor 75-year old greeter in the eye.” 

He chuckles, taking another swig of his beer. “Okay, next question—” he starts, before you interrupt.

“Wait, I don’t get to ask a question?”

He hums, pretending to ponder it. 

“Mmmm, nope. I got some good ones,” he replies, gently tapping his temple with his middle finger. He sighs, taking another drink of his beer.

“Is the hokey pokey really what it’s all about?” He slightly tilts his head in your direction, shrugging. 

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. What higher power above sent this creature over to talk to you? Your lip juts out into a pout as your eye contact cuts over to your safe haven — biker man. He seems to have more to worry about, like not falling asleep in the bar. 

Recognizing the shock that washes over your face, the man recoups, “Shit, I know — I know, that was so bad.”

It’s the gin. The giggles pour out of you, sending a sharp pain to your stomach. You grab his bicep so you don’t fall off the stool, squeezing the solid muscle there. He snorts, tilting his head back. Your kitten heels scrape the metal bar at the foot of the counter, barely giving you anything to grip on to.

“I’m gonna pee my pants,” tears are fully flowing from your eyes at this point. “I can’t, I can’t.” 

The man cackles, placing a hand on your lower back. Now, your group of girls gravitate to your corner of the bar, bumping into one another and spilling their cosmos. His boys have now gained their liquid courage to morph the two groups together. You’re the only single one, but you won’t ruin anyone’s fun.

“And I don’t wanna miss a thing! Even when I dream of you…” Marcie belts out Aerosmith into her pretend microphone. “The sweetest dream will never do, cause I miss you, babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing!”

In that moment, Christina strides over to the two of you with her disposable camera, ushering you to get in frame with him. He smiles down at you — how tall is this guy? Even sitting down he has at least a foot on you. You smile gently, leaning into him as the disposable’s flash goes off.

“So cute!”

You break the tension by latching onto his built body. He’s standing now, making sure not to block you from view of your friends. With just a few minutes from midnight, you finally feel loose and that you could actually have a good time with this guy. His hand hasn’t left your lower back, so he presses you into him before staring down at you. 

“Chickie! Come to the bathroom with me,” Grace slurs, grabbing your hand. “It’s upstairs and I don’t think my legs will carry me.”

You inhale through your nose, trying to find a moment of patience for your friend and her unpleasant interruption to the moment you’re sharing with this stranger. You glance up at him, unsure if you should go. The comfort his large frame is intoxicating on its own. 

“It’s okay, Chickie. I’ll be here,” he gently touches your lower back. 

You nod, smiling up at him gently, allowing Grace to pull you toward the small staircase leading to the bathrooms. The walls of the corridor are riddled with graffiti, old dollar bills and questionable amounts of gum.

Grace pulls you past and inconspicuous second bar (what kind of dive bar has a second floor? Who do they think they are, Le Cirque?) and through the crowd to the bathroom. 

The alcohol never feels like it hits until you come face to face with yourself in the dingy bathroom mirror. Despite your long history with drinking, (hellloooo football games in 10th grade drinking Burnett’s from the bottle) every heavy drinking night feels like the first time. You wait for Grace to finish up before hovering yourself over the toilet, unwilling to touch skin to porcelain. 

You both wash up, taking a moment to sniff each other’s pits, fluff each other’s hair and dab a damp paper towel on the backs of your necks to cool you off.

The burst of hot air upon opening the bathroom door is enough to knock you out, but, nevertheless, the two of you persist through the throng of bodies that appeared out of nowhere. You’re the blind leading the blind at this point, but you drag Grace’s half-limp body to the top of the steps, peering out over the crowd in hopes of spotting your guy.

You trudge down the stairs, the pounding of the wood reverberating straight to your brain, heartbeat picking up when you don’t spot him towering over the group anymore. You situate Grace on a stool next to biker man, silently nodding at him to watch over your friend before finding Jen, Christina and Marcie. 

“Jen, where did that group of guys go?” You tried to keep cool, not wanting to fall victim to her taunting, even if she’s inebriated. 

“Mmmm, who? OH! The bachelor party. They left.”

Your heart drops, cursing yourself for letting your guard down. Of course it was only a love connection on your end. As a last ditch effort, you look over the crowd, only to find biker man exiting the bar into the night.

“O-oh, um, did the — did the taller guy say anything before they went?”

“No, the groom was pretty fucked up. They basically carried him out. Sorry, Chickie.” 

Marcie suddenly bursts between the two of them, placing her arms around their shoulders.

“I’m ready for some McDonald’s!”

~

Why the fuck are you at the internet cafe? 

It’s 1:30 PM on a Wednesday, and your boss thinks you’re on a lunch break. After being talked off the ledge by your girlfriends while flipping through the Sunday Times after draining a bottle of cabernet, you decided to take matters into your own hands. 

Your mystery man from the bar hasn’t left your mind all week. Replaying the initial interaction — a bit cold, on both of your parts. But, the way he so easily opened you up and turned your night around kept you hooked. 

In a city of 7 million, the odds of finding him again were slim to none, so you assessed your options:

Going back to Mick’s.

Recruiting biker man to scour the city with you Ghostbusters style. He gave you his business card for exactly that purpose. 

Or writing a missed connections ad on Craigslist.

So, here you are, sat between a high schooler instant messaging on AOL and an old man using Ask Jeeves to diagnose a very personal medical issue. Taking a deep breath, you start the ad.

Every stroke of the keyboard was painful. This is so insanely out of your comfort zone, but the longing in your chest is too strong to ignore. The ad is the perfect mixture of nondescript and casual, but gives enough context that even if he were as dense as his friend group, he’d know it was him. 

Pressing post, you immediately exit the window, paying your $0.75 for internet time and a print out and fly out the door, a bell jingling in the path of your haste. You shove the ad in in the book in your purse and stomp down the street. The old man makes eye contact with you through the window, snarling a bit at your startling movement. It makes you want to yell at him through the window to go see a fucking doctor!

The heels you have on were not made for walking; exactly the opposite of what that insufferable Carrie Bradshaw promotes on that new show. It’ll be off the air soon enough. Reluctantly, you call a cab and head back to the office in hopes of taking your mind off the possibilities — a happy ending, or heartbreak.

~

The nervous tapping of your foot echos across the marble floor of Effie’s Café. Arriving 20 minutes early, you rotated back and forth between the wicker chairs at this clearly 4 person table. Should you face the door? He’ll see you in the daylight and make a run for it. How about your back to the door? No, he could actually be a murderer and attack you from behind. From the side? No, these are standing jeans only. 

Sigh. You decide to push your anxieties aside and order a glass of white wine, sitting with your back to the door to play up the mystery a bit more. One glass turns into two, and now you’re slightly sloshed for a Thursday at lunch time, hoping and praying you unlock the sweet, cool-girl personality you left him a taste of. 

The café starts to pick up for the lunch rush, so you don’t immediately recognize the familiar deep voice of someone is trying to get your attention from behind you. 

“Ladybug, is that you?”

Ladybug?

Slowly shifting your head to look over your right shoulder, your heart flutters at the tattooed forearm attached to the hand gripping the back of your chair. Only this time, the arm is attached to a tall, clean-shaven, blonde man. 

You look up, making contact with his blue eyes. Now you’re certain that mystery man had green eyes. The man in front of you smiles down at you as he pulls his chair out to sit. It’s like he’s not even recognizing everything wrong about this situation. 

He’s the wrong guy. You’re the wrong girl. Ladybug is the wrong nickname. 

“Um, hi. I’m no—

“It’s nice to meet you, officially. I’m Garrett,” he extends his hand to shake yours. You stare at it, dumbfounded and scheming your next move. 

“I think there may be a misunderstanding. I was trying to contact someone —.” 

“No misunderstanding. You sounded like a sweet girl in the ad. I’m just lucky my impression matches you physically. You’re stunning” 

No. Nope. Absolutely not. It’s not an honest mistake. He didn’t happen to speak to a girl in a dive bar with a silly nickname and tell stupid jokes just to get them to smile. This is the epitome of all of the warnings your parents gave you on computer safety. Sucking in a sharp breath, you locate the nearest exit, and look around in the most subtle way possible to flag down an employee. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you do for work?”

“I think I need to leave, this was a mistake —.”

“Mm, I don’t think so,” Garrett fakes interest in your unsettled body language. “You asked for this.”

You finally spot your server, grabbing crumpled bills from your purse to give to her on your way out. Garrett grabs your wrist firmly, preventing you from reaching your wallet. “I’d like to get to know you. We just got here.”

Panic. A feeling you’ve felt everyday since you could remember. Whether it’s being forgotten at a superstore, or sending an incorrect document, destroying the contract for your largest client, panic claws its way out of your central nervous system at any opportunity. 

You look down at your shaking hands, trying to conjure up a plan. Do you run? Scream? Throw your wine at him as a distraction? This man, while he hasn’t intimidated you physically, he’s loud and clear with his intentions. 

“Hi! Welcome to Effie’s. I’m Alannah. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

Garrett smiles up at the young girl sweetly, opening his mouth to speak. You decide to play it cool for another few minutes to minimize the risk of retaliation.

“I’ll have an iced coffee — black. and the lady will have a green tea with lemon.”

You scowl, as if you’re more concerned about what he ordered for you than the fact that you feel threatened by his presence all together. Luckily, you still had your glass of wine from when you thought you would find mystery man. 

“Great, I’ll be right back. Let me know if you have any questions about the menu,” Alannah smiles at both of you before spinning on her heel, ponytail flinging over her shoulder. 

Your jaw is tight, unwilling to make eye contact with your dining partner. Your heartbeat has steadies out tremendously as more people filter into the café. Remaining casual, you begin to unroll the silverware placed neatly on the teal plate. You place the napkin on your lap, lining up the two forks and knife on the table. 

Garrett has been talking this entire time, unbeknownst to you as you gather the courage to carry out your plan. You smile tightly, nodding to give some semblance that everything this okay. Glancing at your fork, you lock your eyes on his left hand sitting limply on the table, moving every so often as he drones on. 

You send him one last sickeningly sweet smile before grabbing the fork nonchalantly. Twisting it around in your fingers, you inhale deeply and swiftly sink the salad fork into the flesh of his hand and shoot out of your chair, purse in hand. The chair scoots across the floor and ultimately tumbles to the side of you bringing on some stares from other diners. Alannah screams, dropping the drinks and covering her mouth, staring at the fork sticking out of his forehand. Adrenaline pumping through your blood stream, you waste no time taking your platform sandals off and making a run for it. Disgusting New York City streets be damned.

Garrett is red in the face, gritting his teeth as he screams after you, a death grip on his now injured hand. Diners and workers of the café gather around him, giving you an extra few seconds to escape. 

Flying down 96th street, you expertly weave through the Upper West Side lunch crowd, feeling every wad of gum and broken beer bottle under your feet. Eventually, as your adrenaline-induced track meet is quickly dying out, so you stop on the corner between the flower shop and laundromat. 

The street looks familiar. The bodega with the yellow awning illuminated by the red ‘Bar’ sign to its right.  The sounds of the city are drowned out by your heavy breathing, but you’re certain your heart stops beating for a moment.

Mick’s Bar.

Look at it this way — a full circle moment. You can wash away the utter shit show of a day and raise one last glass to close the chapter of pining over the mystery man. Somber mood and slightly sweating, you bow your head and head down the clump of 3 steps to the street-level establishment. 

The smell of stale beer and popcorn infiltrate your senses, sending you straight back to that night. Retracing your steps to the end stool, you sigh, pulling it toward you with your still bare feet. You’ll find a way to soak them in acid later.

The same bartender acknowledges you, most likely not even remembering your previous interactions. You're glad he doesn’t think you’re some pathetic woman trying to chase after a man. You are, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

The barman places a coaster in front of you, silently waiting for your order. 

“Gin and tonic, please. A double. With lime.” 

He nods, ducking down to tend to his well, filling up a pint glass with ice and heavy-pouring the gin. You sigh again, gently grabbing the back of your neck and rubbing the muscle, willing away the inevitable tension headache coming later. 

There aren’t many people in here; Just a few couriers and other non-office workers. You’re slightly envious of them being able to spend their days outside of a beige and cold office building. Quiet chatter amongst them stops when the bell chimes above the door. 

Like straight out of a movie, Biker man stumbles through the door, his leather vest swiping the handle of the door. The bartender snickers and shakes his head as he pushes your drink towards you, indicating he wants your credit card. You nod, handing over your MasterCard, expecting no other interactions in return. 

He looks at Biker man. Then you. Then back to Biker man, nodding his head knowingly. You’re not sure what this means, but you're trying to erase the last 2 hours from your memory.

Biker man’s thick, heavy boots thunder across the wood plank floors, sending the rickety stools into a rattling chorus of squeaks. He coughs up what sounds like a lung and waits for his beer, not even acknowledging the bartender. He’s now a stool over from you, staring at the screen portraying some sort of horse race. 

Taking one long gulp of your drink, you turn to face him, the liquid courage hitting you immediately. 

“Sir? Hi, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I’m not sure if you remember me—” you trail off when he doesn’t even face you, his salt and pepper beard making it hard to read his face.

Waving slightly, you confirm you’re in fact talking to him, so now his bloodshot eyes make contact with yours over the frame of his sunglasses. 

“I, um, I was here with a few of my girlfriends, um, the other night. A-and I met a man—”

“Tall fella? Came in with a group of guys and they drug one out of here like a corpse?”

“Yes! Yes, oh my goodness, I can’t believe you remember.”

“My bar sweetie, I need to remember who comes in.”

“You’re Mick?” you choke out in disbelief. You want to laugh, because the imaginary life you made up for biker man did not live up to reality.

For your whole life, you tended to grasp onto little moments with strangers that others wouldn’t think twice about.

You still remember the Walmart greeter that waited with you until your mom came back to get you. You remember your sixth grade bus driver who pulled you aside to give you a pep talk when the older girls picked on you. You remember the woman next to you on a plane who held your hand during turbulence. You grow attached, dreaming up scenarios that are probably so far from the truth. It's harmless fun for you.

It’s why you’re clinging onto your mystery man. There are alarm bells going off in your brain you've never felt before, refusing to let it be a fleeting moment. 

“I’ve owned this place for 35 years. Seen everything you can imagine happen here. Celebrations of life, death, marriage. Lots of heartbreak.”

You’re not sure if you’re too tipsy, but his words make you want to cry. What is he trying to say?

“Teddy, two rounds here, please,” Mick signals the barman who promptly whips up four… lemon drop shots? Biker man — Mick— didn’t strike you as the type to take shots like a sorority girl.

He shrugs, pushing two shots over to you. You clink your tiny shot glasses together, tossing your head back and licking the sugar on the rim. 

Both of you push your glasses toward Teddy and reach for the second, as the bell jingles above the door. With the bar being street level, the sun reflects off the cars outside, slightly blinding you as someone walks in, footsteps thumping.

You and Mick continue on, throwing back your next shot. You wince, this one slightly more lemony than the previous. Mick exhales loudly, shaking his head.

“Careful, Chickie. It’s too early to be having this much fun.”

You freeze, unwilling to believe this is happening. It has to be an alcohol induced hallucination.

“Uhm, ah, hi,” you stutter, looking between the three men staring at you. You feel like you’re on an episode of Maury. 

“Sweetheart, he’s been in here every day at the same time to ask Teddy if you’ve stopped in to try and find him, too. The shots were just to ease your anxiety since I knew he’d be in on his lunch hour.”

Due to a short circuit in your brain, you can’t decide who you’re more mad at — Mick, or Teddy. They could’ve told you mystery man has been searching for you, too.

The mystery man blushes, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pleated khakis, staring down at his worn Dockers loafers. His striped rugby shirt reminds you of Steve from Blue’s Clues, but you're willing to over look that.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Teddy smiles gently, ushering Mick to the office. 

The man sits on the stool previously occupied by Mick, and as he sits, he uses his ankle to pull your stool closer to him.

“I’m Harry. Nice to officially meet you,” he smiles, making two dimples you didn’t previously notice appear. 

“Chick—Y/N. I’m Y/N,” you giddily grab his massive hand, shaking it gently.

He sighs, taking a swig of his Budweiser, “So, let’s get this out in the open. How pathetic am I for coming back here every day for a week straight to ask about you?” 

Cackling softly, you shake your head, ducking down to retrieve your bag from the hook under the bar. You pull out your copy of A Beautiful Mind, pulling the slip of paper out from the slightly worn pages. 

“Not as pathetic as this,” You hand it to him, waiting for him to open it. “You ever read the Missed Connections ads on Craigslist?”

Harry smiles, reading the ad. He’s glad you remember the small details of that night like he does. He’s not making it up in his head. 

“I don’t have a computer. But, they usually print these in the Times on Sundays. I would’ve seen it, but about a week late,” he giggles, his green eyes meeting yours when he looks up. 

“Well, I’m glad this nightmare has a happy ending. I went to the café, and a random man showed up pretending he was you! I ran out of there so fast. I’m scared to think about what would’ve happened if I stayed.”

Harry grabs your lower back, the light touch comforting you as you recount the horrors.

“Chickie, I’m so sorry that happened. The internet is scary. I’m honestly terrified of what it’ll be like in 30 years.”

“And to make it worse, he called me Ladybug. Ladybug! I’m clearly a Chickie,” you giggle. “I’ve been dying to hear another one of your terrible jokes.”

Instead of opening his mouth, he leans in to place a chaste kiss on your dried lips. 

The alcohol is hitting you much harder than it should be, so you kiss back, forgetting about the entire audience in the bar. You can’t even begin to care that you’ll be two hours late returning to work, drunk as a skunk.

You’ll blame it on fate.

~ New York City, 2000

“I wish I could travel back in time to prevent us from signing a lease on a 5th floor walk-up,” you sigh, plopping down with your boyfriend on the red bean bag he got from Sears. He’s out of breath, having just carried up 3 boxes while you followed behind him clutching lamps, hangers and basically anything you could get your small hands on.

Harry kisses your slightly sweaty hair, petting any of the strays out of your eyes.

“You’ll have a really toned butt by Christmas. Not a bad investment on my end,” Harry laughs as he dodges your sharp elbow digging into his side.

“I can’t even fathom getting groceries and making dinner. Okay if we order in?”

“You don’t want to meet our new bodega guy?”

“He’ll see me at my worst soon enough. Let’s leave him wondering a little longer. I do love a bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel when I’m hungover,” you giggle, inhaling Harry’s natural scent. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d hop into bed (your bare mattress on the floor of your 800 square foot apartment) right now. 

“Sure, baby. We can order in,” he pats your thigh, signaling you to let him stand up. He stretches, examining the room.

His heart swells at the perfect mix of the two of of you in your first apartment together. Your excessive shoe collection. His beloved Gibson guitar that he serenaded you with your favorite song on one of your early dates. He sang Lady by the Styx, not realizing you meant Lady by the Commodores. But, you didn’t have the heart to tell him until your first anniversary. 

Now you’re here, two years later and stronger than ever. He spots a film strip hanging on the fridge from Marcie’s wedding. You hogged the booth for well over 15 minutes, kissing, touching, exploring.

You begged for a plus one at the last second, forcing her to tell her uncle he can’t bring a date. Neither of you feel bad. Next to that film strip is the photo Christina took of the two of you the night you met, held up by a Mick's Bar magnet. She didn't get the film developed until weeks after the bachelorette.

The photo would've helped your search efforts!

The empty walls are begging to be filled with canvases, knick knacks and music posters. You learned Harry works at a music recording studio as a fill-in guitarist and a part-time artist. His art style itches something in your brain you can’t describe — falling in love with every piece he comes home with. 

The boxes will consume you for a few weeks, but he’s excited to be taking this next step with you. 

Harry tosses the Sunday Times at you, “Why don’t you read me the missed connections from this week while I put some stuff away. You did a lot to organize the closet this morning, so I don’t want you to move for the rest of the night.”

Harry putters with the dishes, praying they’re clean enough to go in the cupboard. He's haphazardly putting things away, trying to calm his nerves.

“Ooh, yes. I missed last week,” you flip to the section, adjusting the paper in your hands so you can see better. Clearing your throat, you read aloud.

“I was reading a book on the Q train, you were the cute woman sitting next to whom I assume was your mom, but you get kept sending glances my way when she wasn’t looking. I get it, no matter what your age, it’s weird to flirt with your mom next to you. I got off at Atlantic and you shot me a smile. Dunno why I’m even posting here lol almost zero chance of you seeing this. Oh well, gotta try at least.”

Harry smiles, glancing at you as you peruse the page. He can’t pretend to be busy for much longer. You giggle before starting the next one.

“Did you lose an entire ham? It's a bone-in ham, not sure it's obvious from the photo. It's been eaten on some parts, but there's definitely some serious meat left on it. Looks like it was pretty tasty in its day.”

He laughs, his leg anxiously bouncing against the lower cabinet. He leans on the counter for support, gently swiping over his sweat pant pocket. Closing his eyes, he waits.

Scanning the page, you gasp.

You drop the paper in your lap, watching your boyfriend leave your tiny kitchen with the black and white checker floor tile to kneel in front of you on your ratty bean bag chair. Your hands cover your mouth as some tears threaten to spill over your eyes. It’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Harry’s tearing up, too, as he pulls a velvet box from his pocket, opening it slowly to reveal an emerald cut diamond ring on a simple gold band. Elegant and timeless, like you.

He swallows thickly, finding the courage to speak.

“I could’ve gone on and on in the ad, but I figured I’d save it for now,” he laughs nervously. You still have your hands in front of your face, scared to move them in case this is a dream.

“Since the night we met, I knew we were meant for each other. I haven’t had many moments in life where I’ve made the right decision, but I can say with my whole heart that I love you and want you to be my wife.”

You sob slightly, still donning a wide grin. You let him finish.

“I would’ve married you the day we found each other again at Mick’s. But, I didn’t want to scare you,” he laughs again, a small tear escaping.

“Chickie, will you marry me?”

“Oh, Harry,” you blubber, jumping to your knees to wrap your arms around his neck. “Of course! Yes, yes, please.”

Pushing him to the ground, you lay across him, peppering kisses on his face and neck.

When you’ve both calmed down, you’re laying in between his legs, leaned back against the bean bag, basking in the moment. You haven’t even called any friends or family, yet. There’s an uncorked bottle of wine on the floor that you’ve been taking swigs of, absolutely over the moon and tipsy.

"Why did you let me read the one about a ham before asking me the most important question of your life?"

He kisses you to shut you up. You sigh contently, thinking about your future.

After some silence, Harry quietly asks, “Do you think we can force Mick to become an ordained minister?”

You cackle, turning your head to look back at him.

“That was the first thing that came to my mind.”

________________

EEEEEE! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT :))))))) IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE ABOUT OLD REFERENCES EVEN THO I WAS A BB DURING THAT TIME

Pls let me know what you think <3

ALSO BIKER MAN IS THE REAL MVP I WAS SO HYPE TO KEEP REFERENCING HIM LOL

[karenssupplystore]

Photo booth (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN! reader)

Warnings: none (let me know if there is any!)

Word count: 1079

There weren't many times when Simon had a day off, but when he did, you better know he'd be spending every moment with his partner. 

Back for a few days after a long mission? Reports are finished in record time and left on Price's desk.

A few hours between long meetings? He's calling you or sending a text, just wanting a moment of peace and to hear your voice before he'll inevitably have to deal with Soap's shenanigans.

Point being any time away from work he has, you're the first thing on his mind, and he will do anything to get that little bit of recharge time with the one person who he feels he can truly relax with.

So when the 141 gets back from a long, few-month mission on the other side of the globe, as soon as humanly possible, Simon's heading home to be with you. 

The first few days are just spent curled up together. Lazy mornings turning into lazy afternoons with lingering touches and tender kisses. Cooking together in the warmth of your shared kitchen, his big arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rests on the top of your head. Warm meals and lots of storytelling, more so coming from your end, but who wouldn't want to know about how the neighbours got into another fight and might be ending in divorce this time?

After those initial days just gently getting back into the calm civilian life, the two of you are more than happy to adventure out for the day. Treating yourselves to a nice cup of tea and a fresh pastry from a rather fancy cafe in the heart of town and a calm walk by river, hand in hand, the two of you find yourselves in a little corner store as the clouds roll over and little drops start to fall.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Bloody hell love, a little rain won't hurt ya," Simon chuckles as you pull him into a nearby corner store as the droplets of rain start to gain momentum, falling in a more rapid succession.

"Yes, but I did my hair today, and I don't want it to be ruined," you answer with a playful roll of your eyes. The store is much more pleasant than the rain, with a warm glow to the lights and, most importantly, nice and dry. 

Deciding to busy yourselves while the rain rolls over, the two of you go up and down the few isles, pointing out little snacks you want to try or ones you have tried and definitely didn't like. Coming to the end of one of the isles you spot an old photo booth pushed into the corner and excitedly pull on Simon's arm.

"Si, look! Do you think it works?" The whole thing looks like it hasn't been used in a long while, but, taking your chances, you pull the curtain open and the display lights up. 

"Suppose it does, come 'ere," a large hand moves to hold your waist as you're pulled onto Simon's lap, the two of you making a tight fit in the small booth.

With an excited squeal you press a few buttons, pulling a few pound coins from your pocket and inserting them into the machine, a quick preview of the photo format appearing on the screen. Before the two of you can plan what your poses will be, the first timer starts counting down.

""Right, just a smile then?" He says, guiding one of your arms over his shoulders as you lean your head closer, big smile pulling at your lips and a hint of a curl on the Brits. The flash clicks and the photo shows before another timer starts counting down.

"Now a silly one!" You say, holding up bunny ears behind his head as you stick your tongue out, Simon doing quite the similar pose. The timer stops and another flash goes off, both your eyes drawn to the preview of the photo. For a burly military man Simon sure does look a bit silly with the tip of his tongue poking out and your fingers as bunny ears behind him, contrasting his usual hard and gruff facade he put son for the average individual.

"Hey, you copied my idea," A playful shove is given to his shoulder as you look at the photo, chuckles leaving the both of you. "Can't help if it's a good idea," Simons voice grumbles though the smile on his scared lips tells you how happy you make him as he pokes a finger in your ribs, making you laugh.

"Simon!" You giggle, half heartedly pulling away from him, "That tickles!" The Brit doesn't stop his teasing and you try to pull away again that you almost fall off his lap, arms flailing slightly but a hand firmly on your waist ensures you don't go anywhere. In the struggle the timer for the third photo finishes and the flash goes off just as you feel like you're tipping.

As the two of you calm your giggles you see there's only one photo left and you turn to look at Simon, exaggerated disappointment on your face. "Look you ruined the photo," you tease as you point to the screen.

"Wouldn't have been ruined if ya were more original," He chuckles, fingers lightly pinching your thigh as he gazes at you with those big brown eyes. "I'm plenty original, thank you"

The timer counting down for the fourth and final picture snaps you both back as you stumble to figure out one last pose.

"What do you we do for this one?" You ask out loud as you try your hardest to think of a cute pose.

Without more than a little grumble of a 'Come 'ere' Simons free hand reaches up and gently wraps around your neck, pointer finger helping guide your face to his as your lips meet his. All thoughts are almost completely disregarded as you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue traces the seam of your lips. Just as you begin to part your lips the flash goes off and the machine begins to print the series of photos.

""ere you go, love," Simon grumbles as his hand leaves your warm skin to grab the photos, handing them to you. Hand on your thigh giving you a gently pat before guiding you off his lap and out of the photo booth, grin on his lips the whole time.

[love-bitesx]

im word vomiting my headcanon list and id love to hear what you think!

*hobie gifting things that he finds to his partner like a crow. i can imagine they'd just randomly turn up, either on a desk or like they'll just find it in their bag or pocket, or that he'd just walk of and just hand it to them with no word *hobie fell for his partner hard, though he kept it pretty well hidden from everyone except pav starts calling his 'loverboy', eventually the nickname catches on to the point his future partner starts using it as well(either b/c they like it and thay're oblivious or they know exactly whats going on and are teasing him about it) *loves playful banter *nicknames for daaaaaays with his partner *hobie getting serious with a partner would be him gifting them something important, first thoughts are either a guitar pick of his or one of his favorite rings (its the most worn one he has, a simple metal one that you can literally feel the love thats gone into it. somehow it fits his partners finger perfectly)



i may be back with more, until then i salute you!

i agree with ur hc’s so much!! this is how i hc & tend to write hobie so, 100%! pls don’t hesitate if u think of anymore hehe

i’d love to expand! ~

- giving you gifts, to him, is like the ideal expression of love.

- because basically all of them are stolen, it’s a combination of his favourite things; stealing from big corporations, and seeing the beaming, heart-warming smile on your face when you open your bag and see a tiny trinket wrapped in newspaper.

- everytime you would come home, you’d find a new little addition to the house somewhere – notably: necklaces, rings, tiny ceramic statues or wooden decorations, pens, music (cd’s, vinyls, etc.) – especially if he’s been to camden market that day, his pockets would be full for you.

- when he started to fall for you, he low-key thought he was coming down with the flu.

- whenever you were around, his heart would flutter, his head dizzy and palms sweating – he considered getting medicine, until pavitr pointed something out.

- “how are you, loverboy?”

- “eh? you talking to me, pav?”

- “of course, hobie! little loverboy”

- “did you hit your head, bro?”

- pavitr would explain that he’d noticed hobie’s eyes glued to you whenever you spoke, hanging onto every word like gospel, and the way he flustered when you touched him, how he’d do anything in his power to be in your personal space.

- “shit.”

- “no! this is a good thing, my friend! love is the most bea—”

- “shit.”

- days went past of hobie avoiding you, he’d never been in love before, and it was scary to him

- his brain was only thinking of you, and he hated that he liked it. he hated that he wished for every thought to be of you.

- and he hated that he could see your body deflate when he avoided you, hated that your eyes looked sad when he turned away

- he hated that he liked loving you

- until, you caught him on his own one day, he was minding his business, relaxing on his lonesome whilst the others hung out in different dimensions.

- “hey, loverboy”

- a deer in headlights wouldn’t even come close to the shock on his face

- “loverboy?”

- loverboy? you were calling him loverboy?

- “yeah, loverboy, that’s you, isn’t it?”

- in all fairness, you were completely oblivious to the reason behind it – pav had simply just started calling him it when hobie wasn’t around, and it stuck

- “i-i guess so”

- clearing his throat, he willed his confidence back to the surface

- “you can call me anything you want, sweetheart”

- it wasn’t long before you were together, a gentle, but spontaneous kiss after a particularly dangerous mission one day sealing the deal between you both

- he was obsessed with you

- now he could be obvious about his feelings, he took that and ran with it

- his arm was essentially glued to your side, or over your shoulders, or anywhere where he could pull you in close to him

- he’d grab you by the belt buckles, dragging you towards him and welcoming you with a soft peck on the lips

- even in public, almost especially in public

- always have his hands in your back pockets, he says he hates the cliché-ness of it but he likes that he can hold you close whilst respecting your personal space – and he can feel your ass, but he doesn’t admit that outloud

- THE NICKNAMES.

- THE. NICKNAMES.

- this man is born and bred british, and over here we use nicknames more than actual names

- darling, sweetheart, love, lovely, all of those AND more are natural to him, anyway

- but he adds a special little “my” before them all now, now that you actually are his, and so “my darling”, “my love”, etc. are like a second name to you

- in bed, the nicknames would be even better, but i’ll leave that to your imagination…

- when things started getting a little serious, you’d been dating for months, all your friends and colleagues knew about him, your family as well (if you decide to tell them)

- you’re relaxing in hobie’s dimension, laying on his bed with your head on his shoulder, reading a book whilst he strums at his guitar softly. he’s humming a song you don’t recognise, but the sound of his deep melody was enough to lull you.

- “hey, love?”

- you hum in response

- “i wanna give you something.”

- sitting you up, he’d lay his guitar down and face you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to him

- “what are you—”

- he’d fiddle with his own hands for a second, before twisting his favourite ring off his index finger

- “here.”

- “hobie, are you—”

- “i’m not proposing, don’t worry. weddings are just a social nuisance that give us one more way to control each other. no. this is better.”

- you tilt your head and watch him, as he slides his ring onto your middle finger

- “it’s just a promise.”

- “a promise?”

- “a promise that i love you, and that i’m yours, innit.”

- “oh, hobie.”

- you cry a tiny bit

- and he hugs you tightly, kissing your forehead

- that’s when he knew it was serious with you, not only because of how he was so obsessed with you, and his heart melted at your touch, but because when he saw you with the ring on, his ring, his person, it just felt right. he didn’t ever wanna see you without it, or without him.

- “hey, hobie, did you mean what you said about marriage? you don’t wanna marry me one day?”

- “hey, i said i hate weddings. nothing about marriage. not if we do it our own way, you know?”

i love him so much. also pls stick around, couple of one shots & fics will be out this week!!! sorry they’re taking ages hehe

[brailsthesmolgurl]

WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!

A smol bird requested for this to be written and so here I am, playing fairy godmother! If any of you have any sort of requests, just drop me a dm as I am revived from my death and ready to write more delulus as your solulus!

Context: What happens when your outfit decides NOT to cooperate with you? What will the boys do for you?

Disclaimer: This one-shot is created with me studying their lore on various websites and social media so that I could get a better idea on what colours they like/represent and what style they lean towards. Some of you may disagree but its okay! You can read it as it is and add in your own imagery of a suitable outfit by your hubbies! Warnings: Fluff that might rot your brains.

RAFAYEL

"I am almost done with this piece," Rafayel spoke, eyes still glued to his canvas, one hand holding up his messily stained colour palette, while the other held the brush as he drew strokes across the canvas. "Why don't you go and get changed as you wait for me to finish off this bit, yeah?"

"Yes sir." You quirkily replied and you stood up, spotting him sending you a teasing look given the way you addressed him. Earlier on, some strangers had came by Rafayel's mansion with Thomas to deliver some clothes. Apparently, these clothes are custom made by those luxurious brands specifically for Rafayel. Thomas addressed it as this was one of the ways the luxury brands show their support towards Rafayel's works. ONE OF THE WAYS... At this point, you are convinced that Rafayel is a huge deal and having luxurious brands begging on their knees to work with him sounded like a dream that would never come true to you.

The dress that sat on the bed was delivered for you as well, as per Rafayel's request. There was objection amongst the team that were handling the sponsorship and ambassador deals for the brand. But Rafayel spoke through the phone like he owns the company. "If she does not get a gown, then our business ends. Right now." He hung up abruptly, and the next thing he knew, the dress showed up at his door in less than 30 minutes.

Any brands, regardless luxurious or not, knows the right way and only way to please Rafayel. One wrong move and you are off the chart and some other brand may easily replace you. Hence, nobody dares to mess with Rafayel. Except for you. "The dress on the bed is yours!" He shouted from the living room and you picked up the dress.

The chiffon textured dress is of a forest green colour, going all the way down to your ankles. The strapless design made you gulped as you are not used to outfits of this measure, given the nature of your work, whereas your attire has to be 'appropriate for work in times of need'. Touching the inner material, you sighed in relief as you realised that there was bra padding for you hence you do not have to go all the way out to get a new bra just for this event.

Putting on the dress and zipping it up was easy, and you fit almost perfectly into the dress. The keyword being ALMOST. As you lifted your hands up, the dress started sliding down like it is a floatie on a wet water slide and woop, off it went and onto the ground. You panicked, bending down in one fell swoop and trying to gather the dress so that you can pull it up to your chest again.

But it does not let you go past the waist area unless you unzip it. Groaning, you struggled to find the zip as the dress is really puffy and you did not want to ruin the designer dress. "Is everything okay?" Rafayel stood at the doorway, leaning against the side of his door, as he watched you with amusement written all over his face. He has been standing there for quite a while hasn't he?

You gasped, pulling whatever that is on the floor to cover your chest area and he walked over, analysing the dress and scowling when he found out the reason. "I should have gotten them to measure you instead of just bringing you a standard fit." He took his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen a couple of times. His eyes looked back at you and you bit your lip in embarassment. "Your curves are way too beautiful to be hidden amongst this pile of leaves."

His comment made you giggled. Guess he has the same thought as you. "Toss the dress aside darling, I will get you a new one." Another few taps of the finger, he shows you the dress he has in mind. A purple dress with extravagant sleeves, puffing out like how a jellyfish would and you instantaneously knew why he opted for this dress. "I like purple better anyways."

"But wait Rafayel... this dress is not entirely scrap, maybe I can sew a temporary knot on it to tighten the top so it won't fall off. And there is really no need for you to get another custom one for me as we are running out of time." Your suggestion made him stare at you, purple-blue pupils blown wide as if he has really just witnessed a shark eating grass. iykyk.

He walked over and grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close to him, so close that you could hear the sound of his heart against yours. But at this moment, maybe he could hear yours louder than his. "Nobody can put a price on your love for me. EVER. But, I can sure as hell throw out any price on anyone, regardless the amount, as a representation of how much you worth to me." You looked away immediately, eyes stared at the arms that were holding you in place. He kissed your forehead, chuckling, before he pressed his phone against his ear. "Now, let's see who can make this dress for the price I am willing to pay in 30 minutes time." he makes me feel something

ZAYNE

You waited on a bench in front of Akso Hospital. You figured it would be a great idea to wait for Zayne as he finishes work early today and you might be able to grab dinner with him. You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking through your daily for-you-page before a shadow loomed over you. You looked up and no doubt, it is Zayne aka the great and almightly Elsa.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He asked you, before handing you a candy that he had fished out from the pocket of his trench coat. "I was planning to meet you slightly later at your condo." The thought of him initially wanting to surprise you made your heart fluttered. You see, Zayne is a more upfront guy so having him to plan surprises are one of the uncalled scenarios.

"I had only been here for a couple of minutes." You lied, taking the candy out of his palm and unwrapped it before you tossed it into your mouth. The raise of his eyebrow towards you made your breath hitched as he knew you too well that you could not lie to him in his face. "Fine, I had waited here since 5pm." This made Zayne looked down at his wrist watch.

"So it's been an hour and 15 minutes?" He side eyed you and you admitted it by nodding your head. "Next time, it would be better if you were to just wait for me at home. If it wasn't for a full deck today at the hospital, I might just be covering shifts for other people and that might be inconvenient for you." But, he himself actually noticed you exactly an hour and 15 minutes, from his office's window, before his upcoming surgery. He had another three surgeries lined up for the night, but fearing that you may end up waiting the whole night for him, he decided to cancel his schedule for the night and transfer the case to other doctors. Even workaholics take a break. iykyk

"But I just wanted to come over to check up on you. I even chose to sit outside so that you would not be distracted as you are working." You pouted, hands picking at the hem of your shirt. You felt Zayne's hand landed on the top of your head, a gesture of love and comfort. He patted and smoothed your brunette strands back and you stared up at him. "I shall wait for you at home next time okay?"

"Now that's a good girl." killmeplease Zayne smiled warmly. "Now, lets get you back alright? My car is parked right by the road side. Come on." Hands around your waist, he slowly walked you over to his car. The smell of his cologne lingered on your nose, the smell of mint and dashes of cinnamon. Just like his personality, icy as mint but warm and welcoming as cinnamon once you get to know him.

He opened the car door for you and as you walked over to get into the car, your shirt got hooked against one of the metal wires that went astray from the metal fencing and the next thing you heard was the sound of a ripping cloth. You yelped as you stumbled and Zayne slotted himself right in front of you, shocked as well and using his body to block you from falling further. "Oh my..." Your cursed under your breath as your hands were against his washboard abs, steadying yourself. doublekill

He guided you into the car slowly before getting into the driver side himself. When he had started the car and turned on the air conditioning, he turned to look at you. "How bad is the rip?" He asked and you lifted the hem of your shirt, showing the rip that is around 4cm long.

"Why does this have to happen to one of my favourite shirt?" You frowned, fingers won't stop touching and fidgeting with the ripped edge.

"Do they still sell this shirt?" Zayne asked, hands reaching over to tug against the shirt, as if to examine the material of the outfit. The shake of your head made him sigh and he gestured to the glovebox. "Open the glovebox and take out the black pouch please."

You did as you were told and you watched in confusion as he took off his trench coat and placed it onto your lap. The coat still radiating warmth that was collected off of his body heat. He opened the black pouch and laid it flat on the arm rest of his car, and inside of the pouch was an array of threads and needles. "Are these suture needles?"

"Yes." His response was prompt. "Take off your shirt and hand it to me please." He requested and you gulped. Using the trench coat to block his view, you slowly took off your shirt and then wrapped his trench coat around your whole front. You knew that he had probably seen many naked bodies given his line of work but something about this scenario, with you being with him only in a car, felt very intimate and it made you very anxious. "You know how to sew?"

"I am a doctor, I know how to suture. And it is the same concept as sewing, but only with different kinds of needles and threads." He then started sewing, his concentration a trait you find admirable. It did not took him long when he finished sewing your shirt and he handed it back to you, the thread sewed on has gaps of equal length and was tied off neatly. As expected of one of the top doctors from Akso Hospital. As he started driving, he added. "Although I had managed to sew the shirt for you, I believe with my connections, I would be just as capable to find you the same shirt. Then, you would never have to complain about this being your only favourite shirt."

XAVIER

You were going about your day in your own house before you heard your doorbell ringing. You placed your bowl of cereal down and took a glance on the clock on your phone. Who dares to threaten your peaceful weekend? You went over to the door and you opened it to reveal your blond hair lover. "Xavier?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed when he smiled at you.

"Good morning, I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He teased and stepped in, holding out a parcel for your. "I believe this belongs to you?" The small rip at the top side of your parcel indicated that he probably took a peek on what's inside. Acknowledging the parcel, you took it off of his hands and you blushed, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear.

"Good morning to you too. I guess I might have accidentally wrote your level instead of mine." You bit your bottom lip and you heard him chuckle in return. "But thanks for coming down to deliver this to me when you could have just asked me to get it from you." "But I wanted to see you personally. And seeing the clothes that are in the parcel, I thought I could get to watch you try them on too." His blunt answer made you stare at him like a mad man. His blue eyes however, glinted with nothing but honesty. This guy may be mysterious but he sure is straightforward in stating what he has on his mind. He probably noticed the way you reacted and he took a step back, retracing his words and slightly coughing to ease the awkwardness. "I mean, I would like to see you trying out these new outfits that you had gotten for yourself. It would be a good past time for me."

You chuckled at how goofy this guy is and gestured towards him to go and sit at the couch. You went into the room to get yourself changed and it was as if today is your fashion show day. You strutted out in different outfits, layered against one another and watched the way Xavier would react to you, either fascinated, or straight down confused. There was even this one time, he would just have a blank expression where you wore an oversized shirt under your tshirt. Clothing trends on the streets nowadays baffles him and he wondered if he was the one that was left out from the fashion ring.

Your last outfit featured you in a semi see through tank top and a pair of cargo pants. Not to mention, the tank top seemed to be too small for you as the way the blond boy sees it, it was holding onto your figure for dear life and barely leaving anything more to one's imagination. And the thought itself ticked him off. When you looked over towards Xavier, he does not look surprised nor confused, but rather bland. "What do you think?" Your tone came off to be amused and you did a twirl in front of him before you took a seat right next to him.

Xavier anxiously gulped and looked away from you, his voice low as he muttered. "I don't think this outfit looks nice on you, girlfriend." The way he shifted in his seat made you cornered him against the couch even more, wanting a better explanation. "The top you are wearing. I don't like it."

"And why so?" You asked, looking down at your top and adjusting it. "This is the trend nowadays, they call it the Y2K trend I think. And this tank top was on sale, so I just got it."

"I can buy you some other clothes. Even the ones that are not going to be on sale." He retorted, eyeing the tank top you were wearing with an underlying anger. "I just don't think I would like to see you wearing this in public. It is too revealing, and I guess tight on your body."

His answer painted your cheeks red and you gasped. What were you thinking? Of course you had forgotten about his possesive nature. He does not show it much and having such a pretty boy face like him further disconnects the word 'possessive' from his character. He reached into his hoodie's front pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app and handed the phone to you. When you refused to take it, he lifted his torso off of the couch to 'force' you to take his phone. Just like how you had previously pressed your body against him, this is his turn to take his small and sweet revenge. You panicked as he closed the gap between you two and within the next minute, he was pressed against you, one of his hand at the side of your head and another still holding his phone up to you, his gaze intense. "Just choose whatever you want from my phone, my card information is all in there. And perhaps before you check out, you can let me double check on the outfits you are getting." He low-key demanded before he explained himself for such a decision. "I just don't like nor want people staring wrongfully at what I treasure the most."

Another fluff for another day. I already did my best in having to think of different wardrobe malfunctions as I did not want one theme of wardrobe malfunction to be stagnant across the whole story for all three of the boys. SO I hope you would understand my lovelies. :,) I am very very free so I will be posting more regularly for these few weeks. SO please do show me more love and support as that would aid me in my motivation in writing!

Do check out my other works as well!

HOW WOULD THE BOYS REACT TO YOU FORGETTING ABOUT YOUR DATE?

DAMNATION

Hope your Delulu is satisfied my lovelies <3

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Ménage à trois | Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher

Summary: A typical movie night at Stu's turns into a ménage à trois

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, threesome, oral (m receiving), non protected p + v (this is the 90s), anal, any incoherence are part of the world of Scream...just enjoy the smut that took way too long to write

Request: Threesome with billy and Stu plsss There's barely any fics for them

I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while, but I couldn’t find characters that fit (i tried so many!). This is my first Billy fic and it’s sort of exciting since I’ve been crushing hard on him (well, Skeet Ulrich) since forever. Although I like his character, I am not into Stu, so that was challenging for me to include him in the scene. I hope it's good enough!

—

The best thing about Stu’s house was that his parents were often out of town because of their job, making it the perfect spot for hosting huge parties without having to worry about parents coming home and ending the fun. It was also perfect for private parties.

Stu brought out a stack of VHS from the blockbuster while you made popcorn in the kitchen, getting ready for the horror movie marathon. Billy was out getting beer and other snacks, needing your sweets with the popcorn.

The kernels were almost finished popping and you felt someone press against your back, pulling you flush against them. The familiar cologne filled your nose and you leaned into Billy’s presence. He pressed his lips on your neck, distracting you from your popcorn duty.

‘’Stop, I’m gonna burn the popcorn,’’ you told him, trying to push him off you but Billy was not letting you go. ‘’Did you get the blue—’’

‘’— lollipop with the sour dip powder? Yes,’’ he confirmed. ‘’I also got a candy necklace and a roll of sweetarts.’’ Billy pulled them out of his jacket’s pocket and your mouth twisted into a smile.

After the popcorn was ready, you brought it to the living room and joined Billy and Stu who were already drinking beer and talking nonsense.

At least they had not started the movie without you.

‘’What are we watching first?’’ you asked, taking a seat on the couch.

Stu offered you a beer in exchange for a handful of popcorn. ‘’The Exorcist.’’

Although considered the scariest movie ever made, you wouldn’t say it’s scary. It was definitely iconic for the horror genre. Some scenes were a bit shocking and disturbing, but it didn’t keep you up at night.

‘’I’m gonna stuff you like that later,’’ Billy whispered beside you as the ‘best parts’, according to him, were not edited out.

The scene was in no way turning you on — that would be disgusting —, but his promise and the sultry rasp in his voice so close to your ear made your core tighten. You bit back a sound as he squeezed your thigh, a wave of arousal running through your body.

‘’What are you kids whispering about?’’ Stu asked, sticking his head in your and Billy’s personal space.

Billy shot a glare at his friend.

‘’Oh!’’ Stu smirked, figuring his line of thoughts. ‘’If you want to fuck, feel free to use my bed. Last door on the left.’’

The offer was tempting, but Billy declined the offer quickly.

‘’So your perverted ass can listen and jerk off while we fuck?’’ He shook his head, knowing his best friend a little too well. ’’Not happening.’’

Stu gasped dramatically. ‘’I would never do that!’’ Billy gave him a ‘I know you’ look, and he sighed. ‘’Okay, maybe I would, but that’s your fault for not letting me join.’’

A wicked idea crossed your mind. ‘’And what if we did? Let you join, that is.’’

The taller one’s brain short-circuited. ‘’W-what? You want me to join?’’

You shrugged, not seeing an issue. Him and Billy have been close friends for years and you’ve always secretly wanted to do it with another partner. This was your chance.

‘’If you’re in.’’ You looked at Stu, then Billy, needing both their approval. Although you were the one getting to experience them both, you didn’t want to force anyone into doing something they didn’t want.

‘’If I’m in?’’ Stu repeated. A grin spread on his face, excitement shining in his eyes. ‘’Babydoll, I’ve been dying to tap it.’’ He ghosted a hand on your other thigh, getting very close to your crotch.

It was no secret that Stu had his eyes on you — even while he was dating Tatum. You had caught him shamelessly staring at your breasts a handful of times. But you were his best friend’s girl, so he would never make a move on you…unless he was given the permission to.

‘’Don’t get too excited, she’s still mine,’’ Billy was quick to remind Stu, pushing him back on his side of the couch.

After making eye contact with Billy and silently agreeing to the plan, you detached yourself from your boyfriend and joined Stu, taking him by surprise when you crashed your mouth on his. The kiss didn’t match the perfect mix of tenderness and intensity of Billy’s kisses, but it wasn't less enjoyable. He expertly hooks his hands under your knees and drags you on to his lap, swallowing the gasp you let out into his mouth, lips never leaving each other. You subconsciously pressed yourself further into Stu as his hands ventured up the sides of your thighs, guiding you on his lap.

You didn’t mean to drag the kiss for too long, not wanting to give Stu all your attention, but you started feeling his cock stiffen beneath his jeans and took it as your cue to pull back.

He groaned in protest. ‘’It was starting to get good…’’

‘’We have all night, there’s no rush,’’ you told him, crawling back to Billy and kissing him in turn.

Unlike with Stu, everything was easy with Billy. You knew what he liked and how to get him going, and vice versa. You slipped your hands under his shirt, your palms covering the soft planes of his stomach and chest while his tongue caressed yours, causing you to let little moans and sighs slip into his lips.

Stu watched excitedly, feeling his cock twitch underneath his jeans. He never thought he would be so turned on by watching his friends make out.

You tugged at Billy’s shirt, trying to pull it off. He broke the kiss and you helped him discard it, crashing your lips back on his right after.

For a moment, you almost forgot that someone else was there, watching and waiting. You blindly reached behind you to wave Stu over. He scooted toward you and nipped at exactly the right spot on your neck while you started to rock your hips against Billy, feeling his cock press at your core even under his jeans and underwear. His hands moved to your hips, following your moves and eliciting a beautiful groan from him.

The temperature was quickly rising in the living room, so you undid the buttons and peeled it off, revealing your delicate bra. A mewl escaped Stu’s lips at the sight, dying to unclasp your bra and see those tits he's been dreaming about. He reached for it, but before he could, Billy smirked and undid the clasp with one hand, letting your bra slide off your shoulders and breasts.

‘’How does it feel to live your dream?’’ you teased your friend, turning to give him a better view.

His eyes zeroed-in right on your full breasts, glistening like a kid getting the toy he wanted on Christmas morning. Without saying anything, Stu cupped them, slender fingers kneading into your tits and thumbs rubbing your nipples into hard peaks. You threw your head back as the contact sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

While you and Stu were having a moment, Billy loomed behind you and started working on the button of your pants as he attached his lips to your neck, suckling on one spot and leaving a hickey behind. Your head rolled back on his shoulder, your soft moans evolving into a choked cry when Billy’s finger found your clit. He grinned against your neck, his erection digging into your ass.

Screams came from the TV, but you paid it no attention — no one was listening anymore —, pressing into Billy as he continued rubbing his finger over your clit and causing more slick to pool in your panties. They’re gonna be fucking soaked by the time you take them off.

‘’Give Stu some pleasure, baby. He looks left out,’’ Billy said into your ear.

You nodded and reached down for the growing bulge in Stu's pants, grasping at the firm mass beneath the fabric, forcing a whimper to escape Stu's lips as he finally felt some form of stimulation.

‘’Ah, fuck,’’ Stu breathed out.

Before taking things a step farther, the three of you moved to Stu’s bedroom. Stu led the way, eager to get the 'party' started and get his dick wet. You and Billy followed behind, a laugh bubbling out of your lips when he scooped you by your thighs and threw you on his shoulder.

When your ass touched the bed, you grabbed Stu by the front of his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his hard, swollen cock. It was more lean and lighter in color, but with a nice mushroom tip. You stroked it up and down before playing with the tip, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you watched it glisten with a bead of pre-cum.

‘’Mmh, keep doing that, babydoll.’’

Billy snuck behind his friend, a knowing smirk on his lips. ‘’Wait until she’s got her mouth around you.’’

He glanced down at you and you got the hint, getting off the bed and on your knees as the tall boy quickly pushed his clothes down to his ankles, then shrugged off his sweater seeing as it was getting in the way. The sight alone made Stu slightly dizzy. It wasn’t every day that your friend brags about how excellent his girlfriend is at giving blowjobs and lets you try.

You grabbed him and kitten-licked at the leaky slit of his cock, licking up all the pre-cum that dribbled out and sighing as the taste of him landed on your tastebuds. Stu hissed, getting pleasure from the small attention to his sensitive tip.

Now that Billy had bragged about your skills, you didn't want to make him come off as a liar. You needed to give Stu a blowjob worth remembering.

You moved to lick a broad stripe on the underside of his cock, lips wrapping around the tip before taking him inside your mouth. Your hands flew to Stu’s hips to steady yourself as you took him deeper into your mouth, your warm mouth enveloping him, causing Stu to groan and slid a hand through your hair, keeping a grip at the back of your scalp.

On the left, Billy palmed himself over his jeans, the sight of his girl on her knees making him even harder. He rid himself of his jeans and boxers, wrapping his hand around his cock to stroke himself — and relieve himself — while he watched Stu’s cock disappear past your lips slowly. You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, making Billy wish it was his in your pretty mouth.

‘’What a little slut. Sucking your boyfriend’s friend's dick right in front of him,’’ Stu said, pushing you deeper on his cock and making your eyes water.

You took it all, letting him use you until his breathing fastened, getting close to cum. Your knees were starting to hurt on the wooden floor, but you didn’t stop and sucked Stu so hard he knew it was only a matter of time before your lips were covered in his come.

Once he did, you swallowed and released Stu’s cock with an audible pop, moving back with a sly grin, a string of saliva connected from your lips to his cock.

‘’Holy fucking shit!’’ he exclaimed as he released his grip from your hair and took a few moments to collect himself.

You glanced over at Billy, looking so pretty in his naked glory, and wiped your mouth.

‘’That’s my good girl,’’ he praised with pride in his eyes.

The corner of your mouth lifted up.

Billy pulled you up and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, catching the little bit of cum and you wrapped your mouth around it, sucking it clean. ‘’Get undressed, babe.’’

You didn’t have much clothes left on, just your pants, panties and socks.

Then, you got on the bed and pulled Billy with you. His mouth magnetically found yours and you spread your legs to give him room to get closer. He rubbed two fingers along your folds and his cock twitched as they got wet with your arousal.

‘’Mmh, that sweet little pussy’s so wet,’’ Billy said against your lips, sliding two fingers inside and making you instantly moan. His fingers knew exactly where to go and what to do.

Your hands came up his shoulders, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

You felt the bed dip and Stu flopped on the bed, already getting hard again and wrapping his hand around his cock to stroke himself at the sight of you getting fingered. He couldn’t wait to be inside your tight wet pussy.

‘’Have you figured out who’s going where?’’ Stu asked, keeping his pace slow and steady.

Billy nodded, answering in your place as you grinded down against his fingers. He curled them, eliciting a series of mewls from you. ‘’You got any lube in here?’’ BIlly said over his shoulder.

Stu scrunched his face in mild disgust. ‘’Eh…no. Why the fuck would I have lube?’’

‘’For—’’

You forced yourself to hold your next moan. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you cut in. ‘’You…you’re good to go. I prepped before coming here.’’

Billy groaned, the thought of you prepping yourself making his dick twitch.

You had not planned for Stu to join, but you did plan ahead for a good night of sex with your boyfriend — including for anal. You didn’t do it very often due to the preparation it needed, but you liked it from time to time.

‘’I knew you wouldn’t have any on hand and I was not gonna let you stick it raw and risk ripping tissue. My ass is gonna be sore enough in the morning, I don’t want to sit on a bag of frozen peas like the first time,’’ you explained.

Stu looked between you and Billy. ‘’She’s let you in her backdoor?’’ he asked his friend, jealousy in his eyes. ‘’Tatum never lets me.’’

Billy grinned at you. ‘’Fuck, I love you.’’ He kissed you hard.

Stu situated himself on the bed, getting ready for you, and you climbed over his lap, facing him. You took hold of his dick and tapped the head of his cock over your clit to tease him, then down your folds, coating it with your slick.

Stu lowered his eyes to where your genitals were rubbing, cursing at the sight. ‘’Mmh, rub your sweet pussy on me.’’

You did it again and he smacked right over your clit, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

‘’Cut the teasing and get to it, will you?’’ Billy told the two of you.

He didn’t want to rush you, but he was the only one who didn’t get any preliminary care and he was starting to get impatient.

You nodded and lined Stu up at your entrance, secretly eager to know what it felt like inside you. You lowered yourself on his hard cock, swallowing him between your soaked folds.

Stu was unable to contain the groan crawling from the pit of his stomach as you finally bottomed out. ‘’God, you’re so tight,’’ he whispered. He felt every detail of you, from the way you clenched to your lower lips and your puffy bud just peeking from under its hood. A mischievous grin curled on his lips and he reached to rubbed your clit, making you moan and causing your walls to clench around Stu absentmindedly. ‘’Ahh, fuck.’’

Billy chuckled, knowing exactly what happened.

He came and positioned himself behind you. ‘’You good?’’

You nodded, rolling your hips and slowly riding Stu's length.

With a hand on your shoulder, Billy gently leaned you forward, getting you in a better position. He spat on his fingers and stroked himself a little, pre-cum mixing in, and lined it up with your ass, carefully slipping in and easing himself inside. It stung at first, making you curse Billy's girth.

‘’Fuck, you’re tight,’’ Billy gritted out.

He didn’t move, staying still as your body adjusted and then pushing more in. After a moment, the burning subsided, making its way into pleasure.

Billy gave the first thrust and sighed, feeling you tight around him. ‘’This is even better than last time.’’

Beneath you, Stu figured it was okay to do the same and thrust up, eliciting a soft moan from your mouth at the simultaneous sensations. You had never felt more full.

‘’How does that feel, babydoll?’’ Stu asked, watching your face twist with pleasure.

‘’Feels so fucking good. So fucking full.’’ You rocked back against Billy, signaling for him to go again.

He did and soon enough, Stu was snapping his hips up and ramming into you at fast speed while Billy grabbed firmly at your hips and drilled into you, your loud moans echoing through the four walls of the bedroom. Your body was in overload, every sense heightened, every feeling magnified.

‘’Fuck, right there!’’ you cried, throwing your head back as Billy smacked your ass cheek.

‘’You take our cocks so well,’’ Billy praised, seeing both himself and Stu slip in and out of your holes, eliciting a series of mewls from you. ‘’Looking so fucking good stuffed like that.’’

Unable to form words, you just moaned.

You would have wanted the intense pleasure to never stop, but all good things had an end. You gave the boys a warning that you were about to cum and, just as you were about to conclude, your walls clenched around Stu and he spilled inside you, joining you in your orgasm, cumming all over his cock as Billy continued his assault on your ass before following shortly.

You fell against Stu’s chest, completely and utterly exhausted. A wince of discomfort stretched across your lips when Billy pulled out. He smiled as he watched his cum slip out of you and dripped down to where Stu's softening cock was still inside you.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully

[geesenoises]

DnD: dungeons and draco

for @quail-in-red. this is just further proof that if anybody shows even the slightest interest in one of my dumb jokes, i crumble and perform like a silly jester at once. based on this post i made last year and rediscovered today about hp wizards playing DnD.

Dean didn’t give a lot of details when he invited Harry to his weekly dungeons and dragons game, but the last person Harry expected to see at the table was Draco Malfoy.

“We started a game together when we were, er,” Dean trailed off.

“When we were prisoners in Draco's house!” Luna finished for him brightly.

Malfoy didn’t say anything, just met Harry’s eyes stolidly and then went to fuss with the small pile of papers and cards in front of him.

Harry shared a look with Ron, who was already sitting between Dean and Hermione, and then sighed inwardly and took the last remaining seat between Seamus and Luna. He pulled out the premade character sheet Dean had owled him last week. It was wrinkled from having nearly been lost in a pile of post and then hastily shoved in Harry’s pocket before flooing to Dean’s flat. 

Harry looked around the table. Malfoy’s stack of papers was bigger than anyone else’s, even Hermione’s. And why did he have so many cards? There was a little wooden tray in front of him too. The dice in the tray looked iridescent, catching and reflecting the light. Trust Malfoy to have expensive poncy accessories. Why was he even here? Did he even like DnD? He’d grown up around magic his whole life; what did he need to pretend for?

“And so let’s go around and introduce our characters,” Dean finished. Harry had missed his whole introduction. “Since Draco and Luna have played before, we’ll start with them.”

Malfoy straightened up a little, carefully picking up his character sheet even though it seemed like he was so familiar with it, he didn’t need to reference it. “I’m Mike, a level three call center operator. I’m twenty-three years old, originally from Essex and just moved to London. I played football in uni, but am feeling less fit now that I have a job where I sit all day.”

Luna went next and spoke in a surprisingly deep voice. “My name is Archie, and I’m a level six IT consultant. I’m forty-six years old, originally from Norwich, but I moved to London for uni and never left. I’ve been married to my wife, Evelyn, for twenty years and we have two children and a cocker spaniel named Rosa.”

Harry stared down at the character sheet in front of him. He hadn’t looked at it before grabbing it in his rush to get here on time. It told him he was meant to be playing Grace, a 29 year old paramedic who’d grown up in London and recently broken up with her fiance after finding out he had cheated on her. She had a cat named Pomegranate. Harry didn’t know much about tabletop games, but there had been a group of kids that Dudley’s gang would sometimes target instead of Harry who had played. And what he’d overhead from their games didn’t sound anything like this.

“Hang on, these are just normal people; we’re all humans with muggle jobs. I thought we were playing dungeons and dragons, you know, with magic involved.”

Malfoy glared at him. “Weren’t you paying attention, Potter? Dean just explained the premise of our campaign.”

Harry didn’t want to admit to Malfoy he’d been too busy wondering what his dice were made of. He looked away from Malfoy to Dean. “Er, sorry. I was… distracted.”

Dean sighed but looked more resigned than irritated at having to explain again. “When I started the game with Draco and Luna, they got confused by the magic system because actual magic doesn’t work the way it does in DnD, so I made up a slightly different game we could play. We’re a group of Londoners in a recreational dodgeball league.”

“And honestly, Harry, it doesn’t feel right pretending to be of magical creature heritage for a game,” Hermione added. “Think of what kind of hurtful stereotypes we could fall into.”

“Okay…” Harry said slowly. It still felt strange, but now that he thought about it, he supposed he didn’t need to spend his Thursday evenings pretending to be part of a group camping out and hunting evil. Once per lifetime was enough without having to do it recreationally in the realm of imagination.

Harry smoothed out his character sheet again and introduced the group to Grace.

not sure if there will be more, but we're all shipping mike/grace right?

[bro-atz]

unrequited love [trope — yunho]

inspired by: operation true love — webtoon + seventeen star show 360 — variety show (+ my brother's love life)

pair: sleazebag!big dick!yunho/afab!reader

word count: 3k

content: angst, smut, unrequited love, infidelity, yunho is kind of a dick, mingi is also kind of a dick, san is the best friend you are ever going to have, public sex, bathroom sex, safe sex, references to drug use, consensual sex

author's note: ngl i felt like such a shitty person writing this one mainly bc i'm using my brother's real life experience for this... nilly i am so so so sorry

trope masterlist | part one | part two

“Yunho, I’m nervous…” you whispered as he whisked you away into the bathroom.

The two of you were at a dive bar with your friends drinking and enjoying your youth when he suddenly told you to come to the bathroom with him because he wanted to fuck. Not once in your entire life had you done anything like this before, nor did you think you were capable of being so bold, but Yunho was an influence.

“Don’t be,” he grunted out as he closed and locked the door.

“But what if people try to come in? What if they need to use the bathroom—”

Yunho cut you off with a rough kiss before speaking lowly, his voice rumbling in his throat as he said, “There’s another bathroom. Panties off. Now.”

Here’s the thing: it’s not that you didn’t want to do it. You wanted to. You loved fucking Yunho because, fuck, he was huge and so skilled. It kind of bummed you out to think about his string of ex-lovers, but at least you got to reap the rewards of his experience. He taught you so many things, one of them being that sex shouldn’t hurt in a way that you don’t want it to, so when he fucked you, it was always brilliant.

It was more about the location of where he was fucking you. A bathroom in a dive bar? Gross. So gross. And the fear of someone walking in on you was an additional factor, but for some reason, that fear also turned you on? A great woman once said that scared is the best way to be horny, so fuck it. Just roll with it. At least the sex would be safe. Yunho always practiced safe sex.

You lifted up your skirt and started pulling down your panties, but Yunho decided you were taking too much time for his impatient ass. He yanked your panties down for you, forcing you to take them off, and he crumpled them up before stuffing them in the pocket in his jeans. You were a little worried about why he did such a thing, but that worry immediately vanished when he lifted your leg up, his hand fitting snugly in the space behind your knee. He pushed you up against the sink and kissed you sloppily, his patience wearing thinner by the second.

He had no patience, but he had to be. He had to loosen you up, make sure you were ready to take him. He shoved two slender fingers into you and spread them wide as he fingered you slowly but roughly. You bit down hard on your knuckle as Yunho continued to prep you for his massive cock, only for Yunho’s mouth to meet yours, distracting your lips with his, your moans with his tongue.

Yunho kept his lips connected to yours when he finally deemed you fit to enter. He skillfully rolled the condom on and thrust sharply into you, your entire body lifting off the sink for a split moment. He continued to ram mercilessly into you, gasps and cries leaving your soul every time he hit your cervix.

“Shh,” Yunho stopped kissing you since, clearly, his mouth was not enough to shut you up. He covered your mouth with his hand and said, “Keep quiet unless you want someone to find out.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you did your best to keep your noises to a minimum, Yunho’s hand assisting in keeping you quiet. But, Yunho with his intense stamina was not letting up, and his strength was making you see white spots. It was when he barely uncovered your mouth were you able to choke out, “C-cumming!”

“Here.” Yunho pulled out and placed his dick right against your folds. His thumb traced rapid circles around your clit as he said in a low voice, “Cum on my cock.”

Which you did. You bit your lower lip and let yourself completely go as you squirted all over his cock, your arousal fluid barely dotting the ground. Without a second to lose, Yunho entered you again, your walls tightening around his length as you still tried to recover from your intense orgasm.

“Shit,” Yunho chuckled. “You got so fucking tight. I’m cumming.”

Thrusting all the way inside you, Yunho filled up his condom, a low groan rumbling in the back of his throat as he emptied himself entirely. He stayed in you for a hot second before pulling out and immediately throwing the used condom away. The two of you got situated, and Yunho was about to unlock the door when you stopped him and held out your hand.

“What?”

“My panties, Yunho. You have them.”

Yunho smirked. He leaned down and whispered into your ear, “You don’t need them. Let’s go.”

Before you could protest further, Yunho unlocked the door, and the two of you, completely inconspicuously, left the bathroom. Your face was steaming when you rejoined your group, your legs pressed tightly together and your hands pulling down at your skirt as you sat uncomfortably.

“What was it? Blow?” Mingi asked.

“Something like that,” Yunho chuckled before picking up his beer and tapping his bottle against Mingi’s.

“No wonder Y/N looks all fucked out,” Mingi brought his voice down and whispered more to you than Yunho.

“N-no, it was nothing like that,” you squeaked out, your grip on your skirt tightening.

“Whatever you say, babe,” Mingi responded with a smirk and a wink. “Whatever you want to tell yourself.”

You were unable to focus on anything for the rest of the night, the horniness and fear pumping through your veins until you got home in the early hours of the morning, Yunho completely sending you home alone sans panties, making you take care of your lust all by yourself.

“You cannot be fucking serious, Y/N— how could you go along with that?!” your friend yelled at you as you recanted your story to him.

The two of you were preparing for a little birthday party— your birthday party— you were throwing on the roof of your apartment complex. He asked you about the guy you were seeing, and when you answered, that was his reaction.

“San, it was fine! I mean, the bathroom grossed me out, but I wanted him to fuck me,” you explained.

“You sure it was consensual?” San pressed further.

“Yes, it was,” you said confidently.

“But then what about your panties? That was totally not consensual,” San huffed out.

“I mean, yeah, sure… But it wasn’t really his fault you know.. He had a lot to drink,” you tried to defend Yunho’s actions— you both were drunk, and he usually wasn’t like that when he was sober, so you wanted to write it off as his drunken self being an idiot.

“Y/N, seriously, you need to get your head checked. You were not cool with that, and it doesn’t matter how many drinks the guy has had! If you ask for your fucking panties back, then you should get them back,” San lectured. “The guy was sober enough to pocket them and tell you he wouldn’t give them back, so you can’t blame the alcohol.”

“San, I get it, you’re worried. But, if I really wanted them back, then I would’ve pushed harder for them.”

“You need to get your head checked. Seriously,” San said, a slight tinge of malice in his voice. “You’ve fucking lost it.”

“That’s kind of rude, don’t you think?”

“Forget about all of what happened that night. I want to know what the hell your relationship with the guy is. You keep saying that you want a fairytale romance, but so far, I’ve heard more nightmares then dreams coming from your mouth.”

“What do you mean, San? You know everything there is to know about me and my relationship with him.”

“Have you ever had sex with him at your place or his place? You’re always out and about when you have sex with him—”

“We did it at a hotel once.”

“That doesn’t count. Have you even seen his apartment?”

“Well, not yet—“

“Did he get you a gift for your birthday?”

“I don’t know! The party hasn’t even started yet,” you were starting to get annoyed with San’s questions.

“Alright, fine. But what about labels? Are you his girlfriend? Is he your boyfriend?”

“We haven’t really talked about it—”

“Good fucking lord, Y/N! What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What’s going on?” a new voice popped up.

You and San both turned to the stairs to see Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Seonghwa standing there with a cake, balloons, a bunch of alcohol, and fearful looks on all of their faces.

“Gimme a beer, and you finish the fucking decorations. I can’t with this bitch right now,” San nearly spat out as he dropped the streamers.

You looked at San with a huge frown on your face. Seonghwa replaced the man as San grabbed two beer bottles from Wooyoung and stormed off to a blind spot on the rooftop.

“What is San going on about?” Seonghwa asked you.

Apparently, San could still hear from where he was on the roof (despite the fact that he was out of sight) and yelled, “Tell her that the fucking guy is just using her! He doesn’t give a shit about her!”

“Then why would he practice safe sex with me, huh?! Why would he cater to me before fucking me?! So that I don’t get hurt! Don’t fucking say he doesn’t have feelings for me, you dick!” you got all riled up and started screaming back at your best friend.

“Hey, hey,” Seonghwa put a calming hand on your shoulder, his other hand motioning for you to slow down and take a deep breath. “Don’t let San get to you. You know that he’s only saying these things because he cares for you. He doesn’t want to see you get hurt. None of us do.”

“Then he should be more supportive of my relationship if he’s such a great friend,” you grumbled. “It’s not like he knows what it’s like to be in a committed relationship.”

“Yes, that may be true, but he knows what men are like. We all do,” Seonghwa continued in his calming voice, but you could read in between the lines.

“You don’t like Yunho either, do you?” you confronted him.

“…I haven’t met the guy yet. Maybe my opinion will change when I meet him.”

“Good. Because he’s coming to the party tonight.”

“Tell him to stay far away from me, then!” San called from afar.

“San! Stay out of it!” Seonghwa lectured the man. “Don’t listen to San, okay? Besides, it’s your birthday. Just have a couple of drinks, eat some cake, and have fun.”

Seonghwa brought you in for a hug, and your irritation slowly melted away simply knowing that you had a friend on your side.

Your friends slowly started arriving for the party once you and your friends (excluding San because he refused to help after finding out Yunho was going to be at the party) finished decorating the roof. You did your best to not let San’s words get to you as you plastered a smile onto your face and greeted all of your friends prettily, but it was only when Yunho arrived did your smile become genuine.

“Yunho!” you said cheerfully.

“Hey, Y/N. Happy birthday,” he greeted while extending his hand, a small gift in his grasp.

“Thank you! Listen, I want to introduce you to my friends,” you held his hand and brought him over to your group— some people from work, some people from the gym, your close friends: Wooyoung, Yeosang, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Jongho— everyone but San. San kept his distance like he said he would

“Nice to meet you guys,” Yunho said, his signature, charming smile shining brilliantly on his face.

You, your friends (again, minus San), and Yunho all drank, sang and danced, cut the cake, opened presents— Yunho got you a cute little necklace with a dangling star— and time just flew by. Soon, it was just you, the helper boys, and Yunho. The helper boys (this time including San because Seonghwa yelled at him to) started cleaning up the roof while you and Yunho stood by the high balcony and admired the view, your shoulder pressed against his arm.

“Hey, what happened to Mingi? I thought you said you were going to bring him?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah. He got really wasted last night and hasn’t been able to get out of bed,” Yunho explained. “I just left him at the apartment.”

“Well, then that’s one less thing to worry about,” you let out a little laugh.

“Yeah.”

There was a tiny bit of silence between the two of you. Yunho pulled out his phone and started going through his notifications while you, on the other hand, started thinking about what San said about Yunho never having sex with you in your or his apartment, and you wanted to prove him wrong because there was no way in hell that Yunho didn’t see that you and he were in a relationship. Sure, you only ever fucked in public, but maybe that was his kink, and honestly, it was kind of starting to become yours as well.

“Hey, so, I was thinking,” you started as you tiptoed your fingers up his arm. “Once we finish cleaning up, do you want to spend the night?”

“Oh, sorry. I said I would go to my girlfriend’s place after you finished cleaning up.”

What…?

What?

What?!

“Y-your… Your what?” you looked at Yunho with wide eyes. “I think I must’ve misheard you… Did you say your friend’s place?”

“My girlfriend. I’m going back to her place.”

You laughed. Yunho was probably pulling your leg. He probably meant it in that teasing way— that he was going to go back to his girlfriend’s— your— place after everything was cleaned up. But, when Yunho looked at you in confusion, you stopped laughing.

“Yunho, what do you mean by girlfriend?” you asked him, the air around you starting to get chilly.

“The girl I’ve been seeing,” Yunho replied nonchalantly. “We started going out a week ago.”

“You mean… You’re seeing someone else?”

“Someone else? Y/N, what are you talking about?”

Your jaw dropped. Your braincells were scrambling to come up with some sort of way to figure out what the hell your current situation was, but you were losing it. Yunho confused the complete shit out of you.

“T-then what are we?”

“What do you mean? We’re friends,” Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed as he faced you.

“I thought we were…” you cleared your throat. “I thought we were dating.”

“You… What?”

“I thought we were in a relationship, Yunho,” you started getting a little confrontational with the guy.

“Why would you think that?”

“I— What?!”

“Y/N, we were just fooling around. I thought you knew that. How could you think we were in a relationship?”

“What the fuck do you mean?!” your voice started to shrill. “You think I would do shit like this with just anyone?!”

“I told you from the very beginning that I wasn’t looking for a relationship,” Yunho explained, his voice calm.

“Oh, but now you are in one, and you didn’t bother to tell me?! And why does she get to be in a relationship with you when you said you weren’t looking for one in the first place?!”

“What is your problem? Why are you getting so upset?”

“Because I love you?!” you looked at Yunho in complete disbelief, your voice officially loud as fuck. “I’m in love with you, Jeong Yunho!”

“Oh…” Yunho looked slightly embarrassed— but he looked more embarrassed for you than of himself based off the look of pity on his face. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never had those feelings right from the start.”

You gaped at the tall man. All the words, all the wind, everything got knocked out of your lungs. You were absolutely frozen in space and time as you stared at the man you thought you knew, the man you thought was in a relationship with you, the man you thought was in love with you. You remained standing still as Yunho’s phone rang. He looked at his phone and let out a little sigh before returning to your gaze.

“It’s my girlfriend,” Yunho said, not a single shred of irony or regret in his tone. “I’ll… I’ll see you around, Y/N. Happy birthday.”

And just like that, your “relationship” came to an end, the man leaving you at the balcony as he rushed to go be in the arms of the girl he actually was in a relationship with. You didn’t move a single millimeter even when Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Seonghwa all approached you, the same painful expressions painted on their face.

Before any of them could touch you, San pushed them aside and grabbed your hand, leading you to some of the ottomans near the lounge chairs. He sat you down and placed a large, warm hand on your back, showing you that he was there for you. Tears pricked your eyes as your best friend continued to comfort you.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry…”

“Fuck.”

Hot tears slipped out of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks, but you weren’t crying or sobbing. No, you were letting the anger out in the form of tears. You weren’t sad— you were pissed.

And San knew that, but that didn’t stop him from giving you a hug, the warmth from his embrace dissipating in a heartbeat into the rage burning on your skin.

“I hate to say it…” San whispered. “But I told you so…”

You wanted to punch San, but he was right. He did tell you. So, you let out a sardonic laugh and accepted his hug, your fingers pressing into his muscles as your wild emotions wrecked your brain and your heart.

“Yeah,” you replied bitterly. “You did.”

Some fucking birthday.

trope masterlist

trope taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @k-hotchoisan @aaasia111 @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @hyukssunflower

network: @cromernet

apply for the taglist here!

[spamgyu]

PRETTY BOY // College!Mingyu AU – small purses and labels

"Even if the sky's on fire. Got you here, it's alright, with me ..."

Started off as this prompt: no bc college!mingyu as someone who lives down the hall from your dorm and you always run into him doing something questionable genre: tooth-aching fluff

this is based on these two requests - one of them i cant find bc i am a disorganized mess but it's from 🎀 and the other is from this anon

"Can you put my keys in your purse?" Mingyu batted his lashes at her, holding his car keys out.

Y/n glanced at his hand and then at the tiny shoulder bag in her hand – raising a brow at him. "I hope you know this literally only fits a lipgloss and my will to live."

Curse the current trend of tiny baguette bags – why must they be so cute yet so small, only able to hold far less than what she could probably stuff into her pockets.

It wasn't that her outfit needed a purse. They were simply getting bagels.

But it did make complete her look, and that was more than enough of an excuse to use it.

"Pleaseeee." He dragged his word.

It wasn't like his keys would take up much space anyways – it wasn't like hers that had multiple unneccesary key chains hanging off of it.

It was literally just his key fob, house keys, and dorm keys. It would take up 4 inches at most.

Taking the set with sigh, Y/n threw it in her purse before holding it out for him.

"What do you want me to do with that?" Mingyu blinked.

"It's heavy now and I don't want to carry it."

"Y/n," Mingyu let out a chuckle. "You can't possibly be ser— yeah okay."

Taking the black bag from her hand, Mingyu slipped the strap awkwardly up his arm – the tiny loop stopping mid-bicep.

"Am I serving?"

The girl let out a laugh, pulling out her phone to snap a picture at how ridiculous her boyf– her friend, looked. "You could have just held it."

"But am I serving?" He repeated, this time placing a hand on his jutted out hip.

"Yes. You served and ate." Y/n rolled her eyes at his antics – he never did stop with his foolishness since they began .... talking.

If anything, it persisted much more – Mingyu revealing more and more of his true self and y/n doing the same.

There wasn't a single day they were together that wasn't filled with laughter – laughs that left tears in their eyes.

"Mingyu?"

A grown woman's voice caught the two's attention – Mingyu mostly, whipping his head at the source of the familiar voice.

"Mom!" His eyes wide.

It wasn't that he was afraid, as if he was caught doing something wrong. No, never that. He was simply surprised – especially considering he lived two cities away and there was no reason for his parents to be in their college town.

"Wha- what are you guys doing here?" He leaned in to place a kiss on each of his parent's cheeks before stepping back to stand next to y/n, who was awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to another.

If he had been any one of her friends, she would have happily stuck her hand out and introduced herself to Mingyu's parents.

But their situation was different.

They were in a grey area. For now, at least.

They were much more than friends; sharing sweet hushed words in the midst of a crowd, their hands naturally gravitating to one another when they walked side by side, his lips finding a home on her forehead whenever he greeted or bid her a goodbye.

But they weren't official either. There was no label.

"This is– um–"

"You must be Mingyu's girlfriend." The older woman cut her son off with a smile. "All we've heard during calls is your name and how wonderful you are."

"Mom." Mingyu warned through his teeth, eyes just as wide as when he first heard her call out for him earlier.

Y/n bit back the smile that threatened to form on her lips.

He talked about her.

Constantly.

More importantly, he addressed her as his girlfriend.

Y/n has always been confident in herself, and she thought she would be the same when it came to dating; but to say she didn't have some doubts in her and Mingyu would be a lie. She knew she wasn't the only one with her eyes set on the six-foot charismatic basketball player; y/n was well aware there are girls dying to be at her spot.

And sure, she may have spent some nights lying awake, thinking of the worst – the blissful past few weeks possibly coming down crashing on her. She was a realist, after all.

Mingyu could have anyone, he could be with that girl in 302 – the smart dark haired girl who seemed to know more about sports than y/n did. The one girl she could have sworn Mingyu had his eyes on before they even established a friendship.

Y/n was just like any other girl. She had her insecurities; one of them including Mingyu's true feelings for her.

Despite the fact that he was very transparent with her.

"Oh, don't act all embarrassed now." His mother waved him off. "You even have her purse up your arm. Young love–"

"Alright, we're going." Mingyu spoke quickly, tugging on y/n's arm – who was now giggling.

"It was wonderful meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim." Y/n stood her ground, despite the boy who was practically begging for the ground to swallow him whole.

"Likewise." His father nodded. "We usually have Sunday dinners, you should come along."

Y/n glanced at Mingyu. "I mean it's only fair, considering how much of my family dinners you've crashed."

"Mingyu!" Mrs. Kim gasped.

"Hey! I was invited by coach!" He cried. "I– I'll bring her along, can we please just be excused? I feel like I'm dying here."

The three of them laughed at the poor boy who cowered behind the girl that was practically half his height – dreading the conversation they were about to have the second they stepped away from his parents.

"Have a great rest of your day, kids." Mr. Kim chuckled.

"Thanks." Mingyu mumbled with a sigh, practically dragging y/n away from his parents.

"Girlfriend, huh?" She laughed as the finally reached the store front.

A suppressed groan was heard from Mingyu, using his hands to cover the redness that began to form on his face.

Y/n wasn't upset, not like what Mingyu thought in his head. In fact, she found the whole interaction, and revelation, to be cute – even more now that he was clearly quite embarrassed.

"Do you refer to me as your girlfriend to anyone else?" She brought her hands up to pull his away from his face – their fingers interlocking once they were at his side.

"Um– everyone?" Mingyu kept his eyes trained on his shoes.

"Sorry– what?" Y/n coughed.

"Well– I, we're heading there anyways and– I promise I do plan on asking you to be my girlfriend. I have it all planned it's romant–"

He was speaking fast.

It was a habit of his when he was either excited or nervous; either way, she found it absolutely adorable. Y/n didn't care to listen to the rest of his rambling, leaning up to place a quick kiss on his lips.

"This was romantic." She smiled up at him.

"Wha–"

"I'm your girlfriend."

Mingyu stood frozen, his brain still attempting to process the soft pillows that made contact with his lips – his fingers reaching up to touch the sticky gloss she had left behind.

Peach vanilla.

"I'm your boyfriend." His voice was small, almost as if he was saying it to reaffirm himself.

"Yes."

"I'm your boyfriend!" Mingyu repeated much louder this time, his lips stretched from ear to ear. "Oh, prepared to be so sick of me."

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@thegirlwhoimagined @forcheol @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx @daegutowns @niktwazny303 @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed @joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv @yoonzinoooo @jaebammie @livelikejinki @watercolureyes @whoa-jo @primoisellerose @wonwoobestboyy @rakshithanotrao @mingcouper

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

[kitten4sannie]

15 - ꜱɪᴢᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ - ᴍɪɴɢɪ

ʜᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟᴅ

pairing: himbo bf! mingi x fem! reader feat. yunho, san, and seonghwa

genre: college/frat au, smut

summary: your boyfriend is really bad at taking hints.

w.c: 2.7k

warnings: alcohol use, weed mention, switch! mingi, switch! reader, mingi has a big dick, pet names, name calling, dirty talk, grinding, begging, unprotected sex (don’t be like them), bulge kink, exhibitionism, voyeurism, poor attempt at humor

a/n: love me a good himbo <3 this man is dumb in this just how i like themmm. also the song i imagine playing during the dance scene is “deep” by summer walker <3

FFF Masterlist

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

You never particularly enjoyed the drink options at frat house parties. They only ever had giant kegs full of cheap beer, along with an endless supply of Tito’s vodka, swearing they had a life supply stocked up in the basement. When you asked Mingi’s friend Yunho where the soda was, all he did was shake his head and say in a slurred voice, “Coach said we gotta cut out sugar.” You genuinely wondered if he was trying to make a joke or if he was 100% serious, but the serious lack of anything chaser-related was making you think he wasn’t lying to you. It seemed like football players were fueled by countless liters of alcohol and protein powder alone. No wonder they were so aggressive on the field.

“Here,” Yunho said, handing you a solo cup filled to the brim with beer, his reddened eyes still friendly and bright. “My brother makes it himself.” You gave him a smile and a thanks, before scanning the crowd for Mingi. 

Once you found him, you took a few sips of the watered-down beer Yunho gave you, zoning in and out of the heated conversation your boyfriend was having with his friends about whether professional sports were rigged or not.

“Baby, can you please back me up?” Mingi asked in a whiny voice, snaking an arm around your waist, fingers squeezing you, his plump lips forming a pout. “Tell Seonghwa how stupid he is for thinking sports are fake.”

God, he was so fucking cute. You needed him. Needed to see him pout when he begged you to bounce on his dick. 

Taking a long swig of the glorified water, you cleared your throat, leaning your body against Mingi’s. “Seonghwa, I think it’s really bold of you to assume they’re all fake, and honestly, I think you might just be in denial since your teams never win.” 

The rest of Mingi’s drunk companions erupted in low ‘ooh’s’ and ‘damns’, some of them nodding their heads in agreement. San, who was already fucked up, made a show out of his reaction, smacking Seonghwa’s shoulder with his hand and pointing a finger at him, grinning at his friends. “He literally never bets on the right team. It’s so fucking funny.” 

Irritated, Seonghwa scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking a drink of his beer with one hand shoved into his pocket. “Where’d you find this one, Mingi?” 

“Don’t start.” Mingi clutched you against his side defensively, taking a sip from his drink. “Or else I’ll put hot chili oil in your jockstrap, like I did during your hazing.” 

That shut Seonghwa up, leading him to hold his hands up in defeat. Mingi idly stroked your hair while continuing his conversation with his friends, this time talking about their favorite plays from last night’s game. You went back to being bored, but this time your mind was swimming with thoughts of Mingi stroking your hair while his cock was down your throat. 

That was it. You needed to jump into action. However, you didn’t want to be too forward, not wanting to ask for Mingi’s cock in front of at least a quarter of the football team — though a part of you wanted them to know that he was about to pound you into oblivion. 

“Baby, I’m so cold,” you whined softly, looking up at Mingi with the cutest expression you could conjure up, rubbing your bare arms up and down. “Can you warm me up?” 

“Of course, doll.” Mingi let go of you and pulled his letterman jacket off, leaving him in a plain white, rather tight-fitting t-shirt. He put it over your shoulders, smiling at you. “Better?” As soon as you nodded and gave you a small smile back, he went back to talking to his buddies.

Damn. Too subtle. You weren’t about to give up, though. After staring into the distance for a while, idly sipping on your beer and still wishing you had access to a coke, you hatched another plan. Feeling ecstatic when a R&B song finally came on, knowing it would be easier to get into instead of the rap that was blasting out of the speakers a minute ago, you rubbed your hand up Mingi’s waist, lifting yourself up on your heels to murmur into his ear, “Baby, I want to dance. I really like this song.” 

Ignoring San’s begs for him to duel him in a game of beer pong, Mingi pressed a kiss to your temple, slipping his hand underneath his oversized jacket to touch the small of your back. “Let’s go then.” 

Maybe he was being subtle, too. How hot of him. “Yay~” You pulled his jacket off and walked over to Yunho, who was talking to someone else. You gave him the jacket, and in turn, he gave you a quick smile and put it over his shoulder to look after. 

Once the two of you were on the dance floor, which was just the oversized living room filled with drunken, sweaty people, you turned away from Mingi and pressed yourself into him, running your hands down your snug dress along to the tempo of the music. Mingi placed his hands instinctively on your swaying hips, moving along with you, leaning himself down to press his lips onto your jaw. Completely immersed in your own world, the bass thumping inside your ears, you began grinding on him in a more deliberate way, his heavy cock growing hard against your ass, making your brain feel fuzzy.

“Baby, they can see us, you know,” he mumbled under his breath, trying to pretend he couldn’t see Yunho waving at him from the kitchen and giving him a thumbs up. He definitely wouldn’t look at San, who was grabbing his imaginary tits and moaning obnoxiously loud. And he didn’t even notice Seonghwa staring at the both of you with contempt, even though there was a faint blush on his cheeks. 

You, however, noticed and acted accordingly. “Let them watch.” Placing your hands over his and guiding them up your body, you arched your back, squeezing your tits using his hands instead. Curious, you glanced over at the kitchen, finding Mingi’s friend's dumbstruck expressions to be particularly entertaining. That would give them something to talk about, instead of rambling about football for another hour. 

“Mmm…” Mingi buried his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, slowly brushing his fingers over your nipples through the thin material of your dress. 

Your plan finally worked, in the best way possible, more turned on knowing his friends were watching, but not being able to do more than that and having to live through Mingi when he explained all the different times you unraveled for him. He always made sure to leave out the countless times he did that, since he always ended up drooling and begging for you to make him cum with your tight cunt. 

It took one more roll of your boyfriend’s hips and a single tit squeeze for you to sigh, “Fuck, Mingi, you’re making me feel so hot…” 

Mingi suddenly ceased all movement as a loading screen appeared inside his mind. “You were cold just a second ago.” He tilted his head, idly rubbing your arms and feeling how warm they were, before bringing his lips to your ear, his voice laced with concern when he asked, “Yeah, you feel really hot. You’re not getting a fever, are you, doll?” His eyebrows rose with concern, his lips forming a pout once again. “You kissed me a bunch before practice earlier – and, oh my god, babe, you sucked my dick. That’s like, direct contact, right?” He gasped, clasping a hand to his face, his concern almost borderline comical, but the poor frat boy was completely serious. “Do you think I’ll get a fever too now? I can’t miss practice!”

“No, baby, that’s not…” You bit your lip, too desperate to have him inside you to get annoyed. Turning around, you ran your hands up his torso, from his abdomen to his pecs, suggesting gently, “You know, a good way to get rid of a fever is to sweat it out, Min. Come with me.” 

Once you led your boyfriend to the nearest empty bedroom, you shut the door and pushed him down onto the bed, licking your lips at the sight of him. Mingi was laying down on the mattress with his limbs spread out, his shirt just barely riding up past his hips, revealing his treasure trail. He observed his surroundings, taking note of the plushies sitting next to the pillows, before looking up at you with vague confusion. “This is San’s room. Why are we here?”

“Why do you think, baby?” you asked softly, kicking your heels off, prior to climbing onto the bed and crawling towards him, your body buzzing with anticipation. 

Mingi gave you a sweet smile, running his fingers through his soft brown hair, slowly leaning his head against the firm pillow behind his head. “You want to sleep?” 

“No, baby…” you started, straddling his lap and gazing down at him with love and lust in your hooded eyes, your hand settling on his broad chest. “I want to play…”

Mingi admired you, slowly running his hands from your thighs up to your waist, taking your words literally like he usually did. “Like Legos? I think Seonghwa has some in his room.” 

You couldn’t possibly get mad at Mingi, finding it adorable how incredibly dense he was. It was a good thing he had such a thick skull; it would definitely prevent him from getting any more head injuries whenever he collided with another player on the field. It was probably time to stop being coy and just tell him what you wanted point blank. No nuance. No hints. Just your raw desire. 

 “I want to ride your cock, Min. So bad. All night I’ve been thinking about you stretching me out,” you admitted, biting the tip of one of your fingers. Your thighs pressed into his hips, your core throbbing at the thought of impaling yourself on his oversized dick for the sake of being filled by your favorite football player. “Please, Min. I’ve been such a good girl.” 

The cogs moved inside Mingi’s head for a moment, then his eyes lit up, his lips forming a wide grin. “Is that why you were rubbing all over me back there? Why didn’t you just say that, baby? You know I’m bad at taking hints.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you started, lifting your dress off of yourself and tossing it onto the comforter, revealing you only had a small, lacy pair of panties on. “I should’ve just bent myself over the kitchen counter and asked you to fuck me dumb in front of your friends, huh? They’d like a little post game show, don’t you think?” 

Mingi groaned at the thought of railing you while his friends gave him pointers from the sidelines, growing hard underneath you. “You’re so hot, baby. So hot and so slutty for me.” He reached down to unbuckle his belt, popping it open, just for your greedy hands to do the rest of the work, eventually pulling his long, veiny cock out. 

Since you’ve been dripping pretty much the entire night, you were confident that you could take your boyfriend’s dick for a ride without needing lube. “You want me to bounce on your big cock, Min?” you asked sweetly, rubbing your soaked cunt back and forth across his dick, hearing him let out a small moan instead of a groaning sound. “Hm? Or do you want to fuck me senseless and make me cum all over your friend’s sheets?” 

“Please, ride my dick, baby…” he murmured, starting to whine from your change of pace, feeling your pussy slipping and sliding all over his sensitive spots, the tip beginning to leak pre-cum. “Pleaseeee, I need it so bad. I need it so fucking bad.” 

"Mmm, I suppose you've had enough, Min." You slid yourself to the tip and lifted it up just enough to begin pushing it inside, whimpering from being stretched out so intensely. Lowering yourself inch by inch, you ran your hands up underneath Mingi's shirt, lifting it up to see the defined softness of his pecs, grabbing and squeezing them.

Mingi arched his back slightly, biting and tugging at his lower lip when you finally bottomed out, the both of you moaning in unison. "Ride me, baby. Come on," he whined impatiently, running his hands over yours, guiding them down along his abs, enjoying the way your warm hands felt on his skin.

"Give me a minute," you replied in a strained voice, taking in a few deep breaths, waiting for the low burning sensation to subside.

Mingi lifted his hand up to press against your lower stomach, feeling the hard outline of his cock. "Baby's so full of me. You're such a good girl for taking my cock like this."

Something inside you switched, encouraging you to begin fucking yourself on his length, moaning, "Yeah, I'm a good girl...such a good girl for you, Min..."

"Yeah, you are," he exhaled, grabbing you by your hips and waiting for each moment you dropped yourself down to thrust himself into your tight hole, your breathy, high-pitched moans like music to his ears. "Fuck, I can feel you throbbing. It's so good, isn't it, doll?"

"So fucking good," you agreed, your lower half already starting to feel heavier, the feeling of getting pounded into by something so large and thick sending you into a state of bliss. "You're gonna make me cum soon..."

Suddenly, the door behind you swung open, and three distinct voices could be heard talking amongst themselves. "So, you're telling me your bong is in that mess on the floor?" Yunho questioned, pointing to the floor, trying to ignore what was going on in the middle of the room, the tips of his ears red and burning.

"Yeah, hold on." San walked into his room like it was just another day and stood near the two of you, giving Mingi a high five when he put his hand out. It must've been a regular occurrence with your boyfriend's previous partners. Personally, you were so dick-drunk, you didn't even care that San was studying the way your tits bounced along with your movements.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, sweetheart," San said, giving you a suggestive smile, before bending over to pick up a few articles of clothing and throwing them to the side, searching for his bong underneath the chaos.

Mingi continued to drill himself into you, his cock throbbing heavily inside you due to being watched by his friends, opting to grab both of your wrists and hold you down, not letting you escape, forcing you to take everything he was giving you. "Baby likes being watched, huh? Is Baby gonna cum from being a little attention whore?"

"Uh-huhhh..." You kept your eyes locked on his, making small whimpers each time he pounded into you, tears forming inside your eyes from having an audience.

"Goddamn..." San mumbled underneath his breath, already holding his bong inside his hand, but staying still, mesmerized by the way your ass routinely bounced when Mingi’s cock slammed inside of you. Seonghwa and Yunho were in similar situations, leaning on each other and watching the both of you with dilated eyes, wondering how the hell Mingi’s giant cock somehow fit inside your small frame without splitting you open.

"I'm...about to cum, doll." He caressed your cheek, wiping a few escaping tears, before glaring at San. "Get out of here, okay? I didn't mind you watching, but you're not about to see me nut."

Disappointed, San let out a long sigh, making eye contact with you when you glanced over at him with barely open eyes, your orgasm building up inside you at a rapid rate. "Maybe next time I can watch you two cum," he mused, only leaving the room with his friends when Mingi grabbed one of the plushies on the bed and tossed it at San's head.

Mingi, still holding your cheeks, pulled you down on top of him, slotting his lips onto yours, his hips still moving at a feverish, somewhat sloppy pace. "Cumming," he mumbled into your mouth, listening to your many muffled cries, slowly pumping his cum into your abused hole.

You melted against him, your body going completely lax, your cunt pulsing heavily, as your arousal poured out of you and dripped past Mingi's inner thighs, seeping into the comforter beneath. "So good...that was so good..." you slurred, even though you weren't drunk from the alcohol.

"I'm glad Baby likes getting dicked down so much," Mingi mused, his voice low and gravelly, reveling in the post-orgasm bliss, rubbing your back in circles. His hand suddenly went stiff, giving you a concerned look.

You pushed a few wet strands of hair behind your ear, tilting your head to the side. "What's wrong, Min?"

He gave you a small pout, his eyebrows drawn together. "My nose feels kind of stuffy.” 

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© toxicccred, 2023.

[cumikering]

Guitarist Gaz x reader

2k | fluff, teenage crush, late 90s You were in a band with Gaz

“You’re pulling my leg,” Kyle deadpanned.

“Really. My mum said I should be studying for my A-levels.” Jack hung his head as he tried to smear off the crusty mud from the side of his sole.

“But the gig is this weekend!”

“’m sorry, Gaz. She’s holding my guitar hostage. Said she’s going to sell it if I’m not home right away after classes.”

“You know we can’t do with only three members,” he said exasperatedly.

“There’s still a few days, I’ll help you find someone.”

After band practice sans Jack “mum-said-I-can’t” Wilshire, Kyle hopped onto the local forum with a grumble.

This was stupid. It would take a miracle for him to find a replacement for Jack in mere days. Regardless, he punched the words into his keyboard.

Sixth Form alt band looking for a stand-in guitarist for a birthday gig this Saturday

Later that night, his PC pinged with a notification.

Hiya, I’m interested in the gig. Where do you practice? I can meet tomorrow to see if I’m a good fit.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There was still hope. He didn’t have to cancel and embarrass himself.

Sweet. Here’s my college. See ya at the bus stop at 2 mate

The next day after classes, Kyle and his two bandmates waited at the bus stop.

“Gaz, how do you know he’s not a no-show?” Tim sat on the bench, twirling his drumsticks.

With his foot, Owen toyed with the overgrown grass under the bus stop sign. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“Come on, lads. We need him, yeah?” He turned to them, trying to cheer up his mates. ”Let’s just hope he’s decent.”

Across the street, a bus alighted with a screech and a loud hiss. A few seconds later, it departed, revealing you behind it. You wore your college’s uniform, hair lightly tousled from the weather, your gig bag on your back.

“It’s a she?” Owen straightened up.

“Well, I assumed-“

Tim stood up, slipping his drum sticks in his back pocket as he walked over with a smile.

“No,” Kyle stood in front of him, trying to bite down his smile. “She talked to me. I go.” He marched towards you, ignoring Owen’s ‘or we could wait for her to cross the street’.

“Kyle?”

“Hiya.” He smiled, the most charming one he could muster. “Thought you were a bloke.”

You cocked your brow. “I thought the handle was obvious.”

Was it? He was too focused on the fact that he got a candidate (the only one so far).

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, well let’s go meet the lads.”

You followed as he made his way towards his mates.

“This is Owen, our bassist.”  He pointed at the tall bloke with the blond buzzcut. “And this is Tim, our drummer.”

He nodded at you, his dark fringe bobbing in the air.

“And me, I’m the vocalist and lead guitarist. You’re going to be Jack’s stand-in as the rhythm guitarist. Is it okay if you play us something here? Apparently, we’re not allowed to bring non-students onto the campus.”

“Yeah, no worries.” You sat on the bench and took your guitar out. “Anything specific?”

“Nope, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

The familiar intro of Wonderwall wafted in the air. You were a little quiet at first but encouraged by the approving nods and smiles of the lads, you opened up. Kyle watched the way you strummed, fingers expertly dancing across the fretboard, chords held precisely. Your clean notes did the classic justice. They all sang the last verse together.

“Wow, that was real sweet.” Owen said.

“Watch out, Gaz, you might be the stand-in by the end of this.”

He gave Tim the side eye before smiling at you. “Should we start practicing today?”

Practice was at Tim’s the days leading up to the gig, as it always was. His spacious room was cosy and soundproof, plus his mum baked the best cookies.

How obvious was it that Kyle always wanted to sit next to you on the bus? Or let his mates walk ahead of the both of you, so he could have a little moment with you to chat?

But it was the next day that he only dared to make his move.

“It’s getting late. Would you like me to walk you home?”

You looked up as you zipped your gig bag close.

“I live closer to you than her and you never offer to walk me home,” Owen chided, making Tim cackle from the other end of the room.

He pretended not hear anything, his eyebrow rose instead as he rapidly lost his cool.

You stifled a laugh. “Okay,” you said.

Kyle beamed, flipping Owen the bird before he shut the door on his way out. He left his guitar because ‘we’ll be back tomorrow anyway’ and helped you carry yours instead.

“You hungry? That chippy is good.” He pointed at a busy shop on your way to the bus stop.

“I am, actually.” Your steps slowed.

After a bit of queuing, the both of you sat in the cramped corner of the shop.

You took small bites of your piping hot chips. “What are you doing after Sixth Form?”

“I’m enlisting in the army,” he said with pride.

You smiled. “Your parents must be so proud.”

“They are. I’ve always wanted to do this and I’m glad they’re supportive.”

“I wish you the very best, Kyle. I think you’d be a wonderful soldier.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

The conversation continued to what you were going to study in uni, and how the both of you got into music. He told you all about his heroes and seeing how you lit up in recognition of the names made him gooey. You get me.

After the meal, you waited at the deserted bus stop, pedestrians passing occasionally.

“Can I play?” He gestured at your guitar.

You nodded and he took it out of the bag, skilfully picking the strings to Iris. You smiled in recognition of the song and couldn’t help singing along. Engrossed in the little concert, none of you registered the bus was approaching.

His hands slowed, and you turned behind you.

“Oh, need to go, need to go!” You laughed, grabbing the bag beside him, scrambling to the edge of the pavement.

He smiled behind you as you boarded. The bus had no empty seats left, and the both of you stood there facing each other as he held your guitar, resting it on his shoe.

You didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes, but he found it cute. You had a sweet smile and an even sweeter laugh. He appreciated your openness to spontaneity, loving the twinkle in your eye as you sang with him just a minute ago. You were a breath of fresh air.

The next day, Kyle offered to walk you home after dinner again. You let him, even had his hand brush against yours a few times. The next, since he finished his classes early, he asked if he could pick you up in front of your college.

He waited at the bus stop, head on a swivel, worried that he’d miss you among the sea of students. But you soon approached with your friends who giggled as they eyed him.

He smiled at the refreshing sight of you, hands pulled out of his pockets. “Hiya,” he breathed, barely glancing at your friends.

You stood in front of him as you chewed on your lip, smiling but not meeting his eyes. “Hi,” you mumbled.

One of the girls nudged you with a teasing smile before walking along.

“Oh, uh, see you on Monday, babes!” you called out to them.

“Good luck for your gig!” the blonde said.

“I hope I’m up to par for tomorrow,” you said to yourself.

“You are, trust me. We don’t need Jack anymore.”

You laughed.

“Here, let me just…” he grabbed the strap of your gig bag.

“You’re the sweetest, Kyle.”

He smiled, pulling the straps over his shoulders. I’m trying! “I got you this.” He pulled out a packet of gummy bears from his pocket.

“Thank you so much!” You tore the packet open, popping a bear into your mouth, before offering him some.

At the bus stop, he sat next to you just a little closer than a friend would.

“Oh, one of my girls let me borrow Jagged Little Pill for the weekend.” You grabbed your Discman from your bag, handing an earphone to him. “I wanted to listen to it with you.”

How did you not expect him to melt at that? When each of you had an earphone on, you hit play and he wouldn’t be mad if the bus never came. With you, this was the perfect afternoon.

He should have got more gummy bears.

You and the band played through the setlist flawlessly as the party went on. It was the most fun Kyle had had at a gig that he didn’t realise the hour was up. When Owen and Tim went off to grab food, without missing a beat, he strummed More than Words.

Kyle barely took his eyes off you as you sat across him with your guitar throughout the gig, a sweet smile on your face. If he kept playing, this would never have to end, right?

Your arms paused in the air as you took your guitar off before setting the strap back and smiling in recognition. You sat back down, your foot tapping to the gentle rhythm before joining him in singing. The crowd gathered and sang together, and you both couldn’t help dueting a few more mellow songs as Owen and Tim cheered on.

By the end of the night, Kyle was holding your hand. It was nice to not be insecure of his calloused fingers. Yours were too, like a shared secret. As you neared home, his arm grew stiff. Was this his last time walking you home?

“We don’t have anything else coming up, but you’re always welcome to swing by anytime.” He handed you your guitar. He insisted to help you with it even when he had his too. “We can just jam together.”

“What’s going to happen to Jack?”

“Like I said, we don’t need him anymore.”

You laughed. “Yeah? I should probably study for my A-Levels too.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “We can always meet at your college if you want. Or somewhere else. Wherever you want really.” I just want to keep seeing you.

You smiled. “I’d love that.”

Since then, he picked you up after classes almost every day. If not to jam at Tim’s, it was to study at your dining table. He caught the teasing looks your mum shot you that made you look away with a shy smile. He didn’t mean to, but his grades were better than ever, baffling his mates, including Jack.

Thinking of the distance that was to stretch between you was like looking up a mountain too tall to see its peak. It was irresponsible of him to ask for more as he was leaving for the army. With a heavy heart, he allowed himself to enjoy the last weeks he had with you, forced to be content with the fleeting touches and bashful gazes before they, eventually, fizzled out with time.

At the park, he played Lovefool, one of your favourites. You sat facing him, knees pulled to your chest wearing his hat he plopped down on you when you squinted at the sun earlier.

“Love me, love me, say that you love me…” He looked up from the fretboard to your pretty smile as you hummed along, hair swaying in the wind-

His strumming screeched to a stop as his heart lodged in his throat. “D- do…”

Bloody hell, Gaz, why are you stuttering like that!

You blinked. “You alright?”

“Doyouwanttobemine?”

Your smile brightened.

Oh, he was going to serenade you every chance he got, even when he was a thousand miles away from you. He hoped you didn’t mind.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts

@rowanyaboats @mangoguy

[flemingsfreckles]

Be a Good Teammate pt. 4

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 first!

Preview: You and Jessie have dinner at her new place.

Warnings: it’s angsty yall, buckle up (just for a bit), swearing, very brief mention of sex (no descriptions, nothing like that, but it gets mentioned)

WC: 5.5k

A/N: I think this is the end of this series. I never intend to make it more than 1 part honestly, but you all enjoyed it enough so here we are at Part 4. This also ended up more angsty than I had planned so, whoops :)

It was nearing 5pm when your Uber pulled up in front of the address Jessie had sent you. You thanked the driver and hopped out. You hadn’t thought much of the address, not noticing that there wasn’t an apartment number or a unit letter attached to the end of it, so you were surprised to find yourself standing in front of a house instead of an apartment complex as you had expected.

It was a small little blue house, wood fencing all around, a good sized front yard, a few trees, it was exactly what you would expect Jessie to pick out. 

You pulled your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to let her know you had arrived. You had gotten back to the hotel, quickly thrown on a Nike sweatshirt and a fitted pair of gray joggers.

“Hi.” You look up to see Jessie walking through the doorway and down the steps toward the fence gate. You put your phone back in your pocket, not needing to let her know you were here anymore. She reached the gate, unlatched it and held it open for you to come inside. You notice that she quickly looks you up and down as you walk through into her front yard. You can’t help but do the same to her.

Jessie’s hair was down, still slightly wet from her postgame shower, she was wearing a lavender colored long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She looked cozy, as if she was ready to cuddle up on the couch for the evening like she had mentioned wanting to do.

“You bought a house?” Your curiosity gets the best of you and you can’t help but ask. 

“Yeah, I did. I lived with Janine and her fiancé for the first few weeks while I looked at places, and then I had to leave for the gold cup and I just couldn’t find any apartment that felt like home. I started looking at houses instead once I got back. This was actually the first one I saw and I really liked it. It’s not too big, which works since it’s just me right now but has some room if I need it in the future.” Your brain wanders to the thought of Jessie having her own kids in the future, you knew she wanted them and you had seen how good she was with kids over the years. 

“Plus I figured even if I’m only here for a couple years, I can keep the house. It’s only been a few weeks but I love the area. I'd consider coming back here to settle when soccer is over.” She opened the front door, stepping back to let you walk in first. 

You slip off your shoes, placing them on the mat next to the door where Jessie’s shoes lay neatly in a row. Looking up you realize you're standing in her living room, there’s a large gray couch, a small table in front of it, a tv, a bookshelf that’s filled with books and art and other trinkets. 

“You can keep a plant alive now?” You tease her as you see she has a variety of green plants. In college you had watched her become what you described as a serial killer of plants.

“I’m getting better. A lot of them were housewarming gifts from my teammates so I maybe just haven't had enough time to kill them.” 

Stepping out of the entryway you walk over to her bookshelf, looking at the various titles, there’s a couple photos placed on the bookshelf, one with her parents after she had won the gold medal, one of her and her Chelsea teammates holding up a couple trophies, one of her and her siblings all wearing matching Christmas pajamas. The opening to the kitchen was just to your right, you step in its direction before turning to look at Jessie who was following closely behind you.

“Can I see the kitchen?” You don’t want to invade her privacy by inviting yourself to take a tour of her place.

As if she read your mind she gestures her hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Go ahead, I can just give you the whole tour now while we wait for the food, it should be on its way by now. I was also thinking we can watch the Angel City and Orlando game, only if you want it should be on at 7. ” She looks at the clock mounted on the wall. 

“Yeah that sounds good.” You reply as you step into the kitchen.

Her kitchen was cute, the same wood accent from the outside of the house scattered throughout. She offered you an ice pack for your nose as you stood looking at her fridge. You declined, having just taken the pain meds, it was bearable pain. 

As you continue to move through her house Jessie makes a few comments here and there about what she liked about the house so much, the wood flooring, the large windows that let in natural light, the little nook that she had set up to be a place to read. Hearing her talk about the little things, paint colors, furniture was so simple and yet it made you feel like you were back to your old friendship. The simple minded discussions, the joking around, all the tiny moments you would have with her, it hit you how much you really missed just her existence and company.

You get to two closed doors at the end of the hallway, you point at the one closest to you and look back at Jessie.

“Linen closet, nothing exciting unless you want to see towels.” You move your finger to point at the other. “My bedroom.”

“Oh,” You’re not sure what to say, the closed door seemed like an obvious sign to not go in. Jessie again, able to tell what was running through your head, speaks up.

“You can go in, I just close the door out of habit. I don’t have anything to hide.” Wanting to see her bedroom, you push open the door. It reminds you a little bit of her bedroom in your college apartment. Not much as far as decor, just a few special things on display throughout. Her bed in the center of the room, a nightstand on one side.

“Sorry it’s still a mess in here, I haven’t had a ton of time to dedicate to unpacking and I was more focused on the rooms everyone else would see.” You look around, trying to find the mess she was referring to. Her bed was made, no clothes scattered across the floor, no pile of clean laundry to be put away, no water bottles on bedsides, not even dust, just a few boxes stacked neatly in the corner, the one on top open as if she had been in the middle of unpacking when you had arrived.

“If this is what you consider a mess, we have completely different standards of mess.” You let out a laugh, Jessie doesn’t say anything, just gives you a smile and slow nod. 

You’re interrupted by her phone ringing, she picks it up and before answering the call she points around the corner. “If you want to see my bathroom, it's through the closet. I’ll be right back.” 

She walks out of the room and you hear her answer the call. You take a second look around her bedroom, looking at the couple of personal items that were scattered, photos of her and her Canada teammates, photos of her family, photos of skylines and nature that you assume she had taken. She has her array of cameras all neatly set on a shelf, displaying them. Making your way over to her closet you walk through to peek into her bathroom. It looked like a bathroom, nothing too special about it, a shower, toilet, a vanity with two sinks, her toothbrush, hairbrush, and other bathroom things just placed neatly around one side.

You turn back to go wait in her bedroom being done looking at the bathroom. You walk into her closet, taking a quick glance around, the closet had more boxes in it than unpacked clothing items. Each box was neatly labeled, varying in sizes, all stacked on top of one another. You look at what clothes she had unpacked, it was nearly all clothes for training, one pile had clothes with the maple leaf and the name Canada across them, the other a mix of red, green, some blue, with the thorn’s logo and Portland across them. Looking back toward the exit of the closet your eye catches on a box, more specifically the label of the box catches your eye.

It was a box with your name on it. Printed carefully along the side, in Jessie’s handwriting. You could feel your heart begin to race. You couldn’t move, your eyes staring, your own name looking back at you. Why did she have a box with your name on it? 

“Foods here.” You didn’t even hear Jessie coming, the sound of your blood rushing through your ears muffling outside noises. She comes around the corner, you quickly look away, not wanting her to see you and think you were snooping through her stuff. You weren’t, but you could see how it could look suspicious, but then again she was the one with a box labeled for you. She must’ve seen your sudden movement as she looks at you with a questioning look, then at where the box sat, you see the moment she knows you’ve seen the box. Her eyes widen and dart back to you. You expect her to say something, she does, just not about the box.

“It’s on the kitchen table.” Her face returns to a relaxed state, almost emotionless.

“Perfect.” Mirroring her behavior you decide maybe you’ll both just pretend that box doesn’t exist. Maybe you’ll just let it eat away at you for years, just like you had done with your feelings for the girl. You follow her out of the closet and bedroom back down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

You both make a plate, grab a water, and sit down at her kitchen table. She sits first and you’re then forced to make the choice between sitting next to her or across from her. You decide on sitting across, hoping she doesn’t judge your choice. It’s quiet for the first few minutes, just the sound of silverware. Jessie keeps her eyes down, looking very interested in the plate of food sitting before her. You knew it was going to be awkward, seeing her in a non-football setting for the first time in so long, you were prepared for the small talk, asking about your family, your friends, the weather, you weren’t prepared for whatever this was. Both of you sitting here thinking about that box brought a whole different level of unexpected discomfort, it was making you itch.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t mind you having a box with another girl's name on it?” Unable to hold it in any longer, you let the question come out, you quickly kick yourself for asking that way, bringing her girlfriend into this conversation. Jessie picks up her head and puts her fork down.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” Choosing the wrong time to take a sip from your glass you choke slightly causing a coughing fit. Jessie just looks at you as you try to calm down. Once you stop coughing she continues muttering the words, “and she actually did mind. A lot.”

Your brain is spinning, you heard her keep talking but your mind kept repeating the words she had spoken “not my girlfriend anymore”.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you split.”  You now feel guilty for bringing up the girl.

“Of course you didn’t, you stopped talking to me, you didn’t get to have the privilege of knowing that we split.” Her tone of voice was shifting, becoming annoyed. Wanting to ask more but also not wanting to pry on a relationship you barely knew about.

“Why didn’t you just get rid of the stuff? If that would’ve made her happy?”

“I don’t know.” She pauses looking down at her hands. “I mean I do, it’s,” she sighs. “To be fair it wasn’t just the box, she had always been a little suspicious of our relationship, I told her the truth, that there’s never been anything between us, we didn’t have a history. And she believed me, I think, at least at the start. But then when you stopped talking to me, she’d catch me watching your games, checking up on you, looking at old photos of us, and she eventually found some clothing of yours that I had put away, along with the notes we used to write each other, the birthday cards, the Polaroids, everything. I wasn’t intentionally hiding but it was out of sight out of mind for me. I didn’t need the constant reminder that I had been dumped by my best friend. She again made the assumption that we had dated, or at least had slept together. She read the letters claiming friends to talk to each other in that manner. That was just the start of the mess.”

Nodding along to her story, you try to show her you’re paying attention, and you were, it was just hard when your mind was drifting to a hundred different thoughts. 

 “And then the rumors started about my transfer. I hadn’t told her about it, I hadn't even mentioned the idea of leaving London. I wasn’t even sure it was going to go through, it was a lot of money for Portland and I was waiting on visas and medical and all that bureaucracy and we got into an argument about it. She accused me of moving for the wrong reasons, she brought up you.” Jessie pauses for a minute as if to collect her thoughts before she continues.

“ I then said some things about you I shouldn’t have said to her and then it was over with her shortly after.” The volume of her voice drops as she rushed her words at the end of her sentence.

“You could’ve just thrown it all out at the start, if that would’ve fixed things with her, I wouldn’t have known.” Your statement is true, you didn’t even know she had kept all those things you wouldn’t have known if she had gotten rid of them.

“It wasn’t that easy, I know we weren’t talking, and like I said we weren’t even friends, but fuck I missed you so much. You were my best friend for nearly 5 years, only to get dropped without a reason and I was mad at you, sure but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of that box of stuff.”

“There was a reason, I hope you know that.”

“Well you didn't give me a reason, if you just would’ve told me I could’ve fixed it or apologized or something. Instead I just had to sit and run through every decision I had ever made questioning where I went wrong with you, what I did to hurt you.” You can see tears welding in her eyes as she continues to stare at you, despite the tears, her eyes are cold and make you feel tiny under her gaze.

You stayed sitting, staring back at her, having no clue on what to say to her, stuck between wanting to apologize and also wanting to yell back at her. You silence allows her to continue.

“I would’ve done anything to have you back in my life, all you had to do was ask, but it felt like you wanted nothing to do with me. And that fucking hurt.” Her fist comes down hard on the table, it startles you, making you sit back away from where you had been leaning against the table. You cross your arms as you sit back and bow your head to stare down.

“I couldn’t ask.” It comes out quiet, from your mouth almost as if it was an accident.

“What?”

“I couldn’t ask you to fix it, it wouldn’t have been fair.” Speaking louder you bring your head back up to look at her.

Now it’s her turn to say nothing. She looks from you to where her hands sat on the table. She just waits, giving you the space to give her more information. You know you owe her the explanation, what you don’t expect is the word vomit that comes out once you start.

“I couldn’t ask you to break up with her, I couldn’t tell you I was jealous of her, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you those things, you seemed so happy with her, it wouldn’t have been fair. I had my chance for 4 years before she existed to tell you and I didn’t, but I also couldn’t stand seeing you so happy with her, it tore me apart, I wanted you to be happy and you were. It just sucked that you were happy with someone else. It sucked trying to be a supportive friend, I hated having to hear about your dates, and hearing about your first kiss, and I really hated having to hear all about the first time you two fucked.” The last word coming off with extra emphasis, the memory of her call to you after their night together briefly plays in your mind, only making you more upset.

“I hated it Jessie, but I sat through it for as long as I could because I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to be a good friend to you. I wanted to still be your best friend but I couldn’t and all I wanted was for her to no longer exist. I started to think horrible things about her and your relationship and that’s when I knew I needed to take a step back for my own health. I was no longer being a good friend to you. So I stepped back.” Your voice was loud, you were slightly out of breath barely stopping between words as you yelled across toward her, you’re not sure why you were yelling, you weren’t trying to yell at her. It wasn’t her fault she had found someone to make her happy that wasn’t you. But the past year of frustration had built and built and unfortunately this was the time the wall broke, and here you were practically shouting at Jessie across her own kitchen table.

Jessie doesn’t say anything. She stands up from the table, the sound of her chair scraping the floor was the only noise in an otherwise silent room. Grabbing her own empty plate and then extending her hand she offers to take yours. You pass it to her. She walks them over to the sink, putting them down, running the water over them. You stand up, not wanting to feel like a terrible house guest, you start packing the leftovers back up. You open the fridge door and place them inside. The water shuts off and Jessie puts the plates on a mat to dry. She walks past you, not saying anything as she moves into the living room. You hear the noise of the couch, assuming she has sat down you take a few steps toward the other room. 

She’s sitting on the couch, bent over with her head in her hands. Her thumb is rubbing against her temple and she’s bouncing her knees. Leaning against the doorway you stay quiet, you feel bad for yelling at her, seeing her overwhelmed like this because of you, tugged on your heart. You wanted to rush to her side and hug her but you also knew that would probably be the worst thing you could do. You stayed put, leaned against the wall just watching her. She lets out a large breath and then sits up. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t,” you shake your head, not sure what she’s asking. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you look like you want to, so what? Just say it. Don’t be a coward again.” Her words are harsh, insulting you in a way she hadn’t ever before. To be fair to her you realized you had also never yelled at her before either.

“I’m not a coward.”

“Hiding your feelings for 6 whole years, 5 of those years when we were best friends feels a little cowardly, but that’s just my opinion.” You hadn’t seen Jessie like this often, especially towards you, she was almost being mean, not caring what she said to you or how she was saying it. 

“Fine, what did you say about me to her? Before you broke up, you said that you said stuff to her about me that you shouldn’t have. What did you say?” You can’t help but ask, the question of what she had said had been sitting in your brain since she mentioned it.

When Jessie doesn’t respond right away you push her. “Don’t be a coward.” You mock her tone from earlier using her own words. She rolls her eyes at you.

“She accused me of moving to try and be closer to you, she said I wanted to rekindle our relationship. And by that point I couldn’t take her nagging about you anymore and so I was honest with her. I told her the reason I had kept all of your stuff, the reason I checked up on you, the reason I would look at old photos of us, even though you didn’t care about me anymore. I had to tell her my memories of you were comforting for me.” She looks you in the eyes for a second before looking down at her hands.

“Those memories felt like home, that you felt like home. And I then had to tell her that was something I had never felt with her.”

You’re not sure how to respond, trying to process all of Jessie’s words before saying anything back to her. You move off the wall and sit down on the couch, putting some distance between where you both sat.

“Naturally, admitting having feelings for someone else to your current partner doesn’t go over well so that was the end of that.” She mumbles as you sit down.

“You have feelings for me?” Maybe you had heard her wrong, doubting that this conversation was actually happening. She slowly blinks at you.

“Did they check you for a concussion after the hit?” Her question only confuses you more. 

“What?” 

“Oh my god.” Jessie throws her hands up. “Yes, I have feelings for you. That’s what I just said, I just didn’t really know that they were those kinds of feelings until you stopped talking to me and I realized how important you were and that it felt like I was missing a part of me that no one besides you could fill. And then I had her, and that was fine for a little bit, but she wasn’t you.”

You have half a thought to call her out, call her a coward the way she had to you for hiding her own feelings, but decide against it. 

The silence takes over the room, you’re not sure what to say to her. What do you say to someone you’ve been secretly in love with for 5 years when they finally admit they want you back? Where do you even start to make up for the time you both wasted? Where do you go from this conversation? 

Thankfully you don’t have to figure it out at that moment as both your phone and Jessie’s vibrate and light up, both of you reviving the notification that the Angel City and Orlando game was set to start. 

Jessie looks up from reading the notification, “Do you still want to watch the game? I understand if you don’t, I probably wouldn’t want to stay around someone who called me a coward.” 

“I want to stay, if that’s okay. You can yell at me and call me whatever, but just being around you has really made me realize how much I’ve missed your company. So, I’d like to stay if you’ll let me?” 

“Of course.” She reaches for the remote on her coffee table and points it toward the tv turning it on.

“Can I get that ice pack you offered earlier?” No longer caught up in the intense conversation you feel the pain from your nose starting to return in full force. Jessie tosses the tv remote in your direction and hops up from the couch immediately, rushing to her freezer. She comes back with an ice pack, a bag of frozen veggies, a towel, and a bottle of pain meds. 

“Do you want to just sit and hold it or lay down? I can get you a different pillow. I brought the towel in case the direct ice is too cold. And if you want these.” She gives the bottle of medicine a shake. “I also wasn’t sure if the ice pack would sit nicely on your face so I got this.” She holds out the package of frozen vegetables to you. 

“Yeah that’ll actually probably work best.” You take it from her hand. “Thanks.” You add. She placed the pain meds on the coffee table and leaves to put the other ice pack back in the freezer. You use the remote to find the game, and Jessie returns as they commentators start talking about the starting lineups for each side.

When Jessie sits down you notice she sits a lot closer to you then the two of you had been before. Your hips and thighs are only inches apart. She leans back and puts her feet up onto the table. 

You both sit in what is now a more comfortable silence, watching the game. You both make comments here and there about footwork, ball movement, passes, shots, critiquing and complementing the players. At halftime Jessie stands up, takes the now thawed bag of vegetables from you and brings it back to the freezer. She comes back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and waters.

When she sits back down, she closes the gap between the two of you. The outside of her leg now resting against the outside of yours. She places the popcorn bowl so that it rests on both of you. Jessie leans back to rest against the back of the couch and you do the same. The game starts back up again, you both focusing your attention back to the tv. 

It only takes 5 minutes into the second half for you to feel Jessie shift in her seat. She’s moving only slightly but being hyper aware that she’s pressed up against you, you can’t help but notice her movements. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel her lean her head over, placing it to rest on your shoulder, leaving her body more forcefully against yours. Your whole body tenses, not wanting to move and disturb her. 

You stay like this for a couple minutes. Deciding you couldn’t let her make all the moves you glance down to see Jessie’s hands resting on top of each of her thighs. You place your own hands in the same position, then move the one closest to her, in her direction. You move just as slow as she had until your pinky finger is hovering just over hers. You slowly let your hand fall on top of hers, she doesn’t pull away, or tell you off. Instead she flips her hand so her palm is now facing up. Eager to finish what you had started you now quickly move your hand, interlocking your fingers with hers. You wait a minute, then let the pad of your thumb gently rub against her thumb.

You stayed in that position, holding her hand, her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you watched the remainder of the game. Wanting more time with Jessie you desperately were hoping for an insane amount of added time, unfortunately only 3 minutes are added and the game is quick to end.

Jessie pulls her head off your shoulder, sitting up with a yawn.

“I should probably get back.” You say, realizing it was nearing 9pm and while you didn’t have a curfew, you still didn’t want to be caught coming back too late by any of your teammates knowing you’d never hear the end of it, especially since they knew you were at Jessie's.

“Right.” Jessie stands up from the couch and flips a light on. The sun had gone down as you watched the game and the two of you were in the dark without the light from the tv. She holds her hand out to you, you take it and stand up. You quickly pull out your phone and order an Uber, thankful you were in a larger city and your ride would be here in less than 5 minutes. You move toward the door, bending down to slip your shoes on before standing up facing Jessie. 

“It feels weird to say that I had a really good time tonight with all the yelling that happened, but I did. I had a really good time with you Jessie.” You smile at her.

“I had a good time too, this was nice. I’ve missed you.” She replies to you. She holds her arms out to you, offering a hug. You take a step toward her, leaning in to wrap your arms around her waist as she places hers on your shoulders. You stay hugging, longer than a normal friend’s goodbye hug would be. You both release the hold on each other but you don’t move back from her. You stay face to face, your eyes staring back at her brown ones. 

Much to your surprise Jessie is the one who makes the move. One of her hands comes up to your cheek, her fingers are warm and soft on your skin. Her eyes break contact with yours dropping to your lips quickly and then back up. She starts to lean in but stops just moments before your lips would connect.

“Is this okay?” Her voice is barely audible, quieter than a whisper. 

“Yes.” Before you have a second to think about kissing her it’s already happening. It’s a gentle kiss, her lips just placed on top of yours. She starts to pull away a second later, but you let your head chase her lips, giving her a bit more forceful of a kiss. In doing so, you bump your nose against hers causing you to pull back quickly from her, hand coming to clutch your nose.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I forgot about your nose.” Jessie’s eyes are wide as her hand comes to rest on the forearm of the hand holding your face.

“It’s okay Jess, that was my fault, I forgot too for a second.” You wipe your hand under your nose and look down at your fingers making sure you’re not bleeding again. “It’s not crooked or anything right?”

“No, but those black eyes are starting to come in.” Her eyes dart between both of yours. You both let out a small laugh and then are left in silence.

“I’d like to take you out sometime, on a proper date, if you’d want that?” You look at her hopeful she’ll want to continue whatever the two of you started.

“I do, I want that.” She smiles back at you, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Okay.” You can’t help but smile big back at her.

“Okay.” She just repeats your words.

“I should be going.” You repeat your words from earlier, you knew you had to go, you just didn’t want to.

Jessie moves her hand from your forearm up to your face to grab your chin. You think for a second she’s going to kiss you again but then she’s pushing your head away from her and to the side. She moves in and places her lips on your cheek. 

“Once your nose is healed you can have more on the lips.”  She says teasingly. The gentle gesture has you blushing more than the kisses to your lips did. She releases your face and you see her eyes look at your cheeks, the blush growing. You turn quickly facing the door, grabbing the handle and stepping out. 

“Goodnight Jessie.” 

[rinsaint]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓. ft atsumu miya

you find out the local loser in your school is actually a pervert

[ ☆ ] — pairing: atsumu miya x fem! reader

[ ☆ ] — contains/warnings: MDNI. nsfw, panty stealing, shy atsumu, atsumu jerks off and sniffs your panties, not rlly smut but minors dni !!

[ ☆ ] — a/n: this was sent in as a drabble from @prostheticmind !! shout out to them and their idea.

Atsumu was a mess every time he pocketed a new little treasure of yours, his hands would sweat and he would become jittery, so he always took them right before he was going home from your place, after studying. The temptation of them in his pocket was too much, like they were burning in his pocket.

He loved the adrenaline of it.

The first time he had done it, he was over at your house to finish a project. You were the popular on campus. You had every boy drawn to you, including himself. He felt lucky that you even spared a glance to him or even talked to him. Even though you forced him to do most of the project, he felt lucky that he had gotten to spend time with you, even though you didn’t feel the same way.

Atsumu had fit his hand in his jacket pocket, assuming that touching the soft fabric would calm him down a little, get him to act a bit like a person that wasn’t about to have a complete meltdown. If he thought he was being a mess before, after touching your frilly panties he had found in your laundry basket, he was practically dying.

After that, he became addicted.

He started taking the effort to make out a whole strategy to get away with his perverted needs, which was probably what made it all blow up in his face.

Things went south right as soon as he walked in through the your front door.

“you’re here early. let me get my laundry done real quick then you can do all the work, yea?”

Atsumu’s throat closed up at your words. He absolutely needed a new pair tonight, four of them already smell more like his cum after getting off on it so many times, and he was getting tired of them.

Atsumu needed to act fast, so as soon as you entered your bedroom he made a bee-line to your bathroom and closed the door. He ruffled around the basket between the sweatpants and t-shirts until he found what he was looking for. Atsumu was panting as if he was mid-way through his training, his hand was shaking as it pulled out a stitch of baby pink fabric.

It was a thong.

Atsumu didn’t know you used thongs, he must’ve missed them the previous times. He bit his lip and practically got hard thinking about you in the fabric.

It was thanks to that moment where he had to take time to gather his bearings that it all came crashing down.

Thanks to that fucking thong.

So when you swung open the door you caught him red handed, staring at you like a deer in the headlights. One hand stuffing something light pink in his pocket. Your eyes widen as you recognised what it was.

You stare at him for so long, lips slightly opened, brows lifted, a pissed off look in your eyes.

“the fuck..”

He stuttered out a response, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

“Y/n, please! I… it’s just… I’m sorry! I didn’t–“

“How long have you been doing this?” Your expression was unnervingly neutral, your voice strangely calm.

Atsumu had to clear his throat to sneer you, avoiding your eyes burning into his skin. “A-A month or so?”

“You’re asking me?”

Atsumu was in shock at your change in attitude. Sure, you’d always gone toe-to-toe with him whenever he started to get too clever, which was rarely. But now you were so commanding all of a sudden. And god dear he say, it turned him on.

“A month, yeah. Maybe a month and a week, t-the night you were going off about Taylor Swift’s new album”

You only let out a soft ‘Mhmm’ in reply but your gaze stayed on him. Atsumu finally managed to make his feet move and he started to back as far away from you as possible to get to the bathroom door.

“Listen y/n I’m so sorry, I know it’s disgusting. I’m gonna go and—“

“You know it’s disgusting, and you did it anyways.”

Your tone was clinical, factual, like you were discussing something trivial. Atsumu squirmed, his eyes locked on the floor.

“Yes, I know! I know—“

“You’re shaking, tsumie.” You pouted, strutting over to him, grazing your hand over his arm.

His eyes peered down to yours, and Atsumu inhales slightly. He couldn’t place it, but there was something in the way your eyes were boring into him. Something so consuming he couldn’t look away.

“You’re shaking, stuttering, your face is red… I’ve never seen you this embarrassed. You must really be ashamed of this.” You taunted, your voice smooth and teasing as your pointer finger grazed up and down his arm.

Atsumu tried speaking but words failed him so he only nodded effusively.

“And yet… You couldn’t help yourself.”

He shut his eyes, and pulled away from you but you quickly grabbed him by his arm, pulling him closer to you.

“tsumu, hey look at me.”

Atsumu relaxed into your touch, he opened his eyes and he felt his cock get tighter in his pants when you were inches away from his face.

“You couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t you? Bet you were getting off to them by rubbing it against your face, am i right?”

“y-yes..”

Your breasts pressed against his chest from how close you were to him. The lust in your eyes consuming him and swallowing him whole completely.

“Bet you’d do anything to rub your face against the real thing.”

[misseviehyde]

STUDENT BODY

Your girlfriend Natasha was really worried about what was going to happen to your relationship once you started to attend different universities. She'd heard that long distance relationships could be really challenging and difficult.

Sure - it was always possible to communicate online and see each other that way, but without physical intimacy even the healthiest relationships would falter. But Natasha was always full of clever ideas.

"Listen babe. I've had an idea. My family have been guarding a magic scrying mirror for generations. I can use it to astrally project my spirit into another person. It's frowned upon to possess another person, but if it's just so we can talk and touch and stuff, I don't see the harm. Make sure you choose someone who is a real asshole though, that way I'll feel less bad about possessing them.

***

A month later you headed to University and began looking for someone suitable for Natasha to possess. It didn't take you long to find your target. Chanel Grey was the obnoxious, entitled sorority president of the most exclusive sorority on campus and perfect for your needs.

It didn't hurt that you had a huge crush on the busty bitch and the thought of your girlfriend inside that smoking hot body was kind of appealing. Chanel was a total asshole as well, so your girlfriend needn't feel bad about possessing her for a while.

You waited until Chanel was out shopping on her own one day and followed her to the mall. She usually had her team of funkies with her, but today she was flying solo and this was your best chance.

Ringing Natasha you waited patiently as she prepared the mirror in her bedroom. "Okay babe, I'll see you in a moment or two I guess."

You hung up and watched Chanel as she browsed through an expensive rack of designer clothes in one of her favourite stores. Suddenly she put a hand to her head as if she were dizzy. Then with a grunt her eyes rolled up into her head and she swayed on her feet slightly.

Moments later she shivered and her eyes came back into focus... only they seemed different somehow.

Chanel looked around, then spotting you walked confidently over. "Heya babe. What a body you found for me. I wasn't expecting you to pick anyone this hot."

It had worked. It had actually worked. Natasha was now inside Chanel!

She giggled and admired herself in a mirror. "Wow - this bitch is super stacked. She must have boobs three times the size of mine. And how fit is this body? Guess she must work out."

Natasha stretched, clearly enjoying how it felt to be inside Chanel. She then did a cursory check of her body, checking her pockets and her handbag.

"And I'm guessing she's rich too. I would never be able to afford a store like this. I'm guessing this is her Daddy's credit card. I mean I could try accessing her memories to check, but that can be dangerous. It can cause memories to get entwined."

You nodded not really understanding what she was saying but agreeing nonetheless.

"Only problem you've made for us is that someone is bound to notice us talking if we aren't careful. Chanel probably wouldn't be seen dead with someone like you. I wish you'd picked someone a little bit more low key even if they did have smaller boobs."

Natasha grabbed your hand and dragged you into the store. She pulled you into one of the dressing rooms and began fumbling at your belt.

"I know I said no sex, but this body is making me super horny. I don't think Chanel is a virgin, especially if those XXX condoms she is carrying in her handbag are anything to go by."

Giggling Natasha pulled out your cock and she smirked when she saw it was already rock hard. It looked so naughty in Chanel's lightly tanned hands - another woman's hands.

"Wow, guess you like Chanel's body too. Don't try to pretend this isn't what you wanted when you picked her as your target. Guess you now get to be sucked off by little Miss Popular."

With a giggle Natasha slid her pink glossy lips round your dick and began to suck. It felt good... really good and looking down you couldn't believe you were getting a blowjob from the most popular girl at uni. Turning to look at the dressing room mirror, you couldn't believe how hot it looked to see Chanel Grey's pretty head bobbing up and down on your cock. She was so fucking hot and now she was your slut.

Suddenly Natasha hesitated and her eyes went a little wide for a second. A moment later she attacked your dick with a fresh wave of enthusiasm, only this time it felt even better! Natasha was doing something with her tongue you had never felt before and her lips seemed tighter than ever. She was also making eye contact now and little groaning sounds and together it was all too much.

You began to cum and groaning you ejaculated into Natasha's mouth. It felt really good and it was a big heavy load. "Mmmhppphhh," gurgled Natasha happily.

To your surprise, she swallowed all of your load. Normally Natasha hated the taste of cum and would spit it out, but now she was inside Chanel, she seemed to enjoy it. Delicately wiping her pretty lips, she smiled and let go of your cock.

"Mmmh, sorry if I zoned out for a second there baby," she grinned. "I accidentally accessed Chanel's memories on blowjobs. Damn but she knows her stuff and she's sucked some good dick. Bigger than yours I guess."

You felt a sudden irrational jealousy. It wasn't like Natasha had actually sucked someone else's dick, but her having those memories seemed wrong somehow.

"I wish we had time for you to fuck me properly, but we'll get busted if we stay in here any longer. Come on."

Sorting out her hair and makeup Natasha indicated you should wait a moment and she slipped out first.

You waited a few minutes, then slipped out too. Looking around for Natasha you cursed as you saw her with a group of hot looking girls. She'd bumped into Chanel's friends! She made eye contact with you for a second then shrugged. Desperate not to blow her cover she decided to just go with it and helpless you watched her walk away with them - just like the real Chanel would.

****

Hours passed when your phone began to buzz. You weren't expecting a phone call from an unknown number, but you answered and it was Chanel's voice on the other end.

"Sorry about that babe. I couldn't get away from those bitches. I had to access more of my... I mean Chanel's memories just to convince them I was her."

Natasha began to explain how she had spent the rest of the morning with the girls doing hot girl shit. Hair, makeup, nails, coffee, more shopping.

Natasha usually hated all that kind of stuff, so you were surprised to hear genuine enthusiasm in her voice.

"I was pissed off that you chose this body for me at first. But the longer I spend as Chanel, the more I'm starting to enjoy being beautiful and popular. It's a unique experience. I understand how this body possession could get quite addictive. It's said that if you astrally project for too long your soul can bond with the wrong body and you get stuck forever. Imagine that. Imagine if I was Chanel permanently."

Her voice was joking, but also had a strange undertone to it.

"Of course I'm only doing this for a bit at a time so should be safe. I'm gonna hop back to my own body in a second. First though I've been horny all morning and haven't got off yet. Chanel has quite the selection of sex toys and I thought you'd like to listen. Right now I'm lying on her bed playing with myself."

You felt your cock stiffen as Natasha began to describe what she was doing.

"Mmmmh I'm touching Chanel's big bitchy tits and rubbing her tight pink pussy. Her soft hair is all around me and I feel like such a hot slut. Her pussy and clit are more sensitive than mine, you'd love this tight pussy. I have a finger inside myself. It feels so fucking good. I can't believe how wet I am already. Ooooh fuck yes."

Natasha began to moan and pant, you imagined her arching her back and gasping like a slut as she played with herself. You wished you were there, you were so jealous.

"Yesssss, yessss, I fucking love this body. I'm gonna cum so good in a bit. Mmmmh think I'll try this big thick dildo to help me get there. I want you to imagine it sliding inside my tight cunt, stretching me out baby. Chanel's tight pussy gripping every inch as I begin to pump it in and out. Ooooh fucccckkk."

Wet sounds of pleasure and pants and moans of lust came down the phone and you began to pump your own cock faster. This was so fucking hot.

"Ooooooh fuck, it's never felt THIS good before. Mmmmmh my new body was built for sex. Ooooh shit I can take it deeper than ever before, I feel like such a hot slut. My pussy is gonna explode! Ahhhh ohhhhh fuckkkk."

A screaming gasping squealing squirt of pleasure blasted down the phone as Natasha began to cum and you creamed your own belly with more of your own cum. The thought of her enjoying Chanel's body was just too erotic. That had been so hot.

"Mmmh, think I might play with myself a bit more before leaving her body. She won't properly remember everything she did when I was in control, just the gist. It's her brains own mental defense helping to keep my possession secret. She'll think she did all of this. So long as I don't do anything too out of character - I can have this hot little body whenever I like."

And with that she hung up...

***

For the next week you looked forward to your girlfriends daily possessions of Chanel. As Natasha predicted, the popular girl didn't seem to notice anything amiss and she certainly didn't show any indication she recognised you at uni.

It was strange to see that pretty face look at you blankly. The same face that hours before had been sucking you off or kissing you. To your shame you began to fantasize more and more about Chanel's beautiful features and soft sexy voice than Natasha's body.

But there was frustration too. Mostly the possessions seemed to involve a quick blowjob or handjob, then Natasha would go off with Chanel's friends. There was never anytime to have proper sex. Natasha even refused your offers to eat her out or finger her. You had never actually gotten to see Chanel's pussy.

Her popularity and prestige made it hard for you to spend any time whilst she was Chanel and you began to regret choosing such an exclusive target.

Natasha was acted weird too. She seemed to have accessed more of Chanel's memories for some reason and even when in her own body was acting more aloof and haughty. She'd started working out, stopped wearing her glasses and she sounded like she was starting to treat everyone like a real bitch.

She also seemed to be enjoying hanging out with Chanel's friends and living the life of a popular bitch more than she should. Her stories began to focus more and more on how much she had enjoyed hanging out with her girls and bullying the losers on campus, than the chance to be with you.

You were shocked the first time she described bullying someone. Shocked at how full of glee and enthusiasm she was.

"Some dumb little bitch dared to get in my way in the store. Can you believe it? She walked right out in front of me and when she saw who I was tried to apologise. I pushed the little loser into a clothes rail and knocked her over. She won't dare complain to the Dean, she knows I'd destroy her life. I left her crying in the shop - it was SO funny."

The possessions were supposed to bring you both closer together, not push you further apart, but now you were really starting to worry. Natasha had even insisted you set up a monthly payment to Chanel's bank account so she could buy even more clothes and things - but she never wore them for you.

The first real betrayal came when you found out that Natasha had been possessing Chanel on some days and not even telling you. She accidentally let slip a story about having dinner with her girls and you realised she hadn't told you she was available that day.

"Oh yeah? So? I sometimes slip back into Chanel when you're not around or I just feel like some me time. Her body fits me like a glove these days, I can hop in with no resistance anymore and I enjoy living her pampered life for a bit. What's your problem with that loser?"

You were shocked to hear the venom in her voice.

"Oh did I call you a loser? Sorry babe - that's what Chanel thinks about you. I've been accessing more of her memories and it's hard to fight off her impression of you as a nerdy, worthless, loser. I mean - of course I don't think that about you. Anyway gotta go."

She cut you off abruptly and that was the end of that.

***

The next betrayal happened soon after.

Natasha had stopped giving you blowjobs when she possessed Chanel, saying she was too busy or didn't feel like it. If you were lucky, you'd get a disinterested handjob from her and even that was becoming rarer.

It was like Natasha no longer cared about possessing Chanel to spend time with you, but simply so she could BE Chanel. It was also clear she had pretty much accessed all of Chanel's memories now and it had affected her.

Natasha's old speech patterns were gone. Whether she was inside Chanel or not she now spoke like a bitchy valley girl. Now when she called you 'babe' it was with a hint of mockery and her pretty lips always had a cruel bitchy sneer and her eyes a glint of malice. She held herself with a haughty arrogance and her body language had become like that of a spoiled ballet dancer.

"Just look at me. I'm so fucking PERFECT," purred Natasha as she admired herself in her stolen body. "Sorry 'babe' no time to give that tiny dick of yours a blowie. I have to meet the girls for some shopping. I have a new set of lingerie I'm desperate to try. See you later loooooser."

Despite Natasha's increasing distance, the dirty phonecalls continued and it had become the only source of your sex life. You'd listen to Chanel/Natasha moaning down the phone-line and telling you about fucking herself whilst touching yourself.

Recently though Natasha had told you that you weren't allowed to cum unless she said so. She also would cut off the phone unexpectedly, or sometimes not even ring at all leaving you blue-balled and desperate.

Then out of the blue she contacted you to tell you she had an idea how you could spend more time together.

"I've been telling all my hot friends about my cute sissy male friend... in other words you! If you go along with it and play the part, then I'm sure we can hang out more. All you gotta do is come over and act like a girly gay boy and the sorority will accept you. Maybe you'll even finally get to fuck me."

Natasha took you shopping and made you buy a load of new outfits. They were much tighter and more feminine than you were used to. Skin tight jeans, a crop top that showed off your body. You looked completely different. "There. Now you look more like a twink. We'll get your hair dyed blonde and styled, then get you into some of my panties and no one will believe you're straight."

You couldn't believe you were going along with it, but told yourself it would be worth it to spend more time with your hot girlfriend in her sexy new body.

She led you back to the sorority house and the girls swarmed you. You remembered what Natasha had told you, so you acted as camp as you possibly could. Strangely it came quite naturally, like you'd been putting on a masculine front for years and this was actually who you truly were.

To your surprise you began to have fun - gossiping, giggling, hanging out with the girls. You didn't even feel horny anymore.

Eventually Natasha showed you up to Chanel's amazing bedroom. It was quite a palace - as befitted the head of a sorority.

Lying on expensive silk sheets, she made you strip and try on her panties. You were a bit uncomfortable when she suddenly took some photos of you, but she promised they were just for fun and she'd delete them later.

Soon Natasha had images of you dressed in her bra, panties - wearing her makeup. It was like playing dress up it was fun.

You had hoped that she would now lock the door and offer to sleep with you at last - but to your disapointment she told you that she was tired and that the girls would get suspicious if you didn't come out soon.

Putting on your new outfit, you left the house feeling dejected - and yet strangely satisfied. It was like something was awaking inside you.

You wondered what tonight would bring...

***

After your dress up session, you hadn't been expecting more contact from Natasha, so it was a surprise when your phone rang that evening.

She sounded horny, there was a slutty catch in her voice and an excitement you couldn't quite place.

"Mmmmmh, heya 'babe'. So I'm lying here in some new expensive lingerie and I also picked up a new toy at the Mall. Wanna listen to me get off?"

Without waiting for your permission you heard the rustle of clothing and Natasha's breath catching. "Ohhhh wow, it's like nine inchs long or something. This really is a magnificent 'toy'."

You heard Natasha moan and soon there were sucking, slurping and popping sounds coming down the phone. It was unusual for her to simulate doing a blowjob, you imagined her lying on her back with a dildo in her mouth. She was doing a great job, it almost sounded like a real dick she was sucking.

Then you heard a grunt of pleasure. A male grunt. Did she... was she ACTUALLY sucking another guys cock? You angrily asked her causing her to giggle.

"Of course not babe, you must be hearing things. Mmmmhhh I'm here all on my own and I'm soooo fucking horny right now. Ohhh shit he's, mmmmh I mean I'm putting it inside me and it feels so good."

You heard the sounds of heavy breathing, then a soft wet slapping sound that grew harder and faster till it was soon the hot sound of hard male flesh slapping against soft female buttocks.

"Ooooh fuck YESSSS. You fuck me soooo good, I mean... my dildo fucks me so good. Ahhhhh ohhhh fuck, this feels amazing."

You were sure you could hear grunting and laughing as Natasha's moans of pleasure grew and the sounds of hot heavy fucking filled your ears.

It sounded like she was bent over on all fours now getting railed hard. Her breathing was heavy, you could hear the bed squeaking and shaking.

"Mmmmmh imagine if there really was a guy here fucking me. A big stong Alpha Jock with rippling muscles and a big dick?"

The slapping increased and Natasha let out a gutteral moan of pleasure.

"Making me cum in ways you never could. Ooohhhh fuck, what would you do about it then you fucking loser? You'd probably just jerk off to the thought anyway. You're so pathetic. Isn't he such a fucking cuck baby?"

Male laughter filled the line and the phone slipped out of your numb hands as the screams of ecstasy pumped out of your phone and you jerked off to the sound of your girlfriend getting pumped.

***

"Of course I didn't fuck a guy last night," laughed Natasha as you confronted her later. "It's all in your mind, you're just losing it. You pay me to pretend to be your girlfriend right so that's what I do. It's all make-believe."

You gawped at her in shocked amazement.

"Don't you remember loser? You wanted to pay me regular amounts to roleplay as your girlfriend and pretend she'd possessed me. I've got the monthly payments to prove it."

You shook your head in disbelief. No - this wasn't right. She WAS your girlfriend.

Chanel/Natasha laughed. "Oh come on. I knew you were mentally unstable, but seriously? You actually believe I'm your long distance girlfriend possessing this body? I mean - magic isn't possible loser. Fucking hell, I was worried you were losing your mind, but this is the final straw. Our little arrangement is over. I'm not pretending to be Natasha anymore and don't try to cause any trouble. I have photos of you dressed like a sissy loser I could release at any time, not to mention proof you've been paying me to pretend to be your girlfriend. It's over 'babe'."

Laughing Chanel walked away shaking her head.

***

Picking up the phone you desperately rang Natasha's cellphone. You were so confused. Was Natasha really possessing Chanel or had you invented the whole thing in your head.

No one answered so you called Natasaha's sister. She sounded upset on the phone.

That's when you found out that Natasha had been in a coma for nearly two weeks. Apparantly her family had come home one day to find her slumped over a table, totally unresponsive. It was like she wasn't there anymore - zero brain activity.

"We tried contacting you, but you didn't answer any of our calls or get back to us. What the hell is going on?"

You hung up - stunned.

Running over to the sorority house you banged on the door and demanded to be led to Chanel. You found her in her bedroom dressed in sexy lingerie and looking particularly bratty.

You accused her of abandoning her body, of becoming trapped inside Chanel. You begged her to leave Chanel and go back to her old body before it was too late. How long before her family decided to switch off the incubator and let her old body die. You begged and pleaded.

Chanel just looked at you coldly.

"Listen here you fucking loser. There are two possibilities you are describing. In one, I'm actually your stupid long-distance girlfriend who has become addicted to being a hot popular girl, absorbed all of her memories and replaced her. In this scenario I'm a body thief who loves what I have become and doesn't give a shit about you or anyone else.

In the second scenario, you're a crazy repressed sissy who has gone off the deep end at University due to the shock of his girlfriend falling into a coma. Full of unresolved guilt, you've created an elaborate fantasy pretending that I'm actually her - when in fact I'm Chanel Grey, popular girl and sorority president and that's who I have always been.

What I wanna know is - how in either of these scenarios you think it ends well for you? I know which scenario the police and everyone else will believe. I have photographic evidence that you're a pervert who wishes he was a girl. I have payments into my bank account for role-playing your girlfriend, and I can detail all the times I sucked your dick for money.

You have nothing. No evidence, no proof that any of this is true. You just sound like a fucking crack-pot.

Now why don't you get the fuck out of here before I call my new boyfriend over and get him to beat the shit out of you?"

What choice did you have? You turned and ran.

***

Chanel Grey watched the pathetic sissy loser she had just bullied turn and run with a thrill of sexual pleasure. She enjoyed being mean to people and indulging her cruel whims. Toying with this loser had been really fun.

Walking up to the mirror she examined her perfect reflection.

Who was she?

She was Chanel Grey. She was rich, spoiled and popular. She had a boyfriend with a big dick that was coming over to fuck her.

Nothing else mattered really.

THE END