#and then i fell in love with it and worked on it until i perfected every aspect of it and i played around with colours until i achieved a-

[munsonify]

ok ok ok listen… request: bob x reader ghostface au!, bob as ghostface, it’s basically a scream movie set in the thunderbolts tower, you can either have bob act like himself, sentry or void cause i think any could work (or all three 🤭🤭) 💞💞

a/n. HEARD LOUD AND CLEAR 😩😩. been a big fan of scream for years and im gonna try and give this idea some justice! can and will write more about this, especially if the people want it!

cw. past drug use/addiction, alludes to the void&sentry, the very start of ghostface!bob, making out, slight choking, a little detail of bob fantasizing (?) someone dying. wc. 799

———

there was always something a little…. off about bob.

maybe it was something he was born with, something that simmered below the surface, waiting for the perfect time to release. maybe something happened during his car accident, the head trauma knocking some screws loose. surely, his long drawn addiction didn’t help his case much. while meth had satiated a lot of his urges, feeding into his addiction and scratching the itches deep inside the back of his brain, there was always one he couldn’t quite reach. admittedly he’d tried to satiate it, to find a way to stop the noise. it was the only he couldn’t quite self-medicate.

since being in the newly rebuilt tower, bob had gotten a lot better. he’d been seeing a therapist twice a week, he’d picked up on a some healthy coping skills, and it was a lot easier to deal with his addiction. there were days where he craved it, where he wanted nothing more but to feed into the urges, to fall back into something he found even a sliver of comfort in for years. luckily, he had ways to handle it, to push it down and move forward.

the itch he could never reach stayed. bob didn’t have the good days and the bad days dealing with it like he had with his drug addiction, no. it was a constant nagging he couldn’t fix. he tried distracting himself with friends, busying himself with newfound hobbies, spending alone time with you - his partner, something he thought he’d never find -, anything that wasn’t drugs. it frustrated him. he wanted to stop it, to fix it, to make it all go quiet.

it wasn’t until a late night spent with you that bob finally pinpointed what that urge was. with your back pressed against the door of your room, he had you cornered. his body was slotted between your slightly parted legs, towering over you, lips connected with yours in a heated kiss. it was a wet, sloppy, all over the place kiss the two of you often fell into. most people would find it gross the way you were basically slobbering all over each other. not you guys, though. it fed into a primal need inside of you, something only bob would help with.

bobs hand found its way from your waist at some point and up towards your head. he was struggling a little to keep up, and while he loved making out with you like this, he needed something slightly steadier, and bit slower. that’s when he felt it, the rapid pulse point on your neck, thrumming hard against his fingers. his hand moved away only long enough to guide your face a little closer to his, deepening the kiss, feeling you slow down just enough for him.

his eyes squeezed shut a bit tighter now that his hand was trailing down to your neck again, fingertips brushing against your pulse. he played it off the best he could, cradling the side of your neck to feel the rapid thrumming of your heart rate. you seemed to like it, the feeling of his pressed right there, your own hand slipping to his. you guided it gently to wrap right around the front of your throat, closing down ever so slightly with pressure. he felt the way you swallowed thickly, the way your hips tilted into his.

bob even felt the way your pulse fluttered against his fingertips before it went back to its rapid rhythm. fuck. with a small gasp from the both of you, it finally clicked with him. that’s what he’s been chasing after all his life. he began wondering what it’d feel like against his hand to hold someone tighter, to feel that pulse flicker and flutter and eventually dissipate, rather than quicken again. he wondered what it’d feel like to look someone right in their eyes as he did it, too, hard and firm. he could do it, he knew he could, he certainly had the strength to. the only question would be if he had the guts to actually follow through with it.

he felt the way that itch in his brain began to buzz at his thoughts, the way it started to blend together with the darkness he had buried deep inside of him. his mind drifted to part of the outfit he’d thought of using for halloween this year, a black cloak that would cover all but his face. it all started to stumble into his mind in a quick, slightly horrifying ramble in his mind. bob decided to simply keep feeling you, to keep kissing you. he had to let himself enjoy this moment before he got too far along in his thoughts.

bob had a lot of thinking to do that night.

[athenalvss]

Could you write with Wally West being silly and madly in love with a girl Y/N, but every time he tries to confess, something happens (like that cliché scene where the boy is trying to confess in the middle of the hall and he ends up falling, something like this hehe)

WOULD YOU BE MY.... ( wally west! )

Summary: Wally is finally ready to face the girl he likes and tell her how he feels about her, but well, apparently fate doesn't want it that way.

pairing: Wally west x fem!reader

open request - wally west masterlist

Wally West paced the halls of Justice Tower, his heart beating faster than his feet. Every time he thought of you, the world became a little brighter, though also a little more chaotic. His mind kept going over and over in his head: Today is the day. Today I'm going to tell her how I feel.

He'd been rehearsing the speech in his head for days, searching for the perfect words to express what he thought without sounding like a complete mess. But, as always, when the time came, everything fell apart.

He stopped in front of the training room door. You were inside, adjusting the bandages on your wrists, ready for another training session after a mission, although you shouldn't have been doing so given the massive blow you'd taken. Maybe it wasn't the right time, but then again, it wasn't the right time for this kind of situation. Wally ruffled his hair a little, took a deep breath, and approached the door, determined this time would be different.

He'd been rehearsing the speech in his head for days, searching for the perfect words to let you know what he feels without sounding like a complete mess. But, as always, when the time came, everything fell apart.

This time everything would be okay. He'd tell you everything he felt for you, you'd say yes, he'd kiss you, and he'd hug you until you grew tired of him, everything would be okay this time, not like the other four times.

The first time, he'd tried it in the Tower cafeteria. He'd set out a tray of food and drinks, sat right next to you, and started a normal conversation, trying to find the right words to get it all out, but just as he started talking, Beast Boy excitedly entered the room to show off his newfound animal transformation, accidentally knocking a tray of milkshakes over Wally.

The second time, for some reason, he thought it would be a brilliant idea to say it in the middle of a mission, after you saved his life by pulling him out of the way of a giant laser beam. Nothing like a post-near-death love confession, right?

"For the love of god, are you okay, Walls?" you said, on the verge of worry.

"I'm more than fine! Because you... I... actually, there's something I want to tell you..."

And just as you were about to let him go, a ship exploded behind you, and he let out a high pitched scream like a five yeas old. Neither of you spoke of it again, but Wally knew you'd been laughing at him inside.

The third time he tried, he wrote a note, complete with little drawings and hearts; he'd even scented the paper. He discreetly left it in your locker, convinced it was his masterpiece. That was until the fire alarms went off and a large group of students ran down the hallway, sending the letter flying, leaving no chance for you to read it.

The fourth time you two were training together, he was really trying hard, really wanting to impress you, making spectacular dodges, rolling on the floor with a confident smile.

"I have to tell you something…"he began.

And right there, when you were trying to throw a punch, he slipped because he wasn't concentrating and fell backward, hitting his head on a dumbbell. Hours later, he woke up in the infirmary with a bandage on his forehead and a note from you that said: "Rest easy, silly Flash ❤️‍🩹"

He nervously shook his hands against his pants, as if that would take away his fear. This time, this time it was going to work.

He'd seen you from across the hall. You had a makeshift bandage on your forehead and a water bottle in your hand. Despite that, Wally thought you looked like the prettiest girl on the planet with that bandage and that bruise on your face.

There were no explosions. There were no drills. There were no treacherous weights. Just the two of you, and this time, he was going to tell you.

He approached with a clumsy but determined step, without running, even though everything in him told him to flee or at least make a joke to break the tension. But no. This time he was going to be direct. He was going to speak from the heart.

"Hey..." he said, with that smile of his that always appeared when he was around her, that smile accompanied by hearts in his eyes. He ran one of his hands behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. "Do you have a second?"

You looked up with a soft smile, tiredness still etched in your eyes. "Sure, Walls. What's up?"

He stopped in front of you, and for once in his life, he managed to hold your gaze. It felt like fireworks were going off in his chest, like his hands were getting wet with anxiety, he felt his words pile up in his throat, and for the first time, they didn't stumble over each other. He was more than ready.

"I've been wanting to tell you something for a while. Something that... well, that scares me a little, but I can't keep it to myself anymore because every time I see you I feel like-"

you blink slowly, once, two, three times.

"You okay, hon?" he asked, confused by the sudden lack of response.

And before he could say or do anything else, you stumbled forward, as if the world were slipping away from under you. Wally caught you in his arms just in time.

—¡Hey! Hey, hey! No, no, no, don't do this to me! —he said, holding you with a mixture of panic and desperation.

You were unconscious. Fainted.

The blow you'd received during the mission, the improvised bandage, the exhaustion. obviously something was going to happen

And he, again, with the words on the tip of his tongue...

Damn fate

[moonqz4now]

WHAT DO YOU WANT? :; Kwon Jiyong x Reader

GD&TOP WRITING EVENT

pairing : Kwon Jiyong x idol!fem!reader

genre : fluff

warnings / contents :

description : Two idols from YG entertainment, one a member of BIGBANG and the other, 2NE1. When years of playful flirting on and off stage, blur into the lines of real romance, the question ‘What do you want’ appears at the YG family concert.

this is my oneshot for the GD&TOP writing event i’m doing, which involves some of my favourite writers, they have all been so kind, and they are incredibly talented, please support them 🤍 so grateful to do this event alongside them all - to them writers who have joined and helped me, thank you so much my loves <3

The first time Y/N heard him say her name, he’d dragged it out like a secret he wasn’t sure he should be telling.

“Y/N-ah,” he’d teased, leaning against the studio doorframe like he had nowhere else to be. Her name fell from his lips so simplistically, like they had known each other for years and he said it everyday.

“That’s pretty” He would casually comment

She was nineteen then. Nervous. New. Still measuring her worth in how tightly she could hold a mic and how little she stumbled over dance steps. He, on the other hand, was already Kwon Jiyong. Already gold chains and platinum hair and lyrics that hit like poetry when no one was looking.

So she just blinked up at him from her spot on the practice room floor, towel draped around her neck, half-winded and unsure if he was serious.

“I like your voice,” he added plainly, and then walked away.

Years later, she still remembered that moment. How the air had felt too warm after he left, how her heart had thudded all the way down to her sneakers.

It had never been anything too obvious between them. Not really. Just a string of “joking” flirts that never quite untangled.

Like the time he’d draped his arm around her during the YG Family photoshoot in 2013, whispering something so dumb—“Smile bigger, you’ll thank me when you’re forty” that it made her laugh right as the camera flashed. She kept that photo tucked in the back of her phone case for years. It’s still there now. A little faded, only slightly ruined. But it was perfect.

Or the way he always seemed to end up on the couch next to her at afterparties, legs pressed just close enough to touch.

“You look tired,” he’d murmur, and she’d roll her eyes because of course she was tired.

But then he’d place a warm can of coffee in her hands without asking.

Times where the two groups would collab, and Jiyong purposefully put his and Y/M’s verses layering over the other, melodically, easily.

For example, when the two groups were working on a collab stage together and were in the dance room practising, light sweat clinging to the back of their necks, and everyone’s hair slightly flattened.

Jiyong would hand her a bottle of water during a break, with Daesung’s voice calling out throughout the room, in his spot sitting next to y/n, “Hyung! Why didn’t you get me water too?” the man would playfully speak.

“Because she needed it more”

Joking, over dramatic winks were passed between the two, with Chaelins gave contorting into a grimace and an ‘ew’ which only encouraged Jiyong to do more, pretending to pepper even more dramatic kisses across her face, his lips never actually touching her skin, until she backed away, pushing him off with a laugh.

Other times where they would be backstage and he would take her water, chug half of it before handing it back to her. Or where they would ‘jokingly’ flirt in front of their friends like it was normal.

Like it was completely innocent, no feeling behind it accept two close friends.

Years of it.

Years of off-stage teasing and quiet studio check-ins, of Jiyong pulling her in for impromptu dance moments during YG collab stages, always a beat too long, always with a wink he never gave to anyone else.

Lingered hands on her waist when they would hug, fingers too gently running through her hair when it needed fixing quickly before going back on stage.

Nothing ever happened. Not really.

He was always too much, and she was always too cautious.

Dancers blurred into fleeting images backstage at the YG family concert. Where all idols connected, collaborated, invented.

BIGBANG covered 2NE1’s songs iconically bad. Their teasing attempt at being a girl group such as the girls themselves, was laughable, and they pulled it off, as they always do, with shit eating grins, and vocals so hypnotising, even when they were trying to sound somewhat bad.

Of course, Jiyong pretended to be y/n. Covering her verses, Copying her now famous movements she would do at every concert. Like the slight head tilt when singing, and the way she would hold the microphone with her pinky out, subconsciously.

The cameras rolled around the group, occasionally drifting to where 2NE1 themselves were watching their friends dance and sing to some of their most cherished songs.

The lights dimmed and the boys, ever the performers, stood in all their glory, soaking up the way the girls were sidestage, mouths covered by their hands in an attempt to hide their laughter, eyes crinkled slightly. Of course the camera zoomed in on G-Dragon at the exact moment he blew a kiss to Y/N.

A seemingly innocent interaction. A mocking, a teasing, something they did all the time.

Only the people who really observed could see the way his eyes softened slightly in almost awe when y/n pretended to grimace in response to the action.

The real 2NE1 appeared shortly after, conquering the stage with a calm yet intense feeling passing through the entire audience. And he was there of course. Watching from a difference, his chain loose around his neck, one she had gotten him for a birthday a couple years back.

He watched her perform with a gentleness in his eyes that you can’t explain. Ignoring Taeyang’s comments throughout the girls set, before claiming he was just immersed in the music.

And then came the final dance. A collab with all the idols that were there that night. All of the labels biggest stars, together on a stage where they all pushed through the exhaustion, the years and years of non stop practising, working, creating.

But when it came to the final bow, BIGBANG and 2NE1 stood side by side, with Jiyong next to Y/N, who’s feet were milling from the heels her stylist made them all wear.

Her foot stumbled slightly, causing her to almost fall in a sheet of panic, and humiliation. But quickly, too quickly to even be considered human, his hand was around her waist, holding her up until she balanced again. It wasn’t noticeable to anyone else surrounding. His grip on her waist wasn’t a foreign sight to the media. But it felt different. When his hand didn’t leave until they all had to move off the stage, the girls heart pattered strongly in her chest.

But she would say it was just the adrenaline of the night.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in her ears as she stepped offstage after the last dance of the night, the heat of the spotlights still clinging to her skin. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and she blinked against the rush of confetti that still danced behind her eyes.

Backstage was utter chaos. Staff yelling into earpieces, stylists tugging at sleeves and wiping sweat, idols hugging, laughing, congratulating each other through adrenaline-drunk smiles. y/n offered a few tired high-fives, her hands still buzzing from the energy of the night.

She wanted to find her members. CL was probably already demanding champagne, but her legs carried her the opposite way, down a quieter hallway. Somewhere dimmer. Somewhere the noise couldn’t follow.

She reached the corner near the old makeup room, the one with the flickering lights and the slightly scratched mirror, and leaned against the wall, letting the silence settle around her like a second skin.

And then she heard it: the soft squeak of sneakers. A presence behind her.

“You always disappear after stages,” came his voice. Gentle. Knowing.

She didn’t turn around, but her lips curved just slightly. “I’m not disappearing. I’m recharging.”

Jiyong chuckled. “Still pretending you’re not exhausted even though you nearly tripped during the group bow?”

“I did not trip.”

“You stumbled. Like a newborn deer.” he teased, before adding “It’s a good thing my hand was there to catch you”

She laughed. quiet, breathless, real.

He came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers. Neither of them moved. The hallway buzzed faintly with fluorescent light. From the distance, the echo of fans chanting still lingered like a dream slowly fading.

For a moment, they said nothing.

Just stood there.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it ever. It was full of everything they’d never said. Years of glances that lasted too long. Inside jokes that stopped being jokes. Coffee cups left outside studio doors and text messages typed and deleted more times than she could count.

And then, softly, so softly she almost missed it, he asked:

“y/n..what do you want?”

Her breath caught.

She turned to look at him.

But he wasn’t smiling now. He wasn’t wearing that gummy smile of his that she barely pretended to hate. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held hers with a quiet intensity. No teasing. No smirk.

Just a question.

She swallowed.

Of all the things he could’ve said. You did well tonight. Let’s grab food. I missed this. This was the one she hadn’t prepared for.

Because it wasn’t about the concert.

It wasn’t about music. It wasn’t for the cameras, the fans, the label.

It was for her.

And suddenly, she was nineteen again, holding banana milk in an all too-bright practice room. She was twenty-one, her pinky tangled in his loosely, just before a stage. She was twenty-five, reading his note tucked into a CD case. She was every version of herself that had ever wanted him and been too scared to say so.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think I used to.”

“And now?”

She looked up at him—really looked. His eyes were softer now. Waiting. Willing to wait forever, if she needed him to.

“I think I want…” she paused, then exhaled. Her voice was smaller than she meant it to be. “You.”

He nodded slowly, like he’d known all along. Of course he had. Anyone could’ve guessed. But he was waiting for her to admit it.

Like he just needed to hear her say it.

And then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek, tracing the edge of a smile he didn’t realize he’d missed.

His touch felt different to any other instance they had found themselves tangled in over the years. Like the weight of the situation dawned on them two with a mixture of relief and fear.

“I’ve wanted you,” he said, “for a long time.”

With that, Jiyong leaned in slightly, his nose brushing gently against hers before she stopped him.

“Not here, there’s cameras everywhere”

His laugh was breathy, quiet, his eyes crinkling under the light of the room. And his forehead pressed against hers.

“When have I ever cared for that?”

Then his lips were against hers. His hand once treading carefully on her cheek, now using it to keep himself grounded, his other hand tangling itself in the girls hair.

This is where he belonged. All those years of half-assed denials, avoidance. And now. They couldn’t brush it off anymore. No more, ‘we’re just friends’ with a heavy heart. No more, ‘don’t be stupid, we don’t like each other like that’.

He was drowning in her, and he didn’t want to learn how to swim.

tag list : @raynamorono23 @szonyix6277 @mintymuse @millytugby 🤍

[boopiemadz]

popular reader x loser Travis going to the beach but like she’s insecure and he’s all like” but why your so pretty babe “ and stuff and kids on the beach and it’s all cute . (I’ve been reading wayyyyy to much angst) also I’m loving this series

!Populargirl X !LoserTravis

"You taste like cherry and sea-salt." (blurb)

(collection masterlist)

You’d half-suggested going to the beach while tangled together on his bed the night before.“If it doesn’t rain tomorrow,” you said, soft, cheek against his shoulder, “we should go to the beach. Like, the one with the little snack shack and no one from school.”

Travis hummed, running his fingers through your hair.

“Yeah?” he said. “I’ll bring snacks.”

“You better bring a Slurpee.”

“Red or blue?”

“Blue,” you said instinctively. “Always blue.”

You assumed he’d forget.

But the next day, he picked you up right on time. The car seats were sticky with the summer heat, you had saved a spot on the shore as he headed to the snack shack. A few minutes later you see him walking toward you, holding two oversized, half-melting Slurpees. One red, one blue.

You blink. “You remembered?”

He shrugs, passing you the blue one. “Felt like if I didn’t, I’d get dumped.”

You grin. “You’re not wrong.”

The beach is quiet. It’s the kind of place that’s always been too boring for tourists but perfect for people who like things a little bit slower. But to you, today, it feels like magic.

You wear the lilac bikini - the one with the small bows at your hips and the U-shaped top that always makes you feel almost confident, until the moment someone might actually see you in it. You haven’t taken your cover-up off yet, waiting for the right moment.

Travis lays the towel down, squinting toward the water.

“Wanna sit close to the waves?” he asks.

“I’ll burn.”

He glances at you, then down at your legs.

“You just put sunscreen on. You practically emptied the whole bottle.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes, but you don’t move or take off the shirt. Not yet. Your blue Slurpee cold in your hand, trying to hide how your heart is already racing.

About twenty minutes in, you’re still sipping slowly, eyes on the horizon, when a tiny voice interrupts the quiet.

“Excuse me!”

You both turn.

A little girl, maybe five, stands in the sand in front of you with a crooked ponytail and the tiniest pair of pink sunglasses you’ve ever seen. She’s holding a bucket upside down and pouting fiercely.

“My castle fell over.”

Travis blinks. “It did?”

She nods solemnly. “The tide ate it.”

He leans forward like it’s serious. “Well, that’s not very fair.”

“I worked on it for like ten minutes.”

“That’s at least twenty in beach minutes,” Travis says.

You watch, stunned, as he stands and kneels in the sand beside her.

“I’m Travis. This is…” he looks back at you. “My girlfriend.”

Your heart does something weird at that. Girlfriend. Said so simply.

The girl narrows her eyes. “I’m Ava.”

Travis gestures toward the ground. “Want help building a better one? I know how to make a moat.”

She giggles. “Okay!”

You sit back on your elbows and sip your Slurpee, watching them - your boy and some stranger’s little sister, laughing over wet sand and soggy seaweed crowns like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, low and real in your ribs: the kind of love that doesn’t demand attention. That just is.

Later, when Ava runs back to her mom with a bucket full of sea foam and a story about how Travis saved her fairy kingdom, he plops back down beside you, chest rising and falling, hands covered in sand.

“She offered to knight me,” he says.

You hand him the red Slurpee. “I think you earned it.”

He takes a long sip and leans back, grinning. “You gonna take that shirt off, or…?”

You stiffen.

His smile drops immediately. “No pressure. Just - it’s hot. And you keep tugging at the sleeves.”

You pause. Stare out at the water.

Then: “I just… I don’t know. I thought I’d feel okay in it. At home, I liked how it looked. But now I’m here and I feel like everyone’s staring.”

“They’re not,” he says, gentle and certain. “And even if they were, they’d be thinking who is that goddess and how did that loser pull her?”

You glance over at him.

“Goddess?”

He grins. “Sea goddess. Salty and beautiful and terrifying.”

You snort, but you tug the shirt off anyway, slow. You keep your eyes on the horizon.

When you finally look at him, he’s just… staring.

“What?”

He swallows. “Nothing. You just look like... beautiful, or well- gorgeous.”

Your face floods with heat. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

You’re lying on your backs on the too-small towel, your heads close, your Slurpees nearly empty. The sky’s gone pastel. There’s music faintly playing from someone’s radio down the beach, and your leg is pressed against his like a question.

“Your mouth’s blue,” he murmurs.

You look at him. His mouth? Cherry red.

You grin. “Yours is so red.”

“Want me to fix that?”

You raise a brow. “What, like you want to kiss it away?” You say sarcastically.

“Exactly.”

You roll toward him. “You’re ridiculous.”

And then you kiss him.

It’s slow and a little sticky, tasting like ice and sun and artificial fruit. His hand finds your hip. You smile into his mouth. When you pull back, he stares.

“Your mouth,” he whispers.

You sit up and grab your compact mirror. One glance confirms it-purple. An uneven, vivid mess of blue and red mixed together.

“Oh my god,” you groan. “We look insane.”

Travis is giggling. Like, actually giggling.

You shove him back into the sand.

He pulls you down with him.

You leave the beach pink-cheeked and windswept, sand in your shoes and hair tangled from the salt.

He drives with the windows down, your hand resting on his leg, your lips still stained purple.

And when he glances at you at a red light - grinning, warm, sunburned - you realize something kind of terrifying:

You’re already falling. But this? This is the part where you fall deeper.

And maybe- you don’t want to stop.

A/N-

This was the CUTEST req EVER!! ty anon for this 😘😘 If you have anymore reqests PLS send them my way, I feed off these fr.

[dollar-store-mothman]

Finally got a chance to rewatch never give Annabelle a gun, it's incredible and I'm losing it (ramblings under the cut !!)

-Firstly, i have to keep stopping myself from calling it annabelle get your gun cause I'm a loser ass theatre kid

-the lesbian colored effects are adorable

-characters with ever changing names my beloved (Joanie to butch to Josie and back to butch)

-mr Parker is such a supportive dad, he's so cute <3

-Mr Parker is correct, annabelle could never do any wrong

-butch is autistic to me

-the fucking squirrel and elephant captions kill me

-a sam bartender didnt slide the drinks, im honestly gobsmacked

-can't believe tom wasn't allowed to play his piany

-yknow, the first time I watched this my thoughts about Henry were along the lines of "don't fuck this up for us aj" but upon rewatching, he's really just unsettling all around

-passing that helium around like a joint

-love when sam says some bullshit and then looks around like "let me elaborate"

-tom announcing his arrival by gently pushing over a chair

-[surprisingly effective bank robbing tactics] perfect, no notes

-butch continues to be autistic to me

-im in love with the captioners through the whole bit where aj is singing and everyone else is miming

-speaking of aj singing, man's got some PIPES

-their synchronization with switching from talking to miming and back to the scene is insane

-SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD ANNABELLE

-"stop flirting with men" is real as hell

-shooting him in the dick works too

-Henry just gets creepier and creepier

-i really want to know how, what are presumably, cowboy boots just fell off

-i really do appreciate sam just saying the word lesbian without any hesitation, it heals me when people don't treat lesbian like a dirty word

-"give it time" EGG BUTCH REAL

-i, too, ask my crush to rob banks instead of telling her how I really feel-it truly is the lesbian struggle

-mr parker is such a supportive dad :(

-that sweep was so gentle

-I wanted the other guy too, I wanted to meet him

-sam about to call tom a freak but cutting himself off

-butch :(

-I want henry to explode

-GO BUTCH, ESCAPE, I HAVE FAITH IN YOU

-oh, he caught her

-I hate the helium pig. It upsets me.

-ARTHUR NO!!!

-I think every half of henry is a dickhead

-this whole scene is genuinely upsetting

-aj and Luke are both incredible actors and this whole bit is a testament to that, but when he got aggressive after she said no and forced to shoe on-I'm distressed

-I dont know if the audience was uncomfortable and didn't know what to do, but the laughter after "i don't like this" was chilling

-[thank you sam for your service 🫡] real

-GET THAT WOMAN A HORSE

-BLOW HIM UP BUTCH

-i do like that annabelle got the final shot on henry, it's very narratively satisfying

-[Foot-J]

-Butch refusing to believe annabelle would want her too until she actually says the words makes me ill

-CUT HIS ASS OFF 👏👏👏

-I do appreciate tom not letting it end on a fingering joke

God, I love this one. We got the happy lesbians, aj was an insane villain, and none of them hesitating to say lesbian made my heart happy. Also, butch means so much to me as a genderqueer lesbian <3

[lesbianwyllravengard]

No but Astarion wanting to be valued for more than sex and seen for something that's not just sex regardless of who romances him and Wyll wanting a chaste and genuine romance with sincere and committed courtship with no sex regardless of who romances him is insaneeeeee. I know everyone's talked about this before but everytime I stop to think about it I lose my mind. They couldn't be more narratively bound I'm clawing at the bars of my cage

[strawbebbiesart]

clean 🦆🛀🫧

(part 2)

[chelliebelle]

I DON'T SEE A RING ON YOUR FINGER | n. kento

꩜ SUMMARY . . having just finalized his divorce, a bitter kento tries to find the end to his sorrows in the bottom of a liquor bottle. but when a pretty young thing comes fluttering by his side, he decides there's no better time to get laid than now. ꩜ WORD COUNT . . 4.9k words of flith <333 ꩜ CONTAINS . . smut, divorcee!kento, reader is described as slutty, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and kento is in his late thirties), sexual frustration, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, rough sex, biting, spitting, they're kind of drunk, choking, bruising, pussy drunk!kento ꩜ AUTHOR'S NOTE . . kento's balls practically shriveled during his sexless marriage so best believe he's gonna enjoy himself!!

Nanami Kento had it all. 

A two-story house in the suburbs, a high-paying job, a beautiful wife—he had the perfect life. And damn did he hate every second of it. He hated waking up in that house to greet his nosy neighbors, hated driving to his soul sucking office job, and especially hated going home to his wife every night. She’d leave him leftovers in the fridge and kiss him goodnight before bed, and Kento would stay up every night wondering how to escape this limbo.

Tonight was the first time he felt free in years. Sitting at some shitty bar he can't remember the name of, he absentmindedly fiddled with his wedding band. Months ago, this little piece of metal meant everything. A loving marriage. A promise of a future. A sign of success. Now? It's just a worn-out ring that he can't throw out.

Kento sighed, setting it down on the table in favor of a glass of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat as he took a sip. He was never a drinker, but maybe it was something he repressed over the years. What else had he missed out on while trying to play Mr. Perfect?

Right, sex.

Kento was so obsessed with a picture perfect life that he even married someone he barely knew. She was pretty and nice enough—boring as fuck now that he thought about it—but that was enough for him to get down on one knee and take her down the aisle. What he didn't take into account was his own needs. All a man needed after a long day of work was some pussy, and he was no different. Mrs. Nanami was beautiful, sure, but one hell of a prude. If he was lucky, he got laid about once a month. Even then, she'd just lay stiff on the bed while he fucked her. If Kento didn't see the rise and fall of her chest, he'd assume he was sleeping with a corpse.

This meant that every night after his wife fell asleep, he'd go to his study to jack off to porn on his computer. It was enough for him to go to bed without a raging hard-on, but only having his hand to rub his cock raw all the time took a toll on him. Kento stopped initiating anything with Mrs. Nanami, opting to go straight online whenever he felt his dick twitch. For years, he lived like this.

Wake up, go to work, get home, say goodnight to wife, jack off.

Until a few months ago when his wife said she wanted a divorce. She must've been expecting him to start a fight, because her face fell when Kento nodded without a second thought. It was a long time coming. Sure, he believed he should've been the one to divorce her, but at least he was gonna be free. The days after she moved out was the happiest he had ever been. Waking up in an empty bed and coming home to an even colder bed filled him with a sense of contentment he thought he'd never feel again.

Cheers to being single, he thought to himself as he ordered another drink. As he waited, he couldn't help but sigh. The ink on his divorce papers hadn't even dried yet and he was already thinking of getting his dick wet. Kento hadn't had good pussy since he was twenty. The thought of cheating never even passed his mind during his marriage, opting the company of his own right hand over breaking the promise he made to his wife. Ex-wife.

He brought the rim of the glass to his lips, eager to drink himself to sleep, until the scraping of a barstool broke his concentration. "Drinking alone, handsome?"

The voice was soft and feminine, making him turn his head in curiosity. It came from a young girl, probably still in college but wearing a tight dress that looked like it came off a stripper. Kento wasn't a boomer by any means, but he still found himself disapproving how there was more skin than fabric on her body.

Kids these days.

Retrieving his gaze, he let out a quiet hmm before turning back to his drink. That didn't deter you, a girlish giggle leaving your lips as you leaned towards him.

"Seriously, there's no way you're here alone. Is this a set up? Where are the hidden cameras?"

College kids were so weird these days. With a scrunch between his brows, he shakes his head as he lets out a low rumble that makes your stomach twist. "Sorry to disappoint, kid. It's just me, no hidden cameras."

When he turns his head to face you, he's surprised at how close you were to him. Kento could smell the vodka shots off your breath. It reminded him of when he was as young as you were, getting drunk off cheap liquor. A soft pink dusted your cheeks, along with a tipsy smile that made his chest warm for some reason. You seemed to catch him staring, reaching out to rest your hand on his bicep.

"You look like...really put together. Like you do your taxes and sleep early or something."

The choked cough he lets out when you touch him makes the whiskey burn up his nose, hand coming up to cover half his face. Just a friendly gesture from a girl made him act like this? Get it together, Kento. Scoffing, he shrugged off your hand as he looked away. You pout as he does so and the sight fills him with regret immediately. Before he can apologize, you knock your head against his shoulder, nuzzling against him like a spoiled kitten. Guilt pools in the pit of Kento's stomach when his cock twitches in his slacks. Not now!

"Do you have a name, handsome mystery man?" you mumble against his shirt, the action making his loins burn. He seriously considers pushing you away but decides you're probably too drunk to function right now. After a few beats pass, he reluctantly grumbles a "Kento" in response. You're quiet save for a soft hum and Kento is left hating himself for getting hard at how clingy you're being.

Poor girl, you're clinging to someone who you think looks dependable in this shady ass bar. Or at least that's what he thinks until you grab his wrist and bring it up to your face. For a moment, he assumes you're trying to get a look at the Rolex around his wrist, the sleek gold glinting in the air. He has to repress a sigh—until he realizes your attention is actually on his hands. Kento's fingers are lengthy from years of typing at his desk everyday, the digits at least twice as thick as yours. Pretty veins run along his knuckles and up his forearms, disappearing under the fabric of his rolled sleeves. You can't help but sigh, eyes flickering up to his with admiration.

"Your hands are like, really...big."

He immediately pulls his hand away with a bewildered look, clicking his tongue as he adjusted the watch around his wrist, ignoring the whine you let out.

"What does that even mean?" he huffs, his fingers twitching at the traces of heat from your delicate hand grabbing his. You giggle at his reaction, slumping against him until your chest presses against his arm.

"I wonder what you can do with them, m'sure you'd know how to use them good."

Oh. Oh. When his gaze connects with your breasts that are almost spilling out the top of your dress and the sultry look in your eyes, only then does he realize that he's being hit on.

"Look, kid. I'm m—" he catches himself before he finishes his sentence. Fuck, was he going to say he was married? The wedding band in his other hand suddenly felt much heavier and he quickly shoves it in his pocket.

"...much older than you, I'm almost twice your age."

Another mellifluous giggle leaves your lips and Kento has to hold himself back from shutting you up so that blood stops rushing to his dick.

"I think you're flirting with me," you tease, rubbing your chest against his arm. If he focuses, he swears he can feel your hardened buds brushing against him through your dress. Not even wearing a bra, you're begging to be fucked. The thought of being the one to take you home tonight passes his mind but he shoves it away. You're drunk and almost half his age, it'd be wrong. All rational thought comes flying out the window when your hot breath fans against his ear.

"But, I also think you're really hot, Kento. So maybe we can..."

Your words fall on deaf ears as his eyes flutter shut and his head tilts back. Kento was never a religious man, but in this moment he prayed to the gods above for clarity. You were offering yourself up to him like a hog on a silver platter, tied up with an apple in your mouth for him to devour. He couldn't help but imagine your glassy eyes rolling into the back of your head, your sweet lips hanging open when he drives his cock deep into your tight and wet cunt—

Fuck it.

Will he ever get another chance to bring a pretty young thing like you home? The thought is what drives him as he grabs your wrist to drag you out the bar and into his car.

When you approached the hot stranger earlier, you sure didn't expect that it'd end with you moaning with his hand between your legs.

Drunk out of your mind, your gaze had fell onto the brooding man at the bar, eyeing his rippling muscles under his crisp blue shirt. Now that was a back you'd love to scratch up. It didn't take long for you to stumble on your too-high heels towards the blonde man. You were never this forward but something about him had you squeezing your thighs together. Maybe it was the silent classiness that screamed luxury, the heat in his eyes that burned every time his gaze lingered on you—or maybe it was how he practically flung you over his shoulder and ran all the red lights to take you home.

But never in a million years had you expected that man to be this nasty.

His lips tasted like heavy liquor, tongue sloppily tangling with yours as he slammed you against the door, one hand coming up to cup your jaw. You were used to bad french kisses from frat boys, all teeth and smelly breath, but the way Kento was devouring you made you lightheaded. 

"What a dirty mouth, wonder if you pussy's even wetter."

He pushed your legs apart with his foot and let his hand wander up your inner thigh. You gasp when he finds your mound, panties thoroughly soaked. The scoff that leaves his lips makes your cheeks flush. He cooes as he drag a thick digit along the clothed slit of your cunt, swallowing up your weak moans with his mouth.

"I don't even need to prep you," he chuckles, shaking his head as his thumb prods at your bud hidden beneath your folds.

"You have such a smart cunt, s' already drooling for me."

Kento pulls his hand from between your legs and grabs the back of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. Head still spinning from the alcohol, you lose your balance, but the death grip he has keeps you upright as he carries you to his bedroom.

It's scantily decorated and you note that the bed it a bit too big for someone living alone, but you forget all about it when your back hits the plush mattress.

His eyes are wide as if he's trying to commit the sight of you to memory, every exposed sliver of skin and plush flesh permanently burned into his mind. Before you know it, Kento's hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, squeezing your thighs, yanking your dress up like he's unwrapping the first real gift he's ever had. Your slutty dress is long forgotten on his bedroom floor, and fuck, he's hard. Painfully so.

How can't he be when your sweet body is all on display for him?

Kento can't find it in him to give a damn about some dress when all he can see are your perky tits, so soft and malleable. He doesn't spare a moment to admire the view, slapping your breasts till they jiggled deliciously. Before you can whine about how mean he's being, he attacks your tender chest, lips wrapping around the mounds of flesh. It catches you off-guard and you tug at his hair, but he only bites down around your nipple, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.

"Don't." 

His voice is a low growl you never heard before, and damn if it didn't make your clit throb with need. Right on cue, he pries your legs apart and gets on his knees between them, mouth never leaving your breast. The way his hips grind against you is vicious, as if he's been waiting years for this. Which, in a way, he has. Kento has spent too many nights in his cold bed, jerking off to the thought of someone warm beneath him. Now that he has it? Best believe he's not letting you go tonight.

Your heat seeps through the fabric of your underwear and he can tell that you're making a mess all over the front of his slacks, his bulge covered in your slick. Clicking his tongue, he pushes your knees against your chest to come face-to-face with your clothed core. His thumb tugs at the lace of your panties, lifting your hips to slide it over your ass and letting the flimsy fabric dangle on your ankle.

He intended to teach you a lesson, but his brain short-circuits when he sees your weeping cunt. Your chubby lips were glistening with slick from his teasing, that pretty clit hidden under your swollen folds. Kento hasn't had a taste of pussy in years, so he can't resist leaning forward to roll his tongue against your slit.

Immediately he's gone.

He laps at you like a man starved, locking his arms around your thighs to keep you spread open for him. Mrs. Nanami was never this wet for him and it had messed with his confidence for a while, but your sweetness was all it took to bring him back. His cock twitches at the sight of you writhing under him, the front of his slacks now completely stained with precum. Kento nearly forgot to breathe with how absorbed he was in your pussy.

“You're like a piece of candy,” he mouths against your sensitive cunt, pushing the tip of his tongue into your warm entrance. “So sweet, can eat you up all night.”

Your thighs tremble and clamp around his head, the action only pushing him closer against your waiting heat, nose bumping against your clit. Kento moaned as he flattened his warm tongue against you, making out with your cunt with more fervor than when he had kissed you. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Kento completely forgets about his aching hard-on, hips instinctively rutting against the mattress with every swipe of his tongue. Your lips were so puffy that he couldn't resist biting down, latching his lips onto your neglected bud and sucking hard.

You almost cry out at the sensation, reaching your hand down to pull at his hair as you thrash under him, feeling your thighs quiver. "S'too much! Gonna make me come—"

SMACK.

His palm had landed flat on your cunt.

"None of that. You wanted my attention, now take it." 

The mean rumble of his voice along with the harsh slap against your sensitive heat sent you over the edge, coming onto Kento's face as your back arched off the bed. He was more than eager, lips hanging open as he swallowed up every drop of your sweetness.

Like heaven on his tongue.

Your taste was addictive, making him groan with every bob of his Adam's apple. Kento slurps up all the wetness he can get, chin glistening with your essence once he pulls away. The sudden orgasm had you panting, only coming back to your senses when you heard the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor, lifting your head up at the exact moment Kento tugged his ruined boxers down.

His heavy cock slapped against his sweaty washboard abs, leaking onto his abdomen. You had seen enough subpar dicks in your life to know that he was big, the idea of it stretching you open making your pussy drool. Pretty veins ran along the base, leading up to his thick tip that was already dribbling pearls. It was an angry red, sensitive from rubbing against the fabric of his slacks. You could've sworn his cock twitched when his eyes locked with yours.

He reluctantly rolls on a condom, mumbling something under his breath as he strains against the pink rubber. Should just fuck this pussy raw. Luckily, he still had enough common sense to stop him from begging you to let him go in without protection. Kento grabs your thighs, hefty length dragging down your slit as he positioned himself between your legs. With his cock resting on your mound, you can tell he's gonna be so deep in your tummy that you'll feel him tomorrow.

“I'll make sure of it, pretty girl,” he chuckles, slapping his member against your puffy clit.

Did you actually say that out loud—?

Your cheeks puffed up at his words, an embarassed flush on your face at your little slip-up. He's so heavy between your legs that you wonder how he'll even fit. Kento's hand reaches to pull you flush against him by the ankle, propping your leg up his shoulder, groaning as his cock dragged between your lips.

"You're so wet," he muses, pumping himself lazily before he lined himself up your entrance. "Bet you're gonna take me like a good girl, hmm?"

You gasp when he pushes his flushed cockhead between your swollen folds, struggling past tight rings of muscle. So tight. Fuck, he should've known—you were just a little brat who thought she could handle him. He hisses as your walls clamp down around his tip, nails digging into your hips as he tries to catch his breath. 

"Loosen up, sweetheart. You're gonna snap off my dick."

Kento stayed like that, tip twitching inside your warm pussy, before he pushes forward once more. He's bigger than any cock you've taken before. Unprepared for the stretch, your brows knit together when he bullies his way into your cunt. He barely makes it a few inches in before your eyes start to water. Your insides were being stuffed to the brim. You take a deep breath, weakly shaking your head as your thighs tremble.

"K-Kento, please—" Please? 

You didn't even know what you were begging for, did you? How cute. With a sigh, he pulls out from the comfort of your pussy. You let out a sigh of relief, before a warm liquid hit your bare lips. With the viscosity dribbling between your folds, you realized that was Kento's spit. Your gaze flickered up towards him but he focused on other things—like the way your clit twitched when his saliva hit the neglected bud. Eyes dark and brows knitted, he reached down to thumb at your sensitive nub, a choked moan leaving your lips.

"Ease up, that's right," he praised, using the wetness to roll his hips forward. 

Your walls fluttered around him, your moans egging him on as he continued to feed you more of his monster cock. Kento never needed this amount of prep with Mrs. Nanami, considering she always seemed so...bored. He was even beginning to think he was bad at sex! But the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head told him all he needed to know. A low groan rumbled in his chest when he finally bottomed out, his tip kissing your cervix. After so long with only his hand as company, he worried he'd come the second he was inside you. The way you were squeezing his dick didn't help either. Kento swallowed hard, trying to take deep breaths as he let you adjust to his size.

"How are you so tight?" 

When his panting reached your ears, you let out a slurred mumble, eyes unfocused as you tried to look up. He leaned down, forehead resting against yours to regain his composure. Body covering yours, he only buried himself deeper all the way to the hilt. It was like your mind went blank.

"Ngh—you're just too big!" you managed to shout, eyes glassy from how he kept nudging against your womb.

That was all it took for Kento to lose his mind.

Locking an arm around your leg, he fucked into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his hips snapped forward. His pace was merciless, knocking the breath out of your lungs with every mean thrust. 

"Yeah? How deep am I?" he growled, his grip on your waist bruising.

 All the way in my tummy, you try to say, but you were too fucked out to answer. Just a few thrusts had you dumb on his cock, glossy lips hanging open weakly. The sight makes Kento chuckle, holding onto your thighs as his skin smacked against yours.

It had been years since he had been in a pussy this wet and eager for him. He was in love with your cunt. The slickness as he slid past your folds, the way your walls tried to milk him—but the cock drunk look in your eyes was the cherry on top. Kento turns his head to the side, pressing kisses onto your calf as he fucked you. 

Come back, pretty girl.

When he notices your lack of response, he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh, emphasized with a harsh thrust that made you scream. "Kento, slow down," you cry out, heat churning in your belly from the cruel pistoning of his hips.

He only chuckles, shaking his head before he sped up his pace. The shocked look in your eyes made him reach down to rub tight circles on your clit for relief. Loud squelches and the slapping of skin-on-skin filled the air, the room reeking of sweat and sex. Kento's eyes locked on the way your ass bounced back against his pelvis with every thrust, cock twitching as he thought of taking you from behind. He continued to jackhammer into you, strings of profanities leaving his lips. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. As you mumbled incoherently on the verge of tears, a hand wrapped around your throat.

"Shh. Your sweet pussy's talkin' to me," he tuts, squeezing your throat to shut you up. 

His hand completely engulfed your neck, rough palm pressed tightly against your pulse. Gasping for breath, you could feel your head spin from the lack of air. You rake your nails along his back, digging crescents into his skin to try and make him let go. Kento hissed at the sensation, cockhead slamming hard against your g-spot. It was too much—the delicious stretch of his cock, the way his tip kissed your gummy insides with every thrust, his hand around your throat—the knot in your stomach snapped. Even when you tried to push the heat down, your climax ripped through you like white lightning. 

Your back arched off the bed, cursing out Kento's name as your orgasm shook through your body. The man nearly collapsed on top of you, a sharp groan leaving his lips as your walls clamped down and milked his cock so suddenly. His grip on your throat loosens and you thrash under him. 

You might die from how good he's dicking you down. 

Rolling onto your stomach, you stumble as you get on your hands and knees to try and crawl off the bed. A pair of rough hands grab onto your waist, followed by heavy panting that makes your blood run cold.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Kento spits, dragging you back against him. 

He'd be damned if he let the first good pussy he's had in years get away. Even when you try to thrash and break free, your body is too weak from coming so hard! His palm lands a harsh smack against your ass, your arms collapsing under your body as you cried out. Kento pushed your head down into the pillows, propping you up by the back of your knees. Face down, ass up. The sight of you so vulnerable with your glistening pussy on display made him lick his lips, quickly positioning himself behind you. 

"Naughty girl, trying to run away from me," he tuts, swiping his tip up and down your creamy folds.

As punishment, he reached down to pinch your clit, earning a choked sob from you. He rolled the bud between his fingers, resting his free hand on the plush of your ass. Cock throbbing for release, he buried himself to the hilt in one thrust, setting up a mean pace immediately.

Yep, might die from this dick. 

Every slam of his hips against yours had you sobbing into the pillows, the fabric damp with your salty tears. Your body was still reeling from your multiple orgasms, cunt fluttering around him. Even if it was too much, Kento was fucking you so good your insides had molded to every ridge and vein of his cock. Your tits jiggled with every thrust and he wasted no time in grabbing your hefty breasts, playing with your soft nipples. He buried his head in the tender area where your neck and shoulders connected, groaning against you. 

Kento was getting close, you could tell from how frantically he rutted into you. His cock throbbed inside you, pulsing against your gummy walls. You couldn't resist the urge to push your ass back into him, making his dick hit even deeper inside you. You were half sure he was bulging through your tummy at this point. The action made him suck in shallow breaths through his teeth, keeping a death grip on your ass as he bulllied your cunt.

"Fuuuck, I'm gonna come," he groans into your shoulder.

His face scrunched up in pleasure, panting heavily into your skin as he buried his cock deeper and deeper. Seeing such a composed man this broken made your cheeks flush. Your walls were heavenly, every clench pushing him closer to the edge. 

Screw his hand. Coming from your pussy squeezing him was better that jacking off to any porno he could watch online. 

With a strangled moan, Kento shot thick spurts of cum into the condom, as if he hadn't finished in years. He collapsed on top of you, the orgasm rendering him unable to even hold himself up anymore. It was like losing his virginity all over again. You whine as the rubber began to fill up with his load, heavy in your pussy. After a few moments to catch your breath, you tried to push yourself off him, worried he'd spill into you.

"We should probably take that off—" 

Kento shut you up immediately, grabbing your waist to drag your hips back on top of him. Now straddling his lap, his still hard cock prodded new places you had never even touched before, a pathetic moan leaving your lips. His blonde hair was messy and dripping with sweat, eyes glazed over as his cheeks flushed. You felt him twitch inside you when he met your gaze, the same fucked-out look in both your eyes. He definitely wasn't done with you yet.

"It's only midnight, sweetheart."

You'd be lucky to come out of here alive.

You spent the rest of the night going several rounds, trying every position possible before collapsing from exhaustion. What's for sure—sex would never be the same ever again. How could you go back to one night stands with shitty frat bros when an older man just gave you the dicking down of your life? 

The next morning, you roll on your side to see Kento sitting at the edge of the bed. His bare back was wrecked, littered with vicious nail marks and lipstick stains. You chew on your bottom lip, pulling the duvet over your chest. 

"Are we gonna see each other again?" you croak, voice hoarse from last night.

The muscles in his back tensed at your words. Kento didn't want to see the hickeys and bruises on your skin, undeniable marks of the years of frustration he took out on you. He actually slept with a girl almost half his age right after getting divorced.

Talk about issues. 

Though his stomach churned with guilt, the memories of last night flashed through his mind. How eager you were for him, your sopping cunt, your sweet whines. He was even starting to imagine what it'd be like to sink into you raw.

He couldn't deny how addicted he was to your body. Doing this once was one thing, but agreeing to meet you again? Kento let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few moments, he spoke up.

"Let me check my schedule, pretty girl."

TAGS: @lucakaneshiroswife @susanhill @hana-patata @kenzieluvsnanami @luvingmyships @sutaagaaru @secretfoxmaker @savannaounana @ilyjupit3r @h4n1vs @supernatrualqueen @mayhaps-nerd @1ennj4 @jiwooahae @gojomaki @raenfall562 @l0v3rgirl-owo @levisjinchuriki @yourgirljasmine5 @nanamiscsleeve @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jjkmenluver @vmpireslut @namorafushiguro @cindyneko-strider @zeunys @t4matar @c0ckdrunkk @mortallyshadysoul @red-writes @fferairy @vipblinkagase1111 @evieloves @jdopeisdope @cherryreads-blog @itsinherited @sparklyhologramstarfish @hannahhmelv @umiwu @sugurusjaz @miguelsonlywife @lyraa06 @illumissei @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @celestialhvns @nanamisd0ll @blushedcheri @grr457 @yogichi @kaislashes @briefrebelfanalmond @fictionalytmenhavemyheart @kekeanna266 @airandyeah @hollowwolf22 @ssstingrayyyyyyyy

[eurrdyce]

i think i have thoughts !

[meowdei]

down the drain (literally) — ft. ryomen sukuna

female reader ; established relationship (engaged even!) ; modern bf sukuna ; slightly dramatic reader (she’s in shambles okay??) ; soft sukuna ; fluff

Sukuna is going to kill you.

For one, you’ve been in the bathroom for thirty minutes and he is clearly sick of it—the door handle rattling is proof enough. For another…well…your engagement ring is down the drain.

(Literally.)

You’re technically supposed to take it off when you wash your face just to be safe, but you get tired, and you forget here and there—mornings are always rough as it is. Sometimes, because you’re human, you forget. And it’s generally okay. Until it’s not.

Because your engagement ring is down the drain. (Literally.)

“God fuckin’ dammit woman,” he hisses, knocking on the door, “what are you doing in there? Open the damn door it’s been ages.”

“Just a second,” you call, panicking as you try to pull the drain plug out, but it doesn’t budge. Your fingers aren’t doing you any favors either—it feels like they’re the perfect size to not fit around anything to help you out here.

Your engagement ring is down the drain (literally) and there’s nothing to do but slowly bite your lip as tears collect at your lash line. So you open the door—and before Sukuna’s angry face can scold you any further, you’ve collapsed against his chest, soaking his bare chest with your tears.

“Wha—” he’s stunned. Stiff and standing there for a moment before he’s stuttering, “h-hey—I didn’t even yell at you that bad, what the fuck? Why’re you bein’ so—”

“I’m sorry, Kuna,” you sob, “please don’t be mad!”

“I’m mad but not that mad,” he says, bewildered. You sob harder at that, and his hands quickly find your hips and squeeze in panic at a poor attempt to reassure you. “Okay, okay! Not mad. Just…mildly annoyed. You’re…mildly annoying, better?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you wail.

“Okay! I got it! You’re havin’ a slow morning. Whatever, I waited. Can we just—”

“I didn’t think it’d slip off like that!”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“My ring,” you hiccup. He stills. You sniffle, pulling away and preparing yourself for his harsh, bitter anger as you whisper, “it fell down the drain.”

“What?” he looks at you, still confused. “What do you mean?”

“I w-was washing my face and then…and then—” you take a shuddering breath to try and work through your sobs before you continue, “it fell off and went down the drain! Now it’s in the sewers!”

“The sewers?”

“Yeah the pipes are gonna take it to the sewers!”

“I don’t think it’s in the sewers just yet—”

“And then the sewers will take it to the ocean and then I’ll never find it again!”

“The ocean is a long way from here—”

“I’m so, so, so sorry—”

“Oh my god, woman,” he grabs your cheeks, squeezing them together to shut you up as you stare up at him with wet, miserable, teary eyes. And he softens. Lets his shoulders fall a little as he sighs before rough thumbs are swiping at your cheeks less than gently, but more than in love. “’S just a ring.”

“It’s not just a ring,” you gasp, “it’s my engagement ring!”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, “but we’re still engaged—”

“But now no one will know!”

“Then I’ll buy you a damn new one,” he groans, rubbing his temples as he clicks his teeth when a fresh new round of tears soak your cheeks. (He doesn’t like how it looks—wobbly lips and puffy eyes on you make him feel like he’s doing something wrong. He has enough mistakes to worry about as is.)

“But it’s expensive and—”

“And not your problem,” he grumbles, “I’ll buy you a ring. A nicer one, too, if you promise to quit your whining.”

“You’re not mad?” you sniffle, slumping against his chest as your arms circle his waist.

He melts. Because it’s you, and he always does when it’s you. His arms wrap tightly around you, and a large hand cups the back of your head as he presses a small kiss to your temple.

“You want me to be mad that bad?”

“No,” you whimper.

“Then ‘m not,” he snorts, chest vibrating under your cheek at his laugh, “so quit worryin’. You’ll get creases and everyone’ll think I married some old hag.”

You crack a small grin. He’s good at that—at pulling a soft smile onto your lips against your will as you let out a quiet giggle, gently swatting at his back with your hand as you huff. For a second, the ring is forgotten. For a second, it’s just you, it’s just Sukuna, and it’s just nothing else.

“Not a hag, you asshole,” you huff.

“You nag like one,” he mumbles.

“Do not,” you huff, “you just always piss me off.”

“You piss me off, too.”

“Are you pissed off about the ring?” you ask quietly.

“No,” he grunts. His arms squeeze you tighter, his lips kiss your head once more, and his body sways you side to side ever so slightly as he repeats, more seriously this time, “no. Forget the ring. I’ll get you a new one if I have to, so don’t cry.”

“Okay,” you murmur. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he hums.

He does. Ring or not, he does. And you can tell he does when he pulls away, gently pinches your nose and leans in to kiss the tears off your face as you can’t help but smile and giggle.

Your ring is down the drain (literally) and so is the hefty sum of money he spent on it, but everything else is still right here. Him and you and you and him and everything you’re ever built, nestled perfectly safe between the little space between your bodies.

“Done cryin’?” he asks gently.

You nod, kissing his jaw as he hums in content. “Yeah.”

“Great. Then get out—it’s my turn in the bathroom and I’ve waited long enough.”

—————— BONUS.

“Hand me the wrench.”

“Okay,” you hum. You hand him a tool, and he stares at you unimpressed as soon as he looks at it.

“That’s a screwdriver.”

“Oh. Which one’s the wrench?”

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” he groans, rubbing his temples.

Fifteen minutes later, and a good deal of bickering over what a wrench looks like and how his tools don’t all look the same, Sukuna has successfully retrieved your very shiny, and very pretty engagement ring. (It didn’t make it very far down the pipes—which is good. It didn’t make it to the sewers, and it most certainly didn’t make its way into the ocean.)

It’s no longer down the drain. (Literally.)

It’s now on your finger. (Literally.)

“Happy?” he raises a brow, watching as you grin at your finger, clearly pleased.

“Yeah,” you hum, sighing in relief. “Good thing you’re at least good at something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently.

“I’m flushin’ that thing down the toilet next time! Sendin’ it straight into the ocean so you’ll never find it again!”

I’ll never forget when I was six years old and I dropped the small ring I got from a gumball machine down the drain when I was brushing my teeth and then I had such a severe meltdown my dad had to bust out his toolkit, open the damn bathroom sink pipes, and fish it out. Because six year old me could not FATHOM losing my 50 cent plastic ring no matter how many times he promised he’d buy me a new one 💀

Anyway. My dad and I were reminiscing about that on call and then I decided it would make a cute sukuna drabble so here you go.

Anyway peace ✌️

[be-xkyy]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓

Warning: sexual content, age gap (22-38), delusional behavior, non con, r4pe, dubcon, drugs used, breeding kink, somnophilia, lactation kink.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Masterlist

Yandere Dilf who divorced his wife and was given full custody of his infant son after she cheated on him.

Yandere Dilf who loves his son very much a sweet chubby three year old baby who is all giggles and smiles (he's really adorable).

Yandere Dilf who sadly can't take care of his son all day since he has to work so he decides to hire a babysitter.

Yandere Dilf who searches for babysitters online, rejecting one after another for the smallest reasons, he thinks about giving up until he finds your resume.

Yandere Dilf who thinks you're perfect not only are you pretty but according to your resume you know how to cook, clean and everything a good (wife) babysitter should know.

Yandere Dilf who can't help but notice what the last line of your resume says "I have a lot of experience taking care of babies since I have many nephews 😊" Do you have a big family? He does too! What a wonderful coincidence.

Yandere Dilf who has to hide his excitement when he meets you for the first time, he shows you around the house and explains everything you need to know about his child before you bring him over, he feels his chest warm up when you lovingly take the baby in your arms.

Yandere Dilf who feels happy when you quickly adapt to his and his child's routine, you two become close pretty quickly and his child adores you always laughs and gurgles when you hold him and sobs if you don't pay attention to him for too long.

Yandere Dilf who always comes home from work and is greeted with your delicious freshly made home cooked meal, it just solidifies the thought that you have feelings for him too (you're actually just trying to be nice after he tells you his sad story with his ex wife)

Yandere Dilf who one day tries to make a move on you, when you're cooking in the kitchen he hugs you from behind and you immediately tense up he pulls away a little and you look at him with confusion and discomfort which confuses him a lot.

Yandere Dilf who tries to kiss you and you dodge him backing away almost in panic, he apologizes when he realizes his mistake blaming it on the loneliness he feels from his divorce, you mumble an agreement before sneaking off to the baby's room.

Yandere Dilf who is in shock when you tell him the next day that this will be your last day as a babysitter since you will quit due to yesterday's incident, he feels a sharp pain in his chest, how can you do this to him? To his son? The little boy will suffer if you leave. Don't you know that the boy loves you deeply? You are his mother after all.

Yandere Dilf who pretends to accept your decision while apologizing again for yesterday's incident and offers to make you some tea as an apology he doesn't take no for an answer so you end up accepting grudgingly.

Yandere Dilf who while you stay in the living room he goes to the kitchen and prepares the cups of green tea adding a few sleeping pills in your cup which dissolves very well before returning to your side, he contains a smile as he watches you grab the cup of tea taking a long sip.

When you fell asleep on his couch he took you in his arms and carried you to his room but not before making sure that his son was still sleeping in his crib, then he goes back to his room and approaches his bed where you sleep peacefully, he leans over you kissing your face, your cheeks, your nose, your jaw... he leaves warm traces on your skin before he begins to take off your clothes, his skillful fingers undress you and throw the clothes to the floor with indifference, he sighs admiring your body his hands come closer and squeeze your tits pulling the nipples until they harden in his fingers.

"What beautiful tits fuck... they will look even more beautiful when they are full of milk to feed our children... but you will let daddy try a little of your nectar too, right honey?"

He murmurs as if you can hear him, before he leans in and takes a bud into his mouth, sucking and licking the flesh like a hungry man, he almost seems disappointed that nothing comes out of the bud, when he is satisfied with the attention he gave your nipple he pulls away with a “pop” the swollen mound glistening with saliva, he leaves wet kisses down your breast moving lower and lower until he reaches your wet clit.

"You’re so wet… I knew you wanted this too, I knew you wanted me too… your mouth lies but she is honest..."

His warm breath fans your pussy before he flicks his tongue out to taste your juices letting out a hum at the taste, he sucks on the sensitive nerve his tongue delves into your tight core, he pumps his tongue fucking you gently trying to loosen your walls a little, your juices wet his chin when he pulls away and he wipes them away with the back of his hand.

"I swear our next time will be much better darling, but right now I just want to make love to you"

He takes off his clothes throwing them on the floor next to the pile of your clothes, when he's naked he gets between your thighs placing your legs on his shoulders, pumping his thick shaft before guiding his bulbous head to your pussy rubbing up and down a few times before finally sliding in, he sighs as your rubbery walls clench and pulse around his cock.

"Ugh! This feels so good, I knew you were perfect for me... we belong together, I'll make you so happy..."

He moves rhythmically, his cock going in and out of your pussy with a squelching sound that fills the room, his balls slapping against your plush ass as his fat tip abuses your cervix, he presses himself tighter against you keeping your legs on his shoulders in a mating hold, his free hand pinching one of your bouncing tits.

As the pleasure builds inside of him his movements become harder and faster, his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again trying to reach the sweet pleasure so he can fill your womb with his seed, the thought of getting you pregnant with his baby and you all round and overflowing with the glow of motherhood makes him cum, he stays still nailed deep inside you as ropes of his warm cum fill the depths of your fertile womb, he caresses your legs.

"We still have plenty of time until you wake up honey so don’t worry daddy will make sure that by the time you open your eyes you will be a mommy and give our child a little brother or sister~"

[partiallysame]

I'm sorry if this is a weird request, I love your writing a lot and you bring me great comfort, and I've been binging ur stories after my ex cracked me in the face (enjoy jail Ryan)

how do you think poly 141 with a civilian s/o who comes home from work, not expecting them to be home from deployment, with a bloodied lip and black eye, a tear across her forehead that slowly oozes blood. Maybe her own knuckles are bruised and split from where she had fought off the two men who jumped her. Her pants were torn at the knees from where she grappled on the ground. Johnny's jean jacket he let her borrow was nowhere in sight left in dust as she ran for her life.

I love your writing again, I hope ur safe and please eat well and rest ❤️❤️ don't let anyone get away with putting their hands on you.

First and foremost fuck you Ryan rot in jail and hell bitch

The adrenaline had finally started to wear off as you pulled your car into the driveway, only to start to panic again when you realized your husband and your boys were home early. Like two weeks early. You sat in your car for a few moments trying to wipe the blood from your face, your hands, your knees, trying anything to look like what just happened didn’t actually happen. But the second your car pulled in they all made their way out, too excited to see their Missus to wait for her to come inside. Johnny was the first to reach the car, always so eager to see you. You sat still in your car. He tried to open the door but it was still locked. Crouching down to motion for you to open the door, maybe you were on the phone or something and that's why you hadn’t gotten out yet. But as he lowered himself to see you, only to be met with a nightmare sight. 

“Sweet’art open the door.” Voice serious in a way you had never heard before. His hand reached behind him to wave the rest of the men over, not wanting to yell for them and scare you more than you already seemed. You shook your head no. They weren’t supposed to see you like this. You were fine. You made it home, you were safe now, you were gonna fix up all your wounds and be healed before they got home. But here they were trying to coax you out of the car as tears streamed down your face. Fingers slowly pressing the unlock button, both the drivers and passenger side doors were swung open. Johnny reached over you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scooping you up out of the car. 

“Bring me my wife.” It was an order that MacTavish was not going to follow until you were pulled from his arms. “M’sorry’s” poured from your mouth between sobs as you clung to your husband and were brought into the house and set so gently on the kitchen counter, allowing the four men to get a full view of your beaten body. You sat, body shaking slightly from the adrenaline and pain that was starting to set in as they stared. Stared and the dark purple forming around your eye. Staring at the gash across your cheek and your split lip. Drops of blood on your torn shirt, jeans shredded at the knees, wet bloodied fabric stuck to the scrapes on your knees. They were all looking at you so differently. You thought your husband was going to cry, Johnny too. Kyle looked so broken. You had been working so hard for Simon to soften to open up to you and he was, but the look on his face scared you. 

Working in perfect unison the men started to undress you, removing your bloodied clothes. A first aid kit was set next to you as they each took a portion of you to care for. Apologizing when you’d wince at the pain of being cleaned up. Johnny was holding an ice pack up to your eye as Kyle took off his shirt for you to wear. None of them were willing to leave your side long enough to just grab new clothes from down the hall. Another “I’m sorry” fell from you and your husband felt like he was going to snap.

“My Love, please stop apologizing. It’s not yer fault honey. Can ya tell us what happened?” You nodded and recounted how two men had cornered you after work, wanting your purse. How they thought you weren’t handing it over fast enough. 

“But I’m a captain’s wife you know? Not just gonna take it lying down now am I? You should see the other guys.” You tried to joke and motioned to your split knuckles that Simon had so carefully wrapped up for you. 

“Where?” Simon’s voice came out harsh and the men snapped their heads toward him, a warning to calm down. (They’d find who did it later but rn the focus is on their Missus)

“I’m sorry Johnny.” You turned toward the large scot still holding the ice pack. He lowered it because he wanted you to see his face when he told you there was no reason to apologize.

“But I was wearing your jacket. You know the jean one you left for me. The one that smells like you. The one you look so handsome in. It came off and I left it there.” Your breathing picked up again, tears threatening to spill at losing his favorite jacket. You barely finished your confession when he was pulling you into his chest, strong arms feeling so warm and gentle around you.

“Don’ care about a fuckin’ jacket. You came home lovie. That's what I care about.”

[kismetlotts]

cw: abusive relationship (not physically), breaking up with Simon, reader is not a pussy, Simons ego is big, Johnny comes to the rescue, taking best friends ex-girlfriend trope?, if you cant treat her right I will, mentions of sexual content, hickeys, angry Simon, mentions of cheating, I wrote this while being half asleep

You were absolutely fucking seething in fury. Red, raw anger pulsing through every envious blood cell of your body because he promised you things were over with her. Swore on lives of everyone he's ever loved, spoke words of rotten lies that fed to the image of him he had made in your mind. A loving boyfriend-truly a fucking manipulative abuser and this time, Simon wasn't getting away.

No more hook-ups, no more late night selfies in another woman's bed just because the two of you fell out- he knew your insecurity and played it like a game of chess and yet somehow; no matter what moves you took, he always knew how to win. Not this time, you'd throw the board before the game is even finished.

Slamming open the dark, wooden doors as the soles of your loved-in trainers slapped each tile of marble. A fancy restaurant that Simon and his friends knew well- full of prestige and pretention. A place where snobby losers and rich cocksuckers can converse without regular, hard-working people being in the way. Perfect for your boyfriend- and soon to be ex.

His gaze flicked to the door, slowly as if he owned time and could use it how he pleased. Reaction not changing in the slightest when he finally saw you almost like he already knew you were the one entering his private dining room. John and Kyle looked over in confusion, John's fingers tracing the stubble on his freshly shaven chin as Kyle leant back in his chair. The both of them oblivious to the drama that was about to unfold and to the way Johnny's eyes struggled to leave yours. Catching his full attention with just an entrance.

"What the fuck 'you want now?" Simon grumbled, lips parted and looking anywhere but your face and you assumed he was embarrassed- not because of his actions, no, of course not. But because you were now seen associated with him. All the men in the room were in their best wear, harsh black suits of charcoal and a contrasting white shirt, the same shirt you ironed, folded and put away for him like a little maid.

And among it all you were stood at the front of the room, dressed in whatever crap you reached for in your wardrobe. Too full of emotion to care, overflowing with feelings to the point you didn't know what to do with yourself but Simon would never understand that. Emotions were a waste of his sweet sweet time.

"I want to let you know, I'm leaving." You spat out, head held high because why on earth would you ever be scared to stand up against him. How could you shy away after he had abused your love and took you for granted? Clenching your jaw tight while wetting your lips, balling your fists up to stop and hide the small tremble the adrenaline left.

The dirt of his pupils holding on yours a little longer than necessary, like he wanted you to say it again and crawl inside yourself- you would've, usually. You would've nodded along to his degradation before walking out silently, making sure to hold your breath until you're in a safe place to cry it out.

Repeating his harsh words when he would call you nothing then ask what you were, trying stop the quiver in your lips when he shouted for you to stop crying but now you weren't his bitch to tamper with. If you wanted to cry and scream you will- without his permission. You'd gauge his eyes out if the two of you were alone and you'd fucking enjoy it.

"Alright then, off you go?" The tone mocking and without even looking down at his chapped lips you could hear the fuckers silent smirk.

"I mean I'm leaving you. Dumping your ass? Breaking up with you because you're so self entitled you have to go fuck other women to hurt me and then fix me up to your standards? I'm done with you, Simon Riley. Officially over." Your shaky hands reached behind your neck as you unhooked the delicate necklace he had brought for you before throwing it with all your force. Hearing the metal clink and sink into his plate of food before turning and heading for the door.

God, it felt good to be free.

The doors shutting behind you with a thud and the same thud sounded in Simons heart. No woman- no fucking whore like you breaks up with a guy like him.

A huff of a laugh left his lips as he reached for the small packet of cigarettes on the table, digging a hand into his suit trousers for a lighter and feeling a soft sheet of sweat coat his back as he moved.

He wasn't scared, or embarrassed- you were on one of your pathetic tantrums again and by the time he gets home you'll have the bed made, food ready and your gaping mouth open and gagging for his big cock. You loved him- sure he tolerated you a little more than the other girls, but you really had a thing for him and it made him feel great. Made him feel powerful that someone needed- relied and only wanted him.

Popping one end of the cigarette in his mouth as Johnny's chair squeaked against the floor. Excusing himself as he cleared his throat and straightened his tie. Simon huffed out a laugh.

"Don't bother, she's fine- used to it." But for some reason, Johnny didn't stop walking.

In fact, his gentle stroll to the exit you had previously left from had a developed a little skip in it. Like a little happy child, knowing something good was about to come to him- come for him.

"Oh, I know." The Scotsman voice flooded with an edge of determination. A hint of challenge- humour, whatever it fucking was Simon's gut churned at the sound.

Johnny wouldn't try anything with you- he wouldn't go up against Simon because he knows his worth. Simon is just so much fucking better, he wouldn't fucking dare. Even if he tried, you wouldn't allow it anyway, you always came crying back to him. There was nothing for him to be worried about.

"Then where are you going?" His thumb traced the ridges indented in the lighter before pulling it down and harshly burning the end of his smoke.

Johnny's hands hit one side of the door as he pushed it open, looking over his shoulder with raised eyebrows because- mate, wasn't it obvious?

"To show her how a real man fucks, what other reason could it be, Simon?" The door banged shut behind him. Simon looked over at John who let out a laugh before looking over at Kyle who breathed in heavily before looking at Simon. The three of them were all lost but only one of them was delusional enough to not take it seriously.

Only Simon.

Opening the door to your apartment once the three of the finished up and paid. Seeing the pretty lamp on beside your couch and your figure sat there snuggled up. Nose deep into your book as you breathed softly, reading in the warm lighting. He barley looked at you when he first let himself in because he knew you would be like this.

All forgiving and back to being his precious baby again. Neglectfully dumping his blazer and tie on the countertop, barley folding them up as he ran a hand through his head, noting the silence. A groan left his lips- you were still pissed at him but a little sweet talk from him would do the job.

"Baby, I'm sorry- it was a one-time thing.." He mumbled softly, the lying in his voice so sickeningly obvious even Simon could wince. His large frame approaching you as he leant down closer to your innocent face.

Hair wet and freshly washed from your shower, all comfortable in your favourite pyjamas. His ears perked up at the soft sound of music coming from you and he figured you had your earbuds in. Fingers reaching out to move the hair behind your ear but his eyes locked onto the purple bite marks scattering your neck and trailing down further. His heart fucking dropped. No, you were his.

You turned your head to face him, brows furrowed as you swallowed down the angry words at the tip of your tongue you so desperately wanted to shout out and you bit the inside of your cheek to muffle the hysterical laughter that threatened to surface. His face dumbfounded, shocked and vulnerable. A side of Simon you had never seen before and a side he clearly hadn't either.

His eyes blinking rapidly like he couldn't believe what was right in front of him- like he had lost control of the one thing he had in his grasp. Damaging the artists brushes, breaking the record player not the vinyl- it hurt him because it made him feel weak, you took back what he operated on and you fucked his best friend. His throat ran dry and he opened his mouth to speak when a hand gripped his shoulder firmly with warning. Warning for him to watch his fucking mouth.

And when he turned and looked, there was Johnny MacTavish. Stood equally as wet as you with nothing but a flimsy towel on his waist and a face of pure, smug victory.

"Don't worry, I've got this one from now on, LT."

[boyfhee]

박성훈 、COMPATIBILITY TESTS

there is a fault in your names.

featuring ⋆ rich boy ! sunghoon x fem reader

genre ⋆ fluff, skinship

note ⋆ brought the HOON back. not the best work in the series but hope you enjoy it nonetheless ><ㅤ SERIES

“sixty-three,” your boyfriend looks at the phone screen condensingly, his lips jutting out in a pout as quickly as his brows furrow at the number. “try it with just hoon and your name,”

“sunghoon, it’s—” you try to reason with him for the seventh time this morning but it’s of no use. you barely even get to finish your sentences because of his stubbornness.

“no! no. i’m not letting this go until we get that hundred percent,” he’s almost whining now, half frowning and half pouting.

he’s stubborn, he’s adamant. you figure there isn’t much to argue about when you are head to head with sunghoon.

“it’s just a compatibility test,” you refresh the page, shaking your head as if to surrender.

he clicks his tongue. “and we are very compatible,”

sunghoon fell for you because you were a little mean to him over a project. your words were laced with exhaustion and a drive to achieve perfection. as for him, he had already found it in you.

you can smack his butt in front of the council and he would probably gaze at you longingly. he lets you play with his hair even if it means he has to redo it. you can document your entire day in his phone and post his silly pictures on your account and he would not bat an eye.

your parents don’t get along but he still asked you for a dance in the charity gala hosted by his family, and you had gladly given your hand to him even though it was half out of spite.

sunghoon truly thinks there is no one as compatible as the two of you, and would take it up with the heavens if he had to.

you enter your names on the website again, making sure to add just ‘hoon’ instead of his full name— he is sitting wide eyed and anxious as if this decides this entire life ahead.

well, for sunghoon, it probably does.

“sixty-seven percent,” you add with an exasperated sigh, giving him a look that clearly spells ‘let’s stop.’

“are you sure you’re spelling our names correctly?” you scowl at his words but his expression is nothing like he is giving up. sunghoon would fight for you, even if it’s really not that serious at this moment. “let me try,”

and your boyfriend thinks something will change if he keeps trying. it has to— the two of you are a match made in heaven.

cruising amidst family rivalry and the good for nothing guys that try to get your attention, sunghoon’s love has found its way to your heart. he feels like a warrior, the luckiest person alive to be the one you had given your heart.

he is the happiest person alive to see his name next to yours. although right now, it’s everything that is stressing him out.

your head rests on his shoulder as he types your names with proper care before pressing ‘calculate’ and you click your tongue when you notice a small blunder. “it’s sunghoon and not seunghoon. you’re spelling your own name incorrectly,”

there’s a quiet pause while he goes over the letters, and then his eyes zoom in on the number.

his brows burrow and his heart skips a beat, not sure if it’s in dread or delight.

“yeah, but why is it ninety-eight percent compatible?” his eyelids squint at the screen, contemplating the biggest decision of his life. “should i change my name?”

and you slap his arm playfully while a huff falls off your lips. “don’t be silly,”

“i mean, it’s not—”

and with the slide of the door across the frame, his words are cut short. sunghoon watches the new student that walks right behind the teacher.

he listens, sees, jaw dropped and eyes blown open.

choi seunghoon, as the guy introduces himself.

sunghoon’s entire world shifts a little to the left.

this has to be a joke, your boyfriend tells himself. why would you be more compatible with the guy who is literally just sunghoon’s name spelt wrong?

hell, he is not changing his name. sunghoon despises the idea of you being ninety-eight percent compatible with every other seunghoon that exists.

he wants you all to himself.

sunghoon shifts a little closer to you, a bit quiet, a tad bit more irrational— he takes the phone from you and kisses your hand. “we need to change your name, baby,”

[eraserbread]

Pleaseeeee, I'm begging you.... I need to know how Nanami react when his wife finally tell him she's pregnant and his not crazy this whole time.

click 4 context :)

nanami swears he's never seen you eat deep-fried... anything. it wasn't that you weren't keen; it just never fell into your lap. whenever you two ate outside of home, you found yourself walking hand-in-hand through the doors of your favorite hole-in-the-wall ramen shop.

but, tonight, you begged him. nearly cried with a jutted lip for something you never had, but doom-scrolled past on social media.

now you're sitting in front of him, back straight as an arrow as you uncharacteristically shovel steaming-hot slices of gyukatsu between your glossed lips.

he watches you hardly, flicking his eyes every few moments to catch the way your lips shake, or how you do that stupid little happy dance when you get the perfect bite. he's tending to his curried rice, eating slowly—your exact opposite. he smiles to himself, letting the table remain quiet with your content hums until you bite your tongue and whine out.

"slow down, my love." he speaks after swallowing his bite, leaning back. he can see the slight flush heading across your familiar neck as you react to his buttery voice.

"i'm so sorry. how impolite of me."

"well, i don't care much. just don't want you to burn or... bite yourself further." he nodding towards the sizzling hot stone just in your reach—a dangerous pairing with your eagerness.

flushed under fluttering gold lighting, kento swears you're beaming just a bit stronger. there's a tint to your cheeks that isn't usually there, a gleam that didn't exist until a month ago. he furrows his eyebrows.

"don't stare!"

"thank you for indulging me tonight." you smile as he bends at the knee to remove your shoes at your doorway. you're leaning a hand on the frame, body and mind full of wagyu and kento. "I know you've had a long day at work."

"long day or not, when you tell me you want something..." he pauses, grunting as he stands. "I listen. always. well, most likely."

you giggle, reaching up to hold the back of his neck. the small buzz of his undercut feels fuzzy and familiar—like home. "you're a good husband."

you don't notice, but kento does. the small lisp you give him in speech—he knows it's from your bruised tongue—he hums. "does it hurt a lot? your poor tongue?"

shaking your head, you're smiling. "no... yes... a little bit."

"may I see?" he's so close to you that his words bounce off of your lips like smog—so salty and warm. you nod immediately, always letting him in. "open up."

you're giggling again. "yes, sir." then you keep them parted, dropping your jaw so he can see inside of your warm mouth. you can hear his breathing in the closeness, the drag of his voice against his vocal cords as he inspects.

it's when he presses his finger against the side of your tongue, does it hit you. a debilitating, familiar wave of dizziness. then, you're weak and dipping, knees falling.

right before kento catches you with a single-arm hold on your back, he doesn't make a sound, but the look on his face is terrified. "nanami? are you okay? can you stand?"

it takes you a moment to focus, but his words make it easier. you shake your head, gently. "must've been the exertion."

"why don't you go sit? i'll bring you something, would you like tea?"

"i would love it. thank you."

so, he trusts your balance, but he lets you go like he's nervous. it's only to walk to the couch, but it seems as if you just can't catch your footing. then, you stall and lean to the side—he rushes you, sweeping you up in a cradle.

"no. straight to bed."

"i'm sorry." you whine, burying your head in the pillow when he places you on the mattress.

"i'm calling the doctor now. i've never seen you like this." he's keeping his promise in his perfect timing, scrolling through his contact list with a shaking head. you're staring up at him in horror, heart hammering in your chest, because you don't need a doctor. you know what's wrong.

"n-no, please don't... it's so late."

"doctors take call just like i do." then, he finds it, and just before his thumb presses that shiny green 'call now' button, you're stuffing your face into the pillow, letting it muffle your breathing.

"i'm pregnant." you whine into the fluff, hands twisted tight in the material. you hope he can't hear you, but it's far too late to take it back.

"hm?" kento heard you. crystal fucking clear. but, he's doing that unsure little eyebrow cock, thumb shaking as it hovers over his phone. "what?" he repeats.

"p-pregnant... i'm pregnant." it feels like lava pouring from your soul, so white-hot and shameful, because you've been hiding it for well over two months.

he scoffs, putting his phone down and burying his forehead in his big hand. there's a smirk there—very slight. you don't see it. "ah, well... yes, I suppose that explains it... all."

"please don't be mad at me, it's your fault."

"mine? how?"

"if you just..." you're still talking into the pillow, letting it do the heavy lifting. "you're always on top of me; it's like I can't keep you away."

kento laughs again, it's the most joyless sound that sparks so much within you. he nods, then sits down right next to you, smoothing a hand over the swell of your hips. "if it were possible to choose, i'd like to die on top of you—or inside of you."

"not funny." you're on the verge of tears, feeling the hormonal angst hit you like a ton of bricks.

kento clicks his teeth, then pushes your shoulder to get your flushed face free. "I wasn't trying to be... look, I am not mad-the direct opposite, actually." he's whispering, tracing that hand over your face. you're so warm, so free, now. "I am so happy. relieved that it wasn't something else, too."

"but i'm so scared."

"that's okay. so am i... both happy and scared and relieved; in love with you, your ways, and your spirit." that hand trails back down your side, then it rests right over your lower stomach, thumb rubbing across the covered skin. "and this little one we created together." when he presses, he can feel the firmness that wasn't usually there. "I don't think we will be very good at first, but i'd like it very much if we taught each other how to be the gentlest parents possible."

now, you're crying. it's falling in waves and buckets, snotting up your pillow and eliciting embarrassing sounds from your throat. you're kicking your feet, so built up and unsure where to expel it. "whyyyy," you sob, reaching to twist your smaller fist in his shirt. "why would you say that to me? I'm gonna explode—it's so-

"what are you talking about?" he cuts you off, cradling your clenched fist to his chest. he really just wants to wipe those tears away and make love, but he's kind of... afraid. you'll probably bite him just like your tongue.

"when you talk to me like that... it's so... i can feel it."

"hm... do you think our baby can feel it? i wonder if she can hear us."

"she? i feel like it's a boy."

"no." he whispers, shaking his head, and so sweetly purrs, "definitely a girl."

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 333

Adjective: Mystical

Noun: Ripple

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Mystical: relating to mystics or religious mysticism; spiritually allegorical or symbolic, or transcending human understanding; relating to ancient religious mysteries or other occult or esoteric rites; of hidden or esoteric meaning; inspiring a sense of spiritual mystery, awe, and fascination; concerned with the soul or the spirit, rather than with material things

Ripple: a small wave or series of waves on the surface of water, especially as caused by an object dropping into it or a slight breeze; a thing resembling a ripple or ripples in appearance or movement; a gentle rising and falling sound, especially of laughter or conversation, that spreads through a group of people; a particular feeling or effect that spreads through someone or something; (physics) a wave on a fluid surface, the restoring force for which is provided by surface tension rather than gravity, and which consequently has; small periodic, usually undesirable, variations in electrical voltage superposed on a direct voltage or on an alternating voltage of lower frequency a wavelength shorter than that corresponding to the minimum speed of propagation