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the-90s-music-colosseum · 5 months

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Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #lauryn hill #fugees #damon albarn #blur #90s music #tournament

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blackhairedjjun · 2 months

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thoughts on food truck chef!yeonjun x office worker!reader

meet cute, gn!reader, warnings for food and overwork

unfortunately one day, you forget to bring the lunch you packed to work. fortunately, a new food truck selling burgers and fries has decided to park a few blocks away from your office building.

at first you don't think much of it: you stand in line with a few other employees in front of you, then a gruff middle-aged man takes your order, then you wait for a few minutes for your burger to be grilled. when your name is called, however, your order is served not by the same gruff man but by a handsome young man about your age. he smiles at you when he hands over the wrapped burger and you suddenly feel dizzy from the way he looks at you.

it soon becomes routine for you to visit the food truck during your lunch break at least once a week - maybe you order a burger because you "forgot" your lunch at home, or maybe you just order some fries or a drink to go with the food you already have. the cute cook always smiles and chats with the customers, including you; he asks about your day, if you enjoyed your last order with him, how you spent your last weekend. even if you've ordered nothing more than a soda, he still takes the time to talk to you.

and when you ask him how his weekend was and how his day's been going, he breaks out into shy laughter, his ears turning pink.

you learn that his name is yeonjun, that he lives in the same apartment building as his four closest friends, and that he likes to take photos or do dance covers when he isn't busy with his job at the food truck. he starts peppering his conversations with little flirtations, each one making your heart flutter, but you tell yourself that it's nothing. he likes being cheeky with all his customers.

one night you find yourself going home late after an incredibly long overtime shift. you have a client who wants a rush project, and that means more hours at your desk; the first step outside your office building feels like entering paradise. you don't expect anyone else to be out as late as you, yet when you pass by the food truck you find yeonjun all by himself locking it shut.

he overslept and arrived past the lunch rush hour, he explains, and to make up for it his boss made him clean up by himself.

he's headed to the same train station as you and is even taking the same line, just with a different stop, so the two of you head home together. he tells you that he overslept because he stayed up editing a video of his dance covers, a little passion project of his. you rant to him about your new client and he frowns, worrying that you're working yourself to the bone. "you're too precious to be stressing out over a client who doesn't really care," he says.

you turn away from him so that he doesn't see you blush.

on the train home he shows you a draft of his dance cover video on his phone. you've never seen this side of yeonjun before: he is completely in his element, moving perfectly with the music, expressing just how he feels with his body. you gasp and shower him with compliments, and all he can do is let out nervous giggles and mumble shy "thank you"s. you love this side of him and you wish that you could see it more.

his stop is before yours, and before he gets off he looks at you then opens his mouth. nothing comes out. he closes his mouth then opens it again, then croaks out: "can i... have your number?"

you heartbeat is ringing in your ears as you exchange phones and type in your contact details, but you're smiling so much that you can feel your cheeks ache. "text me when you get home," you say, your voice just as shaky.

"i will," he says just as train pulls in at his stop. "you too, okay?"

"okay. take care, yeonjun."

"good night."

he takes one last look at you before he exits the train, his ears still red. you watch his figure as he goes, then press your hands to your cheeks as if to stop yourself from blushing so much.

let this be only the beginning, your heart tells you.

omg i don't know what came over me... the clips of burger cook!yeonjun from the concept trailer took over my mind he looked soooo good lksdjfklsjf i just had to write sth about it so i wrote all of this in one go. maybe if i have the energy i'll turn this into a proper fic...? idk

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt drabbles #yeonjun drabbles #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun soft thoughts #yeonjun soft hours #bhj originals

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moonstruckme · 8 months

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can i request some poly!marauders where reader tells them they love them for the first time… but like sooo passionate and sappy, maybe some tears of relief.. ugh i love your writing sm 😭😭

Of course you can sweetheart, sorry it took me a bit to get to it!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Lately it’s like you can hardly stop yourself. You’ll get off the phone with James, or Remus will let you run your fingers over his scars, or Sirius will braid your hair for you, and you’ll want to say Ugh, I love you.

In some ways, you feel a bit silly for agonizing over it. You know the boys have been saying it to each other for years, platonically before romantically, so sometimes it feels like you’re a bit behind the curve. Sirius flings it about like he has love in endless supply (and from what you can tell, he does). Evans, you know I love you, but that hat is a crime and You have a great personality, Prongs, but I love those big shoulders most of all and Is that drink for me, Marls? I knew I loved you for a reason. And it’s such a small thing, objectively, just three words in their natural order, but it also feels like sort of a big deal.

You do love them. So much it sometimes feels like your heart swells until it crowds out your lungs and steals your breath, but telling them is no simple matter. Do you tell them together? That feels like making a big deal out of things, like calling a family meeting or something. But if you tell them separately, you’d have to pick an order, and that could only go poorly, too. You don’t want it to be an announcement, though you don’t just want to blurt it out like it’s nothing, either. Maybe it is to some people, maybe even to them (although you don’t think so), but it’s not to you. You’ve never loved anyone like this before, let alone three people. The severity of it had hit you like a truck, all at once, vaulting you into love faster than you could catch your breath.

It's a new feeling to you, this romantic sort of love, but you have enough acumen to recognize magic when you feel it. No matter how much you hate being at the center of attention, you aren't going to trivialize that.

The confession tempts your tongue now, sitting on the bathroom counter with Sirius between your legs and James sitting on the floor beside him.

“I just think you would look cute with a couple little braids.” Sirius’ breath fans your face as he speaks, one hand on your cheek to keep you still as he does your eyeliner.

“I don’t want to look cute,” James argues. “And everyone else thinks my hair looks great as it is, thank you.”

“Cute isn’t the right word. Rakish. Kind of like a pirate.”

“You can’t change the terminology to fool me. I look rakish every day, don’t I Moony?”

“You do.” Remus comes to lean in the open doorway, pulling on his socks. “Though I do think a braid would be fun to try, sometime.”

Sirius takes only a moment to relish in this small triumph before he's frowning. “You are not wearing that to the party.”

Remus looks down at his faded green sweater. “It looks like I am. I don’t intend to shiver during the walk there.”

Sirius scoffs, and James, spotting a pot to stir, says, “I like you in that sweater, actually.”

Remus knows exactly what his boyfriend is doing, but he smirks anyway. “Thank you, Prongs. It’s like we’re his little projects, aren’t we? At least someone doesn’t want to change me.”

Everyone’s eyes find you, waiting to see what side you’ll pick. You burn under the spotlight. “I think you look great either way.” You shrug, but stop when Sirius hisses sharply, his grip tightening on your face.

Remus eyes you, something searching in his gaze that you don’t like. You can never hide a thought for long before he susses you out. But to your surprise, it’s Sirius who says, “You okay, sweet thing? You’re being even quieter than usual. You still want to go, yeah?”

“Yeah, I wanna go,” you say quickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, finishing up with your eyeliner and stepping back to look at you. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You squirm, pinned like a butterfly beneath his gaze. “It’s nothing, it’s silly.”

A poor choice. Now you have everyone’s full attention.

“I’m sure it’s not silly.” James smiles at you encouragingly. “What is it?”

You start to pick at your nails, but Sirius' eyes narrow at them, and you stop. “I just…I’ve been thinking lately.”

A beat passes before Remus fills the silence. “That’s always a good thing,” he says slowly, amusedly. “C’mon, dove, out with it.”

This isn’t how you wanted this to go. You’re on the spot. It’s going to feel like a forced confession. They’re expecting something silly and light—I just don’t feel like my outfit is going to work for tonight—and you feel like you’re about to drop a bomb on them in comparison.

In the end, you give yourself away before you say the words. “Okay, I’m gonna tell you something, and I just need you to know I mean it, but I don’t need it to be…reciprocated.”

Sirius cocks his head at you, and you decide to burst the bubble of tension before it can expand any further.

“Just, I love you.”

And maybe you wanted it to be like when Sirius says it, like he’s thrown confetti and everyone seems brighter and happier for it, but each word falls heavily from your lips, landing at the feet of your boyfriends for them to decide what to do with. Why did you add in a “just”? There’s nothing just about this. It’s a humiliating attempt at downplaying the phrase, and painfully ineffective too. You feel like you could light yourself on fire with the intensity of your embarrassment.

"Argh, sweetheart,” James says after an impossibly long beat, “I wanted to say it first.”

“No fucking way.” Sirius whirls on him. “You were gonna say it and you didn’t tell me? I was waiting for one of you to do it first.”

“Dove,” Remus says, relaxing against the doorframe, “I think we’ve all been feeling the same way for some time. Thank you for having the confidence to say it first.”

You beam so hard your cheeks start to hurt almost instantly. “Yeah?”

“Color me impressed,” Sirius says. “This whole time you've played coy, but you’ve got more balls than any of the rest of us, haven’t you?” He pauses. “Wait, are you crying?”

“Oh, um, I guess so,” you reply when you touch a fingertip to your lower lashes and it comes away wet. “I’m just relieved, I guess. I was pretty nervous.”

Sirius grabs some toilet paper, pressing a wad under each of your eyes. “Well shit, don’t fuck up your eyeliner, baby. It was never that dire, not like anyone wasn’t going to say it back.”

“Well, I wasn’t going in with any expectations,” you mumble, holding your makeshift tissues.

“Sweetheart,” James whines, his bottom lip beginning to tremble sympathetically. “How could you think we wouldn't? I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” you counter, laughing even as the paper under your eyes grows damp. “I’ve been wanting to say it forever. I feel so lucky to have you guys, you know?”

Remus crosses the room, forcing you to discard your toilet paper clumps as he takes your face in his hands, kissing your salty cheeks. “We’re lucky to have found you,” he says, and the words are even, sure. “I don’t say it often enough, but I love you all too. You’re everything to me.”

“Oh, fuck all of you,” Sirius says, blinking rapidly to save his own sparkly eyeliner. “Obviously you’re the best things that’ve ever happened to me. Pricks.”

Your laugh is wet, and you wonder if you’re peaking right now or if you’ll be this happy forever. With the three of them around you, you’re betting on the latter. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Think you could fix my makeup before we go, Siri? Please?”

He huffs, but the kiss he presses to your lips is syrupy sweet. “We are going to be well past fashionably late.”

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kiwisbell · 5 months

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Loser [frankie morales]

Frankie Morales has always been a total fucking loser. Maybe, at least, you can teach him how a woman likes to be touched.

my masterlist!

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

word count: ~ 7k

tags/warnings: loser!frankie, frankie loving women so much he's terrified of them, inexperienced frankie, experienced reader, dry humping, premature ejaculation, subby!frankie, we’ll call him “takes directions well” frankie, pussy eating king frankie morales, overstimulation, oral sex (m and f receiving), body worship, dirty talk, frankie likes being called a good boy, begging!frankie, whimpering/whining, reader is pope’s sister, pining, lack of self-confidence, anxiety, affectionate brother-sister name-calling, birthday blowjob

read on ao3!

a/n: hi lovelies!! this has been a mini passion project of mine for a while - the phrase "loser frankie" hasn't stopped rattling around in my head since i thought of it. thank you to my besties @northernbluess and @tieronecrush for being so supportive and unhinged as always in your support of loser!frankie, and for beta'ing this silly little fic. i hope you enjoy, friends, and please tell me what you think!! xoxo

LOSER

Nobody ever decorates for a house party. Apparently, you thought it would be worth it.

A holographic Dollar Tree paper banner strung from one wall to the opposite, HAPPY BIRTHDAY blaring bright red-green-blue-yellow in the entryway to Santiago’s home. Helium balloons swaying hello on either side of the makeshift archway, equally obnoxious and slightly less ugly. Foil-wrapped paperweights tether them to the ground, but it doesn’t matter because the second Benny arrives, he’s tossing a dart from the board in the next room through a balloon and letting the lonely string flutter, flaccid, to the ground.

Fumbling their way through tone-deaf renditions of “Happy Birthday” are Will, Benny, and a handful of other friends. Beer pong tables are set up in the kitchen and the sharp crack! of pool balls echoes up the stairs. House music pounds through the shoddy Bluetooth speakers that aren't quite equipped to handle these volumes. It feels like he's back in college, dragged from frat house to frat house where his much-more-suave roommates chatted up pretty girls as he hid in the corner.

You’re so beautiful. It's rare that he can be in the same room as you and retain any moisture in his mouth. Tonight’s no different. He can hear your enchanting laughter from every corner of the house as he quietly follows you from room to room without ever getting close enough to let you notice him. Sometimes you'll bring your manicured hand up onto someone’s shoulder and honey will drip from your tongue as you ask so sweetly: Have you seen Frankie?

It’s his birthday, after all. And he’s been avoiding you all night.

Frankie sips his sweating beer as he watches you and Pope arm wrestle for the last Pilsner—or, more accurately, you're wrestling to decide who gets to not drink the last Pilsner.

“I’m not gonna arm wrestle you. I’ll break your fuckin’ arm.” This from Pope, already half in the bag, the consonant-to-vowel slide a little slurred, knocking back the remainder of his (sixth? seventh?) Bud Light.

And you, not-quite tipsy, in your tight Levis and your low-cut shirt, the picture of poise—if Frankie considers that nearly everyone else in the room is hammered apart from you. And himself. “What are you, a pussy? Put ‘er there, Santi Claus, and let me see what you've got.”

Pope sighed and placed his elbow on the table, locking his thumb around yours, as Benny slapped a “Three, two, one, fight!” on the surface of the table.

Pope is victorious, slamming your hand down on the table and whooping along with Ironhead. Benny, who’d bet on you, smacks his brother upside the head. You take your loss like a champ and crack the Pilsner open on the edge of the table, gulping it down while the guys cheer your name. Your fist chugs in tandem with their cries.

Frankie, rubbing his clammy palms along his thighs, swallows hard as he looks on from the couch. Some of the beer dribbles down your chin, pooling in the hollow of your throat, spilling over, waterfalling, between your tits. He downs the rest of his beer—not a fucking Pilsner—and flees to the front porch while patting his pockets for a cigarette. The music muffles to a distant cry.

“You mind if I bum a light?”

Frankie feels a distinct sting in the nape of his neck as he jolts in the direction of your voice. He whirls on you and sheepishly scrapes his hand through his hair. His muscles still twinge.

“Uh, I—yeah. No. Don't mind.” He fumbles around in his back pocket and gives you his lighter because he doesn't trust his trembling fingers not to drop it. You smile at him graciously and light your cigarette, turning the flame on his own.

“Thank you, Cat.” You rest your elbows on the porch railing and blow your smoke through the pinhole of your parted lips. It dissipates into the dark sky with his own. “Are you enjoying the party?”

He’s rigid, his hands white-knuckling the railing, lips suctioned around the filter. The sticky-hot flush of anticipatory humiliation lingers high on his cheeks. Your expensive perfume sticks to the inside of his nasal passages. He thinks this is what drowning feels like.

“Yeah,” he rasps, disgusted by the sound of his own voice. He clears his throat and takes another drag. “Yeah, it's great. You did a good job.”

Your lips twist in self-reproach. “You’re very sweet, Frankie, but I spent a whole of twenty bucks on the décor. You deserved better than the Dollar Tree.”

He shakes his head, scratching his beard. “Nah. Don't need much. ‘n you were away ‘til yesterday, and—”

“And my brother is an idiot who wouldn’t remember the date if a calendar gave him a colonoscopy.” Frankie snorts his agreement. He can't meet your eye. If he does, he’ll see distant lamplight gleaming in them and turn to stone. “So, if you see him around before he passes out drunk, give him a slap for me, will you?”

He dips his head in subservience to your wishes. He has no problem smacking Pope around a little. “How was your trip?”

You sidle up a little closer to him and his cheeks burn. “Cat, honey, I can't hear you.”

He clears his throat and meets your eye only to drop his gaze again. His ears are scorching. “How was your trip?” he says louder.

You hum sweetly and he feels his shoulders drop. “It was relaxing. Got a little too much sun, drank a few too many margaritas, but it was nice. Kel and Valerie told me all about their new relationships and that only made me drink some more.”

Frankie didn't know you were single. Last he heard, you'd found some asshole at the bar. Frankie had spent too many hours subject to Will and Benny’s teasing about how he didn't get in on time and would never have a piece of that ass. He’d watched the guy, Eric, drop you off at Frankie’s shop so you could get the car he’d been fixing up.

He tries to smile but it feels like pinching a nerve. “That’s good.”

“I was excited to come back and see you.”

He blinks at you. Swirling ribbons of smoke dance away on the slight breeze.

“What?”

“Imagine my disappointment”—your lower lip juts out as you prowl toward him and he isn’t sure why you’ve ever called him Cat when it’s you who stalks so silently after your prey—“when the birthday boy doesn’t even give me the time of day.”

His mouth feels like chewing cotton, and he’s grinding his teeth for another cigarette. You beam across the room at him, producing something from the back of your waistband.

His cap.

“Forgot this,” you tell him, reaching up and fitting the hat back over his head.

Fuck. You’re so fucking close. He can smell your perfume and the cloying scent of beer you haven’t yet cleaned from your chest and he’s fairly fucking sure you’d feel his erection through his jeans if you stepped any closer.

You always know how to get under his skin. And he always lets you because every first glance, first syllable, first touch, feels like the first descent of morning sunlight through the window. You've always warmed his skin a touch too hot. But he burns up in it. You smell so sweet.

“I… uh…” Frankie swallows, floundering, instinctively tucking his curls behind his ears. “Thanks. For the hat.”

Jesus fucking Christ, Morales. In your fucking forties and you still don't know how to talk to a woman.

Stop looking at her tits. Fucking hell, man.

Stop. Fucking. Looking.

“Frankie, honey.” Your soothing lilt draws his eyes back up to your mouth, and he feels bone-tired, molten, fairly sweaty. Your brows are drawn together in the middle. “Are you okay?”

He licks his lips. “Wh—what?”

You sidle up a little closer, your fingers playing along the rim of his cap. “You're quiet tonight,” you say softly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Funny. Frankie can't recall a single moment in his years of knowing you when he was able to string together a coherent sentence. Sure, he fixed up your car over the summer while you were away on a work trip and he set up your new phone after you broke the last one partying. He's happily lapped at your heels and fixed what was broken and done everything you never asked him to.

Every platonic touch met with blushing aversion, a couple days’ retreat to the garage, going dark, no-contact, fixing up more cars and bikes and choppers. Every Thank you, Frankie met with relative silence, a tight nod, a tactical drag of his cigarette.

“Is it because he’s my brother?”

Frankie’s jaw ticks.

You've always been untouchable—the goddamn Venus de Milo. Yeah, Pope would rip him a new one if he knew the things Frankie dreamed about his sister. But you’re the one touching him. You’re the one whose hand drifts slowly down his face, cupping his jaw in your hand, eyes warm and gooey, making a choice with every inch your soft hands explore.

“I like you, Frankie,” you tell him. “Do you like me, too?”

He nods frantically, his hands flexing at his sides. “Mhm,” he manages, tight-lipped, his voice breaking.

Like is such a plain word. How does one merely watch the sunrise? How does someone walk past you on the street? You’re meant for indulging, for pleasing, for theses and soapboxes and megaphones. You’re more than idle like. He nods anyway. Coward.

“Then Santi shouldn’t matter,” you whisper. “None of it should matter. I threw this party for you. I wanna know you’re having fun.”

“I am,” he says hurriedly. “Fuck, I am. It’s fun. You—you did everything right.”

You’re such a fucking moron, Morales. Tell her how you feel.

You smile, brushing the pad of your thumb under his bearded chin. “Good. Will you stay for a while afterward to help me clean up?”

Frankie nods again, and you pull him in for a tight embrace. He stiffens, his eyes instinctively shuddering closed as your body presses up against him. Your nails scratch at the nape of his neck and he feels his cock twitch, filling his boxers against your thigh. He should be panicking, scrambling to escape your grasp before you can feel the thick weight of his desire for you, but he’s frozen, immobile, his brain poisoned by the heady smell of your shampoo and perfume. His hands are pressed firm to his sides, blunt fingernails biting his palms.

“Happy birthday, Francisco.”

He barely registers that you’ve spoken, his lips absently parting in to inhale the warmth radiating from your throat as he begins to lower his head, and fuck—he’s never been touched this way. Instinct begins to snap and growl when you pull away, but you’re beaming up at him, soothing the animal, and pressing a kiss to his patchy beard.

“Thank you,” he says, the newborn deer on trembling legs. You disappear inside the house, leaving him alone on the porch, throbbing house music reverberating through his chest. Frankie staggers on his feet, bracing himself on the railing.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuckin’ Christ.”

Around two o’clock in the morning, he's stuffing beer-soaked tablecloths and balloon weights and banners into a garbage bag. The faint clinking of glass echoes from the kitchen as you gather empty bottles into the recycling bin. Frankie has been sporting a hard-on all night, and he’s two minutes away from jerking himself off in Santiago’s bathroom.

Pope himself is upstairs, passed out drunk on his bed, thanks to you. Apart from him, you and Frankie are alone in the house. It's getting harder to ignore the pull of arousal in his belly, the cloudy haze in the back of his head that makes his hands lag behind on simple tasks.

He thinks of all the times he locked himself in the bathroom at a bar because you wore a tight shirt or a short dress, fucking his hips into his fist until he came with a quiet shudder into his palm. He thinks of all the words he wants to give to you. He thinks of the blood-red ribbon tied taut around all the jumbled syllables and he thinks of all the men you’ll date because he can't even ask you for one.

His chest is a wick pinched between two fingers. He will never know you the way he burns to.

“All done,” you sing as you emerge, dropping the bin by the front door. “How’s it coming, Cat?”

He groans as he stands, hauling the garbage bags to the front door. Brushing past you on the way outside, he feels your body heat course through him.

Frankie stumbles for only a moment as the fog settles lower. You're waiting for him in the foyer.

“Come on, Frankie,” you purr, winking as you pass him, your hips swaying as you make your way into the kitchen. He follows you eagerly into the next room, tail wagging.

You’re rummaging in the refrigerator for the leftover birthday cake and sliding a piece each onto some plates. Handing Frankie his share, you gently collide your plate with his to emit the echoic clink of china. “To getting older.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. Your perfume lingers in his hindbrain. “To getting older.”

“I remember when Santi introduced me to you,” you tell him, “the week you all came back for good.”

“Bad first impression?” guesses Frankie.

You tut. “The opposite, honey. Thought you were sweet. I mean, there are very few guys out there willing to fix my stupid fucking car without expecting even a flash of tit in return.”

He scoffs. “You get that a lot?”

You level him with a playful glare before you lift a sliver of cake to your mouth. “Any of those pretty girls ever ask you to flash your dick?”

Frankie ducks his head, cheeks burning. “Can’t say they have.”

“You get a lot of pretty girls in your shop?” You pout, tracing the prongs of the fork around the circumference of your plate. “I’d be real jealous.”

“You're fucking with me.” He doesn’t meet your eye, his chin practically tucked into his neck as he continues to prod around his piece of cake. The dread of your imminent rejection burns in his lower belly.

He sees your hand on his arm before he feels it. “Francisco, look at me.”

He reluctantly raises his gaze to you. You gently brush your knuckles under his chin. “I wouldn’t tell you how to fly a helicopter. Why should you tell me who I choose to go after?”

Frankie’s throat constricts. “Is—is that what you're doing?” he chokes. “Going after me?”

You shrug coyly, your fingertips dancing over his forearm. The hairs on the back of his neck rise. “Would that make you uncomfortable?”

Vehemently, he shakes his head before you finish your sentence. “No. No. Just… I just didn't think you were interested.”

You take a jolting step backward. “Are you kidding me?”

He shakes his head again. Not quite as aggressively.

You begin to laugh, and this is more like the reaction he's used to from women.

“Fuck, Cat, I’ve been trying to get in your pants for two goddamn years.”

Frankie’s lips part. He’s fairly certain a minute squeak meanders out of his mouth.

“Wh… But—but you…”

You nibble on your thumbnail as your pupils expand, your eyes darkening to something wicked, indulgent, catlike. “What did you think I meant when I told you I like you, honey?”

“I—”

Another bubbling laugh slips from your mouth. Frankie wants to drown in the sound of it. Jesus, he wants you to humiliate him every day for the rest of his laugh if gets to hear that.

“Do you think I’m pretty, Francisco?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. “I do.”

“Say it.”

The command is coaxing, guiding, and it presses up against the pool of his belly, tension winding tight in his core.

“You're pretty,” he says dumbly. “You're really pretty.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and he’s shuddering, his cock uncomfortably trapped under layers of cotton and denim, fingers twitching at his sides.

“Come with me, Frankie,” you say, stretching out your hand, palm-up, like a peace offering to a stampeding animal.

“What are you…”

“Do you trust me?”

He scans your body—the curve of your throat, your collarbones, your breasts, thighs, hips—and swallows thickly. “Yeah,” he rasps. “‘Course I do.”

“I have something I need help with,” you tell him, coaxing him gently toward you with the promise of doing a good deed.

Of course, he goes easily after that.

You lead him to the living room, now in the relative state it was before the party, and gently urge him to sit on the couch. “Frankie,” you say, lowering yourself next to him, “do you have a girl to keep you company?”

His head jerks up from where it was bent in a demure aversion to meeting your eye. “What? What—no.”

“Do you want a girl to keep you company?”

A strangled, high-pitched cry lurches halfway up his throat before he suppresses it all. “You… you want to…?”

You’re already nodding your head, winding your arms around his neck, sliding into his lap, sitting on his hard cock like you were fucking meant to—

Oh, God. Oh my God. Holy fucking, shitting, screaming Christ.

There’s plenty of layers between your body and his. It could hardly be called sexy at all, what with both of you stuck inside thick denim and surrounded by the aftertaste and aftersmell of beer. But it is. Fuck, it is. He can see all of you from here, looking up at you, hair haloed by the sickly yellow pot light behind your head. The cut of your jaw shifts as you take him in. Your chest heaves and he lets himself imagine for a moment that you’re really here, the jaundiced light shifting over the planes of your chest and shoulders.

“I’m going to kiss you, Frankie.”

He swallows hard, the electric jolt of your core lowering onto his length causing his fingers to flex instinctively, uselessly, against the cushions. “O—kay.”

You bite your lip when you smile, leaning in with a hand on his jaw and slanting your mouth over his.

He can't believe this is fucking happening. Frankie sighs into your mouth, his hands shooting up, hovering over your hips, not quite touching. He moves his mouth with yours, letting you part his lips and slide your tongue along his. He groans softly, hands trembling over the divot of your waist and hips, accidentally brushing gently over the velvety fabric of your top. Frankie flushes with shame and drops his hands. He shouldn't be touching. You're giving him a gift. If he makes one wrong move, you’ll take it back.

You laugh into his mouth, breaking away to drop your forehead to his. “You can touch me, Frankie, baby, it’s okay,” you tell him, gently raking your fingers through his hair. “It’ll make me feel good if you touch me.”

Frankie nods, lifting his hands to your waist and settling them apprehensively on your body. It feels like a switch flicks, a closed circuit, heat irradiating the tremor in his fingers. The planes of his palms explore your body, slow, the intricate care he takes in marking your topography melting you in warm shivers against him. He's making you feel good.

Some of his deep-seated pride gurgles up his chest. He's fucking touching you.

“Your hands are so big, Frank,” you whisper, gently rolling your hips. He makes a strangled noise, gripping your waist to stop you or encourage you. “You’re so fucking pretty. So handsome.”

He preens, blushing, dropping his head between your tits and nuzzling his cheek into your sternum. “M’not.”

“Yeah, you are.” Another slow grind against his cock and he’s baring his teeth, panting from the effort not to come so quick. Fuck, you'll never touch him again if he comes in his jeans. “You should be told every day. So gorgeous, Frankie. My Frankie.”

He's addicted now that he's got a hit. His hands won't leave you, curling around your waist until they're splayed against your spine, fitting you tighter to him, dipping tentatively toward your ass. And you're guiding his chin up, kissing him again, moaning softly into his mouth, and he's so fucking giddy he could weep.

His hips buck up against you and he feels your thighs tighten around his hips as his erection nudges your puffy clit. You like that, he notes. It feels good for you when he does that. You gasp into the kiss, your fingers tightening near-painfully in his hair, and Frankie does it again just to feel that prickling ache.

Give and take. He feels himself learning as you do, carving one another’s tells into your ribs. He needs this, yes, but he's beginning to realise that you do, too.

You're grinding on him a little more desperately now, hands feverish, selfishly seeking that rough pressure on your clit. And Frankie wants you to have it. Fuck, he needs it so badly. He aches to learn what you look like when you come.

But his dick is fucking throbbing, and you aren't relenting, and it's been so goddamn long that he’s already close.

He breathes through his teeth as you begin to lace warm kisses up and down the veins on his throat. “I’m… fuck, I’m…”

You hum, and the vibrations travel from his neck to his cock. He's so close. He’s…

“Talk to me, Frankie. Tell me how it feels,” you coo, licking a stripe up the side of his throat.

You want him to speak? Christ, he isn't sure he remembers words. “Muy bien… No puedo… F-feels good. Feels reall—fuck, really good.”

He feels your smile against his neck and whines when you nibble his earlobe. “Yeah?” you whisper. His entire body cavitates with a shudder, and you nip him again. “Like it when I do this?”

He groans, squeezing your hips in erratic pulses. “Mhm. Mhm.”

You roll your hips slow and hard against the length of him. You're panting, too, your pupils nearly engulfing your irises. “Use your words, baby,” you say breathlessly. “Let me hear you, Frankie, honey.”

Frankie chokes on his own tongue. “G—fuck. Goddamn, I… Please, please—”

“Please is a good start.” You suck on the spot below his ear and he sees fucking white.

“Please, I can’t… mierda, no puedo… please, I’m gonna—”

He comes with an embarrassed shout, muffled in your temple, his hand shooting up to rest at the crown of your head and fist your hair. Pleasure skitters up and down his spine as he spills into his own jeans and warms your cunt with the wet spot that blossoms on the denim.

You stop rolling your hips, still tucked safely in his arms. He can't meet your eyes. He's buried in your throat now, breathing hard, while your nails scratch at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, bucking helplessly as the last of his orgasm depletes his body. “I’m sorry.”

You're clicking your tongue, smoothing his sweat-matted curls away from his forehead. “Hey, hey. Frankie, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Soothing him with your kind hands, you guide him to look at you. He's flushed high on his cheeks. “Give me a kiss.”

He obeys, unable to deny you, his lips naturally parting to let you in. “Didn’t mean to—”

You press a kiss to his Cupid’s bow, the corner of his mouth, and one of the patches in his beard. “Nobody’s angry with you, Frank.”

The shame toils hot, churning up his guts. “Wanted to—to come inside you.”

You make a close-mouthed noise of understanding. “I know. You wanted to make me feel good, hmm?”

He nods, eyes dipping.

“You did, Frankie,” you tell him.

“You didn't come.”

“I don't always have to come to feel good.” You're still smiling, a still-aroused, heavy-lidded smile, and Frankie shakes his head.

“Wanna make you come. Tell me what to do.”

You sit back gently in his lap. “Are you sure, Frankie?”

“Sí, I’m fucking sure.” He won't leave it like this. He needs to watch you fall to pieces. If it takes all fucking night, it takes all night. It's his birthday, for Christ’s sake.

You lick your lips and drop your voice to a whisper. “Take off my clothes.”

He scrambles, lifting the hem of your shirt up over your head and fumbling with the clasp of your bra. Both items fall haphazardly to the floor elsewhere, and you stand briefly to give Frankie a good view of your body.

You're so fucking beautiful.

Lurching forward, he wraps his arms around your naked waist, pressing his palms to your slick spine and putting his lips to your belly. He kisses his way up your chest until he finds one of your stiff nipples and clumsily latches his mouth around it. “Oh, Frankie,” you gasp, petting at his hair, enjoying the tremors of arousal that pool in your core. He sucks and bites at your nipples until they're raw, and by the time he gets your jeans down your legs, you've soaked your panties through.

“Fuck,” he mutters, staring unabashedly at your aching core.

“I’m going to sit, Frank. Get on your knees.” And he goes, settling on the floor in front of your spot on the couch. Face-to-face with your dripping pussy, he wets his lips. He's never wanted to taste something so terribly as he does now.

“Take off the rest.”

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your lacy panties and drags them down your legs, a jolt of arousal twitching in his pants as he sees your glistening cunt for the first time.

“Girls like to be touched,” you tell him. “Do you want to touch me?”

“Fuck,” he says, his voice pitching high. “Fuck, yes. Let me, please.”

“Some of us like to be teased. I’m sensitive here”—your hands trail gently along your upper thighs—“and here.” Your fingers rise to your sternum, splitting to play idly with your nipples. “You can use your mouth, too. Okay, Frankie?”

He nods, testing his fingertips upon the divots of your knees. You’re soft here, and you offer no resistance as he slowly spreads you wide open, fitting himself between your legs. Frankie’s heart soars out of his chest at your first shudder. He slowly trails his fingers along the soft planes of your inner thighs, learning you, delighting in the play of his rough hands on your skin. He squeezes your thigh and lifts it up onto his shoulder so he can crush his mouth into your flesh, smattering you with wet, open-mouthed kisses that have you squirming in his grasp. His name leaves your mouth like a discrete, whispered ballad. Your muscles twitch and flex under his touch as Frankie loses himself in the soft, sweet taste of you.

“That’s so good, baby,” you sigh, reaching for the brim of his cap and knocking it off his head. He grunts, able to bury himself deeper this way, head spinning, his brain folding you neatly inside. His hand migrates up your belly and blindly squeezes your breast, kneading your flesh in his palm, flicking his thumb over your nipple. “Yeah, Frankie, yeah. That feels good.”

Your words of affirmation go right to his not-quite soft dick. He kisses and gropes and licks until he reaches the apex of your thighs, peeling back to meet your eyes as he greedily squeezes your thighs in his hands.

“Do you know where my clit is, Frankie?”

He nods. He's watched porn. He's taken anatomy classes. They’re practically the same fucking thing.

“Show me.”

He lifts his hand to put his fingers to your clit, but you shake your head and he stops instantly.

“Not like that,” you say, your naked chest heaving with anticipatory energy. “With your tongue.”

Holy fucking shit.

He'd be goddamn delighted. Frankie lowers his head between your legs and, hit with the heavy, cloying scent of your hormones and arousal, feels his brain begin to lag behind. He parts your folds with his thumbs and guides the flat of his tongue over your little pearl.

You sigh happily, your head falling back against the cushions. “That's it,” you gasp as Frankie flicks his tongue against your clit. “Oh, Frankie, that's it.”

The praise settles proudly in his chest. He wraps his arms around your thighs to keep them spread wide for him as he shoulders his way between your legs. Your tang lingers on his taste buds and prickles his adenoids. He needs more.

You watch him blink up at you and curl your fingers in his hair. “Lick my pussy, Frankie.”

He groans when he gets his first real taste, his eyes fluttering as he licks through your slit. His nose crushed to your clit, Frankie greedily teases his tongue around your tight, wet hole, and the answering twitch of your thighs pleases him.

“Mmmyes.” Your eyes shutter, but Frankie does not close his. He isn't yet certain he's awake, and he refuses to miss a moment of the idle grinding of your hips, the rise and fall of your chest, the way you suck in breaths through your parted lips.

Frankie growls as you tug on his hair, spitting on your clit and spreading his own saliva around with his tongue. You cry out, back arching, and he absently humps the air like a goddamn dog as he begins to stiffen in his jeans.

He's… good. He listens, fine-tuned, to your gasps and moans, learning what you like best. Forsaking any desire for air, he suffocates himself between your thighs, possessed by your smell and taste and the honeyed moans that leave your mouth. He’s always been overeager to help assuage your worries, to fix what was broken. This is different altogether.

“Fuck!” you gasp, the backs of your thighs on his shoulders, ankles locking around one another, your fist in Frankie’s hair keeping him tethered to you. “That’s fucking it, baby, yesyesyes… Just like that, Frankie, fuck!”

The encouragement makes him lightheaded. Drunk on the taste of you, Frankie moans, licking your clit relentlessly, your thighs twitching at the warm flat of his tongue. He refuses to let your legs close, fingers dimpling your flesh, lips latching around your clit and sucking.

“Ah! F—Frank! That feels so fucking good, baby. Fuck, lick my pussy just like that. My good boy.”

Frankie whines, alternating between pulling gently on your clit and licking through your pussy until he's making out with you, his cock filling out his damp jeans once more. He doesn't want to stop. He never wants to leave, tucked in your thighs, engulfed by your warmth. Your clit begins to pulse under his tongue and he suckles wetly, greedily, sloppily. Fixed to your cunt, he groans as your hips begin to buck up into him, your fingers curling painfully in his locks.

“I’m gonna come, Frankie. Fuckfuckfuck, baby, I’m—ah!”

Head thrown back, hips grinding relentlessly against his nose, you reach your climax under Frankie’s tongue. You cry out, muscles locking, thighs trapping his head between your legs. Happily, Frankie continues to lap at you, dipping his tongue into your pulsing hole to taste what he’s drawn from your body.

He groans into you, eyes fluttering shut now that he’s watched you ride out your orgasm, fingers squeezing your thighs and dipping to your ass. He uses this leverage to fit you flush to him, pressing himself firmer to your pussy. You gasp his name, the muscles of your inner thighs twitching as you begin to tense once more.

He’s still going. He’s still fucking going, pussy-drunk and licking up your release which mingles with his own saliva.

“Frankieeeee, fuck!” You can't hold your head up anymore, lolling against the cushion, as Frankie maintains a vise around your thighs and slides his tongue over your sensitive clit and it's too much, it’s—

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, that's so good, Frankie, yes! Oh my God, ohmyGodohmy—”

Frankie can't seem to open his eyes anymore, lost in the winding path of pleasuring you, unable to pull himself away from the thicket. Your scent, desire and musk and perfume, is all he cares to know. He slowly flicks his tongue up and down your clit until it’s fucking unbearable, and your only choice is to come again, your stomach tightening and a weak, gooey cry gurgling up your throat.

“I… g—God, Frankie, I’m com—coming—!”

And you do. The rhythmic contractions of your clit roll over his tongue and your hole soaks him in your release, wetting his beard. He’s absently bucking his hips into the couch, his cock straining against his zipper, so fucking desperate for release that he’ll happily come in his jeans again.

Frankie drinks you down, moaning into your pussy, provoking aftermath vibrations that infuse your muscles with electrical stimulation. You slump backward, your hand releasing his hair, thumb stroking his patchy jaw. “Mmm, my sweet Frankie,” you mumble, thighs still hooked over his shoulders. “S’good, baby.”

He litters your inner thighs with kisses. “I did good?”

“Really fucking good.” You tilt his chin up and force him to meet your eyes. He's less afraid to look at you now, his pupils blown wide and his gaze faintly faraway. Your smile glows, satiated and proud. “You did so good for me. Gonna make some of those pretty girls very happy, baby.”

Frankie shifts slightly to lift his mouth to your belly, trailing his lips upward until he can rest his cheek on your chest. His fingers fit into the grooves between your ribs. “You taste so good,” he says softly. “Wanna do that all the fuckin’ time.”

You laugh, feeling his erection prod your bare thigh as he moves. “You're hard again, Frankie.”

He wraps his arms tight around your waist and pulls you on top of him as he lies sideways on the sofa. “‘m okay,” he says, back to hiding himself in your throat. You feel the warm weight of his hand on the back of your head and his other on your back, slick with sweat. “That was good. Really good.”

Smirking, you begin to travel down his body, nuzzling your cheek against his belly, still covered in a now-damp T-shirt. Frankie chokes on air when you squeeze him over his pants, blinking hard to clear the film from his eyes.

“I think such a good boy deserves a reward for all his hard work,” you purr, letting the zipper catch on every groove as you drag it slowly down, slipping the button through its slit. Frankie’s chest heaves, a refusal on the tip of his tongue.

“Y—you don’t have to—”

“I know.” You hook your fingers in his waistband. “Do you want me to, Frankie?”

A faint whine leaves his mouth, and he presses his lips together with a tight nod. He doesn't trust himself to say more.

“Then I’m happy to,” you say, pulling down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his hard cock, sitting heavy against his belly and already slick with his own cum. Fuck—he’s big. His length, ridged with veins on the underside, is thick and warm in your hand as you hold him around the base.

“Such a pretty cock,” you muse, giving him a slow tug. Frankie gasps, precum pooling at the tip of his dick. “Such a shame to let this go to waste.”

You lick your lips and let a glob of saliva land on the head, and the answering twitch of his cock leaves you pleased. His fingers are fisting the cushions. “Just relax, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you.” You nuzzle your cheek against the length of him and he groans, his throat bared. “I’ll make it feel so good for you, Frankie. Do you trust me? Look at me, sweet boy.”

He lowers his chin so he can meet your eye down the length of his body, his pupils engulfing his warm irises. “I—fuck—I trust you. Not gonna… last.”

“You close again?” He nods frantically as you spread your spit and his precum around the tip. “That's okay, honey. I’ll give you somewhere to put it this time.”

His whimper makes you smile. You guide your tongue along the underside of his length, spreading your spit with your hand as you begin to pump him. You swear he stops breathing when you play with his balls in your other hand, licking at them like a fucking kitten.

Frankie shudders at the sight of your tongue on his cock. This is a fucking dream. If he doesn't wake up, then at least he's died happy. This isn't fucking real.

“Please, please, por favor—”

You lick a long stripe from the base to the tip of his cock. “Yes, Frankie? Use your words. Tell me what you like.”

He would be mortified if he weren't so fucking desperate to come. “Por favor… tu boca… Please, please put your mouth on me, please.”

You smile, jerking him a bit faster. His thighs twitch. “You want me to suck your dick, Frank?”

“Mmhmm,” he manages, grinding his teeth so hard they might chip.

Pulling back his foreskin, your lips seal around the head of his cock, tongue swirling, and he's whining your name, pleading for more, losing some of the filter his sober mind tries to maintain when you're around.

The slick noises of you taking him deeper down your throat make his head spin. Your eyes still fixed on his, you gently reach for his hand and guide it to the crown of your head. He understands your message: Use me to make yourself feel good.

Frankie just curls his fingers in your hair and lets you work him the way you like.

You seem pleased with his lack of desire for control, hollowing your cheeks and closing in the hot, wet walls of your mouth around his cock. “Oh, fuck,” he chokes. “Mier—fuuuuck.”

You hum around his length and he bucks his hips instinctively, making you choke on him. He tries to help you pull away, but you're dimpling your fingers in his thighs, eyes watery and bleeding mascara, and he realises you like it.

You keep sucking, your hand softly squeezing his balls and the other his thigh, grounding yourself, him, who-the-fuck-ever. Frankie can hardly see. He feels his orgasm pull up his balls in your palm, his stomach tightening with the telltale sign that he won't be able to hold back much longer.

You continue to bob your head up and down, the sloppy squelching sounds of saliva deafening. He keeps your hair pulled back from your face so he can see you, crying around his dick. Pride has no place here anymore. He's firmly lodged himself in the realm of disbelief once more.

He's begging: leg bending at the knee, chest heaving, body with nowhere to go but melt into your palms, pleading with you to Please let me come, oh fuck, please, I’ll be good, please! And because you've always been so sweet, you’re letting him without a word.

“I—” He cuts himself off with a squeak as you swallow hard around him, and his thighs begin to tremble. “Ffffffuck. I’m… I’m—nnngh, c-coming—”

Your warbling moan is so fucking greedy. His cock pulsates as he spills down your throat, coating your tongue in his cum. Frankie whimpers, his body tensing, deflating, putty in your hands. He watches you take all of his briny cum until a bead pools at the corner of your mouth and you pull off his softening cock, swiping up the pearly liquid with your thumb and cleaning yourself up. His throat emits a strangled groan.

You beam up at him, kissing your way back up his body and in the crook of his neck. “Such a good boy for me, Frankie.”

It makes him hold you tighter, pulling your naked body flush to his. He pants against your temple, leaving messy kisses to your skin. “Fuck,” he says.

“Yeah,” you whisper, scratching your nails at the nape of his neck, “fuck.”

He practically purrs with you against him. “When can we do that again?”

You laugh, nipping his earlobe. “Not many guys can come twice in one sitting, Frank. You gotta let yourself rest. You gotta let me rest.”

“Sí,” he mumbles, nose sliding against your temple as he nods, “okay. Okay.”

“Better hope we didn't wake my brother up,” you tease, “or he’s going to kick your ass.”

“Don't care,” he grumbles. “I can take him.”

You rear back and lift a brow, your finger tracing a heart over his chest. “You need a coffee to sober up, baby. Who are you and what have you done with Francisco?”

He finally got what he wanted, thinks Frankie. He reaches up and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” he says softly.

You playfully drum your fingers along the flush on his cheekbones. “Thank you, Frankie. Girls love a good listener.”

He feels himself warm a deeper red. “Would you…” He swallows, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Would you wanna, maybe, do this again? I dunno, sometime?”

You give him a sickly-sweet smile and kiss him on the nose. “Yeah, baby, I would. But I need you to do something for me first.”

“Anything,” he says.

A soothing hand rakes through his sweaty locks. “Go out and find a pretty girl you like. Ask her on a date. Maybe have a nice night with her. Make her happy. I know you don't think you're capable of it, and you don't think you're the handsome guy I see when I look at you. But I’m telling you that you are. And there are so many girls out there who need to see that a guy like you exists.”

A fist squeezes his heart and doesn't let go. “You really think so?”

“I don't say anything I don't mean, Francisco.” You pin him with a serious stare. “And if you still decide, after all those pretty girls throw themselves at your feet, that you still want me, then I’ll be here. Okay?”

He frowns, examining the dips and contours and inlets of your face. The prettiest girl in the world is on top of him, telling him he’s handsome, that he's gorgeous, that he's capable, and he’s uncertain that he'll ever be able to shake you. For now, he’ll hinge his door on the possibility that you don't want him to.

But he nods and he fixes his hand around the back of your neck. “Give me a kiss,” he says firmly, and you happily slant your mouth over his.

(np) tagging some lovely moots who were interested in my last wip!!: @swiftispunk @mrsmando @amanitacowboy @party-hearses @joelscurls (thank you so much my loves as always) 🫶

#kiwisbell's fics #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfic

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 16 days

Text

to the moon and back ♡

in which : shoto finds out that space smells like seared steak and that footsteps on the moon last forever.

this is based on an oc so reader knows a lot of space facts lololol, fem reader, space nerd reader, shoto likes listening, shoto is hopelessly in love with reader n vice versa, mushy feelings yucky, kissing, shotos a lil awkward but he tries, shoto n reader r third years might be a lil ooc, lemme know if u missed sum else ! <3 (p.s. might change the image)

"did you know that footsteps on the moon last forever ?"

shoto todoroki is laying outside on the grass stargazing with you after curfew. usually he wouldn’t imagine doing this in his free time, but you’d flashed him your cutest, almost mischievous ‘let’s go do something bad’ grin, and he couldn’t even think about refusing.

so now he’s laying here on the grass next to you.

“oh wow, really ?”

you hum in response “ because there’s no wind or water erosion on the moon,” you explain “ so if you were to walk on it, the footprints would probably be there for millions of years.”

he nods. he likes when you go off on tangents about little space facts you know because they could be quite interesting, but also because he gets to hear you speak and he likes that. he could listen to you talking about paint drying for hours on end, but he thinks it’s even more enjoyable when you talk about something you’re passionate about.

he wishes he could sound more interested, because he really is. he wishes his voice could project like kirishima’s or bakugou’s. that he could sound as excited and cheerful as midoriya sometimes. but you don’t seem to mind. shoto doesn’t want you to feel like you’re talking to a wall so he continues.

“i didn’t know that.” yikes. not his best line, but he’s trying.

“now you do.” you respond easily. you don’t sound annoyed or offended by his lack of response, content to do most of the talking between you two.

shoto finds he can’t keep conversations flowing very well, not like you do. and when he does try to even he knows how awkward it can come across. he doesn’t force himself with you because it’s polite or the right thing to do, shoto wants to hear more facts, he likes them. and he likes you.

so it’s a little broken and choppy, talking with him alone like this, but you don’t mind and you keep talking. and shoto delights in listening to you.

“and apparently, space smells like seared steak.”

that has him raising a brow, he turns his head to you and you look back. a smile creeps onto your face and shoto could look at you like this for hours. it’s like you’re glowing, the stars could try as hard as they could, but they could never compare to you and the bright shine in your eyes.

“really ?”

“yeah.”

“how ?”

you beam, shoto knowing you’re about to go on one of your nerdy tangents, as you call them, feels himself smile back softly.

“i don’t really know,” you start “ but astronauts have reported that, apparently, space has a very distinct smell.”

“and that smell is the smell of seared steak ?” shoto asks skeptically.

“yup ! or hot metal, but i like the steak better.” you giggle. shoto smiles at you. he hopes you keep talking the whole night, even if, realistically, you’d have to leave soon if you wanted to be spared of mr aizawa’s lecture. but he’s not worried about getting in trouble right now. he’s not worried about much when he’s with you.

shoto has trouble keeping conversations flowing, but when he’s invested things come out more naturally for him. he couldn’t be more grateful when a thought pops into his mind “you sure know a lot about space.”

“s’cus i wanted to be an astronaut when i was a kid.” his eyes widen. “really ?”

“yeah, somewhere along the line i remember wanting to go to space."

“i thought you wanted to be a hero since you were a kid” he recalls you telling him that in passing one time. he never imagined being one for sentimental conversations but he seems to have a lot of thoughts when he’s with you. he doesn’t know why he does, but you manage to squeeze them out of him regardless.

“what’s wrong with having a side gig ?” you chuckle. shoto huffs out a light laugh at your joke, his eyes softening.

“what about you,” you turn onto your side to fully look at him. your eyes shine bright, they’re soft gazing at him, and shoto can’t help but want to kiss you. he does the same and lays on his side. “did you wanna be something other than a hero, shoto ?”

he likes it when you say his name, he likes hearing you. things always get a bit more personal when you talk to him like that, and he can’t help getting sucked into you like you’re a black hole (that he found out, thanks to you, aren’t really black).

he thinks about your question, staring off “i think i wanted to be a gardener..” he admits shyly, looking at you again. your face brightens like no star ever could and shoto really wants to kiss you.

“yeah ?”

“yeah, somewhere along the line.” he sighs, mimicking your words

“that’s so cute. very like you.” you chirp, he feels embarrassment creep up on him, cheeks darkening the slightest bit.

“is it ?” he mumbles. you laugh and it makes him feel a bit better.

"yeah, in a way." you beam. it makes millions of little stars spark and crackle in his stomach. like the one's in the sky and the one's in your eyes and todoroki really wants to kiss you.

" can i kiss you ?" he asks bluntly, he doesn't see the point in beating around the bush but his heart beats hard against his ribcage either way. you haven't been dating for that long, becoming official only now in your third year, but you've been friends for years now. and you know he's not one to be shy about what he wants. he knows you do when you smile harder at him with a flustered giggle, and he knows he loves you.

"sure you can." you whisper shyly. he doesn't waste any more time after that, and leans in, propping himself up on his shoulder. he likes to just look at you, placing his hand against your cheek and brushing at your skin with his index finger. his eyes peer into yours softly, while your gaze darts away from him in embarrassment.

"shoto.." you mumble. he hums.

"you're staring.." you snicker breathlessly. he hums again, not denying your words.

"i can't help it. you're mesmerizing, i can't look away even if i wanted to." you know he's not being romantic on purpose to possibly try to woo you, you've known him long enough to know that he truly means what he's saying. and that has your whole body burning like the sun.

"i didn't see myself as mesmerizing." you can just barely hear your voice above the wind. but he's so close to you he can, and you can too when he speaks "but you are."

you shake your head "think that's you, handsome." you reach a hand up to rub at his cheek, your thumb running over the bottom of his scar and his eyes close in content. handsome, he likes it when you call him that. he likes it when you call him anything as long as you do it like that. despite losing himself in the feeling of you, he manages to shake his head.

"you are." he insists and you can't argue with him further when he presses his lips to yours. urgently yet so, so softly.

it makes you dizzy, he makes you dizzy. you have to grip at the back of his shirt to support yourself. he follows you, allowing you all of him to make sure you’re comfortable as he leans you back to lay on your back to kiss you longer, deeper. he sighs against your mouth. he reaches for your hands and you give them to him. he's soft, so soft with you and on you, but his grip on your hands is firm and you realize you're not the only one getting dizzy.

"i love you." he breathes against your lips, he dives back in to place a sweet peck against them "so much." your grip on his shoulder tightens because he makes you so dizzy. he makes you feel like you're floating around in space "i love you too." you sigh shakily.

he kisses you again, it's slow and sweet and it's just like him. he pulls away with a small smile and you know you love shoto todoroki so much. it makes your heart pound and you don't know what to say. but he seems to.

"do you still want to go to space ?" he asks, chest heaving slightly.

you're shocked "..what ?"

"would you still want to go ?" he asks. you try to search around on his face to see if he was kidding, but you don't see a single sign of mischief or amusement on his features.

"i don't know if i'd have the time." you joke, a small smile breaks on his face.

"but if you did." he urges, you hum at the hypothetical, playing around with his hair while he sighs happily.

"well, if i did.." you think "then yeah i probably would. maybe leave my footprint on the moon while i'm at it." you snort.

"then i'll take you." shoto smiles. and after a beat passes you can't help but laugh incredulously.

"you're—" you interrupt yourself with a watery laugh "you're gonna take me to space ?" you ask. he grins, and you don't see it much so it makes your heart stutter and your laughter gets caught in your throat.

"mhm." he answers, eyes brighter than the stars above you "i'll take you, and then you can leave your footprint on the moon."

shoto knows he can't actually take you. realistically, it'd be impossible. but he finds he doesn't care much about realistically's when he's with you.

you know it's probably impossible for him to actually take you to space, but you'll believe in theories and you'll believe in him when he looks at you like you'd hung up the moon and the stars in the sky.

"we'll leave our footprints on the moon." you correct. your boyfriend laughs softly to himself and he nods.

"alright."

"and then we'll go back in a million years to see if they're still there, deal ?"

"alright." he laughs again at your silly arrangement, and he leans down when you pull him in closer to you "deal." and you get a last giggle in before he presses his lips to yours again.

shoto has no doubt that even in a million years, the mark you've left on his heart will never dissapear.

bleeehh i never know how to end fics !! :P

#shoto todoroki x you #not proofread but will fix later !#shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x you #shoto x y/n #shouto x you #shouto drabble #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #mha x reader #ive been thinkin about shosho alot lately so here you are :3 !!#take my psycho ramblings while i sprint away before runnin out of breath after 5 good seconds

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qiupachups · 6 months

Text

miles.g / wiles

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 👾💭

contents: general hcs, mention of his father’s death, i call 42-miles ‘wiles’, me sorta bullying him

a/n: after a lot of procrastination and harassment gentle encouragement from @vhstown i’m finally posting my hcs. :3c (they’ve been sitting here since july)

Despite his tough guy exterior and criminal career, he's actually a massive nerd geek. Like: gundham, comics, posters all over his room.

Until you bring up those interests, he won't mention them. But once you start a conversation about them, he can tell you all the lore front to back or tell you where and when each collectible is from. Just listening to Wiles and nodding along will make his day.

Accepting help from others is not an option. Ever. He's an overly D.I.Y guy since his father's death and it's staying that way.

... unless you're very close to him. Wiles will begrudgingly accept your help and then be adamant on repaying you. No matter how trivial it was, he'll show his gratitude through service.

Wiles has great memory and knows all the lyrics to his favourite songs. Go through his playlist and pick something at random- he'll recite them flawlessly!

A good memory also helps with remembering those flashes of songs playing on your lock screen. Just a split second glance? He's adding it to his playlist, maybe listening to it as he works on his latest gear.

Would be a straight A student if he were there half the time. The only thing keeping his total grades down is attendance, where he’s often absent.

However, if he’s in a group project with you, Wiles will put more effort into it. Getting a ‘C’ or GPA point lower is fine if it means keeping Brooklyn safer. What’s not fine is him being the reason for your lower marks.

Unlike his counterpart from 1610, Wiles’ art is more realistic. He tries to capture the subjects’ essence quickly and minimally, so colours are an afterthought.

Accuracy was his pride in art until it came to you. He’d be so nervous in getting your smile right, scribbling failed attempts over and over again. Wiles even resorted to a pencil sketch.

Following the passing of Jefferson, Wiles has gotten much closer to Rio. That’s a no brainer; he was fourteen— a kid. And Jefferson never got to see his son in that overpriced Visions uniform.

Wiles makes an effort to speak more Spanish. He lets his mamí braid his hair even if it hurts like hell. Those stupid telenovelas aren’t that bad on the second watch.

Once upon a time, Wiles used to be a choir boy (keyword: used). He’d love singing hymns and doing nativities before he could read; all for his mamí and dad to see.

However, the christmas after Jefferson’s passing felt… empty. Wiles quickly lost his passion for choir and now just attends mass with Rio at most.

After years of experience being a choir boy, Wiles has the voice of an angel. Not that you’d know, of course— he intends to take that to the grave. But there’s also a deeper, darker secret… he can’t rap to save his life.

An extremely personal and harrowing Musically comment told him so. Following that attack, twelve year old Wiles abandoned his account with only a black profile picture left behind.

Like any other middle schooler, Wiles had a hype beast phase (he denies it). When Aaron got a Hype shirt for Wiles’ 12th birthday, words couldn’t describe how he almost knocked Aaron down with a hug.

The shirt’s first stain had Wiles distraught and furiously searching ‘remove paint on shirt hacks’ on Youtube. His heart would probably stop if he misplaced a gift from you.

Wiles isn’t the best cook, but he can definitely make himself a good meal. With Rio working night shifts and Uncle Aaron doing… jobs, he has to be self-sufficient.

A secret lil’ side project: he’s trying and failing to replicate Jefferson’s mac ‘n cheese. It wasn’t the best, but it was his. Something’s always off when Wiles makes it and he’s not quite sure what.

Sure, cooking isn’t that hard, but baking is like wizardry to Wiles. AP Chemistry and it’s endless calculations felt way easier than making pan de agua with his mamí.

But, mamí didn’t raise no quitter! On a particularly busy birthday, Wiles pulled together a modest little cake for Rio. She burst into tears seeing the shaky ‘!Feliz Cumple!’ written in too-sweet icing.

Calling Earth-42 a wreck is a massive understatement. Shit’s like Gotham, only very real and very deadly. Just breathing in that damn city air makes Wiles’ skin crawl.

Luckily, he’s got an outlet: boxing. A fun hobby he picked up from Uncle Aaron became his release. Wiles might never be in the ring, but Brooklyn’s more than enough.

a/n #2: what the fuck. this was supposed to be short and silly and fun. exsqueeze me how did this… erm. disjointed mess.

#miles g morales x reader #miles g x reader #prowler miles x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv headcanons #atsv miles #atsv x you #atsv fanfiction #chewy writes ♪

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ncteez · 1 year

Text

philoselene (k.h.j)

You weren’t sure what to think of Hongjoong, with his ever-changing hair and ever-growing piercings. He is the complete opposite of you, and you’re unsure of why he keeps gravitating toward you, or why he found an interest in you at all. Through his eyes though, he swears you’d be able to handle the weight of the moon if he were to pull it down for you.

or the one where hongjoong would do just about anything for you, and he can’t help but show it when he’s got you on top of him for the first time.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog.

WORDCOUNT― 6.2k

PAIRING― alt!stoner!hongjoong x afab reader

CONTENT― some weed smoking and moon gazing happen, a little bit of them struggling to translate their thoughts into words that make sense, very fluffy stuff, he’s a little shy about his body, service top hongjoong, first time together, intensely passionate smut

NOTE― just fyi, i know the description makes it seem like the reader is insecure. I can assure you, she is not. It’s just two people learning that they fit together like a puzzle, and wanting to know each other’s thought processes. anyway, im very in love with hongjoong and that’s why I basically just wrote comfort smut. BYE. not proof read so pls dont point out my typos, ill actually cry.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― makeout sessions, they’re really really high so the experience is kind of slow motion, frottage, sweet-talking rather than dirty talking, brief mutual masturbation, missionary on a couch, he’s a service top but it’s not heavily described here bc like– he’s just hella into her and feels good no matter what she does, ummm, unprotected sex bc im lazy

The man whose hair changes at each new moon cycle, the one who smells like winter but has the eyes of a smoldering flame spreading to a forest fire. Both his charm and his wit are entirely unmatched if anyone you’ve ever met in your life is to go by. His hands are the most gentle, and goddamn does he know how to dress to piss off the local business owners.

A new ear piercing for him usually meant heartbreak, be it a lost friend, a failed project, or even an incorrect lunch order at the run-down diner across town. Everything about Hongjoong is telling. He is not mysterious, nor does he want to be.

You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite in terms of how you carry yourself. You worry too much, your posture is slouched when it shouldn’t be, your confidence wavers more often than you’d like to admit, and you keep to yourself most of the time. Minimizing yourself, snuffing out any flame or glow that threatens to show to anyone less than a close friend. You dress much like your personality, muted.

This is why you question the dynamic on each date you end up on with Hongjoong. Dinner dates, movie dates, walks in the park. Normal. fucking. dates. The dynamic between the two of you is anything but natural to you. Time after time now, seeing him after sunset looking at you much like he would if he were seeking out constellations, you feel like you’re not a person meant to be looked at this way. You’ll never get used to another person wanting to spend this time with you, like they’re finding comfort in your silence. What do you have that seems to fulfill him?

Even now, six hours after the date started, you find yourself next to Hongjoong and his bright smile. The small rolled joint burned out minutes ago, and the dull city skyline bursts with pinks and purples from the sunset. His smile is one that is entirely soft and focused on you. All of his attention, on you. The one thing in the world you hate, he gives to you and makes you feel as though you don’t hate it nearly as much as you did before meeting him.

“Hongjoong,” You whisper into the brisk air, bumping your leg against his as he tilts his chin up as if to let you know he’s listening to whatever you want to say. “This is our– what? Seventh date?”

He nods with a hum.

“First time at my place though, so we can still call it a first date.” He offers, reaching his arms out and feeling the stretch of his muscles relax him. His arms fall back to his side and his eyes fall back on you.

Never have you had this many first dates, nor has any man treated each date as such.

“Why do you do that?” You laugh, slouching back against the weathered wicker couch, the balcony offering both the most wonderful and shitty view of the city.

“Do what?” He asks, turning slightly towards you with a curious look.

“Like, I don’t know,” you trail off, for some reason unable to look him in the eye as you continue to spiral into the slow and fuzzy high that his weed offers to you. He looks insanely attractive tonight, especially in this lighting. The colors somehow glow against his skin, contrasting with the dark and plush sweater he has on. It’s weathered much like this wicker furniture, but you imagine he’s comfortable inside of that sweater, sitting on this furniture, breathing in the same air you’re breathing out. “You always call each date the first one, I’m wondering when it’ll be, like, something more than that?”

You can hear yourself talking and you can’t help but think you sound fucking stupid, but he chuckles in response.

“I probably sound lame saying it but, I like that I learn something new about you each time. It’s not my fault that it always feels like a first date with you.” He laughs, making a face towards you that makes you laugh a bit louder than expected.

“You act like I have something new and interesting to tell you every day,” He cuts you off as you try to speak.

“For instance, today I learned that you don’t even like the coffee I bring to you.” He’s snide when he says it, raising a brow at you.

“What? Yes, I do!” You defend, definitely lying as you feel your stomach hit the concrete floor of his balcony. You’ve always been a terrible liar.

“Is that why you always leave it in my cup holder pretending like you forgot it?”

You narrow your eyes at him but can’t keep up the act much longer as the smile creeps wider across your lips.

“You’re too observant of me,” You joke, not realizing how true it actually is. “You know I usually spend my days avoiding the idea of people noticing what I do, right?”

He nods towards you, face fond and droopy from his high.

“I think you’re cute when you notice that I notice,” he blinks away from you, watching the sun fall and the moon take its rightful spot in the sky. “Besides, if you don’t like it, you’d stop letting me take you out, right?”

He’s actually looking for confirmation this time, not looking at you, and mostly preparing for the make-it-or-break-it moment now that you’ve finally worked up the courage to stop going with his flow.

“I think I’m just confused over you wanting to spend time with me at all, actually.” You admit, knowing for a fact that you appear to be the most boring human alive, and not many people stick around to find the actual personality within you.

Hongjoong looks at you this time, genuinely shocked that you’d even say that or feel confused over why he chooses to spend time with you.

“Well, I can go down a list of reasons, if you want?”

You prop yourself up, fixing your posture and wiggling your brows.

“Please, do.” You say, feeling a permanent smile form on your face.

Hongjoong claps his hands on his thighs before lifting his legs and turning on the wicker couch to face you, tucking himself into the smallest version of himself as he huddles into his oversized sweater.

“Alright, for starters, you’re not as boring as you think you are. What person would have climbed that no-trespassing fence with me without asking a single question?”

He’s just gloating at you now. Most people would absolutely do that with him.

“Literally, anyone would have done that with you.”

He waves you off.

“You like the same anime I like and the same music. You even knew of the band I was in during my senior year of high school!”

You nod, he’s got a point there.

“You’re not loud or constantly demanding attention. I like that you just kind of exist. Sometimes I just need to exist too, but people always expect more, you know?”

Hongjoong’s eyes trail off, landing on the darkening sky and seeking out the moon.

“When we hang out, I feel like there’s nothing we actually need to do in order to call it a date. You’re the only person I’ve continuously taken out. You’ve made it clear that you expect nothing from me.”

You nod, but tilt your head in question as your own eyes follow his gaze to the moon.

“So, it makes me want to give you everything.”

Unsure of if it’s the weed talking through him or if he meant what he just said, you still find yourself melting a bit at his voice when he says it. The words feel like they hold a lot of weight for him, and you didn’t even know that weight existed until now.

“Do you always say these types of things when the moon is in the right position, and the weed is dank as hell?”

He snorts, tucking his chin into his chest as he laughs before reaching out and swatting you on the shoulder.

“What I’m trying to get at here, because I know by now that you’re not going to pick up on any hints is that I kind of want this to be the last first date.”

You find yourself panicking at that, unsure of what the fuck that’s supposed to mean. Hongjoong instantly regrets his awful attempt at wording that. “Unmatched wit” his ass, he can genuinely say the dumbest shit in the most important situations.

“Wait–” He pauses, mouth falling slack as he visibly searches his brain for the correct words. “Okay, let me rephrase that.”

You wait, feeling relieved at his panic and the slow recovery of what he just said to you.

“What I meant by last first date, is like, um–” It’s lost on him again as you watch his eyes squint into a smile instead, the sparkle of his eyes matching the glints from his various earrings. “I’m trying to ask you to be my girlfriend, fuck.”

This. This is another reason why he likes you this much. Though he saw your eyes fall, and though he said what he needed to say incorrectly at first, you didn’t question him. You didn’t put words in his mouth or react in a way that wouldn’t allow his own recovery. His ability to talk to women right now is highly reduced, but his ability to talk to you is forever comfortable even when he fucks up. You let him fuck that up, and now you’re smiling at him and he can’t help but let his heart swell three times its original size.

“So,” he coughs, looking back to the moon and then back at you. “I guess we can’t have any more first dates if every time we see each other, we are technically, like, dating, right?”

You snort at his inability to string together a coherent sentence, knowing full well that both of you have the ability to navigate everyday conversations high. Given the fact that the two of you have been in public before pretending like you didn’t just hotbox his car. It’s just that, this isn’t an everyday conversation and you’d like to think that you probably sound like an idiot too. You’re somehow right there with him even if you feel like you’re on two different pages of two different books.

“You have a point,” you say, managing to fit his words into a sentence that makes sense in your brain. “Delivery could have been better though.”

The lighting on his cheekbones says enough about his own permanent smile matching yours. If you believed in fairytales, you’d genuinely think that the two of you are in your own little world with nothing but the moon and expensive ass weed.

“You’re supposed to say yes, by the way.” Hongjoong urges you, both of you kind of entering into a giggle fit because of the warmth spreading throughout your bodies.

You nod, agreeing that, yes, you’ll definitely be his girlfriend.

The first kiss with Hongjoong may have been the warmest you’ve ever felt. It was smooth, a little peckish, and overall quite sweet. Even over the weeks he had been taking you out, he never once kissed you or did little more than be some of the best company you could find yourself with. The first kiss taking place after making things official was something you weren’t used to.

And so, that first kiss on his balcony became a second kiss, and then a third and fourth, until the two of you moved into his living room to escape the breeze that had by then made your fingers cold. Fifth, sixth, seventh– and then finally, the eight kiss was one that could have meshed all of the kisses in your life into one. The first heated kiss.

His couch became more comfortable than it was when you first came here, especially now with him beside you, cradling your face and leaving gentle kisses all along your jawline before trailing back to your lips. He’s your boyfriend now and for some reason, you don’t feel yourself doubting why that is. He is proving to you right now how much he likes you, and you try to do the same for him. Your hazy eyes are unable to stay open for too long under the pressure of his lips fluttering all over your face, and you feel loved for the first time in a long time.

It didn’t feel awkward to reach up with your eyes closed to try and put your fingers in his hair, even when you accidentally knocked him on the cheek instead. It didn’t feel like an alarm went off when he tugged at you to pull you over him, leaning himself back on the couch and reaching blindly for the tv remote to avoid the silence in the room save for lips smacking.

For the first time with another person, you felt safe and at home when his hands were roaming your body.

Both jackets were already off, and your cold fingers warmed up in his as he would eventually intertwine his fingers with yours as he kissed you. It didn’t feel rushed, and maybe it was just because you both were in a lazy state of peaked high, but you can almost feel every single touch be amplified. You’d be lying if you said your entire body wasn’t tingling. More silent than it has ever been between the two of you, it still feels like it’s where you should be.

Hongjoong’s fingers in yours, his lips on yours, his tongue licking against yours, all of it is good. The sensations swam throughout your body to the point that you barely even notice that you’re turned on.

Is it too much on the…what was it, seventh date? Is it too much on the first night of being his girlfriend after your first and eighth or thirteenth kiss? His lips are curled into this permanent little smile that tells you otherwise. He’s the one who pulled you on top of him, he’s the one who hasn’t pushed because he somehow knew you were enjoying the steamy make out session too much to let it end here.

There’s no end goal at this moment with Hongjoong, nothing is telling you that you need to get off or get him off despite your body already tingling for it. There’s no rush with the man under you, with his moon-like eyes and messy dyed hair. He’s just as telling as he always has been, and without a word, you know that at this moment, he would take anything you give him and be perfectly content.

“I can see you thinking, you know,” Hongjoong whispers, his fingers tightening their grip between your own. “We can just do this, I’m perfectly fine with just this.”

You shake your head at him, squeezing his fingers and looking at him for a brief moment. Seeing him now like this, with his kissed lips and his hair just as messy as always, it hits you again that he’s yours. Not in a way that’s possessive, but like, he wants to be yours, and he wants you to be his.

Your eyes glance down to his lap, with his length sitting firmly between your legs and it makes your heart swell. Typically, men in this position would push you, pull you, and move you around on their arousal to try and get some sort of release but, not Hongjoong. He’s containing himself, assuring you that you don’t have to do anything more. Regardless of you sitting on his thighs, dangerously close to being able to please him this way.

“Do you want more, though?” You ask him.

His eyes are half-lidded and looking up at you as you speak, glancing down to your lips again as if he already misses them. You can see his answer in the silence, his grip on your hand tightening as his brain malfunctions at the very idea of you being the one to ask. He wants more for the sake of having you, but he also wants more for the sake of pleasing you.

“Yeah?” You ask for confirmation of his silent answer, leaning down to kiss against the corner of his mouth before leaning back again.

He gives you a reassuring nod, his other hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him, onto his hardened length with a soft mewl at you.

“I do,” he whispers against your ear, nuzzling his nose against your neck and trying to prevent his hips from bucking up as you sit on him. “I can give you more, too.”

The way he says it to you with a soft rasp makes your stomach do flips, almost as if he’s pleading for you to let him, it makes your entire body tingle. Never has a man made you feel this way when you’re being intimate. You suppose Hongjoong is right though, from what he said before, about how almost every date appears to be the first one with the number of new things you learn about each other.

You don’t need to respond to him though, because almost immediately after those words you turn your face slightly to kiss his temple, and he instantly releases your hand and puts it on the other side of your waist. Practically caging you against him as he holds you in place and dips back in to kiss you.

Within that kiss, you can hear his need. Throaty groans as he presses his length against you. Only the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric can be heard but it’s kind of a pretty sound. His weathered sweater feels warm when you tangle your fingers into the loosened fringe along his neck like, trying to work your hips to match his within this tight hug.

By the time he notices that you’re moving your hips on him, his grip loosens and he pulls back from the kiss, watching you pull yourself up and planting your arms on his shoulders to actually grind against him.

He runs his hands up and down your waist at this point, eyes watching the way you work yourself against him with a deep and burning fondness. He appears to be in awe, a crooked smirk appearing on his softened and kissed lips.

“You know,” Hongjoong chuckles softly, closing one eye and focusing on the feeling of the dry drag against him.. “It might just be because I’m high but I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good with denim practically rubbing me raw–”

Your hips stop, and you try to ignore the fact that on any other day, those words would have absolutely ruined the mood, but for some reason, it doesn’t. You let out a breathy laugh, falling forward and laughing against his neck. The moon must be in the right position or something tonight, because everything does feel insanely good. Then again, maybe it’s just that he’s in the right position, or maybe it’s just you.

“Why would you–” You cut yourself off as you laugh, breathing in the scent of him once more before leaning back and backing off of his lap slightly. The look he gives you is nothing but fond and it kind of makes you feel more dazed than you already do. “Let's take them off then?”

Hongjoong gives you a polite nod, his hands releasing you but still chasing your warmth as you pull yourself off of him and wait for him to remove his pants.

He’s quick with it, of course, and you take it another step further to take yours off too, not looking him in the eye as you do it. Almost to hope that he doesn’t see you do it, to hope that he won’t think about it, or smile at it, or make a comment on it.

Thankfully, he doesn’t and when you sit back on his lap, feeling his bare legs against yours and noting how fucking warm his skin is, all you can do is pretend like feeling someone else’s skin against yours is supposed to feel fleeting like this.

Your panties sit against his boxers now, and his warmth seeps through you so fast that you want to feel more. See more, touch more, kiss more, love more. You don’t hesitate to loop your fingers into a particularly big rip on his sweater and tug on it.

“This too?” He tilts his head, his own hand fiddling with the same rip that your fingers are intertwined with, and then looks away shyly..

All you can do is feel yourself spiraling further into the feeling of being with him. He’s got one strand of hair standing stiffly too, probably from the static of the couch rubbing against it, but it’s cute. It’s attractive, everything about him is attractive.

His eyes continue to avoid your eyes when he lifts his sweater off of him, shivering at the cool apartment air hitting his skin all over rather than just through those rips and tears. You take note, especially when he does look at you and pulls you down into a kiss again as quickly as he can. He’s not letting you see him like this, bare from the waist up and almost from the waist down.

The two of you must have been one soul at one point because you know what he’s doing and never have you had to be the one on the other side of this situation. Usually, you’re the one hiding when it feels overwhelming, you’re the one imagining that the person with you would be searching for imperfections. You pull back from his kiss, looking into his eyes before glancing down at his bare chest and stomach.

“You’re being shy,” You comment, leaning down to plant a kiss on his collarbone before looking back at him and tilting your head. “You’re never shy.”

You work up the confidence in yourself now, lifting your shirt off and doing your best not to immediately mimic what he’s already done. Meaning, you don’t hide your exposed skin and instead, you try to sit proudly on top of him.

Hongjoong just watches, his lips falling slack at your bareness with a relieved sigh.

“How can I not be shy right now?” he smiles, leaning himself up this time and kissing against the plush flesh of your breast.

You sigh at the feeling of his lips against your chest, fingers automatically finding their way into his hair as you focus on the feeling. The emotion of it all sends you into overdrive because really? Everything about Hongjoong is loud, and you’re making him shy?

The goosebumps continuously rise and fall as he works his lips across one breast to the other, up until his fingers are pushing the fabric of your bra to the side. He pulls back momentarily to look at them, eyes darting from one nipple to the other before looking up at your face.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.” Hongjoong admits, dipping in and flicking one of your nipples with his tongue.

“Oh?” You ask, officially grinding your hips again on his lap, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers. The drag feels lighter now that there’s not much fabric preventing the feeling. “For how long?”

“Third date,” he admits, trailing back to the other breast and sucking just next to your nipple, his other hand easily stimulating the one he just neglected. “Didn’t want to rush with you though, I’m always rushing.”

You hum at his words, feeling special. All he makes you feel is special. And when he finally releases your chest from his mouth and falls back against the couch, even the way he looks at you confirms that your feelings about this aren’t unfounded.

You put more effort into your hips now, your mind spinning by this point at the way his touches are gentle. His chest rises and falls with each perfect drag up his length, small mewls of pleasure spilling from his lips every few seconds. Still, he just looks at you.

There’s really no rush here and the scary part about it is that you’re already so worked up that you wouldn’t mind a bit of rushing by this point.

More and more you move your hips, and more and more Hongjoong appears to lose his composure. His hands gripping at you, his eyes unable to stay on one part of your body for too long, his teeth showing as he bites his lip just to compose himself from making the next step– and then–

There it is. There he is, lunging forward and grabbing you, pulling you so close to him that your core is now seated directly on the head of his leaking cock. He moans at the pressure, kissing against your lips with so much passion that you wonder if he know’s how hot that was.

He’s lost in the moment and you can’t help but love it. With the way one of his hands holds your cheek as he kisses you and the other finds itself against your ass to push and pull you on his lap. At this point, you wonder if he could get off this way. With the way he’s acting, you think he could. Easily.

“Hongjoong,” You manage to gasp during the short breath between his frantic kiss. “We can–”

You’re cut off by him kissing you again, his hand guiding you down and forward on his length in a way that tells you he’s listening. He’s imagining what you’re about to say.

“We can,” He groans in an answer to your unfinished question, taking in a deep breath when he pulls back from the kiss and looking down to see the head of his cock occasionally peeking from the waistband of his boxers. “Just tell me what you want.”

Words escape you in that moment, so you use your body instead. Scooting back and almost taking the boxers with you you see a glimpse of his length. Heavy, leaking, twitching at the loss of your weight against it. You stare, wanting to devour this man whole at that moment but you hold back. You can give him head another time, honestly. After spending so long making out, grinding, and him playing with your breasts? You’re kind of ready to rush. Even just for a moment.

He watches your hands as they lower the boxers further, pulling them down until you can tuck them under your thighs to hold them in place. There, you just look at his cock and he just looks at you.

After a few seconds, you glance at him with shy eyes, blinking in a way to try and hide your blatant lust for what’s between his legs. He might believe that seeing you look at him this way is the best thing he’s ever experienced. His cock twitches unintentionally when he notices your blown pupils, especially when his eyes trail down. Now that the seat of your panties isn’t grinding against him, he can see a glimpse of the darkened wet spot.

Now what to do? The two of you sitting here, horny out of your goddamn mind and the weed on top of it amplifying every touch, you can imagine that you both look like a pair of deer in headlights.

Hongjoong finishes what you started though, running his hand down your sides before grabbing himself and gently pumping once. You watch as he gathers the dripping pre-cum in his palm before smoothing it down his entire length while his eyes never leave the spot between your legs. Then he continues that, touching himself as you’re on him as if to tell you that he can finish himself off so you don’t have to.

Without really thinking, you find your own hand doing the same, sliding down your panties and the instant your fingers bump against your clit, you jolt and find yourself letting out a soft and pained moan at the sensitivity.

“That–” Hongjoong takes in a sharp breath at the sound, squeezing the base of his cock with his hand and closing his eyes. “sounded so fucking pretty.”

It wasn’t intentional and for a brief moment, you felt embarrassed by the sound. Once again though, Hongjoong pulls that confidence out of you like it’s what he was born to do. At this point though, your legs feel like jelly after being spread on top of him for so long and you think he can tell.

“Mm, let’s move,” He comments, releasing his cock and tapping you with the other hand to stand up. “Lay back, I'll do the rest.”

He gently instructs you, grabbing a pillow and placing it at the end of the couch for your head to lay against. You do so without question, both your legs and heart are weak at seeing him like this.

“There, better?” He asks after you lay back. He leans over your side after a short nod from you and leaves a gentle kiss against your lips before placing his hand against your thigh. “Can I take these off?”

You nod, feeling him slip your panties down your legs before you watch him shimmy off his own boxers.

There, there it is. Both of you are entirely vulnerable to each other for the first time and you don’t feel a hint of wanting to stop. Not a worry, doubt, or insecurity can or will stop you at this moment.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger for too long at your exposed core just yet and instead he opts to place himself between your legs before leaning down and kissing you much like before. He can’t get enough of your lips if he’s being honest though.

You can feel the weight of his cock resting between your thigh and pussy and it does nothing more than make you want it more. You want him so bad by this point that you can’t really question how dumb you could sound actually asking for it.

“Can you, like–” Your words are lost on you when he pulls back with a small smile and a curious look.

“Do you want to?” He asks, despite knowing this is where the situation was headed.

You give a shy nod, reaching your hand down between the two of you and gripping him yourself for the first time.

He lets out a shaky breath with a laugh, humping his hips forward and into your hand intentionally when he does it.

“Fuck,” He seethes out. “Yeah, okay.” He sighs this time, without shame still fucking himself into your hand and showing a desperate need for what you’re asking for.

You can’t help but get lost in it. Your hand guided his cock down and against your clit for a brief moment of sensitive relief before releasing a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding when you position him at your entrance.

He pushes in without holding back, but he’s slow with it. The head of his cock sank into the warm and clenched walls causing a pleasant stretch. Both of you let out a moan at this, feeling him push in slowly, continuously, until he’s bottomed out and nuzzling against your ear.

“Sound so pretty when you moan,” he babbles against your ear, leaving wet and warm condensation from his breath there. “You could drive me insane like this.”

You moan again, not entirely for his pleasure but simply because it feels so good. His cock pulsing inside of you when you clench around him, his soft voice in your ear. Sensory overload has never felt so fucking euphoric to you.

“Like that, yeah.” Hongjoong rasps out this time, pulling his head back in time with his hips. Almost emptying you entirely before pushing back in with that same languid drag of his hips. His eyes are on you now though, arms at either side of your head as he works up a lazy kind of rhythm. One that offers a deep thrust each time.

You can’t help the sounds that fall from your lips, and you can’t help that your pussy is throbbing around him, and certainly, you can’t help that the feeling of one of his hands moving to your chest before dipping his head down and sucking against it makes you moan out a bit louder.

With each moan, he almost mimics you with his own. He’s riding off of the pleasure he’s giving to you. Then again, he’s always been fond of pretty sounds. Music is his passion but hearing you make such delicate sounds for him makes his head spin in all sorts of directions.

His thrusts become more pointed after a few minutes, fucking into you at a pace that feels equally as deep but more powerful now. Your hands grip at anything you can get ahold of, meaning, you grip him. His arms, his back, and then finally you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down.

His hips stutter at that before he grabs one of your legs and hikes it up and around his waist. This allows him to position himself slightly differently, fucking into you at an angle as his lips immediately fall to yours with a breathy laugh.

You can’t kiss him back this time though, with the new angle he’s driving into you causing his cock to bump repeatedly against a soft spot inside of you. Your mouth is left slack, releasing empty moans against his attempts to kiss you.

He takes intense note of it, keeping up his pace and falling in love with the way you react to this angle. His hands find purchase above your head and he leans back to watch you as he fucks into you.

“God,” He says slightly out of breath, dipping in briefly to kiss you on the forehead. “I’m going to come in about five seconds if you keep doing this.”

Your eyes roll back slightly at his words and instantly you’re shoving your hand between the two of you to push yourself over the edge. He swats your hand away though, still fucking into you all while intertwining his fingers with yours and using his other hand to do the work for you.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” He says, rubbing his fingers in harsh circles around your sensitive clit. “Let me take care of you,” he adds in a huff, his hips becoming more frantic each time he feels your pussy tense around him.

Just like that, you’re releasing in waves with trembling legs. To the point that you throw your other leg around his waist and essentially push him into you with such force that he can’t even thrust anymore. You hold him there, riding out your high and struggling to comprehend the fact that this man isn’t always attached to you like this.

He lays there, his head forced into the crook of your neck as he feels you come around him, clenching him so tightly that he can’t really help it either. Your warm and wet pussy is absolutely soaking him and all he can do is let it. All he can do is feel it, to the point that he’s driven over the edge too.

Even when you release your death grip hug, he stays in place, nuzzling further against your neck with choked moans and tight presses of his hips. He’s trying to drive his cock deeper than it can go as he releases it, the feeling too good for him to think straight. You run your fingers through his hair as he does it, trailing your fingernails down to his neck and across his back.

You can feel the goosebumps on his skin under your fingers, and when his body finally goes limp on top of you, all you can do is continue that motion. Scratching, rubbing, soothing him through both of your post-orgasm brain fog.

Becoming Hongjoong’s girlfriend was something that should have been expected if you’re being honest. It should be a normal relationship, with normal arguments, and normal sex. Except it’s not.

The relationship is anything but normal but you’d like to say you prefer it this way. With the late night dates to empty parking lots just to be outside of your own spaces, the gas station runs where the two of you need to buy every snack known to man to satiate your munchies. The repeat tv shows playing on his television because you never quite catch what happened in episode six despite watching in four times. To be fair, episode six always comes on when you’re almost entirely wrapped up with your boyfriend.

His hands are always stained with hair dye because he can’t be bothered to wear gloves, your hands are stained with hair dye too because you can’t not run your fingers through it when he’s between your legs. He’s always adding color to your life, be it literally or emotionally.

There’s something strange about the way he balances you. In public with him, all attention is on his ripped clothes and shining piercings and a quirk of the brow always comes when they see you holding his hand.

You kind of like the attention these days though.

#hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong smut #ateez smut

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bangtanflirt · 1 year

Text

Wait, Little Rabbit! (Part 3)

fluff, angst, smut

Bunny Hybrid (Fem) Reader x Human Seokjin x Dog Hybrids Jimin and Hoseok x Cat Hybrid Yoongi x Wolf Hybrids Namjoon, Taehyung, & Jungkook

NSFW. 18+

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4

Summary: You, a meek little bunny hybrid, find family amongst six predator hybrids and their lovely human caretaker.

Warnings: mfm threesome, dom and sub dynamics, oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal penetration, some nipple play and a boob-obsessed Tae, lots of sexual tension, teasing, cockblocking lol, grinding while making out, walking in on sexy times, y/n’s still grieving the loss of her old owner, brief mention of hybrid abuse and hunting

____

Two more weeks go by and you become determined to find a hobby, jealous of how passionate the other hybrids are with theirs. You’d never thought about having one much, you’d just hop around and keep your elderly caretaker company all day; you didn’t need a hobby when your days were consumed by taking care of her. But being here, you’ve started envying everyone else for having one: Hobi with his dancing, Namjoon and books, Yoongi’s interior design passion projects, Taehyung and art, Jungkook’s gaming, and Jimin’s ungodly obsession with everything related to Haikyuu!!. Out of everyone’s interests, the only one that really calls out to you is Taehyung’s. You’ve always admired the paintings your old caretaker hung on her walls, but you’d never thought of making anything yourself. That all changes once Taehyung shows you his paintings and asks if you want to give it a try. You’re reluctant at first, telling him you prefer to just watch him do his thing. So that’s exactly what you do, watch as he lays layer after layer of carefree strokes on a giant canvas. You’re amazed at his ability to make such decisive, big strokes—each adding more color and shapes. The whole process is just so pretty; you can’t help but pull your body closer in anticipation of his next move. That’s when he practically forces a paintbrush in your hand and gives you an encouraging look.

“I don’t want to ruin what you’ve created”

“This isn’t the type of painting you can ruin silly, the more you add the cooler and more abstract it looks. Don’t think, just paint.”

And so you comply, dipping the small flat brush into a bright crimson and imitating the brush strokes you watched him do. His little nods of approval give you confidence to go in with a second color, a vibrant teal, and make random patterns. “You’re a natural! Are you having fun?” You nod and giggle, adding more and more with him cheering you on. The end result has no distinguishable features or story, but it sure looks pretty. You’re absolutely overjoyed when he tells you that you can keep it.

“Hey, Y/N”

“Hm?”

“Can I try something?”

“What is it?”

His face breaks out into a big grin, eyebrows dancing up and down,

“Body paint.”

And that’s how you find yourself topless in front of the boxy-grinned wolf hybrid. You think he’s going to use your back for his canvas, but you quickly find out it’s your front he intends to color. “Why would I choose your back when I can paint these gorgeous tits.” The words make your skin break out in goosebumps.

“Do you do this with the other hybrids?”

“Only Jungkook. Been trying to get Yoongi to let me do it for months but no luck,” he pouts, “gotta say though, Jungkook’s chest is nice but definitely not this nice to look at.” You laugh shyly.

The first stroke of cold paint against your warm-blooded body has you shivering, feeling each bristle as Taehyung swipes across your stomach. He focuses on your stomach area for a good while, periodically taking a few steps back to see his work as a whole. You feel utterly exposed and on display, but the admiration in Taehyung’s eyes ease your self-consciousness. The first stroke on one of your breasts has your breath hitch. The paint works in circles around your already erect nipples, and Taehyung’s looking at your face the entire time.

“Tae” you mewl, “stop teasing”

He just laughs while continuing, doing the same to your other breast.

“I was surprised when I heard you were talking me up to Namjoon”

“Why is that?” He converses while focusing on his brush strokes.

“I mean, you’re just always teasing me. I didn’t think you’d like me.”

He chuckles, “I tease everyone Y/N, it’s never serious. I think you’re a nice addition around here.”

You let out a “wow” when he guides you to the mirror, letting you see his complete vision. It’s still your body, but it feels more than that—he took your body and turned it into a piece of art. You feel beautiful.

“Thank you, really thank you Tae.”

“Thank you for letting me do this.”

You’ve turned around to face him, letting him memorize his work one last time. To your surprise, his gaze doesn’t just linger on where the paint is, but also on your lips. Tentatively, he leans in closer, planting a soft peck on your lips, being careful not to get any paint on himself. You kiss him back.

He’s gentle the entire time he cleans you up. Big hands scrunch the damp washcloth and trace over every paint stroke he’s made. You’re hypnotized by the low jazz tune he hums. Everything feels dreamy and warm, which is why you’re too relaxed to register Jungkook and Namjoon entering the room. Both wolves look at the scene with shock, but Taehyung doesn’t stop his actions.

“Guys, Y/N let me paint on her! Ugh, why did you guys come after I’ve wiped it all off!”

The two wolves stand around awkwardly, avoiding looking at your topless figure while trying to seem unaffected. Namjoon can’t seem to stop coughing. Their demeanor has you acting awkward as well, your initial haze of indifference fading. That’s when you scramble to put your top on and hurriedly hop out of the room.

Once out of the room, you end up running right into a confused Seokjin, who just raises his eyebrows up but doesn’t pry. What he does do, however, is inform you that you are due for a good grooming session and promptly guides you to your shared room. Both of you smile when passing through the living room and seeing a curled up Yoongi on the tuxedo couch (you only know it’s a tuxedo couch because the cat hybrid told you so). When you are in the room, you make yourself comfortable on the bed while the man goes to grab a grooming kit. He works on your overgrown claws first, laser-focused on each nail as to not trim too much. He remembers how horrible he felt for days when he first trimmed Yoongi’s claws, accidentally goin overboard and causing a little bit of blood to gush out. Yoongi insisted he was alright, but Jin’s heart ached at the sight. Thankfully, he’s never made such a mistake again—which is why your nail care section goes by so smoothly. You feel spoiled when he massages hybrid claw oil into your cuticles, as it’s not a thing you’re used to. It’s when the man is gently cleaning your long, floppy ears with a cotton ball that the mood starts to change; you don’t know when the tears start coming, but your cheeks have rivers going down them before you can even process your emotions. Jin, startled, stops all motions of cleaning and faces you instead, body tensed in worry.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?! Did I do something wrong? Was it the nails? Or did I hurt your ears?!”

You quickly shake your head no, “Last time I was groomed was by my old caretaker, the day before she passed away. I remember how frail she was at the time, and how I knew she wasn’t going to last long.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you, bun.”

“It was. It was really hard. When I found her the next day…not breathing…it felt like I had lost my whole world. She was the only one who’d ever shown me love up to that point, y’know? And I didn’t even get to properly grieve her before her family got rid of me. It just really sucks.”

Seokjin offers you open arms, and you bury yourself into his comforting embrace. He doesn’t say much, just a few “it’s okay, let it out” every few minutes as you sob uncontrollably into his shoulders. Sadly, he’s had similar talks a lot before: all hybrids except Yoongi had come to him in distress. He rescued the dog hybrids by calling Hybrid Protective Services on his abusive neighbors, and the wolves were found running from hunters behind a hotel in one of his work trips. Even Yoongi, who had a previously loving home (before his caretaker decided to enlist and leave him to Jin), had serious abandonment issues early on. Suffice to say, he’s no stranger to these moments. As much as he wishes he could take all of the hybrids’ pain on himself, he knows that the only thing he can actually do is let you know he's there for you while you’re healing. Only when you’re all out of tears does he separate your body from his, leaving and coming back with a cup of hot cocoa and more blankets. He also does this thing where he exaggerates every word he says, in an attempt to elicit a laugh from you—it works.

When you finally leave the room again, Yoongi’s no longer in anywhere to be seen. His place on the couch is replaced by Jimin, who’s watching, yep, Haikyuu!! again. His tail wags furiously upon seeing you. The man is just about to give you a recap of everything on the screen when you manage to escape, giving him a hug and telling him you’ll listen later. You love Jimin’s company and you actually like the anime too, but you’re not always in a Haikyuu!! mood, which is a concept the man has yet to grasp. So you leave the living room to find the other dog-hybrid. Now, you’re usually a polite bun who has the sense to knock before entering, but you’ve made a nasty habit of walking right into the dog hybrids’ room. Besides, if they really wanted privacy then they would lock the door, right? Wrong. Because right as the door swings open, the first thing you is Yoongi’s bare ass propped up in the air, with a fully clothed Hoseok with his hand up in a mid-ass-smacking position. Your cheeks turn bright red. “We’re a little busy here, y/n” Hoseok muses, causing Yoongi to turn his head back and see you. If you thought your face was red, it’s nothing compared to the tomato-faced cat hybrid you see. Hoseok continues talking, in a frustratingly casual tone, “You’re welcome to join bun, but please close the door and leave if that’s not your intention.” You register just how wide you’ve swung the door open, and quickly shut it, with you still outside the room. Stunned and in a daze, you don’t even know how your feet take you back to the living room. Jimin, upon seeing your red face and the direction you just came back from, puts two and two together.

“You walked in on them, didn’t you” he bursts out in laughter. You throw a decorative pillow his way before taking a seat on the couch, this time much more inclined to watch Haikyuu!! if it means forgetting the embarrassment of what just happened. Unfortunately, this is the one time Jimin wants to talk about something other than Shōyō Hinata. “This is so funny, you should see your face right now!”

“Why didn’t you warn me?!”

“I didn’t know you were going to go there! If you didn’t notice, I was very immersed in the television. Anyways, what did you see? How freaky are they being right now? Or is it a tame, lovey dovey kind of day?”

“Jimin! I am not answering that!”

“Why not, are you afraid you’ll get turned on if you talk about it?” He punctuates with a suggestive wiggling of his brows, “Or are you already turned on?”

You cover your face, not giving an answer because you really do not to be further teased by the fact that you are very much turned on by what you saw. When you bring your hands down, you notice Jimin inching closer. The blonde man maneuvers his body in between your legs, now on top of you with desire evident on his face. He leans in for a kiss and you are more than willing to let him into your mouth; he tastes just as sweet as the last time the two of you kissed. Somewhere along the way, the make-out session evolves to groping and grinding, both of you eager to explore the other’s body. His soft cinnamon scent, his signature cherry chap-stick, the sensual way he moves on top of you, everything Jimin does has you getting lost in him. This exact power he has is the reason why you stop being cognizant of your surroundings—that is until Seokjin pulls you out of the moment altogether.

“YA! NOT ON MY SILK COUCH! I JUST GOT IT PROFESSIONALLY CLEANED YOU HOOLIGANS.”

Jimin falls on top you laughing, while you do your best to hide your guilty face with his body. Your hilariously outraged caretaker forces the two of you apart and orders you around to stop being horny and go prep the potatoes. You can’t help but notice Yoongi flinch and squirm in his seat throughout dinner, he does well to avoid your eyes when passing you the water pitcher. Hoseok, on the other hand, is not shying away from eye-contact in the slightest, throwing you a wink or smile whenever your eyes meet. You’re on dishwashing duty today, with Namjoon by your side in charge of drying. Part of you is glad he’s trying to make conversation while you do chores together, but the other part wishes he didn’t choose the conversation topic of you and Jimin earlier.

“So that was you and Jimin on the couch, right?”

He shatters your disillusion that no one heard Jin scolding the two of you—because of course everyone did; even without hybrid hearing, Jin’s yelling voice could be heard through every nook and cranny of the house. You pretend to be really focused on scrubbing a plate, trying to dodge the conversation. Namjoon’s not having that, though.

“Jin hyung cock-blocked you pretty hard,” he laughs before leaning in closer and dropping to a low whisper, “I can smell how wet you still are.”

You drop the plate at the statement, but the Alpha’s reflexes are quick to catch it and put it back in your grasp—his touch lingering a second too long on your hands. You weren’t dumb, you knew everyone but Seokjin could smell your arousal, but you thought everyone would follow common hybrid courtesy of not mentioning it. This is the last thing you expect to hear from an Alpha who’s only fully warmed up to you for like a week now.

“I still can’t get the image of this morning out of my head. Your tits on full display, with Taehyung wiping them down. You don’t know how crazy it drove me to see such a sight.”

Okay, if you were wet before, you are absolutely gushing through your panties right now—and Namjoon knows it. Even worse, his voice and look changes back to normal in a split second as he asks you to pass him the plate in your hand. He’s playing you. That bastard.

You bolt out of there the minute the last dish is washed, akin to how a bunny hybrid would run from a wolf in the wild, except your reasoning is entirely different in this moment. You find yourself once again in front of the dog hybrids’ door, this time making sure to knock. Once they give you the all clear, you open the door and find both of them freshly showered and drying their hair.

“We’ll come sleep in Jin hyung’s room right after we dry off, bun.” Jimin informs you, thinking that’s the reason you’re there, but you simply make your way onto their bed. The proximity lets both Hoseok and Jimin inhale the scent of your arousal, causing both men to stop their actions.

“Please take care of me, tired of being teased all day” your voice is meek and pouty, but your big doe eyes are determined.

The two men chuckle at your frustrated form but waste no time in complying. Hoseok strips you rather roughly this time, but your more than happy about it. Jimin undresses himself and unbuttons Hoseok’s shirt as well. Hoseok stops the younger man from undoing his pants, instead motioning him to get on his knees. Jimin eagerly kneels in front of his hyung, eyes begging for further instruction.

“That hungry for my cock, huh Chim?”

The boy nods.

“Another time puppy, I want you to taste our pretty bunny right now.”

Your thighs rub together at his words, and the dominant man soon picks you up and spreads you out on the bed, heat level with Jimin’s head. Your already embarrassingly wet, and Jimin dives right in. He laps up your juices diligently, humming into your heat and sending vibrations to the rest of your body. Hoseok holds Jimin’s hair the entire time, practically suffocating the man in your heat. He occasionally lets the other dog hybrid breathe, pulling him up for air by yanking his blonde locks, before shoving him back in. It’s not long before a blissful high washes over you, having you grip the bedsheets in pleasure.

Unlike last time, when everything stopped after your orgasm, both hybrids are still looking at you with lustful gazes right now. Hoseok’s cock is now fully out and erect, being stroked by his big hands.

“Can you take more? Want to give you my cock, bun.”

Luckily for everyone in this situation, you’re finally feeling your rabbit libido come back in full—meaning you can out last every hybrid in this house now.

“Give me everything, please!”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before positioning himself at your dripping entrance, nudging the man between your legs aside and ordering him to fill your mouth. Jimin’s cock slides into your throat before you have a chance to moan at Hoseok entering you. The younger man is gentler, while the older mercilessly fucks into your heat. As try as he might to last longer, Jimin completely loses it when you start making gargling noises around his length. It’s not long before his warm cum is being shot down your throat. Hoseok lasts a little longer, but not by much considering how hot you looked swallowing all of Jimin’s cum. He rubs your clit as his orgasm approaches, causing both of you to reach your highs within seconds of each other.

Hoseok cleans both of you, working extra delicately on Jimin as the younger boy has fallen asleep. He encourages you to come sleep in their room tonight, not wanting to leave Jimin alone, but you insist on going back—not wanting to leave Jin alone either. You exit the room with wobbly knees and a smile, tiptoeing back into Jin’s bed. It’s already well into the night, you realize upon hearing the man’s soft snores. You cuddle up next to him, finding peace within his lavender scent. It’s not long before you too doze off into a deep, comfortable slumber.

____

A/N: Hope reading this makes your day a little bit better :) reblogs and comments mean the world! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Taglist: @osakis-gf

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hybrid jungkook #hybrid jimin #hybrid taehyung #hybrid yoongi #hybrid hoseok #hybrid namjoon #seokjin #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst

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eyesofshinigami · 3 months

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It's The Little Things

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, fluff, projection (lol), Short and sweet

Prompt: From @shofarshogood "Love is doing the dishes even when it's the worst chore ever"

WC: 900

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 5

If there is one chore Eddie could spend the rest of his life never doing again, it would be doing dishes. He hates it with flaming, raging passion. He’d almost rather be eaten by demobats again, but he would never say as much in front of Steve. It makes him all mopey when he says shit like that, even though Eddie’s pretty sure it was his near death, so he gets to joke about it.

At any rate, Eddie absolutely loathes washing dishes. He hates the feeling of wet food on his hands, the way it gets up under his fingernails. He hates the sound of the sponge squeaking against glass. He especially hates how he can never seem to stay dry while he washes them, either. It never fails, he always ends up a sopping wet mess (along with the floor, the counter, the pile of mail he still hasn’t opened yet…)

He would happily go the rest of his life without ever washing a single dish again.

Thankfully, Steve seems to find doing dishes therapeutic, or some shit. He always tells Eddie that it gives him the chance to zone out, to let his brain turn off and go on autopilot. Which, Eddie can kind of relate to, considering it’s the same sort of zen he finds when he’s folding their clothes. Especially towels. Eddie really likes folding towels.

Anyway, it works out. Eddie washes clothes and Steve does the dishes. It’s a pretty good balance and it means their dishes are always clean and they never run out of laundry.

Except lately, Steve has been swamped. Between working twelve-hour EMT shifts and trying to study for his finals, there just hasn’t been time. The dishes have just… been piling up in the sink. To the point where it’s kind of starting to overflow.

Shamefully, it takes Eddie a little bit longer to notice, considering that it’s not on his usual chore list. It isn’t until he’s having to precariously rest a cereal bowl on the pile so it doesn’t collapse that it actually occurs to him that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to fucking wash the dishes.

He lets out a sigh. God, he hates doing dishes, but… but he knows that Steve is too tired, has too much going on. It wouldn’t kill him to do it just this once, to make sure it’s one more thing his boyfriend doesn’t have to worry about. If he can make Steve’s life just a little bit easier, he can brave some stuck-on food and grimy soapy water.

So, Eddie pulls up his metaphorical big boy panties and grabs the dish soap and starts the tap running. Thankfully, he manages to locate the bright yellow gloves that Steve uses to clean under the sink, which should make this more tolerable. He pops one of his metal mixes into the cassette player and gets to work, bobbing his head and trying not to think about what might lurking under the soapy water.

He lets himself get lost in the repetition of it, scrubbing then rinsing then putting in the drainer that Steve insisted they buy when they moved in together. So lost, in fact, that he doesn’t hear the front door opening or the sound of approaching footsteps, until Steve is suddenly appearing in the doorway.

“Christ!” Eddie yells, almost dropping the slotted spoon he was washing.

“Sorry, baby. But uh… Eds… what are you doing?” Steve asks, motioning to the sink.

Eddie almost says something flip, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can see the dark circles under Steve’s eyes, the way his back is hunched. “Oh, uh, doing the dishes. They were piling up and I figured I was off today, I could just do them.”

Steve blinks at him. “But you hate doing the dishes.”

Eddie blinks back. “Yeah, but I knew you’d be home late. Like I said, I figured I could do them and… you know, help you out?”

Steve blinks again, before the sweetest smile breaks out onto his face. Like sunshine after the rain. “I appreciate that, thank you.” Steve steps into his space, wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him into a hug. He doesn’t even seem to care that Eddie’s shirt and sweatpants seem to soaked. “You’re the best.”

“I just washed a couple of dishes, Steve,” Eddie tries to joke, but he nuzzles against Steve, the best he can do right now while he’s still wearing these ridiculous rubber gloves. “You’ve been working hard, baby. I just wanted to make things easier for you.”

Steve lets out a shaky sigh. “You do, Eds. Every day. Thank you.” He leans in for a kiss, soft and sweet and thrilling Eddie down to his toes. When Steve pulls back, he pecks Eddie on the lips one more time before he says, “How about we order Chinese tonight? From the takeout place with the cartons, so we don’t have to dirty any more dishes, hmm?”

“Music to my ears, Stevie. Go order and I’ll finish up here, yeah?”

Steve nods and Eddie watches him walk away, seeing the way Steve is still smiling like Eddie just handed him a million bucks or something.

He might still hate it, but Eddie would wash all the dishes in the world to see Steve smile like that every day of the week.

#les writes thing #steddie #steddielovemonth #rating: g #fluff

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mr-leach · 5 months

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Thinking about how Ulder Ravenguard was so dead set on hating his son for not being a perfect replica of himself that he refused to listen to a single thing he said. He will not even consider listening unless you, a complete fucking stranger, step in to advocate for him, and even then it's an uphill battle. No amount of love or respect Wyll has for his father is enough to grant him any sort of grace; choosing his own path was so much of a slight in Ulder's eyes that Wyll might as well not even be his own son. The only surefire way to get him to understand is to literally break into his mind and show him what happened, and once he finally sees reason what does he do?

He immediately decides on what Wyll should do with his future now that he's back in daddy's good graces. Even sends him to go and finish a quest he himself started to prove his worth. Sure, when Wyll "fails" he acts forgiving, but his attitude is still that Wyll is just a younger version on himself and should act accordingly. Well now that you've earned forgiveness, son, you can get back to business as usual, clearly... regardless of whether that's what Wyll wants for himself or not.

Like. I have a lot of thoughts about this. For one, I have to wonder if Wyll hadn't made a pact with Mizora, or had made a pact with a divine or neutral patron rather than a devil...how long would Wyll and Ulder have actually maintained a good relationship after that night? Like, Wyll has this habit of talking about his childhood and adolescence in that...barely-fond manner. You know, where the person telling stories feels like they're sharing a sweet or funny anecdote, but to everyone else it sounds... miserable. There were parts of his upbringing that he surely enjoyed, but it is deeply overshadowed by a cloud of resentment that Wyll himself barely recognizes. He loves his father, and truly respects and looks up to him, but it's evident from the stories he shares that Ulder treated him more like a student than a son. Wyll was his protege more than his progeny, it sounds like.

And the way it affects how Wyll talks about himself is heartbreaking. He puts himself down all the time, makes self deprecating jokes, or makes unhealthy predictions of what others might think of him. The only time he doesn't...is when he talks about the Blade of Frontiers. He loves the work that he does so much, he is so passionate about being right on the front lines protecting innocents and doing away with evil, and he even takes pride in his decision to make his pact with Mizora because it's that power that he uses to help people. Like gosh, even when fretting over how others might perceive his devilish form, he concludes that, if people see him as a monster, then they'll get to watch a monster fight evil and save people's lives. It sounds cheezy as fuck but oh my god. Like talk about feeling inadequate and unloved but choosing a path for yourself that you can be proud of in spite of all that.

And then, just thinking of that reuniting exchange in and of itself, and just. You can tell just how used to being shot down Wyll is, even though he really, truly wants his father to understand him. And it takes actually forcing Ravengard to witness what happened to make any progress. Many of us wish we could project exactly what we mean or feel or experience directly into the mind of someone we're trying to get through to. And still it's like he can't see past his own selfish perception of Wyll as an extension of himself. Wyll seems satisfied in the moment, but it's apparent that he's still been misunderstood despite being forgiven by his father. It sucks.

#bg3 spoilers #wyll ravengard #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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sinfulpanda16 · 1 month

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JJK Men x Coll. Student

Gojo Saturo, Kento Nanami, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro x College Student

He with a s/o that's in college. How does he feel about it? How does he help you throughout your college journey?

Helps you cheat for sure. When you're taking your online tests, he's by your side searching up the questions too. You still don't know how, but one time he managed to get at the questions on your midterm with the answers! You memorized them and Aced that damn test.

Gojo is you hype man.

You're right there typing away on your computer and then to your left you hear the slightest, "You can do it." You jump a bit and turn to see Gojo smiling at you. He claps for you when you finally turn in that big project, feels relived when you pass a class, and overall feels likes he's winning too.

Every college student complains about a course, you are no exception. When you're ranting about how much you hate a class, he joins in too even though he has nothing to do with it.

Like when you're working on a History project You throw your head back and say in an annoyed tone, "Ugh History is so stupid" and then Gojo chimes in, "Right, like, why y'all living in the past?"

If you get an unreasonable grade on an assignment you start complaining about how the school is dumb and he would just agree. "Yes. You're right everyone else is wrong😤"

You two would just hate on school together. Saying dropping is smarter than staying but they're all jokes. You jokingly say, "Maybe I should just be your stay at home (s/o)." and see him smirk. Enjoying the sound of that, "That would fit you better in my opinion."

Obviously, he supports you with everything. If you want to stay in school he'll be in the sidelines cheering you on. If not he will take care of you and you wont ever have to worry about school ever again.

Nanami would actually sit down with you and help you study. Sometimes when you're procrastinating he will tell you to go grab your books so both of you can study together.

If you're feeling burn out, he will help you ease your mind, if you just aren't feeling motivated, he will help motivate you by saying, "Come on Ms/Mr future (occupation) lets go." as he grabs your hand leading the way to your guy's study area.

He's the one who buys your books. You tell him he doesn't have to, but he insists. He really just wants to help you focus on your studies and not worry about financial responsibilities. Let him take care of that.

He's so gentle with you. He's generally gentle but when he sees you stressing over school, he becomes even more gentle. He walks in your room and sees you with your head down on your desk, books laying open everywhere. He walks towards you with a cup of tea and wakes you up gently. You slowly wake up and look up at him with tired eyes. His eyes soften, seeing you like that sucks, he hands you your tea, "Your tea my love." he says softly. You smile and thank him and when you take a zip of your tea he kisses your temple and whispers, "You did good today love."

He makes sure you rest. It's why he doesn't encourage you to procrastinate. Sleep is so important, and he'll be damned if you lose yourself all cuz you refused rest. That plus, his favorite time of day is going to bed with you, and if your too busy working he's not gonna have that anymore.

He threatens to end your teachers if they so much as give you an average grade. You're the one that has to calm him down, even though, yeah, your teachers are total losers for that.

He was always the type of person that would say college is a scam but then he met you. You told him you're in college and the way you speak about your dream job, with so much passion and hope, made him have so much respect for you. He sees how much effort you put in your work and how strong you are emotionally and mentally. If it were him, he would've have dropped out by now.

Studying isn't his thing, but he still wants to help you. One time he sat there in front of your computer while you sat next to him telling what to type in your essay. He made a little lofi playlist for you and him. He made it so you can have something to listen to when you study and so he can listen to it when he works out at midnight.

Other ways he'd help you out would be by dropping you off at school, carrying your bag and books for you, going to buy your essentials, join you for some school activities, and even make sure you drink water.

The times you just can't anymore he will let you throw out your anger on him. He loves seeing you angry and will say, "Yeah! show me how mad you are!" as he bares his arm for you to punch. (Your punches don't hurt him dw) Letting out your emotions is good for you so he helps you let out all your frustration.

He knows college was never meant for him but that doesn't stop him from helping you through it.

Geto would force you to stop studying when he sees things are getting out of hand. You haven't been taking care of yourself or making time for yourself due to your studies. All you've been doing recently was work and would only stop to make time for him and don't get him wrong, he loves that, but he knows it's more important if you take time off for your own self. So he picks you off your chair scaring you and says, "Baby enough studying. Let's go" and will take you to another room.

Let's say one of your hobbies is journaling, he will take you to another room, hand you your journal and say, "Use those new stickers I bought for you, ok?" Or if you play games, he will sit you in front of your console and will tell you to enjoy yourself. Truth be told, its not the same when you spend time with him as you're forgetting yourself.

He tells you you're smart every day. You are, it's no lie.

If he sees you're getting discouraged he'll say something like, "At least you smarter than that monkey, Gojo."

Geto would pe pissed to see one of your professors failed you. That low grade really hurt you so its only right he returns the favor. You tell him he can't physically hurt them but that doesn't stop him from slashing their tires.

He also tells you how proud he is of you. You're really the only person he's truly proud of and every day of your college career he becomes prouder and prouder of you and beyond the day you graduate.

There's also another way they're all really good at helping you relief stress. It involves him caging you with his body 😏 and they're so good at it.

a/n: College Students You Got This! ^^

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woozten-x · 1 year

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#. 𝘼𝙨 𝘽𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 | 𝙉𝘾𝙏 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢

[ ; M.List including other Neos! ]

─ Context: When dating, you’ve noticed many habits and cherished the many memories with your boyfriend; you recall every single one, your love for them growing stronger by the many moments shared with them. (NCT DREAM EDITION)

─ Genre: Tooth-rotting FLUFF, lots of wholesome moments of just them being ur boyfriend, Headcanons

─ Length: 7 bullet points!

❒ a/n: been in a headrot about established relationships and overall wholesome/romantic headcanons for the dreamies!! OMG by NewJeans really helped me get in the zone with these headcanons, oh lord i am sick!! i am lovesick!

!! Mark .

We all know he’s a music lover and he has a dedicated playlist for you, every song in that playlist reminds him of you! Every time Mark feels lonely, he would be listening to it; the melody of every song bringing you closer to him, no matter the distance

LOVES talking about you even when you aren’t there - literally brings you up in every conversation whenever something reminds him of you; everyone around Mark (who know you or not) is always learning something about you

Whenever he is working/composing music, he is always giving you a snippet of the project because he just can’t contain his passion for music; as Mark’s lover, he is making you experience the very same passion he puts in every piece of music he works on

Willing to drop everything or anything he’s doing at the very moment whenever you call his name; Mark doesn’t care, he is always looking at you or looking at the direction of your voice like a lovesick puppy

For some reason, he enjoys placing his snapbacks/beanies on your head; Mark just loves seeing you in his hats, finding it adorable whenever the hat is a bit too big for you

Makes you feel like a grade A comedian because he is always giggling or laughing with you; please save him, Mark’s lungs are working 10x harder after meeting you

Whenever you are talking, his eyes are pleading towards you with every drop of attention laid on you; sometimes, he would randomly utter out “Cute.” because you have Mark in a trance with your beauty

!! Renjun .

Everytime he draws, he likes to draw things that remind him of you or just anything that may be of your liking (tbh you like everything he draws); Renjun loves showing you his drawings/paintings and he loves every compliment coming from your lips the most

Definitely doodles on your skin with paint because he refuses to use markers that may stain or hurt your skin; the sensation of the brush is bringing you to a serene place, he is always smiling whenever he sees you dozing off with a sheepish smile on your face

Whenever you get teased by the other members, Renjun is always stepping in to defend you; he is your knight in shining armor, willing to let his rated E hands do the talking if necessary

Usually, Renjun can be quite sarcastic with the others when tested enough but his patience is endless when it comes with you; your attention means so much to him, he is willing to take any for his own greedy heart

Has a habit of combing his fingers through your hair, the small affectionate gesture conveying the amount of admiration he has for you; whenever his fingers get tangled in your hair and tugs, he apologizes quickly and kisses the top of your head as assurance

LOVES cuddling with you in bed with those glowing star stickers on the ceiling or galaxy projectors; he just loves holding you close to him underneath those artificial stars, telling you sweet nothings while drifting along the made-up galaxy the two of you created

Has set reminders/alarms to remind you of taking your medication/vitamins everyday; even when he’s out busy with whatever schedule, Renjun is making time to send a text to show how much he cares for you

!! Jeno .

Willing to stay up with you, whether you are working or just not tired, he is accompanying you for hours; even when Jeno is exhausted or is on phone with you, he is staying awake with you to spend every second of his day with you

When you face him, speaking to him about anything, he is listening but sometimes he gets distracted; randomly, Jeno is placing a hand on your cheek and caressing your soft skin with eyes blinded by the love for you

LOVES approaching you when you least expect it, leaning close to your face with a playful grin plastered on his face; Jeno is always planting a kiss on your cheek, nose or lips whenever he gets the chance to surprise you

He’s a gamer and we all know he has those headsets that practically cancels out all noise surrounding him; but, Jeno always keeps it lower than usual and always sacrifices his own game to give his undivided attention to you whenever you call him

Risking his back to carry you around on his back or straining his arms to carry you in his arms, reassuring you whenever you feel fearful of hurting him; Jeno is your prince charming, striving to take you anywhere regardless of your worries

Purposely leaves his hoodies, shirts and sweaters for you to have and he acts clueless whenever you ask if he wants it back; seeing you in his clothes makes him smile, crescent moons adoring you while saying “That looks good on you.” every single time

Playfully sticks out his arm for you to interlock with whenever the two of you walk together or are walking side by side; Jeno letting you know that he is by your side always and making the two of you inseparable, as he can never think a moment without you

!! Haechan .

The type to tease you, but you literally carved a spot in his heart that he can’t resist pouting or apologizing instantly whenever you get annoyed; Haechan loves getting a kick of these things, but it backfires as he ends up being the kicked puppy in the end

Shares his screen whenever he is playing games or you are sitting next to him watching, your head resting on his shoulder; Haechan loves to call you his lucky charm for winning games and show off his skills to hold the “Best Gamer Boyfriend” title

Your biggest supporter! He is always hyping you up, willing to show you off like a diamond on a ring; Haechan is the light burning every insecurity you carry, always boasting about you at any given opportunity

LOVES hugging you in whatever situation - back hugs, regular hugs, side hugs…Just anything related to hugs in general; Haechan is your personal teddy bear, clinging onto you until the very end with his addictive warmth enveloping you

Cheesy pickup lines? Suggestive jokes? Poetic words to describe his love for you? He is saying anything whenever he is with you; Haechan has no filter, completely infatuated with you, his own brain barely catching up with the words spilling out of his mouth

Likes to re-enact scenes with you or remembering the lines to have you swooning from some romantic movie he watched; due to realistic circumstances, Haechan is always laughing with you with an aching stomach and a fluttering heart

When you ignore him a bit too long, he gently grasps your chin with a feather-like touch; Haechan meets your eyes, basking in your attention for a brief moment before pulling away with a smirk as a way to have you yearning for him, also

!! Jaemin .

A smile grows on his face every time you look at him, speak to him, kiss him - just anything in general; his gaze is softening every time, Jaemin would also softly tell you “You are beautiful.” randomly to remind you of the beauty he cherishes most in life

Takes random photos of you, whether you are paying attention or not, he is your own personal photographer; Jaemin definitely has a folder of photos dedicated to you, sometimes scrolling through whenever he misses you or to show you off

Cooks and feeds you! He definitely calls you ‘Jaemin’s baby~’ or ‘My baby~’ in endearment while feeding you; you are Jaemin’s number one! Willing to spoil you rotten with his acts of services

LOVES to pinch your cheeks together, saying his iconic ‘Aigoo~’ whenever you look at him with your cheeks pinched together; Jaemin is smiling fondly at you, littering your faces with warm kisses causing you to giggle every time

Send voice messages to remind you to eat and stay hydrated! He is also sending you photos with a message attached saying - ‘looks pretty, but you are prettier though’; Jaemin always find time to take care of his number one

Always energetic around you and he is practically glowing when spending time with you; Jaemin never has any boring moments with you, always in high spirits whenever you enter the room or text/call him - you are his most treasured happiness!

When cuddling, he loves to pull you close to him and lean in to nuzzle the tip of his nose with yours; Jaemin is always so gentle with you during these moments, the world is currently in his grasp and he is always admiring it with a never ending fondness for you

!! Chenle .

Never letting you leave bed, no matter your protests or whatever important is going in his/your schedule; Chenle can be real clingy, especially when sleepy and he is not taking no as an answer towards the comfortable warmth you provide him

Random photos and videos of Daegal, always referring the cute dog as ‘Our daughter’ whenever he talks about her; Chenle is willing to be a father for any of your pets also, even if its a cat

Spams you of photos or videos he’s seen on social media, you basically receive ‘Boyfriend homework’; would sometimes feel betrayed whenever you ignore his messages, Chenle would sulk until you react to his spam of messages

LOVES dragging his fingertips along your arm or hand, mindlessly tracing your soft skin while he is on his phone or listening to you ramble; Chenle always conveys his devotion to you, letting you know he is there whenever you need him

Shuts you up with a kiss or unexpectedly kisses you; Chenle would defensively say he got bored or he just misses you, the adorable smile adorning his face makes you forgive him easily

He would play basketball with you, purposely losing to see you excited about winning; Chenle also gives you a kiss before or after a game against the other members, against your lips he says ‘Cheer for me’ or ‘Thank you for cheering for me’

Play wrestles with you on the bed or couch and always ask for a kiss whenever he wins; seeing you smile and laugh makes Chenle feel refreshed, his own heart overwhelmed by the feelings he felt when falling for you the first time

!! Jisung .

Sends good morning and good night voice messages, his voice always deep with drowsiness and saying he will see you later in the day or the next day; recording his voice is easier for Jisung, he just loves to start and end his day with his attention on you

Plays games with you, mainly the laidback games like Minecraft, Roblox or other games couples play; he is always so patient with you, at times Jisung loves showing off his skills to impress you of his abilities

Shyly pokes you or tugs on your clothes/sleeve whenever he wants your attention, the big baby pouting whenever he feels a teensy bit jealous; Jisung is quite greedy, always wanting to be in your spotlight and be the reason for your happiness

LOVES holding your hand and playing with your fingers, sometimes he just likes tracing the lines on your palm; this small gesture of affection is subtle, but it comforts Jisung knowing you are his only

Is always by your side helping you clean/cook, despite lacking some knowledge in some departments - he is aiding you and doing his very best to lessen the burden for you; Jisung is reliable, wanting you to lean on him when you get busy!

Blushes and gets all flustered whenever you compliment him about his dancing or singing/rapping; Jisung’s own confidence is skyrocketing every single time, but his bashfulness is something he can never hide each time

When he’s out and sees something that reminds him of you, he is going great lengths to obtain it; Jisung even has his hyungs help him (which they do help), willing to give you the most precious diamonds to his special person aka you

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bamf-jaskier · 2 years

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Cavill is not a martyr

I have been seeing so many posts and comments along the lines of “Henry Cavill left the Witcher because they were inaccurate to the books and he had enough of all the changes”

And this thought process, especially if you mention the recent DeMayo writer’s interview, is just a flawed thought process.

Just a quick blurb on DeMayo, as I said here his comments are probably a cry for attention from a fanbase he knows how to rile up and I would take what he says with a grain of truth salt. And Cavill has already filmed season 3 and I can assure you that a random writer he probably has already met making these comments didn’t send Cavill over the edge and have him march into the office an rage quit. Recasting and deciding on a new actor and getting out of contract is a lengthy process that has likely been going on for months. If anything it’s more likely DeMayo knew about Cavill leaving and then made his comments than the other way around.

So Henry Cavill announced he was leaving the Witcher just a few days after announcing he was returning to Superman.

In fact, he was quoted as saying this about his recent cameo as Superman in the new Black Adam movie:

"It was a very powerful moment for me. I wasn't sure how I would feel… whether it would be something very emotionally connective because I put the Man of Steel suit back on," Cavill said. "I chose that one in particular because of the nostalgia attached to the suit. It was important for me to be standing there and enjoying that moment. That is one of the top moments in my career. It feels great to have the opportunity to wear it again."

"The character means so much to me. It's been five years now. I never gave up hope," Cavill said of the half-decade he spent waiting for news about playing Superman again. "It's amazing to be here now talking about it again. There is such a bright future ahead for the character. I'm so excited to tell a story with an enormously joyful Superman."

And that 5 year mark is important. Because it is no coincidence that on September in 2018 it was reported that Cavill will no longer be playing Superman in the DCEU just days after it was announced he would be taking on the role of Geralt in The Witcher.

In fact, it was stated:

the Witcher commitment came after the Warners impasse, suggesting a change in the studio’s strategy.

Meaning he signed onto the Witcher because he stopped being Superman. So what we are seeing right now with Cavill announcing he is returning as Superman and then announcing he is leaving The Witcher is an exact reverse of the situation in 2018.

Cavill loves playing Superman and not only is it a project he is passionate about, but he also nets in a massive paycheck.

Even back in 2018 when Cavill left the role of Superman there was talk that he left because of contract disputes:

Cavill's original contract was for four movies, so a contract extension would naturally need to be arranged before Warner Bros. could move ahead with another standalone Superman movie. According to Revenge of the Fans, Cavill's team wanted to leverage a better deal out of the contract extension - including more movies, more money, and possibly even a producer role. From Warner Bros.' perspective, however, there isn't exactly a burning need to get another Superman movie made.

Then in August of 2022 reports began to come out from comi-con that Henry Cavill was looking to return to the role of Superman but wanted more money for the role.

And considering Cavill was paid a truly insane amount for 2013′s Man of Steel -- an estimated $14 million and a $20 million for 2017′s Justice League I have to wonder what wildly high amount he will be paid to return as Superman now in 2022 when he is a bigger star than ever before.

And his Witcher paycheck does not compare to that Superman money -- with him making 500k an episode in season 1 and $1 million an episode in season 2. Even if he was just making as much money as Justice League, and he is likely making much more to return, that is still well over double the amount of money to play Superman vs playing Geralt.

And at the end of the day, The Witcher is a show with very specific scheduling requirements and set locations. Blood Origin and Season 2 lost actors because of the scheduling conflicts. And that is not at all unusual for the industry.

And for set locations The Witcher is mostly filmed in Mafan Film Studio in Hungary as well as various locations around the country as well as Arborfield Film Studios in the UK and other locations there such as North Yorkshire & The Lake District. And with fewer COVID restrictions the production team is likely to want to go around Europe again for S4 and S5.

Meanwhile it’s hard to know where the new DCEU movies will be filmed but Man of Steel was filmed around Vancouver, British Columbia and Illinois in the US. Justice League was filmed around Scotland and London. Black Adam was filmed in Atlanta Georgia in the US.

All this to say filming DCEU movies and The Witcher are two very time intensive processes that require film locations that could be on opposite sides of the world. And in addition Cavill is starring in the new Highlander Reboot and in the Enola Holmes movies. Being a TV actor takes a lot of time for not as much money and acclaim. Cavill is seemingly going back to just being a film actor instead of a tv actor which considering his busy schedule makes a lot of sense.

So it’s pretty clear why he would leave The Witcher to return to Superman and his other films roles:

1) Far higher paycheck to play Superman

2) He loves both the characters but Superman is very meaningful for his career and he has stated he has always wanted to return to the role

3) Scheduling conflicts and very different filming locations and the prestige of film vs tv

Trying to spread the narrative of “Cavill is a martyr in the battle against the inaccuracies of the tv show” is based on nothing but your own confirmation bias. And it honestly says a lot about the type of person you are that you jump to find a symbol to represent the victimization of your hatred of the show.

You can dislike the show but the tinhatting and conspiracy theories I have seen flying around are quite frankly embarrassing and this is a needed reality check.

At the end of the day Henry Cavill is a high-level movie star who makes choices based on his career and what he wants to do. Your parasocial relationship with the man is entirely in your own head and I recommend trying to get out.

#and there's my thoughts on all the people commenting under my other post #the witcher #henry cavill #twn #liam hemsworth #discourse #superman #dceu #long post #myposts

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recreationalfanfics · 1 year

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Hi 💞I just discovered your account and I read all of Ror yandere's posts and I think your writing is the best I've ever read for Ror ✨✨. So I decided to place an order. This is the first time I order on any account 😅 So what about yandere poseidon, Thor, Buda, hades (if you don't read the manga, put Loki instead of him please) with a reader like Hinata Hyuga, shy, sweet, and heir to a powerful clan, but people think she's Weak and they prefer her sister, and she loves someone other than the yandere, and that other person is not aware of her feelings, and he loves another girl. You can choose if the reader is a god or a human. English is not my first language, so sorry if it is not understood 💀💀

I READ HINATA HYUGA AND INSTANTLY KNEW I HAD TO DO THIS REQUEST, SHE IS MY QUEEN. The reader will be human! I ALSO WANTED TO ADD THOR BUT I DIDN'T HAVE THE MOTIVATION SORRY-

chsjgjejc, she's so pretty I'm gonna cry

Yandere! Buddha x Hinata Hyuga! Reader:

- He loves you from right off the bat okay, your beliefs align so well with his and while people seemed to be ignorant about your strength, though he supposes thats what he liked most about you. You weren't just a demure and anxious woman, you had so many more layers to you.

- You were loving, absolutely passionate about those whom you loved and cared about. From your first fight, you showed your true strength and it really impressed Buddha.

- I'm gonna be honest, his feelings for you were genuinely wholesome and sweet from the start. He liked you and he was nice to you, yet when he tried to approach you romantically; you didn't shy away but confidently told him there was someone else. He was dissapointed...ah...so you already had a s/o? He shouldn't be surprised, you're amazing-

- Oh...they weren't your s/o? That's...interesting. He starts to look into this mortal that you seem to be so infatuated with and, well, he doesn't like what he finds. This person has the most desirable person in the world at their feet and they just act like she isn't there???

- How!? Buddha's world light's up once you enter the room. Everything around him seems brighter and more full of life, much so to the point that he notices when you're not around him, everything feels more lonely and sad. It doesn't make sense how they have you in the palm of their hands and yet, still want to have someone else.

- Buddha's obsession LITERALLY starts because of this, he is so close to winning your heart, he knows it! Every shy smile you give him when you compliment him, the way you blush but thank him when he hands you a snack, and how you confide in him. He nearly has you, his heart at his fingertips. But then that person just smiles at you once and you're cruelly pulled back to them. Maintaining a one-sided loyalty.

- Buddha is definetly one of the more smarter yanderes, he could actually manage to manipulate you into giving up your crush. Yeah, he might stalk and spy on you in secret but he'll project his yandere tendencies onto you. Saying how he's concerned with YOUR obsessive behavior (all while keeping his own a secret) and manipulating you saying it was selfish of you to hold onto them when they want someone else. He asks: "Do you truly love them? Because if you were, you'd let them find their happiness...even if it doesn't include you..."

- If he manages to get through to you, perfect! He just needs to capture your interest which isn't hard (look at that man and tell me you wouldn't fall in love, I dare you) since he'd help you recover from your broken heart and put all the broken pieces together. He is now the one you look at during fights, he is now the one you devote your endless love too, and it gives him such an ego boost.

- Yeah, maybe he didn't take his own device but in his defense; you were already the perfect and ideal match for him and he knew you'd love him back...he just had to get rid of the little nuisance that was keeping you from realizing your true feelings.

- If there is the slight chance you do realize he's trying to manipulate you or that your feelings are too strong for your crush, he will just straight up tell you that they DO NOT LOVE YOU. THEY WILL NEVER LOVE YOU. NOT THE WAY HE DOES. Why...why can't you see that???

Yandere! Poseidon x Hinata Hyuga! Reader:

- NO BECAUSE, LIKE, IF THE READER IS HINATA THEN POSEIDON IS DEFINETLY TONERI, JUST A BIT DIFFERENT BUT BASICALLY: POSEIDON FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU, A NEW GODDESS.

- LIKE, HE ABSOLUTELY FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU SOMEHOW DESPITE YOU BEING A HUMAN (to clarify: you caught his eye when you were a legal consenting adult) AND THAT YOU DEFINETLY HAD AN EFFECT ON HIM WITHOUT REALIZING IT.

- He admired you so much and loved you so dearly, in his mind, he hated all humans but maybe...maybe YOU were the one destined for him, you did not digust him at all, and while everyone in your clan had exceptional talent, YOU were the best, even being deemed as "The Bykaugan Princess".

- When you enter Ragnarok, you do it to protect humanity but also for love...Sadly, not for Poseidon's love but for the love of a human who didn't even notice you! One who you gave your heart and soul too and yet, they didn't even spare a second glance in your direction.

- While Poseidon loved you, he hated the person you fell in love with because they reminded him of every aspect he hated about humanity. Their arrogance for taking your love for granted, their ignorance as they never noticed the longing looks that you gave them, and their obnoxiousness as they casually brushed you off. YOU WERE FIGHTING IN RAGNAROK BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO PROTECT HUMANITY, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY: THEM.

- It IRKED Poseidon because he was jealous of a human. He doesn't blame you for having a crush on them, he sees how gentle your heart is and how your kindness is simply too much for your heart to hold for itself so you share it with others.

- No, he was upset at everyone around you. Those who talked down to you, looked down at you for how you acted (even though you couldn't help but be a living symbol of elegance and perfection) but if they had watched you like Poseidon had, that you were far from what they thought about you. You were mighty and you were strong, especially for those who you loved.

- He wanted to romance you, he truly did. He showed his softer self to you when he was able to be around you and tried his best to not look so intimidating but it just wasn't enough. For some reason, that disgusting person you adored was taking Poseidon's place in your heart. It was their fault he couldn't court you like how he wanted because they somehow made you obsessed with him!

- He had to resort to such nasty methods. Maybe he kidnapped your sister like how Toneri did and made you marry him to garuntee her safety. Maybe he threatened to use his position as a God to make sure your little crush suffers, hell, you did kill one of his fellow Gods so he's sure he could get some other God's in targeting your crush as revenge.

- He hated seeing that fearful look on your face but when you finally submitted to him, he couldn't deny it made his heart beat faster. He knows you only went because you care too much about people but he isn't too upset because he knows, after a while, you will realize that HE is the one you should be obsessed with and loyally devoted to because unlike that pathetic human, he will return it ten fold♡

Yandere! Loki x Hinata Hyuga! Reader:

- Aw, you're a pathetic little mouse, aren't you?~ You started out as an obsession right off the bat to him, honestly. Your eyes are what caught his attention but you were so timid and neglected, poor thing♡ He approached you long before the fights started but saw you during the preparations of the whole thing and ah, you were simply too adorable to resist.

- But then when he sees you fight with the Gentle Fist technique for the first time then he is obsessed with you, so the little mouse does have some fight in her, huh? And yet, as soon as the battle is over and he pins you to the wall after your victory. You start to get nervous and stutter and he chuckles and murmurs a: "How precious~" before he lets you scamper off like the cute mouse you are.

- He borders on the line of being all lovey dovey with you and being absolutely mean to you. Like, you're upset because you realized Brunhilde meant to pick your sister instead and asked if you were willing to trade but you just tried to argue that you can handle it...well, tried. You ended up nearly in tears so Brunhilde left to "give you sometime to think it over." which really meant she just couldn't deal with you.

- "Aw, poor little mouse, once more; only the second choice to their big sister." Loki teased. You tried to wipe your tears, not wanting him to he mean to you like he usually is but you couldn't stop them. He just feigns another sound of sympathy as he reaches over and brushes your tears away with his thumb and squishes your face cutely as he smiles, "If it helps, I think that you're much better than your big sister. She's so mean and boring, but you're simply adorable."

- His bullying can also stem from the fact that you love someone other than him, which pisses him off. Usually, he'd be angry at you but he's even angrier when he sees that the person you've given your heart too DOESN'T EVEN WANT IT. AND YET YOU NEVER GIVE UP TRYING TO PROVE YOURSELF WHEN LOKI IS RIGHT THERE. Okay maybe he's a little mad at you but only because despite your all-seeing eye, HE IS BETTER FOR YOU. Yes he's a little mean but that's just because he loves you♡

- He'll bully your crush out of you too. Mocking you for wanting someone who doesn't want you, how you should just give up on them because they're never going to notice you, not the way that Loki does. They will never love you.

- And as your once more crying from his hurtful words, he once more pulls you into a gentle and loving hug and nuzzles his face into your neck: "Aw, they're never gonna want you. Not when that girl is a much better match for them. So you should just give up and be with me instead! I can be so much more for you♡"

- He truly does envy your crush, though. When you're not being sad, you truly are beautiful. The shy yet dreamy smiles you have, the way your eyes flare with admiration and pure love, your face becoming so beautiful that no painting or photo could truly capture your beauty. Loki gets upset when he gets reminded that its not for him.

- He will shape-shift into your crush sometimes as a cruel joke but you never fall for it because of your eyes, but he'll taunt you with it and be all: "Would you give me a kiss now, (Y/n)? Hmm? If I looked like them? If I acted like them?" and you just look him dead in the eyes, your confidence coming out as you glare and say: "No, because my heart belongs to them. And you will never be them."

- You're so pathetic in his eyes. He could destroy you for talking to him like that and you both knew it, yet you risked it all because you loved this person with such passion from the depths of your heart. You fought for humanity not just because it was right but because they'd be destroyed along with it and you'd never let any harm come to them. You will unfailingly run to them again and again just to get your heartbroken but you're willing to endure it because you love them. And as Loki feels what could only be described as heartbreak from your words, he realizes that you've made him just as pathetic as you are...

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