#i don’t usually get this worked up these days but holy fuck what a ridiculous statement to make as fact

[padfootastic]

just gonna rant about fanon sirius real quick don’t mind me & my rapid descent into incoherency. everything’s under a cut bc this serves no purpose.

i fucking hate when he’s conceptualised as this dramatic, over-the-top-angry, unreasonable manchild. actually, no. even one of those traits for him annoys me so much. people can write him however they want but atleast have the decency to slap an ooc tag on it if ur gonna butcher him that badly because he’s !!! not !!! like !!! that !!!

the only time he shows an ounce of ‘melodrama’ (and i have issues w that term) is during the shrieking shack which he waited over a dozen years for in hellish conditions. he’s probably starving, half delusional, and definitely a combination of angry and terrified out of his mind. he’s been single-mindedly focused on one task, has probably used it to fuel himself through all material and psychological obstacles, and now that it’s in front of him, of fkn course he’s not gonna wait around for tea and crumpets to be served.

every other instance we have of sirius is him being cool, collected, logical, and rational as fuck. i recently read the ‘padfoot returns’ chapter in gof for mc purposes and by god, i fell in love with him all over again. he’s so terrifyingly competent?? the way he’s gone through some of the most horrific trauma in the entire series, and his mind is still so sharp? his memory is impeccable? the way he joins dots and comes to conclusions? not just that, but he’s one adult who listens to and trusts the trio, treats them like children with the weight of the world on their shoulders, actually seems to see them without rose tinted glasses on.

and his entire speech about crouch/the ministry/snape???? this is not someone who mindlessly hates slytherins. fucking hell, he was giving snape the benefit of the doubt in that chapter. ‘i don’t think dumbledore would hire him if he was really on the other side’ (paraphrased) and this is where he makes the point about observing how someone treats their inferiors. sirius has so many layers and he’s such a complex character and he’s so wonderful in his own right it annoys me sm to see him dumbed down into this- not even 2D but massively ooc version of him. and again, like, i don’t mind ooc at all. i read tons of ooc character fics! it’s great and super fun! but for the love of god tag it that way.

and back to the being dramatic thing. this man lived in the same set of tattered robes, in caves, feasting on rats, generally not giving a single fuck. he tore chicken straight off the bone. lived on the run, breaking into people’s houses and roaming around as a dog. he’s not going to freak out over a broken nail or shriek or jump around for anything. when faced with a hostile molly weasley or a curious harry asking about his family (a sensitive topic) he chose to rely on cool answers and clipped tones, not outward explosions of anger. ugh. so much nuance, and it’s all gone just like that.

also adding on to this to say—he doesn’t even show that much anger or bitterness. my man literally forgave everyone who turned on him in a second. he literally didn’t blink before hugging remus. where are people getting some ideas of him from 😭😭

[nanaslutt]

Geto def gets off to being called a pervert

I see the vision clear as day anon, i hope you enjoy<3

Geto is so dirty in this holy........

contains: fem reader, roomate!geto, panty thief, teasing, dirty talk, degradation, praise, accidental voyeurism, mating press, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (reader receiving), cum eating, geto is nasttyyyyyy, slight crack at the end, shoko makes an appearance :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Suguru can I borrow that band tee you were wearing the other day? I’m about to go out with shoko.” you scrolled on some social media site on the sofa while you called out for your roommate in the kitchen.

Head hanging upside down off the armrest, looking at his naked back in your twisted view, waiting for his response.

Geto peeked his head briefly over his shoulder from the counter he faced, letting out a short laugh before he replied, wanting to ask if the ridiculous positions you came up with were actually comfortable.

Saving his smart remark for another day and responding that he didn’t care, followed by the location of the tshirt.

Picking up your body you placed one foot in front of the other, making quick work for his room, voice ringing out in the hall, “thanks!”

“Shoko said she’s heading here soon so I should probably start getting ready.” you shouted from his room, reaching for his second dresser drawer, where he said it would be.

Pulling the nob back and messing up his carefully folded clothes as you pulled out shirt after shirt, unfolding it to get a better view of the piece before shoving it back in when it ultimately wasn’t what you were looking for.

Eyebrows scrunching inwards when your sights landed on a piece of bright pink fabric shoved deep in the bottom of the drawer. Not remembering suguru ever wear anything like it, you pulled it out.

And you really don’t remember him wearing anything like this.

Because what you were holding between your fingers was your panties.

Jaw dropping slightly in disbelief, head turning back towards the doorway you just walked through, before snapping your neck back in front of you and digging deeper.

“Where are you guys going?” he questioned, yelling from the kitchen as he chopped up some vegetables, back facing the direction of his room.

A decent sized pile was forming of the undergarments you thought you had lost the deeper you looked. You were fuming.

Between Suguru and yourself, you divided the chores up evenly the day you moved in together. Him opting to be on laundry duty over trash, both splitting the dishes.

Never once did the thought even cross your mind that they might’ve been kidnapped by your usually sweet roommate; who is in charge of handling those same panties every day; when you were unable to find them anywhere in your space.

You scoffed in disbeleif at his antics, tongue poking the inside of your ckeek, making it bulge.

You heard him say your name from the kitchen when you didnt answer his question.

Wading up the thieved panties in your fist, you stormed out of his room. Stomping down the hall at a much hastier pace than before, his toned back once agains came into your view.

Geto paused his chopping, muscles in his body going rigid, because he swears you just threw something at his back.

Turning his body to face you, he looked down at the underwear at his feet, a smirk creeping onto his face when he drags his sights back up, making eye contact with your furious expression, brain racing with questions only he could answer.

"Whoops," he says, not an ounce of remorse in his tone. He could practically see the steam coming off of the top of your head when your face scrunched up in a scowl.

"What the fuck were you doing with my panties, do you have any idea how long I've been looking for some of those!?", he feels the anger in the air with your every word.

"You sure you want me to answer that?" he giggles, crossing his arms over his bulging pecs, letting the weight off one of his legs as he braced his lower back into the counter.

"Oh my god!" you shook your head, "you're such a fucking pervert!" you shouted.

"Woah, you don't even know what I did with them yet. Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions when you call me that, huh?" he retaliated, faux offense gracing his features before a more smug look took its place.

"There is no non..." throwing your hands up in search of the right word, "freaky explanation as to why you hid my PANTIES suguru!" Lip curled up in frustration again when laughed at your retort, “so I think my choice of words was fitting." you finished, referring to the name you called him.

"Haha! yeahh, you might be right." both hands dropped from his chest and slid into his pockets. "I wrapped them around my cock a couple of times when I was jerkin' off." An amused look sticking to his face when your jaw dropped in speechlessness, face turning completely red at his confession.

"Came all over the crotch of ur pretty panties too, pretended it was ur pussy." his big mouth continued spilling his dirty secrets out into the open air.

"Y-you," stuttering as you felt the air around you shifting into a heavier one, one that you both picked up on, heart racing in your chest matching the throbbing between your legs as you spoke, "pervert."

----

"F-fucking pervert, fuck!" you moaned into the air when his curved cock drilled perfectly into the most sensitive spot inside you for the nth time that evening.

Really hoping Shoko was taking her time as Suguru held your thighs open by your head, pushing your flexability to the limits as he bullied his thick cock inside your gushing pussy.

"Yeah? tell me how fucking nasty I am baby," he groaned with a smile. Eyes not being able to choose their favorite sight as he looked between where the two of you were connected; your cum making a ring form around the base of his cock; and your pretty drooling face that was looking so fucked out.

"S-so f-fucking disgusting for st-ealin' my dirty panties sugu-ru." words getting broken up by your pleasured moans as he brought his hips back till just the tip of his cock was caught on the rim of your little hole, before fucking it back in with such force it made you dizzy.

"C-cant believe you would d-o that." whining loudly when his thick thumb came down to rub circles into your throbbing bud.

Geto felt a tingling sensation of pleasure jolt through his spine at your harsh words, "M' sorry baby," he lied between his teeth, "got tired of seein’ ur cute little ass walk around the house in basically nothing." cooing at you when you squeezed your cunt tightly around his length at his filthy words, "h-had to do something about it,"

The both of you bounced against the bed as you let out loud Ah's and curses in response to his mean thrusts.

"Nothin' compares to this tho," Geto smiled, rubbing your clit faster when he noticed it made you tighten up your pussy, "Fucking ur pretty little pussy like this is so much better than my fist 'n holdin' ur panties against my face."

"S-suguru thats so nas-tyyy." you drawled out when he picked up his pace, fucking into you with such force and speed you thought you were gonna pass out.

Leaning his body into yours, practically crushing you with his weight with your legs dangling over his shoulders, he brought his face just inches from yours, lips grazing each others at his rough thrusts jolting you both around.

"Is it?" he replied to your declaration, opening his mouth and moaning against your lips before he closed the distance, " Felt so fucking good tho," he laughed against you, pushing his tongue into your mouth, his groans mixing with your squeals.

Less of a kiss and more of him just crushing his jaw into your own as he overwhelmed you with his tongue. Greedily inhaling your moans into his lungs as he continued his assult on your sensitive clit.

"Sugu' 'm gonna cum, fuck-" you mumbled against his wet lips. His own high-creeping rapidly up on him, feeling his balls tighten as they slapped against your ass.

"Me too baby m-me too," eyes squeezing together and eyebrows furrowing, thumb against your clit becoming sloppy as he started to lose himself, "gonna let this pervert fill you up, huh?" he babbled, breaking the kiss and buring his head in the crook of your neck while he messily sucked and kissed the skin there.

"Gonna take a-all my fucking cum like a good girl?" his moans raising in pitch, goosebumbs forming on the back of his neck hearing your loud whines and moans go straight into his ear.

"P-please, give it to me, please." you begged, "fu-ck, c-coming," you managed to voice before your cunt constricted around him, squelching noises increasing when your pussy forced your orgasm out around him, "oh m-y go-d" you repeated as he fucked you through it.

Getting thrown into overstimulation as he repeatedly hit your g-spot, not being able to move his thumb off your clit, or even voice him to do so, "cum inside me sugu-ru," you whimpered into his ear, helping him reach his end. Squealing at his rough thrusts losing their once steady pace when he came.

He bit down hard on your neck, groaning and whining into the skin as he fucked his cum into your womb. Timing his heavy thrusts with the ropes of warm seed spurting out of his dick, pressing his balls hard into your ass each time he did, making sure he really filled you up.

Geto’s eyes rolled back in his head feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm spasm around his twitching dick, milking him for all he was worth. "holy shittt." you voiced at how full he was making you feel.

Your overstimulation died down when his brain was no longer able to function well enough to remind him to play with your clit, something you were grateful for.

He silently lifted his head from the crook of your neck and pulled his incredibly sensitive cock out of your warmth. Staring between the two of you to watch his cum drip out of you, his mouth watering.

Your own arm being draped over your face while you tried to catch your breath, blocking you from seeing his next moves.

Holding your legs up and spread by your calves, he leaned down to your pussy and started sucking on your folds.

Caught off gaurd at the simulation you shot your hands down to his head, trying to push him off you at the intense feeling of his fat tongue on your mound.

He forced his tongue into the tight ring of your cunt, greedily drinking up your combined cum and moaning at the taste. Your thighs twitched with the need to shut around his head at the vibration.

Detaching his mouth from your pussy with a 'pop' he sat back on his heels, your calves still in his large palms as he stared at your abused pussy, licking his lips clean.

"So much fucking tastier than your panties." He grinned.

"You really are disgusting Suguru." Shaking your head against the sheets as he finally let your legs drop back down to the mattress.

"Careful, my cock likes when you talk to me like that." He teases, meaning every word as he tucks his drenched cock back into his boxers,

"Whatever, take me to the bathroom please." You said, ignoring his previous comment, "Cant stand and I need to pee." Holding your arms out to him.

He giggled at your dramatics; even tho he really did fuck the strength out of your legs; scooping his palms under your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He raised you from the bed in a princess cradle and started walking you to the bathroom, "You need to learn how to take it easy. Seriously." you chastised, noticing the bruises and bite marks on your neck when you walked past a mirror, "If this is how you're going to treat me when we fuck, you're better off sticking to stealing my panties, at least they won't feel what you do to them." you complained, only partially meaning your words, which he knew.

"Don't act like your pussy doesn't throb when you see how I marked you up." you rolled your eyes at his retort, making it to the bathroom that neighbors a wall with the kitchen. He placed you down on the seat of the toilet before backing up and leaning against the doorway, facing the doorframe parallel to him as he let you do your business.

"I just had to listen to you guys fuck each other like rabbits for ten minutes, please don't make me listen to you dirty talk each other outside of the bedroom too."

You knew that voice.

"Shoko! good to see you, didn't realize you made yourself at home." Geto snarkily remarked.

"Your pretty roomie gave me a key you big oaf, now go hide in your room for awhile kay?" she brushed her hand in the air, signaling him to fuck off, "Was suposed to take her out but its sounding like you broke her legs so.. well just watch a movie here." she sighed.

Geto brought his attention back to you once more. He had to fight back the laugh burning in his lungs when he saw your crimson face buried in your hands, shinji posing on the toilet in embarrassment.

Stupid fucking panty thief.

“pt.2” here

[mickittotheman]

hello new friend! ✨️

saw that post about random questions for your stories, i am yet to read much of your works besides the most recent galladrabble!

so help me get started, what's your favourite fic you've written? maybe your favourite line even? what inspired it?

New friend❗️❗️❗️❗️ 💫✨️ Thank you so much for the ask, I've been waiting to get home from work ALL DAY so I can answer this lol.

So, I do have some (very old) works floating around from past fandoms, but so far the only gallavich fics I've posted have been my drabbles.

But! I have been working on a gallavich fic since like a few weeks before I even made this sideblog, and by "working on", I mean "like over 100k into it so far and not even close to done"

Posting full chapters before I'm done with the entire fic always makes me nervous because what if i have a new idea and need to go back and change something, but I'm always happy to share scenes in the meantime!

Basic premise is it's a vaguely canon-compliant-ish au except they never met growing up. Ian is in his EMT post- Caleb era, and Mickey is newly escaped from the Milkovich House of Horrors and working as a bartender. Inspiration wise, I got this idea for one specific line (from IGGY of all people. like don't get me wrong Iggy is cool and all, but I honestly never thought about him that much until my need to write a stupid pun overcame me) and it somehow snowballed into an Entire Plot.

Anyways, long ramble aside, I have included one of the earlier scenes below if you are interested but if not of course that's fine okay byyyyeeeee 🫣 🤐 😶

__________________

“Third drink of the night, Red,” Mickey says, sliding the newly filled glass of sprite back over to him. “Gonna hafta cut you off soon.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Red grumbles. Glares. Doesn't even try to hide the amused sparkle in his eyes.

He’s been acting weird today, though. Weirder than he usually is, and he’s already usually pretty fucking weird, so that's saying something. 

He keeps shooting Mickey these little looks. Scrunching his brows together. Fiddling with his glass.

Mickey braces himself when Red suddenly takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, dreading what the guy might say. Might ask.

“Why do you call me Red?”

Mickey blinks. Out of all the questions he’d been steeling himself for, that hadn't been one of them. He’s not expecting it. Not expecting the serious look on Red’s face as he asks it. “Uh. Your hair. It’s red,” Mickey says like an idiot, as if the guy isn’t fucking aware of that fact.

Red huffs and rolls his eyes. Squints at Mickey suspiciously. Fiddles with his drink again. “Kinda starting to feel like you just don’t know what my name is.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” Mickey snorts.

Red falters. Nearly tips his glass over. “Seriously?” he asks. Looks a bit put out, a bit annoyed, a bit hurt, and over all really fucking ridiculous. “You don’t remember my name?”

Mickey cocks his brows. “You never fucking told me it, man.”

“I did! I–” Red’s eyes dart around, and Mickey assumes he’s flitting through his memories, trying and failing to find the moment he introduced himself. His skin goes all flushed (and Mickey doesn't think its adorable, because it’s fucking not) and he buries his face in his hands dramatically. “Oh my god. I am such an idiot.”

Mickey bites at his lower lip to reign in the smile threatening to pop up. Raps a fist on the bartop. “You good? You’re looking kinda red there, Red.”

Red splays out his fingers and aims a glare at Mickey from behind them. “Ian. My name’s Ian.”

Ian. 

Mickey rolls it around in his head, on his tongue, getting used to the flavor of it. Ian. It’s good. Short and sweet, just like ‘Red’. Same amount of letters and everything. Flows better, though, the kind of name that sounds good when it's drawn out long and slow in a groan.

Holy fuck does Mickey need to get it together, this shit is getting fucking ridiculous. 

Red– Ian– has regrouped himself while Mickey’s brain was falling to shambles. His pouty glare is back to full strength as he crosses his fucking treetrunk arms across his wide chest and fucking focus, Milkovich. “You didn’t think to fucking ask me what it was? This whole time?”

Mickey shrugs. Rubs at his lip. “Figured if you wanted me to know you would’ve told me.”

Ian uncrosses his arms to flail his hands around. Nearly knocks over his drink again. Mickey sagely reaches over and pushes it out of the danger zone. “Of course I wanted you to know! You think I wanted you to refer to me in your head by the color of my hair every time you think about me?”

“Who the fuck says I spend anytime thinking about your sorry ass?” Mickey shoots out, immediately on the defensive, because yeah, maybe he does spend too much fucking time thinking of Ian, but he’s not just gonna fucking admit to that.

Ian perks up at that. Grins that fucking grin that Mickey knows by now means trouble. “Didn’t say they had to be thoughts about my ass, specifically, but–”

“Shut the fuck up, Red–”

“Ian.”

“Ian,” Mickey mocks. He doesn't think he’s entirely imagining the way something sparks in Ian at the sound of his name in Mickey’s mouth, but he could just be confusing it with the way something in his own body gets set ablaze. 

They both swallow. Mickey can see Ian’s adam's apple bob with it. He forces himself to tear his gaze away from Ian’s throat.

He thinks maybe Ian might be flirting with him sometimes. Maybe. But he’s not sure. Isn’t used to this. 

Before, he’d always scope out his options, settle on a guy who seemed safe enough. Wouldn't have to say a word. Would just catch their eye, cock his brow, and jerk his head towards an exit. If they followed, great. If not, whatever. No skin off Mickey’s back.

He’s never done whatever this shit is. If this shit even is anything. Which, again, it could be.

Probably isn’t. He’s probably just gone too long without getting his dick wet. Is probably just pining like some fucking school girl after the unattainable quarterback, seeing signs that aren’t there. Fucking pathetic.

It ain't right. Mickey’s not fucking pathetic. He’s just not.

+++

That’s what he tells himself, at least, when he’s leaning his back against his front door hours later. Breath still panting, hand still shoved down his now sticky boxers, tongue still tasting Ian’s name, not even having made it to his fucking bed in his rush to get in and get off.

+++

[possibilistfanfiction]

Holy shit if you write an avatrice footy au…good god my gay football loving heart I will love you forever

[it's coming along!]

you’re scrimmaging, small-sided, at the end of training — not your absolute favorite but better than ending with conditioning, although you’d already lifted today. even if you’d never admit it, sometimes you feel like you’d rather retire than do another beep test. you get stuck in, a strong tackle, versus lilith near your team’s goal, quick and complete, and then you feel, as you sometimes do, like the ball is with you. everything goes quiet and you could pass, maybe, but it all slows down and you see opening after opening, feints and stepovers and then a finish that feels like heaven: perfectly on the top of your foot, no spin on the ball, so fast and hard, placed in the lower left corner. mary watches it go in, instead of even reaching, and you roll out your shoulders, take a big breath. it’s exhilarating — close to joy, and a lot of duty — to move in the way that makes your body feel calm, and purposed, and controlled. 

‘good, beatrice,’ your coach, m. superion says, and you nod quietly.

‘holy fucking shit,’ you hear ava say as you accept a few high fives. 

camila laughs. ‘yeah. that’s what the best in the world looks like.’

it’s apparently a good goal to end on, because superion calls it and sends you all off. you dutifully make your way to physical therapy, listening happily and idly to a few of your teammates talk about the weather and their plans for your free rest day coming up soon. you listen and remember: you know how to be a good teammate, a good captain, because you love your teammates, care about their wellbeing. 

eventually some people go to cool down and stretch. you go to physical therapy, as you have for a while because of a string of mostly small and nagging injuries.

‘hey,’ ava says, sidling up to your hip as you walk down the hall. ‘that was — i’ve genuinely never seen anyone move with the ball like that before.’

you want to smile, but it’s hard to take a compliment that sincere, that pointed with praise. it makes you feel special, and you have no idea what to do with that. ‘thank you.’

she grins, sits down on the table next to yours. ‘i’ve watched you play for years, but seeing it in person is… fucking awesome. i’m pumped to get to play with you.’

‘i —‘ you don’t quite know what exactly to say— ‘you bring a lot of joy to the pitch.’ admittedly, ava’s work rate and fitness and defensive discipline appear to be kind of abysmal; she seems mostly concerned with scoring, but it’s true. she smiles and laughs and tries outrageous moves, even on her first day with your squad.

’wow, thank you,’ she says, totally sincere, and it makes something in your chest — long since locked away — ache. ‘i’m, like, sort of a big fan? this is kinda wild for me.’

‘well, let me know if you’d like an autograph later.’

ava raises her brows. ‘oh, i mean, i’m sorry if that was weird?’

you do succumb to a laugh now. ‘no, no. i was kidding. i promise i’m nothing special.’

‘that’s insane,’ ava says, unceremoniously stripping her shirt off, and you have to look away. you’ve spent your entire life in locker rooms and recovery, but this feels, just — different. ‘you’re like. such a badass.’

you can’t do anything but stare at your ankle and just shake your head, and you can tell that ava is ready to argue this point forever, but then vincent walks over with the TENS machine.

‘good to see you again, beatrice,’ he says, ‘and hello, ava. i’m vincent; i’ll be your physical therapist with the team.’

‘sweet,’ ava says, offers a hand. ‘good to meet you, man.’

‘you too.’ he turns toward you. ‘i’m going to get ava set up first, beatrice, and then we’ll do stim and ice on your ankle, the usual.’

you give a firm thumbs up, which makes ava smile into her shoulder. her hair is sweaty, slicked back and out of its ridiculous and ineffective bun. you think, for a moment, what it would be like to run your fingers through it after a game, or in the shower, or — 

you swallow and feel a little panicked at that train of thought, stop it immediately, focus on the rehab exercises vincent had given you a few days ago to reload the lateral tendon in your ankle like you’ve been working on for months. 

vincent tells ava to turn around on the bed so he can do a quick assessment, and you don’t want to look; you don’t mean to look, but there’s ava’s pale skin and thin, small, strong shoulders; the nape of her neck, the tender truth of her elbows. you notice it all before you see the scar that runs what seems like the length of her spine, healed and faded but clearly a little irritated after playing today. you don’t wonder why she still wants to play, even though she tells vincent that her pain is at a four and then, when he lifts a brow, reluctantly admits it’s closer to a seven.

he frowns, massages an area around her spine between her shoulder blades with the soft tissue cream for a moment, and she nods.

‘yeah,’ she says, ‘it’s a little better.’

‘we want to be careful bringing you back into fitness and full contact.’

she groans. ‘i’ve been careful for the past two years.’

‘i’m afraid you’re always going to have to be careful.’

ava sighs. ‘yeah, yeah.’ she sits, shoulders a little slumped, and you want to cheer her up somehow, make things better, bring back the joy she’d given the room. but you stay quiet, return an email from your agent about an upcoming shoot later this week, and when you look over, ava is on her stomach, her head turned and resting in the crook of her crossed arms on top of a pillow, facing in your direction. vincent puts the pads carefully on either side of the back of her sports bra, and she relaxes, just slightly, as her puts a heating pad over it to cover the majority of her back.

she looks peaceful, when she closes her eyes as you lie back and let vincent massage your ankle for a minute or two and then prop your leg up on a bolster. he gets your pads and current level situated — you know it’s supposed to be comfortable, but you always push yourself a few levels higher than what is actually comfortable — and then wraps your ankle in ice.

‘twenty minutes,’ he says, ‘and then i’ll let you go for the day; i think you have film after lunch.’

‘thank you,’ you say, and you think ava might have legitimately fallen asleep but then she cracks an eye open and smiles at you. 

‘you had surgery this off season?’

‘you are a fan.’

a delightful blush darkens her cheeks but she takes it in stride. ‘well, maybe i follow you on instagram. maybe. but you never even post anything. i just got it from the IR, honestly.’

you hadn’t posted about your ankle — the minor surgery you’d had or any of the off-season therapy and training you’d done or how mary and shannon had forced you to let them bring you food and watch movies with you on your couch — so you figure that is legitimately true. ‘i did,’ you say. ‘uh, have surgery.’

‘so we’re gonna be PT buddies this season,’ she says, genuinely excited at the prospect. 

‘i can’t imagine the PT you’ve had to do.’ you don’t mean to play your cards, not quite like this, but ava’s smile is sad and gentle and you can’t find it in yourself to regret it. 

she hums. ‘the feeling of being back on the pitch is, like, a fucking miracle.’

‘your back hurts, though?’

she shrugs as best she can. ‘yeah, all the time. but i love football, and i was never supposed to get to play again, so, you know, i figure i’ll just try for as long as i can.’

‘football is my favorite thing,’ you say, quietly, and ava’s smile turns happier.

‘me too.’

‘not defending, though.’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘yeah, i get the feeling lilith hates me already.’

‘your defensive work rate is terrible.’

ava seems mostly unfazed. ‘my finishing slaps, though, cap. gotta give me that.’

‘perhaps.’

she grins. ‘i’m gonna be scoring worldies, just you watch.’

you have the feeling that, work rate or not, ava is going to be a light. you’re the best player in the world because you have devoted your life to your craft: you stay longer and work harder and take recovery more seriously than anyone you know. you don’t drink; you stick to your nutritional plan exactly. you don’t have — distractions.

‘lilith is just upset because, since shanon retired, she thought she was going to take over starting at the 9.’

ava awkwardly waves her hand as if to shoo off the thought. ‘i doubt i’ll start anytime soon.’

you don’t want to tell ava that watching her today, even though she seemingly hates tracking back and marking anyone, ever, every shot she’d had on goal was electric. was beautiful. ‘we’ll see, i guess.’

‘i don’t — i don’t really care about starting, or stats, or whatever.’

that’s part of the problem, you want to say, but it feels important to be quiet.

‘i just want to play.’

you nod. ‘i can — it’s easy to see.’

she grins. ‘so, beatrice, where’s the best place to eat here? favorite bar? where do you go dancing? are you single?’

you blanch a little at the last question, feel your heart start to race. 

ava can notice, horrifyingly. ‘i just — sorry, if that’s too personal. i just love new places, and i’ve been doing physical therapy for so long i’m excited to go… be a person again, outside of football.’

‘it’s okay,’ you say. ‘i don’t really go out.’ you leave it at that, hope it’s enough. ‘but camila and mary love a thai place nearby. i’m sure some of the girls have a few spots they’d be happy to take you to.’

‘cool,’ she says, ‘and you’ll come with, right?’

‘ava.’

she laughs. ‘i’m gonna get you to have a life outside of football too, i swear. it makes the football more fun.’

maybe that’s true, but you wouldn’t really know. you had been playing in academies since you were twelve. 

‘what’s the point in being the best in the world if you don’t enjoy the world?’

you have no answer for that, but thankfully the timer on the TENS beeps for ava and vincent pops by, takes the pads off and then does the same for you. you don’t miss ava’s grimace as she sits up and your chest pulls in worry for her, but then she sets her face into a smile and thanks vincent, puts on her slides and a clean hoodie. she waits for you to walk to the locker room.

‘first day was okay?’

‘first day,’ she says, ‘was magic.’

you smile; how can you not? ‘well, conditioning is tomorrow; superion is… so intense. don’t expect much magic from that.’

ava just laughs. 

/

the next day ava throws up in a trash can during the beep test but, to her credit, she does keep going, tapping out a few stages before you, on par with most of the other girls.

no one comes close to beating you, and when you finish at 14 — your own personal record you can’t ever seem to break — you hold your hands above your head, open up your burning lungs, even though all you want to do is lie down and close your eyes until you feel less exhausted, less light headed.

but eventually you’re finished, and you run through some easy passing sequences on the pitch before you head to PT again, ava in tow. 

‘you’re right,’ she says, wiggling a little to get comfortable on the table next to you.

‘about many, many things,’ you say, and she rolls her eyes. ‘but what specifically are you referring to?’

‘the beep test is categorically the opposite of magic.’

you laugh. 

‘i was just thinking about how good a pizza will taste tonight.’

‘i don’t know the last time i’ve even had pizza.’ it’s an admission that comes out far more honestly than you’d intended. 

ava frowns. ‘pizza is magic, okay? plus, we can get, like, protein and veggies; it’s an awesome food.’ she turns toward you. ‘wanna get pizza with me tonight, bea?’

no one in the entire world calls you bea, and you think about correcting her but she’s smiling so hopefully, her hair messy and her eyes big and brown and gorgeous, you nod. ‘fine. but, delivery? i want to watch some more film.’

‘ugh,’ ava says, ‘here?’

‘oh,’ you say, ‘no. no. i was planning on going home and watching it there.’

ava grins. ‘so this is an invitation to your home?’

you feel a rush of nerves, imagining ava on your couch, eating pizza, watching film from last season; suddenly, it’s all you want. ‘if you’d like.’

ava reaches out to give you a high five; it’s clumsy and at an odd angle because neither of you can move, but it’s warm and happy all the time. ‘this is gonna be great.’

you think, despite all the hope you try to tamp down, that it is.

[bellafarallones2]

Christmas OT4 (ish) for @thiswasinevitableid. I can hardly believe it's been another year of talking about Amnesty characters with you, but it's been a great one.

Normally Duck was worried whenever his cat got near the tree, because it was usually just a matter of time before she started knocking off ornaments. But tonight it wasn’t the ornaments she was interested in. Now she was just sitting next to the tree, staring out the sliding-glass door onto the balcony.

Duck always put his Christmas tree up in the corner of the living room next to his apartment’s small balcony, which had a string of white lights wrapped around the railing. He had the lights on the tree set on a timer, too, so when he came home after dark he could see them greeting him from inside his dark apartment. 

“What’re you looking at, huh?” Duck bent down to scratch behind Annie’s ears and then looked out himself. He couldn’t see much. There was the yellow glow of the streetlight in the parking lot, but the big tree that provided good views of birds and squirrels during the summer was pitch black. 

Except for a pair of glowing red lights. 

Duck blinked. 

The lights blinked back. 

Duck took a step forward, and the lights disappeared. The place where they’d been was indistinct darkness. 

“Well, fuck.” 

Annie made an annoyed-sounding mrow.

–

The next day at work Duck was preoccupied thinking about the red lights in the tree. The eyes in the tree, he would think, if he didn’t know that was ridiculous. 

He was manning the desk in the visitor’s center, where he basically made sure nobody tried to steal any of the displays, answered questions about maps, and occasionally sold someone something from the very small gift shop. 

Could the lights have been the tail lights of a car, reflected somehow? Yes. That must be it. 

“Duck?”

Duck blinked to attention and took in the man standing in front of him, pink-cheeked from the cold. 

“Is that what you’re still going by?”

“Yeah! Fuck yeah!” Duck stood up, excited, and then immediately looked around to see if there were any children in the vicinity or old people that he’d just scandalized. Joseph Stern laughed, looking handsome as he ever had in a black coat and steel-blue scarf. 

“Holy shit, Joe, what are you doing here?”

“You’ll laugh.” 

“...What is it, your honeymoon?” That was the most ironic thing Duck could think of, given their history. They’d been best friends in high school, sleepovers almost every week, through the rough times while they both discovered boys and then that they were boys, but drifted apart while Joseph had been studying for the SAT and Duck had been smoking weed in the woods. And then Joseph had come home from college for the summer, and they’d reconnected, and even though Joseph had always known and said as much that he was going to get out of this shitty little town, he hadn’t been too proud to admit that he’d always had a crush on Duck. They’d spent every moment they could of that summer together.

“No,” said Joseph instantly, and Duck caught his gaze going down to Duck’s left hand to check for a ring. There was none. “I’m single, actually. And I’m here looking for bigfoot.” He said that last part in a low voice.

“No shit.”

Joseph nodded. “There have been some credible reports recently from this area.”

“Really? I haven’t heard any.”

“I heard about them at work. None of my colleagues took them seriously, of course, but hey, I’m on vacation.” 

“Hey, good for you.” 

Joseph shrugged. “I’d rather have two weeks off for Rosh Hashanah than Christmas, but hey, I’ll take whatever break I get.”

“Sure thing.” Duck remembered what he’d been thinking about before Joseph appeared. “Hey, I don’t know if it was bigfoot, but I did see something weird last night.” 

Joseph leaned forward, and Duck explained the whole story. 

“Woah,” said Joseph. “And this was last night? At your apartment? Can I come over tonight and see?”

“My shift ain’t over until six, but after that, sure! I’d been planning to stop at Wendy’s for dinner on the way home, if you wanna join.”

Joseph’s eyes were sparkling. “You know you don’t have to tell me about a cryptid to get me to have dinner with you. I’ll see you at six.”

–

Winter was, generally speaking, Indrid’s least favorite time of year, but Christmas did have its merits. The eggnog, for one. The colored lights, blinking in the darkness. And over the years he’d learned a few ways to make the cold more bearable. 

That was why he’d shown up for dinner at Amnesty Lodge tonight, despite how awkward it was for everyone involved. The younger sylphs mostly didn’t know who he was except to know they should be polite to him, and Mama always seemed vaguely suspicious of him. 

Only Barclay seemed happy to see him. Barclay gave him a hug when he arrived and didn’t care that he was stiff and half-frozen underneath his frayed sweater. And after dinner Indrid took up a place in the kitchen, drying each dish as Barclay washed them. (It was an interesting exercise for his future vision, working out where each piece belonged.)

When the last dish was dry, as were Barclay’s dishwater-reddened hands, Barclay turned to face him and smiled. “Would you like to come to bed, little moth?” 

“Yes please,” said Indrid. 

Of all the ways to make the cold more bearable, Barclay was perhaps the most pleasant of all. 

Barclay hung up his apron and Indrid followed him down the hall. They could hear raised voices from the lobby at their back. “Goodnight, everyone!” Barclay called, and a chorus called goodnight back. 

Barclay’s room was small, which was nice because it was very warm. The overstuffed bookshelf made it seem both smaller and warmer. There was a quilt on the bed and a crocheted afghan folded at the foot. 

“Tell me what you want,” said Barclay, locking the door behind them. 

“Oh, it’s not so much what I want, as… I think we can come to a mutually agreeable arrangement.”

Barclay’s eyebrow quirked. “I think so, too.”

“I’d like you to take your disguise off, if that’s alright.”

“Are you going to take yours off?” Barclay unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. It was rather tight, and his undisguised form would have popped at least one button. Then he took off his pants, too. Indrid hadn’t really appreciated human bodies before he’d seen Barclay’s. Barclay had been how he dipped a toe in, so to speak, to being attracted to humans. 

“I don’t think I’d fit in your bed - I’d like to be in your bed. I don’t think I said that already.”

“I did ask if you’d like to come to bed, and you said yes, so I figured.” Barclay took off his bracelet and set it down on the bedside table. Instantly he grew half a foot and also a full coat of fluffy auburn fur. “C’mere. Bed time.”

“Bed time,” Indrid agreed, and joined Barclay underneath the covers, burrowing up against Barclay’s fluffy chest. Silvain, Barclay was warm. So warm that… Indrid sat up, pulled off his sweater, and then lay back down. Now, in just a tank top, he could feel Barclay’s fur against his bare arms and neck and face. He had to turn his head to the side to talk. “How would you feel about this encounter becoming sexual?” 

“I’m down. We’ll have to keep quiet.”

“You’ll have to keep quiet. My mouth will be otherwise occupied.” Holding his glasses to his face with one hand, Indrid shimmied his way down the bed until his head was between Barclay’s thighs, which was, if such a thing was possible, an even warmer and better place to be than in Barclay’s arms. 

Interspecies relationships were frowned on in Silvain, especially between sylphs as different as Indrid and Barclay were. Even though on Earth the rules were much looser (and even though now such relationships were becoming more accepted in Silvain, as the population decreased and the number of members of each species shrunk), for Indrid, no matter how many times he and Barclay did this, there was always a slight thrill from the taboo of going to bed with someone warm-blooded. 

He kissed each of Barclay’s thighs, mentally thanking them for being so warm and strong and nice to touch, and then kissed the head of Barclay’s cock. He held the shaft in one hand, the testicles in the other. Not rubbing or squeezing, just holding. Even soft it was a formidable thing, thick and uncut. (Indrid had been rather alarmed the first time he’d encountered a circumcised penis among humans.) 

“Fuuuuck, Indrid,” said Barclay. “I’ll - I’ll do you after, I promise.”

Indrid could feel Barclay getting hard. “You do such a good job taking care of people,” said Indrid quietly. “Just let me take care of you.” 

Indrid took the head back into his mouth, using his soft human tongue to caress the tiny opening at the tip. The foreskin slid back easily in his hand, exposing more sensitive flesh to tongue at. The sensitive spot just below the head. Visions of Barclay coming were already flooding his mind, and he salivated in anticipation. But they weren't there yet. 

Indrid pulled off enough to take a few deep breaths, a strand of spit connecting his mouth to Barclay. He stroked the shaft soothingly, gently, both because it was what he needed and what Barclay would like. 

“Indrid, Indrid,” Barclay almost-sobbed, hands gripping the bedspread. 

“You can hold my hair,” said Indrid before diving back down. The head of Barclay’s cock, fully hard now, reached his throat easily. Barclay’s claws felt divine against his scalp, fingers tangling in the silver strands of Indrid’s hair. Indrid’s eyes were half-lidded in the pleasure of the moment. Barclay’s hips were twitching with the effort of not fucking Indrid’s throat. 

As far as Indrid was concerned, this was the true meaning of Christmas, the lights in the darkness, something star-bright glowing now in his chest and belly. 

Barclay came so deep in Indrid’s throat he couldn’t even taste it. Then, clumsily, Barclay tugged him back up the bed. 

“Mmm, I didn’t think I’d be getting two desserts,” said Indrid. 

“Indrid,” said Barclay, and kissed him. 

Indrid often forgot about kissing, since it didn’t work so well with his natural mouth, but this mouth was very good for it, or maybe just Barclay was very good at it. 

Either way. He kissed back joyfully, and his own human cock made its presence known against Barclay’s hand. 

He’d only really given himself a cock to begin with out of a sense of completionism, only later discovering the pleasure it could bring him. An eager little beast, it was, whenever Indrid remembered its existence, demanding warmth and friction and release. 

“I don’t want a blowjob,” said Indrid. “Because I don’t want you to stop hugging me.”

“Mmm, alright, if you insist,” said Barclay, and pressed a wet kiss to Indrid’s neck that made him squirm happily. One strong arm was wrapped around Indrid’s back, keeping him close, while the other fumbled with Indrid’s jeans. “Sensitive little thing.”

“I’m not,” Indrid insisted, even as he could feel his orgasm about to crash over him. “I just, I just get ahead of myself.” 

“I’ll say. Are you even going to let me get your pants off or are you going to make a mess of yourself?”

“The odds aren’t good,” Indrid managed to say. In the end he made it halfway. 

–

The eyes weren’t there when Joseph and Duck got back to Duck’s apartment, though Annie, Duck’s magnificent gray Maine coon, was sitting on her cat tree looking at the window like she was on patrol for them. 

“Shit,” says Duck. “I’m sorry.”

“Most people only see a cryptid once,” Joseph pointed out. “Actually most people never see a cryptid at all, but of those who do most only see one once.” 

“The thing is that Annie’s been looking out that window every night for a week, so I figure it’s been out there, even before I saw it. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I would happily have come here just to see you.” Also, Joseph believed Duck more than he would have believed most other people. 

And it was that, combined with his innate sense of curiosity, that made him take a detour to the living room when he got up from Duck’s bed in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.

Annie was sitting there next to the tree, staring out the window, tail swishing across the floor. Joseph stood next to her and looked into the darkness. 

A pair of red eyes looked back. 

“Holy shit,” said Joseph quietly. He fumbled with the white plastic latch to the door to the balcony, strategically using his leg to keep Annie inside, and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. The air was freezing but he could hardly feel it. The eyes were still there. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could make out a hulking shape perched on a thick branch near the trunk of the tree growing near the balcony. 

“Holy shit,” Joseph said again, leaning out over the railing to get as close as he could, straining for any detail his eyes could make out. 

Huge wings spread soundlessly. Joseph stumbled backwards on instinct as the creature took flight, two wingbeats carrying it effortlessly towards the balcony. It alit on the railing, looking even taller than it was. 

“Hello, Joseph Stern,” the mothman said. 

“Hello,” Joseph whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. “I have so many-” 

“Questions for you. Yes. I’m here because I like looking at the lights.” One clawed hand gestured to the white lights on the railing and the colored ones on the tree inside. 

“What?”

“You were going to ask me what I’m doing here. I like to sit in the tree to look at the lights.”

“Incredible! You can-”

“See the future. Yes, but futures, plural, would be more accurate. There are many.”

The door slid open again. Duck was standing there, carrying Annie in his arms. “Joe? What are you doing out - oh.”

“Hello, Duck Newton,” said the mothman. 

“He can see the future!” said Joseph to Duck. 

“Can we have this conversation inside?” said Duck. 

The mothman nodded. Duck stepped back inside, and Joseph followed, and the mothman closed the door carefully behind all three of them. 

“Have you really been here every day this week?” said Duck. He let Annie down to the floor, and she cautiously went up to the mothman, who offered one of his four hands for her to sniff.

“Yes,” said the mothman. “I like to look at your lights. Is that alright? I assumed you wouldn’t put them so near the window if you didn’t want them to be looked at.” 

“No, no, that’s fine,” said Duck.

“Mr. Mothman, it’s an honor really, I’m in Kepler looking for bigfoot, I never thought I’d see you -”

“I know him,” the mothman interrupted. “Bigfoot.”

“...Can you introduce me?”

The mothman was quiet. Then he opened his mouth, and looked over at Duck. 

Duck had been studying him closely the whole time. “Do you look like this all the time?” said Duck finally.

“Ah,” said the mothman. “No. I can disguise myself as a human.” 

“I don’t suppose you happen to go by the name Indrid Cold?”

“That is the name my parents gave me,” the mothman - Indrid - said indignantly. “I go by it because it is my name.” He seemed to deflate a little. “I… there were very few futures where you recognized me.”

“Really? You’re quite memorable”

“Wait,” said Joseph. “You two know each other?”

“I have visited the national forest and spoken with Duck in his capacity as a park ranger,” said Indrid. 

“That’s all it’s been?” Duck teased.

“No,” said Indrid, tapping his claws together. “I… I like you. But I thought I shouldn’t say so in front of your lover.”

Duck and Joseph exchanged a glance. “We ain’t exclusive,” said Duck. “I mean, I hadn’t seen Joe for years before tonight.” 

“Can I see your human disguise?” asked Joseph. 

“Yes, one moment,” said Indrid. He went out again and flapped into the tree, and then for a moment he disappeared and Joseph was afraid he’d never see him again. But then Indrid appeared again, holding a pair of sunglasses with round red lenses. 

“The fuckin’ glasses,” said Duck softly. “I’d wondered why he never took ‘em off.”

Indrid closed the balcony door behind him. The instant the bridge of the glasses connected with his nose, he wasn’t there anymore. Instead there was a tall, slim man in jeans and a thick sweater patterned with little reindeer. 

Indrid did jazz hands. “Ta-da!” 

“It really is you,” said Duck. 

“It’s me,” Indrid agreed. “I, ah, as I’m sure you can imagine, I don’t normally show myself to people.” As a human it was much easier to read his body language, see how he curled into himself. “But tonight I wanted to be seen.” 

“We see you,” said Joseph.

“You want a hug?” Duck opened his arms and Indrid folded himself into them. And then Indrid reached out a hand to Joseph, and the three of them were hugging. 

Despite himself, despite this being quite possibly the most exciting moment of his life so far, Joseph yawned. 

“We should really be gettin’ back to bed,” said Duck. 

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll be on my way-” Indrid said, and pulled away until Duck’s grip on his hand stopped him. Indrid looked up, surprised. 

“Or you could join us? For sleeping? I got a nice big bed.”

“He does,” said Joseph.

“Truly?” said Indrid. “Duck, I, I’ve been trying to court you. Like a human would. I’m just not very good at it. And if I’d known you, Joseph, I would have tried to court you too, but I didn’t until tonight.”

“Then let us court you by taking you to bed.” 

Indrid allowed Duck to lead him by the hand to the bedroom. 

–

Cuddling twice in one night was an unheard-of-luxury for Indrid, let alone with three different people. Though he never mistook dreams for reality, he was still a little surprised when he woke up the next morning in Duck Newton’s bed, with the smell of coffee in his nostrils and Joseph still in bed beside him. 

“Good morning,” Indrid said softly.

“Good morning,” said Joseph. 

Indrid could tell that Joseph was looking at his lips. And there were futures of Joseph kissing him. 

Luckily Indrid had had recent practice with kissing. “If you’d like to kiss me, you should.” 

Joseph leaned forward and kissed him. 

“Does my true form excite you or do you just find my disguise handsome?” said Indrid. 

Joseph blushed slightly but didn’t get a chance to answer before Duck appeared in the doorway. “I’m about to make eggs for myself,” said Duck. “If you want me to make some for you too, now is the chance.” 

“Yes, please,” said Joseph, and all but leapt out of bed. Indrid followed them back to the kitchen. 

“Coffee’s in the pot and mugs in that cabinet over there,” said Duck as he cracked eggs into a bowl. 

“Thank you,” murmured Joseph, and poured himself a mug of coffee. Then he turned back to Indrid, who’d used his future vision to take the seat at the kitchen table least likely to be occupied by either Duck or Joseph. “Can you really introduce me to bigfoot?” 

“Yes, I can ask if he’d like to meet you - oh. Ah. It seems you already know him.”

“What? Oh, of course, he can disguise himself, too… who do I know who’s secretly bigfoot?” Joseph turned to Duck. 

“Don’t look at me,” said Duck. “If I was bigfoot you’d know about it by now.” 

Joseph looked back to Indrid. “I promise my motives for wanting to meet bigfoot are normal.”

“Normal?” said Indrid. 

“I don’t want to hurt him. Or you. I don’t need to take pictures. And it isn’t a sex thing.”

“Oh?”

“I just… I want to satisfy my personal curiosity.”

Duck hid his smile behind his mug of coffee. 

“If bigfoot wanted to have sex with me I wouldn’t say no!” 

“I’ll ask,” said Indrid.

[ancientstone]

Random Untamed Alchemist Thoughts: WangXian Edition!

Masterpost

~

Lan ‘Am I having feelings for my childhood friend? No, that’s ridiculous. I must be getting sick. Yes, that is the only explanation’ Wangji

vs

Wei ‘Hey Jiang Cheng, I kinda want to punch Lan Wangji, but like, in a nice way?? Is that weird?? Hey, why are you laughing at me!?’ Wuxian

~

When they were both three, they declared to an amused Lan Xichen that, “When we’re grown up we’re gonna marry each other! We even promised!”

Neither remember this, Lan Xichen never brings it up, and honestly it’s a saving grace that Jiang Cheng was only two at the time, because if he knew then Wei Wuxian would never hear the end of it.

(Lan Xichen will, however, finally bring this story to light during his Best Man’s speech. Lan Wangji all but hides under the table.)

~

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have a habit of sparring whenever Wei Wuxian gets fitted with repaired upgraded automail. Lan Wangji will watch them on the porch, arms crossed and eyes critical, to make sure they don’t break his work again and that everything moves as it should.

At least, that’s how it started out.

Recently, when he watches, his brain chants happily: Biceps. Biceps. Biceps. Biceps.

It’s very unhelpful.

~

I’ve mentioned before that some of their biggest arguments are based around Wei Wuxian’s dedication to sacrificing anything to get Jiang Cheng’s body back, but once that’s over and done with, a new kind of disagreement emerges.

On the one hand, you have Lan Wangji, who has been all but single-parenting Sizhui (and then also Jin Ling) with the occasional visit from Wei Wuxian.

And on the other hand, you have Wei Wuxian, now permanently home, trying to parent as well and going against Lan Wangji’s techniques and rules.

Contrary to popular belief, Lan Wangji won’t let Wei Wuxian walk all over him, and while he agrees that letting Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling wander the surrounding countryside will do them some good (accompanied by Fairy, and sometimes Jiang Cheng), schoolwork and automail lessons and cooking dinner and doing their chores are equally important and he will not budge on their established nightly routine of bath, book, bed.

These arguments aren’t really shouting and yelling, more hissed, tense conversations behind closed doors.

~

Everyone debate in the tags: which brother has is worst?

Lan Xichen, who has to deal with Lan Wangji's silent, longing sighs?

Or Jiang Cheng, who has to put up with Wei Wuxian's utter obliviousness?

~

What I’m saying is that after the post-we-got-our-bodies-back saga Wei Wuxian is in bed one night snuggling Wangji with Sizhui curled between them and is suddenly struck with, “Wait. Holy fuck. This is a Thing.”

~

There is a very, very painful year after the two FINALLY become an official couple where Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian don’t really know how to function or how to progress the relationship.

Because their previous bet came to an end now their brothers have Figured It Out, Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng have make a new one: Who will propose first?

Jiang Cheng wins this bet. I won’t say on who.

~

Ok but in all seriousness let me gush about their wedding.

It’s autumn. Resembool is awash in beautiful hues of red and deep orange. The fields are full of crops, ready to be harvested. The summer months are still lingering, but there’s just an edge of crispness to the air to signal cooler times ahead.

Lan Wangji wears a white suit with a delicate embroidered silver trimming. He stands out like the glowing moon against the autumnal colours, his hair neatly combed into its natural parting (He spent three hours fussing and panicking over it before his brother intervened.)

Wei Wuxian wears a black suit, his long hair braided into something more intricate than his usual style - one that, Jiang Chen will realise with a lump in his throat, mirrors their sister’s on her wedding day. He has red pins in it, the same shade as the small leaf motifs decorating his shirt collar.

Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng are both in mauve. Lan Sizhui is the ring barer, a duty he takes very seriously. Jin Ling is only allowed to bring Fairy as long as he keeps her on a lead.

If you think Wei Wuxian doesn’t orchestrate it so when he throws his bouquet (red roses), Jiang Cheng catches it, then you do not know Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng is going to fucking send him back to the gate of truth fuck off Wei Wuxian!!!

Lan Qiren bakes the wedding cake. Later, when the festivities are underway, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng will sneak away and place a slice on Jiang Yanli’s gravestone. They will also visit the site where their house once was.

The next morning, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leave by train for their honeymoon off by the coast.

Unknown to Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen, they both have a bet on which of their brothers will cry as they leave first.

They both lose when Lan Qiren bursts into tears.

~

[storiesofsvu2-0]

l & o thursday

Okay…. Happy Thursday. Y’all know the drill.

Also yay city tv for airing these in the wrong order as per usual… I don’t know how much of a 2 parter svu and oc are but we’re getting oc first here…

Ah. Yes. Okay. They are completely and totally related and im getting part 2 first. Love that. Why is citytv like this?

Are we just jumping into this without addressing the Kathy hallucination or whatever that was? Seriously?

Ah! Okay, here we go. Thank you.

Ugh god. Elliot just get over your manchild bullshit already. im sick of it

Elliot reacting like that over Oscar papa… homeboy clearly doesn’t know about William lewis…

k… I lowkey trust bell talking with the perp but like… her lawyer is there, she’s lawyered up… any ada on svu would be having a field day right now… like… these are two cops. They can’t be making deals. Just cause they say they wont press charges or whatever the da might still have to…

man… I adore Ayanna so fucking much. I also love how little she holds back facial expressions, like… same girl… same…

bruh… if you thought this was a JOKE why would you put down FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS?!

Bobby and his sandwich LOOOLL.

“it’s attempted murder not the express checkout line.” Yup. Bell has the best one liners.

This episode is giving major criminal minds vibes. And then amanda is going to be brought in as a “profiler” like… cmon… (also I don’t even wanna talk about that… like…her being a professor is already ridiculous. But to also be a profiler? Like… sure she’s smart and has a forensics degree but she aint that smart…she would be a terrible profiler…)

They’re STILL making fast and furious movies?! Jfc.

“carisi can’t keep his mouth shut” and “she left me a message” ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Like, those two were BESTIES, and you’re telling me they wouldn’t actually keep in touch?! Esp over something like this? Like noah, billie and jessie had play dates all the time, they hungout together, carisi still works with liv. This is so fucking dumb. Like… yes I get it, if you leave a job you start another one and might not keep up with the people you used to from the previous ones, but the ones who really mean something keep in touch. This is something that drives me INSANE about tv shows cause a cast member will leave and it’s as if the characters will NEVER see each other again. I get it, sometimes the actors can’t come back or don’t want to, but like… a mention here or there, a sense of reality?? It’s no wonder Liv is always alone and mopey over shit. Life is a two way street ma’am, if you keep shutting out people who “leave” you then guess what? You’re not gonna have anyone left! (still don’t condone Elliot’s behaviour but like… we don’t’ care about him here)

Mothership:

“you’re bleeding.” “yeah… bullets’ll do that to you” *proceeds to collapse*

So naturally I was not paying that much attention, but why tf did they only charge him with one count of murder? He should have also been charged with attempted murder of the other girl and attempted murder/assault of a police officer?

Anyway. Now it’s svu time. Bring me my bebes.

Jesus that’s fucking terrifying. Could you imagine coming across that on a run?! Jesus.

Carisi was so friggin cute when he spilt the beans to liv, fucking adorable.

I got distracted making gifs. Oops.

Loving muncy and churlish partnered up, their banter and shit is good, I accept

Liv being all “doesn’t everyone in staten island know each other” and carisi pulling her chain is hilarious

Omg these girls are both like fucking 5 foot nothing and 90lbs and elias is a giant this is not gonna end well…

Thank god churlish kept the gun on him, smart girl.

Okay I think some of this is less intriguing to me because ive already seen OC

Oh god..joe is yelling… im turned on…

They literally put muncy in a plaid shirt that has the bisexual flag colours on it… COME ON.

HOLY SHIT. Christ. I KNEW SOMETHING LIKE THAT WAS COMING. Muncy needs a hug, and probably some therapy…

I absolutely do not want Velasco and muncy together. That being said. I would adore muncy and churlish or Velasco and churlish.. but I cant decide which one I like more…

Welp, that’s it for tonight. Maybe see you next week.

[sukirichi]

— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now. 

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

[imo-chan-imagines]

heyyyy :)

i hope you have a good day.

i would like to request a part 2 (or maybe more parts)

of the Kambe daisuke str!pclub story.

i love you storys btw <3

VIP Treatment | FKBU Drabble

Daisuke × fem!stripper!reader

♡ Sequel to: Eat The Rich ♡

Warnings: 18+, spicy smuttt 🥵, holy water on standby pls, strip club, sex for money, protected sex + mentions of raw sex, close to hate fucking 🤏, maybe some dub-con if you're really squinting but not really, 1 (one) light booty slap lmao, sugar daddy proposal 👀, dark themes, swearing, Daisuke being one cocky son of a biatch lol, request, drabble

A/N: Hello, Anon! Thank you so much for requesting this! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to it. I had a lot of requests and other content lined up. I hope you like it, though ♡ Please read part 1 first, as the story continues!

This request isn't part of it, but please check out my 500 followers event below! Requests are now open!

♡ My 500 followers thirst event ♡

⚠️ 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

"Fuck," Daisuke hisses. His grimace dissolves into a smirk as he looks up at you.

His view is perfect as he watches you slowly slide up and down on your knees, taking him inside you, inch by inch. He holds your thigh, fingers clutching at your flesh, before running his thumb over the skin.

It's been two months since he first came to the club and made his little 'business proposal'. Now he's a regular, stopping by at least three times a week, just to fuck you – or for you to fuck him. That's how it usually goes.

At least he normally brings condoms with him now. Raw costs him extra. A lot extra.

Not that it isn't enjoyable – fuck, his dick is so good, it's unfair. Like you're ever going to tell him that.

A slap lands on the side of your ass, snapping you back into the moment. It sounded worse than it felt, nice and audible against the curve.

"Attention on me," he says, almost softly. Demanding prick. You narrow your eyes at him.

Fine. If he wants your full attention, that's what he's going to get.

You sit up straighter, rising up onto you knees, and increase the pace of your movements until you're bouncing on is cock, your thighs burning. Your eyes glint in wicked satisfaction as you recognise the frustration in his face as he struggles with himself against the sudden increase in stimulation.

But rather than sink under your determination, he rises to the challenge. He grips your hips for stability, bucking up to meet you every time you fall and swallow his length into your tight, little cunt.

His breaths are rougher, he's less collected. That stupid, supercilious grin is still there, but it's shifted into something more amused. Like he enjoys the competition.

A hand comes up and cups your breast as it bounces, thumbing over your nipple, before he pulls you forwards, enveloping it in his mouth. He licks and sucks.

You feel weak under his touch, but you keep fucking yourself down on him, the tip of his cock reaching so deep inside you that you feel like whining. But when he peers up at you with those icy eyes, his tongue still wrapped around your nipple, you shudder, almost collapsing against him.

The coil in your stomach tightens as he thrusts up into you, your hips grinding desperately into his movements as you chase your high.

"Gonna cum for me, hm?" he coos, too sweetly to be genuine. He chuckles through his ragged breaths, the air cool on your sweat-covered skin, and his voice drops. "Go on, cum for me. Do it."

His fingers find your clit and start making slow, deliberate circles. He's barely been stroking you for more than a few of seconds before you're clinging to his neck and rutting your hips against him as your tight walls squeeze and flutter around his cock.

He muffles his grunts as you cum, gritting his teeth as you fall to pieces against him.

"D...don't fight it," you mumble into his shirt, clutching at the loose tie that's come undone around his neck. "...cum for me too. Wanna feel it." You can feel him throbbing inside you at your words.

He pushes you face-down onto the seat and re-enters you, thrusting at his own pace until his fingers dig into your hips and he spills out inside the rubber with a dissolute groan.

It's only ten minutes later, when you're both redressed, that he speaks again, this time with a business proposal even more ridiculous than the last.

You cock you eyebrow at him. "You want me to what?"

"Quit your job here and come for work me. Just for me." He leans back in the seat the way he always does, taking out a cigar and lighting it with his Zippo.

"What, you afraid I'm fucking my other clients?" you scoff. "They fucking wish they were that rich."

"Is that a no?" he says, in reference to his offer. He snaps the Zippo shut and puffs out a plume of smoke in your direction.

"I didn't say that." It would mean no more creepy losers. No more guys' hands you didn't want on you. No more work. "What would you be then? My sugar daddy?" you tease, smoothing out your dress.

"You could call it that." He draws on the cigar again. "I'll even buy you your own place, if that's what you want. Just keep doing this with me, and I'll pay you more than you could ever need."

"You're already doing that."

"Then I'll pay you even more."

You laugh, but he doesn't, and it shuts you up. There's something odd about his behaviour. He isn't as cocky and smirking as usual. It's almost affectionate, but you tell yourself 'posessive' is more likely the ticket.

"Well?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

Well. There was only one answer a girl like you could give to an offer like that. Right?

© imo-chan-imagines 2021

[mickey-henry]

𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky’s been flirting with you, but hasn’t taken it further than that. frustrated, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: occasional swearing (but not much) and frustrating flirting (I’d be melting if it was happening to me). besides that, this fic is pure fluffy fun.

author’s note: hello there! this is my second fic; I’m very excited to post it! I found the header image here, and if you want to listen to the song I reference in this fic, you can listen here. bold text indicates singing, while italicized text refers to inner thoughts. likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖

Bucky Barnes is an acquaintance at best. The two of you rarely work together, and with conflicting schedules, you see little of each other around the compound. On a random Friday in April, however, something changes in you. The moment is nothing out of the ordinary. You’re sitting on the couch in the main living space, re-reading one of your favorite books. Bucky has just returned from a mission; you glance up to see his exhausted expression. He catches your eye, winking with a smile, before walking to his room. Your heart flutters and your head freezes at the response. “Oh, no,” you think to yourself. “Maybe that was a one-time thing? I don’t actually like him, right?” Wrong. 

Ever since that night, the mere presence of Bucky Barnes drives you crazy: his stunning blue eyes that squint ever so slightly when he smiles, his adorable nose that crinkles when he laughs, his pillowy lips that you lose yourself in, his  fluffy hair you can’t help but imagine running your fingers through, his scruff speckled jawline that you wish would brush along your hands, cheeks, anywhere really. He occupies your dreams; you can’t escape this man even if you try. Today, he drives you crazier than usual. He stands in the compound's kitchen in a tight black t-shirt, one that leaves nothing to the imagination. This is the first time you’ve seen him in short sleeves, in anything other than tactical gear. You can’t help but stare as he prepares his lunch. The shirt hugs his frame tight, accentuating his biceps that had no right to be that big. “Gosh, he must spend hours in the gym to look like that.” You then notice the vein in his right arm protruding from his skin, tracing it with your eyes. You didn’t think he could become any more beautiful, but here he is before you, incredible as ever. 

You’re pulled from your reverie when Bucky calls your name. “Yeah?” you reply, barely masking the startled stutter in your voice.

“Pass me the salt?”

“Oh! Sure, of course,” you muster, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of you as you hand him the salt shaker. 

“Thanks, doll,” he flirts with a smile, the same one he gave you that night when he got back to the compound. You nearly choke. “Bucky Barnes called me a term of endearment?!? Holy shit.” Your heart swells and you look down at your glass in a desperate attempt to hide the blush creeping its way across your cheeks. “Goodness gracious, I respond this way from a simple word?” You couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if he touched you. 

It didn’t take long to find out. The following day, you stand in the kitchen prepping your lunch, singing softly along to the song playing from your phone. Bucky appears soon after. He stands close to you for a moment, closer than necessary, but of course you don’t mind. He has just showered; his cologne lingers in the air, intoxicating you. Somehow, you keep singing along, showing no sign that your mind is elsewhere. 

“Ugh, he smells amazing. This man has too much power over me; this is ridiculous! I don’t even remember what I was doing—”

“You have a beautiful voice,” he compliments.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you softly reply, your heart racing at his praise.

“Let me get by you real fast, doll,” he says, moving to walk behind you. 

“There he goes again with the pet name. My god, could this get any worse—” 

He places his hands gently on your hips as he moves beside you. Electricity travels through your whole body; you’re internally screaming at his touch. His hands feel better than you imagined. Even though the contact lasts only a moment, the effects of his touch linger after, leaving you speechless. 

You hear a musical chuckle from the man behind you. “Is he teasing me? It sure feels like it,” you wonder. There is no way that he can’t see the effect he has on you. Before you can even formulate another thought, he touches you again as he moves back to the other side of you. “That was definitely on purpose; certainly he wouldn’t do this by accident. Right?”

Your eyes linger as he finishes putting together his lunch. He catches your gaze and smiles. “See you later, sweetheart,” he says with a wink before leaving the room. “Okay, that answers my question; that was very intentional. What am I going to do with myself?”

You don’t know how much longer you can take his teasing. Throughout the week, he ups his antics, calling you pet names more than your own, stealing touches whenever he can get away with it, smiling whenever you make eye contact. The tension is insatiable; thoughts of Bucky follow you everywhere. You decide to take matters in your own hands; Bucky did not seem to be planning to make a move anytime soon. If he is going to tease the hell out of you, you might as well get some payback. 

───────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Tony’s announcement of Friday night karaoke gives you a wicked idea. However, for it to work, you need to recruit help. You know just who to ask. It doesn’t take long to find Sam and Steve; they spent a ton of their free time sparring in the gym. They seem to be at the end of their workout, their movements slow and sloppy, relying on witty retorts to throw off the other. They stop when they notice your arrival. 

“Hey!” Sam says with a smile, hugging you as you approach. You squeeze him tightly, even with his sticky sweat coating his arms. You greet Steve with a hug too.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Steve asks as you let go.

“Can I ask you guys something? And you promise you two won’t laugh at me? Especially if I'm reading this wrong?”

“Of course,” answers Steve. 

“Yeah, for sure,” replies Sam. 

You hesitate for a second, taking a deep breath. “Does Bucky like me? I swear he does. He keeps teasing me, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I think I am practically in love with the guy at this point, he’s so beautiful and—”

You stop as the boys exchange glances and begin laughing. 

You cross your arms, hurt. “You said you wouldn’t laugh at me! I can’t control how I feel.”

“No! Wait! We aren’t laughing at you!” Steve says between giggles. 

You furrow your brows. “Then why are you laughing?”

“Bucky’s obsessed with you,” Steve answers after calming his laughter. 

“God, yes, you’re all he talks about nowadays,” Sam adds. 

“What?! He does? Why? Are you shitting me right now? Because that would be really freaking mean—“

“No! Of course not,” Steve insists. “Don’t you see the way he looks at you?”

“And the pet names he gives you?” Sam adds.

“And how he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself lately?” Steve finishes. 

Now you feel stupid for even asking. Of course you noticed all of those things. They were all you ever thought about. “Well, yeah, but maybe he does that with all the girls.”

“What girls?” Sam retorted. “The only women who are here often enough to cross paths with him are you, Natasha, and Wanda. Wanda’s with Vision, as weird as that is, but love is love. Natasha shoots daggers at anyone who looks at her with love in their eyes. That leaves you.”

“Why in the world would he like me? Of all people? He’s out of my league,” you sigh,

Sam’s scoff pulls you from your thoughts. “Bucky? Out of your league? He’s a crazy ex-assassin with emotional issues! If anything, he's out of your league.”

“You’re a catch, why wouldn’t he like you?” Steve assures.

Steve and Sam always know just what to say to make you feel better. “I guess you’re right,” you admit with a defeated grin. 

“So, you know how Bucky feels. What are you going to do about it?” Steve asks. 

“I have an idea, but I need your help.”

“We’re listening.”

You divulge your plan to them. They smile, hyping you up. 

“Dude, I’m so down!” Sam exclaims, clapping his hands in excitement. 

“You think this will work?”

“Definitely,” Steve assures. “This is going to be amazing!”

“Okay then, we’re doing this. Let’s go find Bucky. Time to initiate phase one.”

───────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky is sitting on the common room couch, flipping through a book when he sees you, Sam, and Steve enter. He exchanges a glance with you, smiling as your eyes light up. The three of you sit down. You’re sitting next to Sam, closer than usual. There’s a brief moment of silence before you speak. “Sam, are you going to karaoke night?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss everyone’s drunk-ass singing for the world.”

“Will you be my duet partner?”

This catches Bucky’s attention. He looks up from his book. Why the hell were you asking Sam to sing with you? You normally ask the girls...

“Sure thing, baby. It’ll be a ton of fun!” Sam smiles. 

Baby?! What?! How dare he call you a pet name, his girl, right in front of him? Well, you may not be his girl yet, but Sam knows how he feels about you. What the hell is he thinking?

“Yay! This’ll be so fun!” You hug him, grabbing his hand before continuing, “Wanna practice with me in a bit?”

“Find me when you’re ready, sweetheart,” Sam answers, kissing your knuckle before letting go of your hand. 

Sweetheart?! What the fuck was going on? Did he miss his shot? Would Sam really do that to him? Bucky can barely handle his swirling thoughts. He storms out of the room without looking back. 

Steve can’t help but laugh once Bucky is out of earshot. “That worked a little too well, wouldn’t you say so?”

“That wasn’t too far, was it?” you ask with a worried expression on your face. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. He’ll just come on even stronger now. He won’t give up on you that easily,” Sam assures you. 

───────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ─────────────

Bucky can barely contain his anger as you step on the stage with Sam, giggling and smiling at your karaoke partner. Jealousy engulfs him. He can barely listen to the start of the song, ignoring the catchy beat blasting through the speakers. He doesn’t recognize the song, but looks up from his drink when you sing, “Hey Bucky boy, what you doing tonight? I wanna see what you got in store."

He looks right at you. Did she just say Bucky?

Sam echoes, “Hey, hey Bucky!” Well, that answers his question.

“You're giving it your all when you're dancing on me. I want to see if you can give me some more,” you continue, twirling your fingers through your hair.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“You can be my man, I can be your girl, and we can pump this jam however you want,” you sing, swaying your hips to the cadence of the lyrics.

“Hey, hey Bucky!”

“Pump it from the side, pump it upside down, or we can pump it from the back and the front,” you wink as you finish the line. Bucky sits up suddenly, crossing his legs, his face turning beet red. You smile, knowing the plan was working. Steve laughs from beside him. He keeps his eyes glued on you as the two of you continue the song, utterly entranced. You look him right in the eye as you end the song, “I want you tonight.”

You saunter over to where he is sitting after high-fiving Sam, confidence filling your chest. “So, what did you think of my performance, Bucky?”

You yelp as he grabs your hips and pulls you down to sit on his lap. His voice deepens, “you’re such a tease, you know that right?”

You laugh. “I’m the tease? Really? You’re the one who just pulled me onto your lap and taunts me with flirtatious remarks and smiles all freaking day. My god Bucky, make a move already—”

He cuts you off, pulling you in for a kiss, his flesh arm grabbing the back of your neck. The team whoops and cheers. 

“Glad you finally made a move, Bucky,” you pant as your lips part from his.

“Best decision I ever made in my life, doll.” Before you can respond, he kisses you again, the karaoke bar fading in the background as you finally embrace the man of your dreams.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Closing Time (Johnny Utah x fem!reader)

Summary: You work at a clothing store, you get a last minute customer at closing time and sexy tims happen.

Pairing: Johnny Utah x fem!reader

Author’s Notes: So I’m slowly getting back to writing. I’m not gonna say I’m fully back just yet, but for this week at least, there will be content! Huge thanks to @toomanystoriessolittletime and @meetmeinthematinee​ for being cheerleaders and giving me early feedback on this! 

Wordcount: 3125

Warnings: smut. oral sex (F! receiving); dirty talk; unprotected sex with strangers (don’t do this kids!); sex in inappropriate places.

Most days you quite enjoyed it when there was barely any movement at the store. It gave you the opportunity of just being by yourself, reading a book, or enjoying some music or studying for college, things that you didn’t always have the privacy of doing at your dorm because your roommate seemed to always be around. Even during the summer and what was up with that? Didn’t she have better things to do?

She wasn’t like you, who actually had to work to put yourself through college and took some extra jobs during the summer so you could have some savings for the following term when all you managed to get were part-time jobs that you had fit in between classes and paid shit.

Fortunately, at the shop, you had some peace and time for yourself. It was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall sort of place around Venice Beach where tourists could get some shirts and other knickknacks to take back home and locals surfers could find cheap clothing and supplies for a day out on the beach. Most days, you worked from 9-5 and after your shift, you could head to the beach, spread your towel on the sand and enjoy the gorgeous Californian sunset. However, as the summer winded out and the fall winds blew the scalding hot weather into simmering heat, your boss let you close a little early, especially on Tuesdays, when most tourists had already headed home and the new arrivals hadn’t landed yet so there were barely any customers around.

Your plan today had been to finish your reading for class and start the new crime thriller you picked up at the used books store on your way to work. Except, today you were just too restless to focus. You must have reread the same paragraph of your textbook twenty times before you gave up and set it aside, giving the other book a go, but it was just as unsuccessful at holding your attention.

So instead, you moved around the cramped space, adjusting the decoration items, dusting off shelves, and refolding every single shirt in the display until it was perfectly symmetrical while you willed time to move faster so you could end this day. Maybe it was the heatwave that had made an appearance turning the air in the shop stifling and all you had to help you was an old and slow fan that made more noise than blow air. The A/C was busted and your boss still hadn’t called someone to fix it.

Another possibility was the fact that you had to keep the glass doors opened to help circulate a little air and every time any kind of wind blew or someone walked in, it brought with them the crisp smell of salt and sand that always made you ache for the ocean and fight against the temptation of just abandoning everything and heading for the beach so you could cool off taking a dip in the deliciously cold water. Either way, you kept checking the slow ticking of the clock hands, counting the seconds before you could turn the closed sign.

When the minute hand finally hit twelve, you let out a cheer, jumping off your stool and taking a step towards the door. You always locked the doors first to discourage most last-minute walk-ins while you closed the register, put away the money in the back office safe, and slipped out of the store through the back door, taking any garbage with you to throw in the dumpster outside.

Before you could move from behind the counter, a man stepped into the store and you groaned low in your throat. Of-fucking-course! It was like they stood in wait to come in at the precise moment you were about to head out.

“Hey, you’re still open, right?” He asked, pushing the overgrown dark hair back from his forehead and offering you an unsure smile. You felt the urge to lie and say that no, you were closed and he should come back tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure.” You said instead placing your best and most fake seller’s smile. “Feel free to look around and let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks!” He replied, flashing a wider smile that showed a small dimple, before moving towards the shirts in the display while you made your way to the main entrance, flipped the sign, and locked the door to bar any other walk-ins.

You hung back while the guy browsed the options, taking a moment to assess him. He didn’t look like a tourist, but also not fully like a local. Most Californian guys that you knew had the most horrifying hair cuts or bleach jobs you had ever seen and that was not the case for the man in front of you.

His hair was dark brown, a little shaggy from too much exposure to sun and salt and it flopped a little over his forehead, just above his eyes. He wore a grey cropped t-shirt that had definitely seen better days and struggled to contain his broad shoulders, showing a peek of toned abs. His jeans were ridiculously tight and hung low on his slender hips, the light-wash of the denim accentuating the perfect bubble butt and for the love of God, you needed to get laid. Badly.

“Excuse me,” he called, startling you and you prayed he hadn’t noticed the way you were checking his ass just now. “Do you have this one in black?”

“Yeah, sure.” You moved towards the drawers. “What’s your usual size? Medium or large?”

“I think large should be good,” he replied and when you turned around with the requested shirt, he was just standing there, barechested, his top hanging from his shoulder and you hoped your gasp wasn’t as loud as it sounded in your head.

“Here you go,” you croaked, offering him the shirt. “We do have a fitting room…” you gestured towards the small cubicle to the rear of the store.

“Oh right!” He glanced over as he pulled the shirt on. “Do you mind if I try them out here, though?”

“Not at all,” you forced your voice to sound somewhat normal.

“Awesome!”

Damn! He wasn’t just fucking hot. He was also cute, the wide grin he just flashed giving him a boyish look that was only enhanced by the almond-shaped chocolate-colored eyes. Biting your lip, you watched as he turned side to side in front of the mirror, checking himself out.

“It think is a little too big,” he said, meeting your gaze. “What do you think?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat and moved closer so you could look at him through the mirror. “If you want it more fitted, then yeah, probably a smaller size would be best. Want me to get it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Once again, by the time you turned back to him, he was shirtless, the garment he had just tried neatly folded and resting on the shelf as he took a look at some other shirts, his attention snapping at you when he noticed you coming closer to hand him the new shirt, giving you a glimpse of a pale, sunken scar running down his abs that stopped just above his belly button and that drew attention to the small trail of fine dark hairs that disappeared under the waist of his jeans and holy shit! He was bare beneath those jeans.

“Bike accident,” he commented as he took the shirt that you offered and you met his eyes in confusion.

“What?” You asked, mouth suddenly dry.

“The scar,” he clarified, putting on the shirt and his lips were tilted into a slight smirk. “That was what you were staring at, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, feeling your face burning. “I’ll just head to the register and give you some privacy.”

I don’t mind,” he shrugged, turning to the mirror. “This is better. What do you think?” He turned towards you, giving you a full view of the cotton fabric covering his muscles, looking almost as if painted on him.

“Sure...” you swallowed hard, trying not to stare. “If you prefer it more fitted...”

“I do,” pulling the shirt off and once again giving you the glorious view of his torso. “I’ll take it.”

You took the shirt to the register and he followed, pausing only to pick up his own, which he had discarded on a nearby hanger. You were expecting him to put it back on, but he just threw it over his shoulder, reaching for his wallet as you registered the sale and tried not to stare.

“Is that the only camera you have around here?” He asked, gesturing to a point above your left and you glanced at the object before nodding, exchanging the money he gave you for the paper bag with his purchase.

“Yeah, why?”

“So basically...” he started, taking a step to the side, closer to the fitting room. “I’m completely out of sight over here?”

“Basically, yeah,” you frowned a little, stepping away from the counter. “Why? Are you planning to rob the place? Because let me tell you, there’s not much worth...” You trailed off with a surprised squeak as he tugged on your hand, pulling you over to the blindspot and nearly pressed against his strong chest.

“Because honestly, I never really gave a fuck about the shirt. I just thought you were beautiful and wanted to ask your number when I walked in, but you looked kind pissed so I got cold feet,” he confessed with a rueful smile.

“So you decided to just get mostly naked in front of me?” You snorted, shaking your head and he shrugged.

“Needed to make sure you might be interested and considering the way you were eyeing me earlier, it looked like you saw something you liked.”

“You’re really sure of yourself, aren’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at him, not ready to concede just yet. Even if the heat of his body and the smell of sea breeze whiffing off his skin were driving you crazy.

“Only when I’m right,” he flashed you a lopsided smirk and just waited, gazing into your eyes, making it clear that the next step was yours.

Part of you screamed that it was crazy to even consider hooking up with a guy that just walked into your store, no matter how hot he was, but it had been a ridiculously long time since you last had sex and he was so fucking hot, the scent of his golden skin intoxicating and his heat was making you dizzy with want as you looked him up and down, noticing the volume pressing against the denim of his pants.

“We might not have cameras, but the windows are see-through, so get your ass to the fitting room while I finish closing up.”

He flashed a victorious smirk and nodded, heading towards the back while you rushed through the steps of securing the store before joining him.

Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you made your way towards the back, pushing away the curtain that blocked the small space of the fitting room and finding him perched on the low stool that you kept there so customers could put down their things, facing the full-length mirror, legs spread, jeans undone, revealing the bush of dark hairs surrounding his long and thick cock.

You nearly whimpered at the sight, your center pulsing in want as you leaned against the doorframe, watching him as he run his left hand up and down his shaft, head tilted back, breathing hard, eyes hooded. He was such a beautiful and debauched sight that you felt the urge to photograph him, capture that sensuality.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch?” He asked, eyes meeting yours through the reflective surface.

“You seemed to be doing fine on your own,” you teased stepping into the tight space, fingers itching to touch all that glorious skin.

“I did not just spend most of my afternoon at the corner diner, drinking burned coffee just to jerk off in front of you,” he declared, standing up and turning your way.

“Ohhh, so this was premeditated?” You asked, kicking off your sneakers as he reached for you and you stumbled against his chest.

“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted, large hand hot against your hips and you wanted to feel it against your flesh. “You probably don’t remember, but I was here last week and you had to bend over to get something from one of the lower drawers...” he let out a soft groan, hands moving to your ass and squeezing lightly. “Fuck! I don’t think I ever popped a boner so fast in my life. I had to get out.”

You vaguely remembered that. There was so much coming and going in this place, it was hard to keep track of faces, but customers just taking off after asking to see something usually caused an impression. If you weren’t about to get fucked after six months, you would be more pissed.

“So you decided to come back when I was alone and seduce me?” you asked, running your hands over his chest and abs, scratching it slightly and goosebumps rose in his skin as he hissed.

“Yeah,” he spoke in a low voice as his hands move to the button of your jeans. “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he slid your fly down and your breath caught in your throat. “I thought about bending you over that counter and fucking you until you’re screaming.” His fingers skimmed over your cunt, just a soft touch, but you gasped and arched your hips forward, holding onto his arms to steady yourself. “I thought about it eating your pussy and your ass until you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Those words were whispered right against your ear, before he changed your positions, crowding you against the mirror and pushing your jeans down to your thighs before he once against skimmed his fingers over covered sex, making you ache for him.

“What do you think about that?” He asked, lips brushing your cheek in an almost chaste kiss, completely opposed to the lewdness of his hand exploring your cunt. “Do you want it?”

“If you’re as good with your tongue at eating pussy like you are at talking dirty, then I maybe I do,” you declared, tired of his teasing and you felt his smirk as he gracefully slid to his knees in front of you.

You didn’t manage to get another word out before he shoved your panties down to join your jeans and his lips firmly connected to your clit. He gave it a sharp suck and you groaned, burying your fingers into his hair to keep yourself on your feet as your brain short-circuited and your knees turned to jelly.

He was very good at eating you out, especially because he was very attentive to every sound you made, every tightening of your grip on his hair, and roll of your hips to nudge him into going faster or slower, harder or softer... It wasn’t long before he reached that perfect alternation of fast flickering against your clit and slower and broad strokes of his tongue over your entrance and lips, a combination that drove you crazy.

You were whimpering and moaning, legs quaking with the alternating urge to close them around his face to keep him trapped there pleasuring you forever or spreading them wider so he could have more space to work, but the edges of your jeans were digging into the lower part of your knees, signaling you that that was as far as they could go.

As if reading your thoughts or maybe he just realized he would need more room, he shoved your pants down and helped you to kick them off so you could be completely free of the garment. And didn’t you two looked like a mismatched pair, with you standing there wearing only your top while he knelt in front of you, his jeans still on.

Once your pants were off, he hooked your right thigh over his shoulder, pressing his mouth even harder against your cunt, flickering his tongue over your clit before dipping it in between your lips, gathering the juices soaking your sex like a starved man.

“Fuck! I’m so close...” you hissed, rolling your hips, seeking more because that tight knot deep inside you was about to snap and from the way you ached and shuddered, your muscles tensing, you knew it would be a hard one.

“Yeah?” He mumbled against your core, his breath against your overheated skin making you shiver as he pushed two fingers inside you. “Gonna cum all over my mouth?”

He pistoled his fingers in and out at a fast pace, crooking inwards with every down motion, his tongue matching his rhythm against your clit and it was that made you snap as you bit down on your fist to stop yourself from shouting as your body was flooded with pleasure and all you knew was the unbelievable bliss that surrounded you. Stars bust behind your closed lids, the air came out of your lungs in short gushes as you fought hard not to slide down to the ground because your legs felt like jelly.

“Ok?” he asked, making you finally snap your eyes open to look at him.

He was sitting on his heels, face still glistening with your orgasm, his lips swollen and red from the abuse. His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking and you really wanted to return the favor.

“Way better than ok,” you replied with a gasp. “My turn?” To your surprise, he shook his head and got to his feet.

“Tonight, the only place I’m cumming is in that pussy,” he announced against your ear and shivered with anticipation. “So let’s get out of this fucking store and go to my place?”

“Fuck yes!” you grinned breathlessly at him as you reached for your jeans and he buttoned his over his hard cock and that couldn’t be comfortable.

“I’m Johnny, by the way,” he said. “Johnny Utah. Just in case you want to know what to shout when I fuck your brains out later.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky smirk and moved closer to him, once fully clothed, the only evidence of your recent climax was the sweat cooling on your skin and the stupid grin that refused to leave your face.

“I think I like you more when your mouth is busy with something other than talking,” you declared and before Johnny could manage a reply, you silenced him with a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue.

xxx

If you enjoyed this work, please consider reblogging and/or commenting please. Feedback gives life to us writers!

[bibbykins]

Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

Tip Jar

[elysianslove]

hehe hello again !!! if you get to it, maybe 45 from hand holding + mattsun? m so in love with how you write him it seriously holds a special place in my heart, thank u loads loads in advance ! <33

hi hi hi!!! still not over what you wrote for me for samu it was so :(( i loved it so much so like thank you genuinely. much needed <3 and yes ofc i’d love to!! hope you like it mwah <3

more soft issei for the dash yay !

45. comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together with matsukawa issei <3

full prompt list!

the most defeated issei has ever felt is not with every loss he’s faced with his team, but neither was it a bad grade stamped on a paper, nor a bad day worsening with every hour. it’s the very moment he had sighed and painfully accepted the fact that he has a crush on you.

it’s infuriating, really, to put a label on it. at first he thought it was basic attraction— he liked your smile and he liked the way the school uniform hugged your figure and the way you twisted your hair between your fingers as your palm cupped your chin in class. it seemed to be just that, physical attraction, because he liked the feel of your body whenever you hugged him and he liked staring at the pictures you posted for a little too long. naturally, his body would react whenever you touched him, whenever you wore something a little special, whenever you made sure your lips were as red as cherries. he could live with that.

however, he could not live with the fact that he now craved to hear your laugh and that you were the one person he looked forward to seeing in the day. he could not live with knowing your smile was the last thing he thought of before bed and your notification was the first he searches for in the morning. his ears perk up at the mention of your name, his heart rate spikes at the sound of your voice. your touch alone is no longer the only thing that reddens his face and twists his tummy. it’s quite literally everything that you do, and it’s exasperating, genuinely.

he knows he’s in deep shit when someone points out a flaw that he could see as nothing else but a virtue of yours. how the hell could he see absolutely nothing wrong with you? nothing!

acceptance was delayed only because he knew there would be no turning back once he had admitted it to himself. it had been a long night of contemplation, of deciding whether he really liked you or he just found you attractive or he happened to enjoy your company or liked the attention you gave him— until he had asked himself a simple question.

would he want to kiss you?

and when he dreamt of your pretty lips on his, he woke up and buried his face in his pillow, screaming in frustration.

having a crush on you meant a lot of things, but most significantly, it meant not being able to sit by your side without feeling every inch of your presence by him. even if his eyes are on the textbook before him, he can still hear every noise you make, from the quietest sighs to the loudest groans of frustration. he can still make out every tiny movement you make, from the shake of your leg and the crack of your knuckles to the bite of your lip. he’s so hyperaware of you it drives him fucking insane.

tapping the pen against his book, he tries to focus on the questions before him, attempting to make proper use of the free period he had instead of leaving all his work to the last minute, as per usual. it’s unfortunate that it just so happened you share that same free period with him. or fortunate. he can’t decide.

“issei,” you gasp out lowly halfway through the class, and he struggles to not lose himself in the way his name sits so perfect on your tongue. instead, he hums, twisting his head to acknowledge you. once you have his attention, you continue and say, “your hands are so big.”

issei’s brows furrow, and he takes a moment to process (while trying not to think about the fact that you had been looking at his hands. why were you looking at his hands? were they not appealing? were they appealing?) before glancing down at his hand, and then at yours. “think yours are just small, doll,” he retorts, and you scoff.

“no, can’t be,” you disagree. the pen in your hand drops as you sigh, fidgeting in your seat till your body’s twisted to face him, one leg lifted and crossed on the chair. “look,” you add, and lift up your hand.

a question mark blooms in his brain. what did— you want him to do, exactly?

at the obvious confusion written across his features, you sigh, fixing him with a faux unimpressed stare, before reaching over to grab at his wrist. his skin burns where your hand touches him, and as you position his hand to lift it up straight, as if he were about to high five you, every single part of it goes numb. even as you let go, the feeling of you is imprinted and issei’s praying to anything holy that will listen that his face isn’t reddening as deep as he thinks it is.

after his hand is up the way you want it, your own reaches out again, and you press your palm against his. your hands are noticeably smaller, fingertips significantly lower than his, meeting just above where the lower lines locating the knuckles on his fingers were. your palm is also generally much smaller, and he thinks about how easily his hand could just make yours disappear so easy if he curled it into a fist.

so fucking cute, holy shit.

he’s going to die. this is how he goes. heart rate spiking to the point of death because his ridiculously cute crush thought comparing hand sizes would be a good idea.

“see?” you say, and issei’s blown away with how unaffected you seem to be. he really doesn’t think he can formulate a proper sentence at the moment. “your hands are big.”

“nah,” he finally manages, and does the unthinkable — before he can think it through properly, his fingers bend, curling in on the gaps between yours, before interlocking your hand with his. he was right: your hand is nearly swallowed by his. “yours are just tiny.”

he wants to say that you’re gawking, but you recover so quick he can barely believe it himself. “your hands are— warm, too,” you point out, fingers still locked with his as they lower and fall to between you. “are they always warm?”

his breathing is uneven as he attempts a nonchalant shrug, replying, “i’m not sure.”

you don’t speak anymore, neither do you look at him, eyes fixated below on where your hands are locked with his. with sudden movement, you twist on your chair, turning to face your book once more. it’s a little awkward, the position, and his wrist slightly aches, but he doesn’t want to be the first one to let go, not when you haven’t yet.

for a few moments, you stay like that, arm angled as weird as his, but eventually, inevitably, you unlink your fingers, shaking his grasp off. his heart sinks disappointingly for a second, until, without sparing him a glance, your hand reaches for his again, and you intertwine your hands once more, this time a lot more comfortably.

when his heart dances in his throat the way it always does around you, he accepts it with a lot more ease.

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 2 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school’s resident bad boy…. Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don’t like don’t read XD

wordcount : 3k

a/n: honestly overwhelming response for the first part. thank you so much 💜💜💜😳

here's the second.

somehow, this took up a new genre for itself while editing and became sort of a bit enemies to friends to partners in sin.

that is to say, I have a template for this but this could go any ( dirty ) way.

let me know if you like this and are curious to know how things play out.

also, spot the cameo. it's so dumb but still. I couldn't think of anything else.

enjoy.

1 2

Paranoia was an old friend of yours.

Very real, very scary and not very nice to you, your peace of mind or your tested soul.

In your head, you already played out a million different ways the image you’d spent years building could come falling apart.

All because of him. Jeon Jungkook.

Though much to your surprise and fortune- he didn’t tell anyone.

You spent the entire weekend fretting over nothing.

It was almost like none of it ever happened.

Like your parents weren't about to tie the knot soon. Like you weren’t about to become step siblings.

Like he didn't walk in on his said step sister to be masturbating in front of a camera.

In the aftermath of that inexplicably humiliating incident, you had to make up some dumb excuse to satiate your viewers for ending the stream so abruptly.

It was your cat they heard speaking, you told them.

Cats don’t speak of course, certainly not in a deep baritone. But they were effectively distracted by the string of full nudes you posted soon after that.

Those few accusatory comments saying that you did have a boyfriend after all were buried by those coming from very horny people who were over the moon about the little apology gift.

That was out of the way, but you had a more pressing matter at hand.

That night, Jungkook had walked out after saying what he had to say without another word, leaving you feeling stunned and oddly cold.

It was like all the heat in your body just ceased to exist the moment he closed the door behind him and left you there all on your own. You didn’t even get to finish but that was beside the point.

The point was, you thought that meant like with many other things, and as people should since this was a free world, he didn’t give a shit what you did with your free time or your body.

But as the days progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were gravely mistaken.

Because contrary to that, he seemed to be up to something.

These days, he came around very often. Completely unprovoked and on his own accord.

It didn’t help that your mom loved having him around and feeding him.

Sometimes he was there for lunch after school. Other times he was there to fucking read the books in the study.

It was all ridiculous and quite honestly it was starting to get on your fraying nerves.

He didn’t even live there! You grumbled in pure frustration internally every time your mom asked you to add an extra plate for him on the dining table. This was your place!

Intentional or not he seemed to just love spending his time at your house for some reason.

But that just wouldn’t do.

The thing was you didn't know how to tell him you’d like to have the peace of mind he’d robbed you of by being all up in your living space every other day back.

He couldn’t just keep coming around.

Things were awkward enough without you having to see him often so already in between fleeting glimpses at school and lingering glances over the occasional dinner.

He might have been able to play it cool because it didn’t matter to him but this was a big deal for you.

He knew your secret and what else were you to do but be on edge and fidgety around him even though it seemed like he wouldn’t say a word of it?

But in the end, you couldn’t voice out your concerns. Not to him and certainly not to your mom.

So you were stuck here.

In between a massive rock and a very hard place.

Forced to endure even though you really felt like you’d been pushed past your limit.

Because he was there all the time.

For the most random reasons doing the most random things at the most random places at the most random time.

One time he had been casually listening to music while smoking by the pool and stroking the strings of his damned, matte black guitar.

You had been so stressed from all the work at school with the elections for new committee members amongst the juniors coming up so you thought to go for a swim to relax your self.

You honestly thought no one was around.

It was a Wednesday at noon so your mother was at lunch with some friends from high school. Plus, in the back of your mind, you’d reasoned that Jungkook usually only ever came over when she was around.

So you put on your best little bikini, grabbed a floatie and a soft drink and you went out.

Only to pause when you saw him sitting on one of the white lounging chairs, just looking at you with his earphones on, fingers having stilled mid strumming with a soft veil of smoke over his face.

You didn’t need to think twice to turn back.

There had been something about how his heavy lidded gaze took you in through the smoke as he did that thing where he cocked his head to the side that made you step back and quickly go back in.

You felt yourself get impossibly hotter when you realized you were probably giving him an eyeful of your poorly covered ass in motion.

You knew he was looking. You could feel his stare. Heavy. Intent. Dark. Swirling.

Like when he'd walked in on you.

You were hot and bothered the entire day.

In the end you couldn’t get anything productive done with a straight mind. And it was all his fault.

.

It took you about two weeks to crack.

That particular evening you were decided on telling your mom about this dilemma you were in.  

Coincidentally, your mom had gone and invited him and his dad over for dinner.

Great. Just great.

You had no choice but to deeply consider the possibility of having to spill the beans another time.

Because choosing now to tell your mom meant you would probably need to tell his dad as well since they were attached at the hip every time he came over.

But no, you wouldn’t expose him in front of his father too. You weren’t cruel. Also you didn’t need the school's menace resenting you for making his strict, uptight dad turn on him.

If he didn’t have a reason to expose you before, he certainly would have one if things spiraled out that way.

So you bit your bitter tongue.

This time around, dinner was a more relaxed affair.

The weather was nice so your mom decided on a barbeque at your back yard.

This meant you wore a flowy sun dress like your mom did and he wore a loose navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and some black casual beach shorts.

His tattoos were on full display.

You stared.

You were only distracted by them and how the patterns dance on his skin when his muscles flex as he flips whatever he is cooking on the fire because she’s never seen them in full before, you strongly reasoned.

Even with his sleeves rolled up when he was uniform, you'd only seen what he had on his forearm briefly other than the ones on the back of his hand.

That night didn’t count. It was too dim to see well. Also, that night technically didn’t exist.

Your eyes were particularly drawn to the little something peeking out the collar of his shirt.

You were too busy trying to figure out whether the curling ink around his collar bone was the flick of flames or the end of a dragon’s tail to notice that he’d lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe at the dots of sweet at his brows.

When you do, you suddenly found yourself being given an eyeful of impossibly ripped, ridged pure muscle.

You almost dropped your glass like you did your jaw.

What the holy fuck?

At that exact moment, he lifted his gaze and caught you staring.

He was probably expecting you to look away. Any decent human would expect that if they caught someone staring at them so openly. Gawking, to be completely honest.

But you didn’t. You quickly recover, pulling yourself together, and you met his gaze squarely.

You clutched the drink in your hand tight. Your pride wouldn’t let you look away.

In your own way, it was your little pay back, weak as it was.

He held your gaze with an unreadable look on his face for a moment with that signature slight tilt to his head and an added lift to his brow, before he looked away. Wordlessly, he let his shirt fall to push his hair back with his hand and went back to grilling.

You let herself breath then and tried not to think about how his biceps flexed at the motion, how his hair slicked back made him look even more dangerous and how the little smirk you caught on his lips was making you feel things she shouldn’t be.

.

Your mom suggested you all hang out at the pool once you were done eating.

You hadn’t been there since that day with him and quite frankly, you would rather not be.

Not with him.

You knew your mom had a swimsuit underneath her dress. She made you wear one as well.

She probably told them to come prepared for a swim too.

Just thinking about it made you short circuit.

You tore your gaze away from where he was standing with his father at the poolside, staring blankly at the surface as the older man talked to him about something.

You'd just come back from clearing the table with your mom.

When you guys got close enough, the men look your way. Jungkook’s eyes immediately landed on you. Meanwhile you just stare at your mom, trying to ignore his inexplicably fixed attention on you.

‘It’s shame we can’t swim.’

Your mother said, reaching for her boyfriend’s hand. She gave Jungkook a soft, apologetic smile.

‘Maybe once the weather is not so chilly.’ She sighed regretfully. ‘If I had known you were sensitive to the cold I would have suggested something else.’

‘It’s fine.’ Your eyes flicker to him. The smile he puts on is small and polite. ‘I’m not a very good swimmer anyway I’m afraid.’

‘Nonsense.’ She dismissed in good nature. ‘I heard you were quite the athlete in middle school. It’s all your father ever talks about sometimes. Right, honey?'

His father just grumbled.

You couldn’t hide your surprise at this revelation. You didn’t know this before.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then he smiles a little with a shrug.

‘That was in the past.’

Your eyes just glided to him when he said that.

The tug at his lip looked wry and sad.

You’d never seen him like this before.

Solemn. Sombre. Not serious or intimidating or indifferent.

It felt like you were viewing him in a new light.

.

You settled on drinks by the pool. It was what your mom does to lighten things up.

It seemed like the gloom from earlier wasn’t all part just a part of your imagination.

Her mother suddenly chirped in between the light conversation.

'Why don't you guys get together and have a little group study?'

You suppressed the urge to groan and roll your eyes to the back of your head. You knew what she was trying to do and you wanted no part in it.

You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.

You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.

He beat you to it.

'That sounds nice,' he dared to say, even politely addressing your mom with Mrs. alongside her surname in the end uttered just the way she liked. 'I'd like that.’

You gawked at him in disbelief. Complete and utterly speechless.

Was he insane ??

'Doesn't it? Great!' Your mom is over the moon. 'Dear, take him to the study. You guys can do your teenager things and get along over books there.'

.

Your mom was loving and caring and she only ever wanted the best for you. You knew this.

Maybe she wanted them to get to know each other. Or maybe she just wanted to have some alone time with her man.

Either way, she practically shoved you two into the house with so much enthusiasm you wondered if she really loved you because suddenly you found yourself stuck inside your house with the last person you wanted to be with and you did not feel safe or rested.

The walk up the spirally stairs to the study had got to be one of the most intense, dragging moments of your whole life.

He remained a few steps behind you all through out the journey, following your lead in his own leisured pace.

A few steps too damn far behind in your opinion.

From that angle, you had a strong inkling that he could see your underwear from beneath your dress.

You knew this because you were familiar with what it felt like when he was staring.

What you couldn’t quite explain is why you didn't do a thing about it.

.

If awkward silence could manifest into a solid form for being so intense, there would have been a third occupant in the room the moment you two walked into the study.

It would’ve been so massive, all the high shelves and wooden tables lined up would have been demolished.

Jungkook remained the quiet person he was, looking around and skimming through the books on the shelves.

You were standing a safe distance away from him, absently doing the same. The books were interesting and all but you were admittedly more taken by the ink on his skin.

Up close you could clearly see the artistic patterns and symbols etched onto him.

While staring at the tats on his knuckles you couldn't help but also notice that the titles he picked up were rather complex.

Certainly not the kind of thing even high intellects reached for. Evidently, those tomes had been collecting dust in there for ages.

You were decidedly curious. Itching to ask. Hell, dying to know.

You dived before you could overthink it and find reasons not to satiate your rabid curiosity.

'You like Reader?' he paused and looked at you from the corner of his eyes. At his questioning look she gesture to the book he was holding. 'That's the third book of theirs you picked up.'

'Yeah.' he said casually, nodding a little while flipping through it. 'Their books are nice.'

A crippling lapse of silence ensues.

You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at the titles in front of you with a burn at your cheeks, fiddling with the polished spines.

How fucking awkward. All of this.

He probably felt the same.

What were you even doing?

You thought about telling him to ignore your mom’s attempt at trying to make the two of you get along. He obviously wasn’t looking for company or a friend. Quite frankly, neither were you. Certainly not from him. You were just trying to be not rude. Something you aren’t really surprised he probably failed to understand in all honesty.

But then he spoke, dragging you out of your reverie.

'What about you?'

Your head shot up and you found that he was standing a lot closer than before, having moved to reach for yet another complicated book to idly browse through at the top shelf.

This close, you could can smell him. Soft mint and clean soap and moonlight, not smoke. He disregarded the pages in his hands to give you a side way glance.

‘What do you like?’

There was a perpetual spark swimming in the dark depth of his eyes. It was striking. Pretty even.

When he lightly raised a brow at you, your thoughts jumbled all over before it fell back into place and you realized you were staring very openly.

But this time was different from the last time. When he had been miles away, flashing you his ripped abs.

In your reverie, you hadn’t notices that he had leaned a little to meet your eyes, and that he was real close. Like real close, looking at you intently with his head cocked to the side questioningly, like he was wondering what was going on inside your head. You could feel his breath fanning your face.

Shit.

'Uh,’ you scrambled for an answer, quickly tearing your gaze away from him to appraise the bookshelf. Your face felt like it was on fire. Considering how he hadn’t moved, he could probably see just how blazed in the face you were. Out of pure instinct, you grabbed a random book and shoved it into him to make some space in between your bodies.

Maybe with a little too much force. There was a dull thump and it made you wince.

'This.’

You hated how squeaky and breathless you sounded. Like you’d just ran a marathon. Might as well have, with how hard and fast your heart was pounding.

Jungkook took it from you, and you allowed yourself to look at him as he looked the cover over, completely fine, like you hadn’t just smacked him in the chest with a book.

The corner of his lips lifted a little as he flipped it over, cocking his head the other way before he chanced you a glance, making you blink rapidly and stand on edge.

'You sure?' he asked, sounding pretty amused. You were confused for a moment until he held  it up for you to see, flashing you a full on toothy grin like you’d never seen on him before. 'You like books about horse gentilia?'

The jump in your chest was something you quickly dismissed as being one of sinking dread rather than anything else.

All the color that had been congesting your face washed away.

If there was a time you truly wished the ground would swallow your entire existence whole, it would be right then and there.

 

word is telling me I made up the word genitilia but I’m pretty sure it’s real because it just rolls off the tongue ( smooth ) like butter like a criminal under the cover.

the hole is one of the recurring characters so please be nice to it.

alot of things happening here if you squint and look closely.

any-whomst've, hope you all liked it. let me know if you did and I don't know come say hi? 😳 have a nice day 💜