#i wanted to cheer you up a bit so here have this

[tinycoffeeroom]

miami heat | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

a/n: this is SO late but it took me forever to move past the writers block of a text only fic </3 still thinking about lando's race win...

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You and Lando had been inevitable. Your dad was a long time racing fan, often attending karting events around the country and dragging you along. As time passed, you learned to love it too, often waiting for your dad at the door when he got back from work so the two of you could quickly throw some clothes into an overnight bag and travel off to whichever race track you’d be camping in that weekend.

It helped that your cousin was a kart racer, both you and your dad using him as an excuse for attending so many races. Your mum would sigh, pull out the premade lunches from the fridge and stuff them into a small blue cooler before seeing the two of you off at the door. 

When your cousin got the call up to F4, you’d been overjoyed for him. Being able to watch his dreams come true filled you with so much pride. It also gave you and your dad another excuse to attend more F4 races, now offering to pick your cousin up and take him from race track to race track every weekend as well as your dad offering to be his race engineer, using his background as a mechanic to work on the car’s engine. Your aunt and uncle agreed happily, knowing how much the two of you enjoyed watching your cousin race. 

The first live F4 race felt electrifying. You weren’t used to seeing actual cars racing in person, only ever watching the Formula 1 races on the small portable TV your dad had invested in during the first year of your kart watching adventures. You and your cousin would always cheer for your favourite racers, him still sweaty and suited up from his own race but pumped up on adrenaline. 

You watched as he fist bumped other drivers after the race, coming a respectable 4th in his first ever F4 race. This part was your least favourite, having to wait for your cousin to talk to all these sweaty teenage boys was not your idea of fun. Spread out comfortably on the moon chairs your dad had bought for the races, you opened your 3DS to play Pokemon Sun. Too enveloped in the battle between your Incineroar and the NPC’s Crabominable, you missed the sound of someone dropping into the chair next to you. 

“What level is he?”

You jumped at the sound, looking up quickly to lock eyes with a random boy. 

He was obviously a racer, still suited up. Using one hand to push back sweat soaked curly hair, he curiously eyed your 3DS before looking back up at you. 

“She’s level 57. I need to beat this Crabominable to make her 58 so she can learn Flare Blitz.”

He hummed, a soft smile spread across his face as he flits his eyes over you. You took note of your appearance, hair pulled back into two braids to keep it out of your face in the windy English weather, your dads bomber jacket engulfing your figure as you fought the cold. 

“Female Incineroar, rare.” He sounded impressed. “Don’t let me stop you.” Gesturing to the console in your hands, he leant back and focused on your hands. 

Unsure of how to respond, you looked back down at your game. The Crabominable had about half HP but this was a nasty NPC, whipping out potion after potion to heal the Pokemon. You and the unnamed boy sat side by side as you chipped away, bit by bit, at the Crabominable’s HP until the victory message appeared on your screen. A mere 2000 pokedollars given for your troubles.

You watched as your Incineroar, lovingly nicknamed Kitty from when you started the game, levelled up to 58 and finally, she could learn Flame Blitz. 

Saving the game and shutting down the console, you looked back at the boy beside you. He smiled back in response. 

“So… no offence, but who are you?” The second the sentence left your lips, you wanted to smack the 3DS into your face, tone not unkind but wary. You could only hope he wouldn’t take offence to the question. 

“Oh, sorry!” He reaches across to offer you his hand. You shake it gingerly, his hand warm in your wind chilled one. 

“I’m Lando. Lando Norris. Soon to be F4 champion if all goes well. And you are?”

He was still smiling, the curve unnerving you a little. “Y/N. My cousin’s just joined F4, he’s over there.” Reaching out, you pointed towards the boy in question who was high fiving another racer, the two of them laughing loudly over the sound of car engines. 

“Oh, Y/C/N? He’s cool. I met his dad earlier.”

You glanced over at the man mentioned, head bowed as he conversed with the other adults about race tactics and the boys’ performances. “That’s my dad, his uncle. He’s a mechanic so it made sense that he would be Y/C/N’s race engineer.”

“What about you? Are you a big karting fan?” 

From the sound of his voice, you could tell he was facing you. Too nervous to look into his eyes again, you focused on your dad, watching as he pulled your cousin aside to talk about the race. “I am. Me and my dad have been going to karting events most weekends for years.” 

His eyes burned into the side of your face, gaze unwavering. “How about Formula 1? That’s my dream, I want to race against Lewis Hamilton and one day beat him.”

The mention of your favourite driver dragged your attention back to the boy beside you. You smiled softly, pulling your iPhone 6 out of your pocket to show him the 44 sticker on the back of the case. “I love Formula 1. Me and Y/C/N are gonna watch the race in the van while my dad makes some adjustments to the car. Do you…” You hesitated for a moment.

Were you really going to invite a boy you’d just met to come sit with you and your cousin to watch a race? It was harmless, the three of you would fit in the back seats, but you weren’t sure if Y/C/N would want him to join. 

Lando beat you to it. “Aw, I would ask to join but me and my dad have to get back home as soon as possible, it’s my sister's birthday this weekend!” Pulling his own phone out of his pocket, he showed you his lockscreen, a picture of him and who you guessed was his family. 

You nod, turning your own phone in circles in your hands. “Happy birthday to your sister.” 

He grins, the smile seemingly permanently etched on his face. “Thanks, Y/N!” 

You hear a man call for him, presumably his dad. Lando sighed as he nodded towards the man, turning back towards you. “Gotta run! Could I maybe get your number? I think we’re going to be good friends.”

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He was right. The two of you would text every moment you could. In between classes, before and after dinner, even facetiming until the early hours of the morning on weekends. 

Every weekend, you’d pull up to the race track and there Lando would be, permanent wide smile and open arms as you hugged briefly. Before each race, he’d run over to you, head bowed so you could knock on his helmet. You weren’t sure when the tradition had started but ever since it began, it was cemented in his pre-race routine. 

After every race, it would go one of two ways. If it was a good race, he’d run over and hug you, spinning you round as you laughed brightly at him. If it was a not so good race, you’d be the one to approach him, the two of you sitting on the lip of his dad’s van in comfortable silence as you let him work through his emotions in his own time. He’d soon come around, chatting to you about any and everything. 

Before you’d leave, he’d pull you into another hug, swaying the two of you from side to side. 

Of course, your cousin teased you. Singing silly childish songs, “Y/N and Lando sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. You’d bat him across the head, willing the blush in your cheeks to go down. 

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Since the two of you were now 16, whilst Lando had allowances for his GCSE’s, you still had to knuckle down and work hard. Hours were spent sitting at your desk, eyes scanning across textbook after textbook. It was only after Lando called you in tears after he struggled to understand the poems needed for his English exams and explained he had dyslexia that the two of you would facetime every night. You’d read out the poems to him as he took it all in and made notes in a way that made sense to him. You told him about these coloured overlays that were meant to help people with dyslexia read, and you’d watch him cry as pink acetate covered the poems and he could finally, finally, understand. The two of you still facetimed every night, he claimed your voice helped him understand so much more. 

Since you had to revise, you often had to forfeit your racing weekends. You’d see your dad and cousin off at the door, much like your mum had done for years, and return to your room, wiping the tears that threatened to escape from your eyes. 

The routine never changed though. Lando would call you before every race, telling you that you had to knock on the screen and he’d hold his helmet clad head to the camera. After every race, you’d either celebrate over the phone or sit in silence, watching him through the screen as he let himself digest what went wrong in the race. 

Your last GCSE exam fell on a Friday, the freedom of your weekends returning. You didn’t tell Lando, wanting to surprise him at the race track. As you sat in the back seat of your dad’s van, you kept up the pretence for Lando, texting him as if you had a normal weekend of revising ahead. 

When the three of you pulled up to the race track, you ducked down so you weren’t visible through the windows. Your dad got out of the car first, greeting Lando’s dad. The two of them had formed a good friendship through the race weekends, often sitting together to watch the boys go round the track. Next up was Y/C/N, jumping out the van and fist bumping a waiting Lando. 

The two boys went to leave, already play fighting about who would win. It was only then that you snuck out the back seat, hands on your hips as you called out to the boys ahead. 

“Forgetting something?”

Lando’s head whipped around so fast, you feared he’d give himself whiplash. You barely had time to laugh at his dumbstruck expression before he’d launched himself at you, strong arms wrapped tight around your waist as he lifted you in the air. 

He pressed his face deeply into your neck, the feel of his smile present against your skin. 

Linking your arms around the back of his neck, you played with the unruly curls tickling your chin. “Missed me?”

He nodded, head still firmly placed between your neck and shoulder. The two of you stood there for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence until your cousin piped up. 

“We do still have a race to get to.” Locking eyes with him, you could already tell he was going to tease you relentlessly when you’re back in the van. 

Lando finally released you, hands still holding firm on the sides of your waist. Warm smile directed at you, eyes glistening a little with unshed tears. 

Lando’s dad bumped his helmet against his shoulder, Lando taking it and pulling on his balaclava and the helmet. He bowed his head, allowing you to knock on it once. This time however, he knocked on your own head once, hand uncurling to cup the side of your face before he walks away to join your cousin. 

In that moment, you knew you were in love with Lando Norris. 

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The two of you stayed close throughout the years. You still attended as many races as possible, celebrating his wins and commiserating through his lows. Soon you were watching him in Formula 3, then Formula 2 and finally, after all his hard work, you stood in the paddock of Albert Park watching as Lando was flanked by engineers. 

His debut Formula 1 race. 

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The day you got the call that he’d been contracted by McLaren was one of the best days of your life. It took him 5 minutes to calm down enough to explain to you what had happened, the two of you sobbing violently over the phone as you realised his dream had come true. 

As you collected yourself once you’d gotten off the phone, your mum had come upstairs with a packed lunch and a flask of fresh, warm coffee. Looking at her questioningly, she smiled softly at you. 

“Go. You need to celebrate with him in person.”

You grabbed the box and flask from her hands, arms thrown wide around her. Packing a quick overnight bag, you jumped in your car, haring down the motorway to Lando’s parents house. 

The look on his face when he opened the door made the possible speeding tickets worth it, eyes wide and glossy as they flit up and down your body. “You’re here?”

You grinned at him, wide and unabashed. “I’m here.”

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The cycle continued. Every podium was met with you running into his arms when he was back in the garage and every DNF resulted in the two of you sitting in his driver’s room, your arms wrapped tight around him as the dream of a grand prix win slipped from his grasp again and again. 

Today, something was different however. Lando had knocked on your door bright and early, inviting you down for breakfast with the team. He told you about a dream he had last night where he won the Miami Grand Prix, how the champagne shower had felt so real. 

This unwavering optimism continued throughout the day. Him bouncing alongside you as you walked through the paddock, greeting the other drivers along your way. The optimism rubbed off on you, finding yourself pulling up old photos of Lando to save to a folder titled “Race Win”. 

When it came time to get in the car, you watched as his engineer secured the final straps before disappearing behind a screen to check the car’s stats. He looked up at you through the open visor, head soon bowing. Leaning down, you knocked once before dropping a quick kiss to the top of his helmet. Extra luck for the day. 

The entire race had you on the edge of your seat. You cheered as Oscar led the grand prix, winced as Max hit the bollard and nearly sobbed your eyes out as Lando overtook to lead. Kevin pushing Logan off the track meant a safety car and Lando ended up fortunate to join at the back but one lap ahead. A pit stop and fresh tires and away he went. Each second he gained on Max left spikes in your heart rate until it reached the 7 second mark and the last 4 laps and you knew. Deep down in your soul, even if everyone was still on tenterhooks, you knew this was his time. His win. 

The engineers ran to the fences, an army of papaya swarming the metal chain link as your eyes stayed glued to the camera. At the last second, you darted out to the fence, away from the chanting crowd so you’d have an unobstructed view of his win. 

The chequered flag waved and Lando crossed the finish line, now a grand prix winner. You couldn’t have stopped the tears even if you tried, knees buckling as you held onto the fence in front of you. 

The noise around you was near deafening, engineers dog piling on one another, a few strays leaving the group to wrap you in tight hugs. 

A hand landed on your shoulder, warm but soft pats pulling you from your stupor. Turning, you looked up at Zak, a fond smile on his face. “Let’s go see our boy.”

The two of you walked in near silence, Zak leaving his hand on your shoulder as he welcomed congratulations from other teams. The tears never stopped streaming down your face, vision swimming as you passed team after team. 

The breath was knocked out of you as arms wrapped around your waist from behind and swung you around. Looking down, you spotted the rose tattoo on a left hand and laughed as Daniel dropped you back softly onto the ground. Spinning around, you threw yourself into his arms properly, the two of you rocking back and forth happily. 

“He did it!” Daniel shouted as you pulled away, hands on your shoulders to shake you gently. 

“He did it!” You responded, a fresh wave of tears escaping your eyes. Daniel laughed at your tears, wiping them away haphazardly before letting you run back to Zak’s side. 

You watch as Lando ran towards his team, still fully suited up, launching himself into the air as the sea of papaya below caught him. The team held him aloft, jostling him through a mass of hands. 

Once he’s back on solid ground, Zak approached him first, the two of them sharing a warm hug. The visor of his helmet is lifted and without even seeing his face, you know he’s smiling, eyes scrunched up in joy. 

Those same eyes finally lock onto you, wide and sparkling. He runs at you as fast as he can, arms outstretched. You brace for impact, a laugh being pressed out of you as he crushes you in his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist as he lifts you up, warm eyes staring straight into yours. 

Before you even know what you’re doing, your lips press against the front of his helmet, right where his own mouth would be beneath the carbon fibre, a universal sign in racing of a lover’s kiss. 

Ignoring the roar of his team around you, you focus on Lando in front of you. His eyes crinkled under the force of his own happiness, shining bright even under the dark cover of the helmet. He lowers you down, arms wrapped firmly around your waist until your feet are planted safe on the floor. 

You watch as he unclasps the straps under his chin and rips the helmet off, his neck support following in haste. His eyes are still locked onto yours, unshed tears gleaming along his lash line. Through the balaclava, you can see his smile, warm and golden in the Miami sun. 

The balaclava comes off next and your heart stutters at the pure, unobstructed view of the man in front of you. Sweat clings to his upper lip, dripping down his thick neck, curls matted to his forehead under the American heat. You’re drawn back to his eyes, green as a hidden forest, full of glimpses of golden hour through the branches. You loved how you could always tell how he felt through his eyes, forever abundant with emotion. 

Hands wrap back around your waist, dragging you into him as he presses his lips unwaveringly against your own. It’s a little gross, the feeling of sweat transferring to your own lips, the damp curls at the bottom of his neck where your hands come to lie but you wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s worth it to feel his smile against your own, the kiss more teeth than lips and you breathe in the way he laughs against your mouth, molten gold dripping from his lips to yours. 

The two of you part slightly, cheeks aching at the way you’re still grinning. The kiss remains unspoken, Lando being dragged off by his team for interviews. You look at Zak who winks knowingly at you. This time, you let the blush rise, overtaking your cheeks and flushing down your neck. 

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Waiting for Lando in his driver's room seemed to never end. It had been an hour since you’d finally kissed him and your lips still tingle with the feeling. 

Your mind was a jumbled mess, thought after thought fighting to sit at the front of your mind. Tracing your finger across your lips, you allow yourself to remember that moment. To fall headfirst into how it felt to finally feel what it was like to kiss Lando. 

The sound of the driver’s room door banging against the wall shakes you out of your stupor, twirling around to face a sheepish Lando. 

“Um, sorry… I guess I was just eager to get back here.” He giggles softly, standing still in the threshold. 

Smiling back at him, you gesture him inwards, scoffing at the absurdity of you inviting him into his own driver’s room. He stumbles in, shutting the door behind him. One hand reaches out to run over the scuff mark on the wall, grimacing as he traces the black mark. 

He turns to face you, smile beaming as you stand two feet apart, eyes tracing over each other as you bask in the long awaited silence. You watch as his hand reaches out, the back of his fingers brushing against yours. The hand reaches around, clasping yours gently in his. You squeeze once, smiling shyly up at him. 

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is quiet, almost shaky as he keeps his eyes trained on your conjoined hands. 

You squeeze his hand again, humming your assent. 

“I love you. I’ve loved you since we were 15 years old and I saw you sitting on those moon chairs. I remember my heart was beating so, so fast and I thought it was just post race adrenaline but when I remember your shy smile and the braids you had in your hair and my heart feels the exact same way. It’s always been you.”

Even after the kiss, the admission makes your heart race wildly. He loves you. He loves you back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t love me the same way I love you.” He tries to come off nonchalant, but the way his hand trembles in yours betrays his true emotions. 

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his shaking hand, heart thumping erratically at both the situation and the sweetness of his nervous confession. “Lan, I was literally a 15 year old racing nerd and you were a boy willingly talking to me. Why do you think I was a nervous mess when you spoke to me? I had the biggest crush on you.”

“Having a crush and loving someone is different.” He leads you by your intertwined hands to the sofa, settling back into the corner as you sit close enough to keep your hands connected. “Back then, you knew me as Lando Norris, F4 driver, and then just Lando, your best friend who secretly stuffs his face with pizza and falls over his own feet more often than not.” He huffs out a laugh at the memory of the last time he’d tripped over thin air and fallen flat on his face when you’d gone to visit him in Monaco. 

Avoiding eye contact, he keeps his eyes trained on the way your fingers interlock almost perfectly. “I was worried you wouldn’t love me when we became close.” 

“You idiot,” using your free hand, you smack him lightly on the arm, giggling at the fact the two of you had been mutually pining for years, “that just made me love you more. Sure, I was 16 and the idea of dating a race car driver, even little Lando Norris,” his arm reaches out to return the smack, “was a dream, but then I wanted to date just Lando, the man who gives me piggybacks from clubs when my feet hurt and bites my arm when I’m not paying attention. I love you, just plain old Lando Norris.”

If you thought his smile when winning was bright, the one he shoots you now is almost overwhelming. Face pulled up so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if he complained of an ache in his cheeks later, eyes crinkling deeply at the corners and shining a bright seafoam green. 

Before you can return the grin, he reaches up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. The passion is the same but different, no longer adrenaline filled from a race win, but full of love and adoration and the secret he never thought he’d get the chance to say. 

He pulls back just enough for a whisper of air to pass between the two of you, eyes warm and locked onto yours. “I love you. So much. It’s me and you, plain old Lando and plain old Y/N.” 

You push him lightly, grinning playfully. “Who are you calling plain?”

He rectifies his mistake with another kiss, this one softer and slower, the two of you taking the time to appreciate that this moment had finally come. The kiss moves to the corner of your lips, across your cheek and down to the spot just below your ear. 

A hand wraps around your waist, securing you to your spot. Pulling back slightly, you look down at the smiling man resting his head on your shoulder. “So, I love you, and you love me. What next?”

“We go celebrate this momentous occasion, and the race win, and then I take you out for our first proper date.” Tightening his hold on you, he moves his head to rest in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, dropping warm kisses to the skin beneath his mouth. 

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a/n: 3 of my top 5 boys on the canada podium is so 💞💖🩷💓💗💝💖💗💕💗💘💞 also as an esteban ult, it's on site for alpine fr. ALSO GOTE pt 3 coming soon ❤️

[coco-loco-nut]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

pairing: grid x reader, ex x reader

a/n: i changed the lyrics up a bit bc we don’t simp after guys, they simp after us like the queens we are

masterlist ttpd masterlist

—————————

The cameras flash as you step out of your uber, sparkly party dress and a fake smile plastered on your face. You just won at Imola so you can’t skip out on the after party.

“Lights, camera, bitch smile,” you repeat in your head as you walk into the club and make your way to the bar.

“Shots for the winner!” Lando yells, you kinda miss when he was awkward and didn’t know how to be social.

“Great idea, Norris!” you yell back, throwing the shot back. You know there will be cameras on you all night as you party, so you take up your motto. Fake it until you make it.

“Another one!” Yuki cheers. Another shot to drown out your pain.

“Kid, how are you doing?” Lewis pulls you aside, as you hear someone say that you are having the time of your life.

“I can show them lies,” you say through your smile. Your former teammate knows better, he was there when you found out anyway.

“The fucking bastard!” you throw your stuffed animal at the wall from the spot on the floor where you cry. You got a text from an unknown number, well a picture. Your boyfriend clearly in bed with another girl. You delete the text and let yourself cry.

Lewis walks into your room, immediately sitting beside you and holding you as you cry. He’s the only person besides you and the person who sent the picture that knows about that photo.

“He said he’d love me all his life,” you sobbed and Lewis rubs your back.

“He’s dead to us now,” Lewis’ words are a strange comfort, not mourning the short relationship.

“All my fans keep asking when I’m going to win again, as if I didn’t just win today,” you hide your grimace with a smile.

“They are never satisfied, they always want more,” Lewis emphasizes.

“That’s okay, it just means I get to party like it’s my birthday,” you grin, walking back to the bar.

You didn’t handle the breakup like you should’ve, instead of confronting him, you chose to ghost him, change the locks on your doors, and change your number. You were never public, so it wasn’t able to ruin your reputation.

“Ma’am, there is a guy here for you, claiming to be your boyfriend. Should I let him up?” the doorman asks, he’s new so you stop your crying session and answer.

“Boyfriend? I don’t have one, tell him I’m not home and don’t let him in again,” you say, wiping away the tears so you can get ready to go out to a party. Alcohol is your vice of choice to cope with your broken heart.

As you sift through your drawers for a top, you find one of his shirts, crucial evidence that you didn’t imagine the short relationship. After all, you could pass a test on all the sleep deprived and alcohol induced delusions you’ve had since the breakup.

You hold your breath for a second, debating what to do with it. It is a comfy shirt after all, but the fireplace looks so inviting. Lighting a match, you toss it with the shirt into the fireplace, setting the wood and shirt on fire.

The next day you step out at fancy sponsorship event, cameras flashing as you pose on the red carpet. George slides into the spot beside you, taking on his duty as teammate and older brother figure.

“Fake it till you make it,” George reminds you softly, noticing your faltering PR smile.

“I’m a tough kid, I can handle my shit,” you tell him with a smile, mostly reassuring yourself. Your stilettos are killing you already, but you have to walk in them all night so you can’t take them off.

You find yourself in conversation with the sponsor, without Toto or George.

“We hope you keep winning, win more, get more money,” the older man says with a tight smile, trying to be lighthearted but failing.

“I have been hitting that mark lately,” you reply with the same tight lipped smile. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your ex with a new girl on his arm. The same man that said he’d love you for all time. “Excuse me,” you quickly set a hand on his shoulder as a goodbye, escaping to the empty outdoor balcony.

You can feel the walls closing in as you slide to the ground, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. You barely notice when George sits beside you, rubbing your back.

“He doesn’t have a right to make you cry, or show up here,” George says quietly after a minute. He and Toto know how miserable you are, and this isn’t helping.

“He’s so obsessed with me, and I can’t keep avoiding him, it’s draining,” you wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“You just need to show him how well you are doing without him, even if to you it’s fake. But in my opinion, you are. You have been driving better, and winning on the track. You’ve helped us land three new sponsors, and the only people who know how miserable you are is Toto and I,” George starts to tangent before stopping himself.

“You know you are good when you can do it with a broken heart,” you chuckle, feeling a little better. George pats your knee before standing up.

“I’ll be inside, come in when you are ready,” he says, stepping inside. You pull out your phone and make sure you look like you haven’t been crying. With a newfound boost of confidence, thanks to George, you step in looking better than you have in a while.

“Try and come for my job,” you say to yourself with a bit of a smile.

“Ah, there she is! This is my driver, Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is a sponsorship representative from Monster,” Toto says, pulling you into the conversation. From his body language, you know he is concerned about you, but you make sure he knows you are okay. And you do, because you take home yet another grand prix that weekend, feeling better than you have all season.

[judespoets]

𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚 | 𝙟𝙪𝙙𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙖𝙢

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: you haven’t been feeling good. but what happens when jude connects the dots?

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: dad!jude x fem!reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: signs of vomit/ throwing up

You and Jude start your day early, around 6:30 AM. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a gentle glow through the curtains of your cozy home in Madrid. You nudge Jude gently, the both of you smiling as you hear the soft murmurs of your two-year-old son, Caleb, waking up in the next room.

You slip out of bed, heading to the kitchen to start breakfast and prepare Caleb's lunch for nursery. The kitchen is warm and inviting, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. You expertly slice fruits, spread peanut butter on bread, and pack a healthy lunch for Caleb. Meanwhile, you hum a cheerful tune, occasionally glancing at the photos of your happy moments on the refrigerator.

Jude, still a bit groggy but smiling, makes his way to Caleb's room. He opens the door to find Caleb standing in his crib, wide-eyed and giggling with excitement. "Good morning, champ!" Jude says, scooping him up into his arms. He changes Caleb's diaper, tickling him slightly to keep the little boy's spirits high.

Once dressed, Jude helps Caleb into his favorite little football-themed outfit, a gift from one of his teammates.

They join you in the kitchen, where you had set out a nutritious breakfast for them.

Caleb babbles happily as you feed him pieces of fruit and yogurt.

Jude pours himself a cup of coffee, sharing a quick kiss with you and exchanging smiles filled with love.

"Good morning, my loves! Did you sleep well, Caleb?" You asked, smiling widely.

"Mornin', Mommy!“ was what Caleb babbled.

"He was so excited to wake up today. I think he knew it was nursery day." Jude told you, softly kissing the back of your hand

"He's been looking forward to seeing his friends. Here, let's get some breakfast in you both." You said as you started feeding Caleb again.

You sit at the kitchen table, Caleb in his high chair, eagerly reaching for his food.

You suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over you. Putting your hand over your mouth lightly, trying to steady your breathing.

“You okay, baby?” Jude asked next to you, putting his hand on your thigh.

“I don’t know if just don’t feel so good right now.” You answered, looking at him.

“Okay, go lay down i’ll get Caleb ready don’t worry. Should I cancel training?” Jude asked you.

“No, no. It’s not an emergency. You go to training. You’ll take Caleb to nursery on your way, please? I’ll go lay down some more. Thank you babe.” You said, kissing Jude and Caleb, standing up and walking up the stairs with your slightly shaking legs.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s get you washed up and going.” Was the last thing you heard from downstairs before falling into a deep slumber under your sheets.

———

Jude turned the key in the lock, gently pushing open the door with Caleb in his arms. The house was shrouded in darkness, and he carefully navigated the familiar path to the living room, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light.

"Shh, buddy," he whispered to Caleb, who clung to him sleepily. "Looks like Mommy's still resting."

He set Caleb down, and the little boy toddled off to find his toys. Jude made his way to the bedroom, opening the door slowly to check on you. You were still curled up under the covers, your breathing deep and slow. He could see the pallor in your face even in the low light and felt a pang of concern.

Quietly, he backed out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Back in the living room, Caleb had already begun to scatter his toys across the floor. Jude smiled tiredly at the sight, then headed to the kitchen.

He quickly prepared a simple dinner, heating up some soup he had made the night before. He wanted to keep it light for you, knowing you wouldn't have much of an appetite. Once everything was ready, he brought a tray to the bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot.

"(Y/N), love," he whispered, placing the tray on the nightstand. "I've got some soup for you."

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open. You gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Jude. You didn't have to."

"Of course I did," he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing a strand of hair from your face. "How are you feeling?"

"Still not great," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude's heart ached seeing you like this. "Do you want me to call the doctor?"

"No, I think I just need to rest," you said. "Thank you for taking care of everything."

Jude leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'll handle it. You just focus on getting better."

You gave a small nod, your eyes already closing again. Jude quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. Back in the living room, he found Caleb busy with his toys, his giggles a comforting background noise.

Jude settled on the couch, keeping one eye on Caleb and another on his phone, ready to call the doctor if your condition didn't improve. He found it weird since you’ve been fine this whole time.

Later, you descended the stairs slowly, your empty soup plate in hand.

You moved carefully, trying not to disrupt the fragile equilibrium you had maintained throughout the day. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as you approached the living room, where Jude and Caleb were playing.

Jude glanced up, his face lighting up with a smile that quickly faded into a look of concern when he saw your pallor.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Jude asked, rising to meet you, his hand gently touching your arm.

You gave a weak smile. "Still not great. I thought the soup might help, but..."

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you, and you instinctively covered your mouth, your eyes wide.

The scent of something — perhaps a lingering whiff from Caleb’s snacks or Jude's cologne — made your stomach rebel.

Jude, noticing your distress, quickly ushered Caleb to his feet.

"Caleb, let's put away the toys for a bit, okay? Mommy needs some quiet time," he said, his voice calm but urgent.

Caleb, sensing the seriousness, nodded and began gathering his toys. Before Jude could turn back to you, you rushed to the nearest bathroom. Jude followed closely, his worry deepening as he heard you retching.

He found you kneeling by the toilet, pale and trembling. "I’m here, (Y/N)," he said softly, rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. "It’s okay. Just let it out.

You groaned between bouts of vomiting, the smell that had triggered your nausea still lingering in your mind.

Finally, the retching subsided, and you slumped back against Jude, who handed you a glass of water he’d fetched from the sink.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice weak. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Probably just a bug,” Jude said, helping you to your feet. “Let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.”

You nodded gratefully, leaning on Jude as he guided you back upstairs, his concern for you evident in every careful step.

As Jude helped you back upstairs, his mind raced with worry. He laid you gently on the bed, arranging the pillows to make you comfortable. As he did, he noticed you wincing slightly, your face still pale.

"Baby, do you remember what smell made you feel so sick?" Jude asked gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead.

You thought for a moment, your brow furrowing. "It was… I think it was the smell of Caleb's peanut butter sandwich. It just hit me all of a sudden."

Jude's eyes widened slightly as a thought crossed his mind.

He recalled the last time you had been this sensitive to certain smells. It had been when you were pregnant with Caleb. Could it be happening again?

"My Love," he began cautiously, "do you think there’s a chance you might be pregnant?"

You blinked, the question catching you off guard. "I… I don't know. I suppose it's possible. I’ve been feeling off for a few days now."

Jude nodded, his concern mingling with a glimmer of excitement. "Maybe we should get a test, just to be sure."

You managed a small smile, your hand resting on your stomach. "Yeah, I think that’s a good idea."

Jude squeezed your hand reassuringly. "I'll run to the pharmacy and get one. You just rest, okay?"

As you closed her eyes, Jude leaned down and kissed your forehead. He felt a mixture of worry and hope as he headed out the door, ready to find out if your family was about to grow.

Back in the living room, Jude quickly tidied up, clearing away the remnants of Caleb’s snack and any other potential triggers for your nausea. He found Caleb sitting quietly on the couch, sensing the unusual tension.

"Dad, Mommy okay?" Caleb asked, his big eyes filled with concern.

Jude knelt down beside him. "Mommy's not feeling well right now, buddy. I need to go out for a bit to get something that might help her feel better. Can you be a good boy and stay here quietly until I get back?"

Caleb nodded solemnly. "I can do that."

Jude gave him a reassuring hug before grabbing his keys and heading out. The drive to the pharmacy felt longer than usual, his mind racing with possibilities. Once he arrived, he quickly located a pregnancy test and made his way back home, his heart pounding with anticipation.

When he returned, he found you dozing lightly, your breathing steady. He set the test on the nightstand and gently woke you up.

"Baby, I got the test," he whispered, helping you sit up slowly. "Do you feel up to taking it now?

You nodded, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of anxiety and hope.

Jude helped you to the bathroom, steadying you with each step.

After a few moments, you emerged, the test in your hand.

"Now we wait," you said softly, your voice trembling slightly.

Jude wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you sat on the edge of the bed.

"No matter what, we'll face it together," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You sat in silence, the seconds ticking by slowly. Finally, you glanced at the test, your eyes widening.

"Jude... it's positive," you breathed.

A flood of emotions washed over Jude as he hugged you tightly, tears of joy and relief mingling with the worry.

"We're going to be parents again," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

You smiled through your own tears, feeling a renewed sense of hope and strength. "Yes, we are."

You stayed like that for a while, holding each other.

[chukys-mouthguard]

#3, a little angst that ends with fluff, for Mat Barzal

Prompt: “I wish you were here with me.”

Note: I don’t know if my brain will ever fully get used to spelling his name with one ‘t’…but like that’s such a mat barzal thing idk why that’s so him in my opinion 😂

“Yeah it was a pretty fun day, I’m exhausted though. I don’t think I’ll be able to get out of bed in the morning.” 

Mat finally finished telling you all about the fun he had at the skills competition. The guest celebrities he got to meet, the freebies that brands were gifting out to the players. Though you knew he wasn’t bragging, it still hurt your feelings hearing how much fun he was having. 

You were supposed to go with him for the All Star Game, but something came up with work and you were forced to stay home. He knew how much you were looking forward to going, and of course you were proud of him for getting picked, you missed not being able to celebrate moments like this along with him. 

“Yeah, sounds like you had quite a fun day babe.” 

Mat could hear the bit of disappointment lacing your words as you sighed into the phone. He felt bad for bragging, but he was just so excited to tell you about his day that he’d neglected to sympathize with how you were still upset. 

“I wish you were here with me.” 

His words coming out a bit like an afterthought as he tried to cheer you up, only to make you more frustrated. 

“I’m sure you do, though it sounds like you had a great day without me. Meeting celebrities, getting tons of freebies from brands, hanging out with the guys. Definitely sounds like you were missing me Mat. But don’t worry because I’m sure we will make plans for me to come with you to the awards in Vegas, or overseas for some upcoming tournament, or god knows what else. But, per usual something will come up and I won’t be able to join you and support you.” 

Mat remained silent on his end of the phone call, letting you vent and say whatever you needed to. These frustrations being something you’d had for awhile. Your job unfortunately not always being one to let you miss work, especially when you had important deadlines or projects that needed done. 

“Well, I meant what I said…but I’m sorry you don’t think so.” 

He didn’t mean to say anything snarky back to you, but it just slipped out. He was frustrated that you felt like he didn’t want you there to experience these things with him. 

“Mat, I didn’t say that. I just, I want to support you. To be there to experience all these achievements and special moments. But it’s like I can never catch a break with work. And I feel like I’m not being the best girlfriend I can be if I can’t even have a weekend to fly out and see you in an all star game like every other girlfriend or wife can.” 

One thing Mat was never okay with was you comparing yourself to other girlfriends or wives. Was he upset that you felt he was insincere wishing you were there, sure. But he knew you were just frustrated. He would be too if he was in your shoes. But to hear you call yourself a bad girlfriend or not supportive enough, that hurt him. 

“Baby, you are the most supportive person in my life. Who gives a fuck what other girlfriends and wives do. You’re my girlfriend, and you do more than enough to support me. You refuse to stop working because you don’t want to be someone who lives off their boyfriend, and I admire the fuck out of that. Half the girls dating guys in this league aren’t like you. And that’s why I love you so much. I’m sorry for being snarky, I just, I hate that you feel like you need to be like the others. Because you’re perfect for me, just the way you are.” 

Smiling into the phone, you calmed down a bit as you needed that reassurance from Mat. He always reminded you that you were different, in the best way. And that’s why he loved you so much. 

“Now, enough about my day, tell me about this work project and how fucking amazing my boss ass girlfriend did.”

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Twenty-Four - Final

Warnings: pure fluff, smut (nothing too specific, but it's def there), ACOTAR series spoilers.

Pairings: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel and you officially accept the bond.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Graphics are my own. If you use, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

The next week, you stood in the threshold of the living room, watching as your family talked with one another. Azriel was seated in a chair in the middle and you had a plate with just his food on it. For some reason, you were very nervous. What if after all this time he decided he didn’t want to be bonded to you forever? What if he decided he wanted to go off and try again with Mor? Or someone else? Just as you were about to spiral forever, you felt a small tug on the bond, deep down. He looked over to you, the smile on his face growing. 

Your family quieted down and looked towards you. You felt heat rush to your face. This should’ve been something you did intimately, now that you thought about it. But you also knew that you wanted to share this moment with each person who allowed you to be here. 

Rhys and Feyre sat at the very end of the table next to Elain, Mor and (surprisingly) Nesta were across from them. On the other side of your eventual seat was Cassian. Across from you and Azriel was Amren and Varian. Wessian and Varyn sat across from each other on the other side of Cass and Varian. 

Each one of your family members were dressed impeccably. The females had on lovely evening gowns. You knew that Feyre and Rhys were hosting a small get together after this at the River Home, which had just finished being built. You and Azriel would not be in attendance. 

The males were in nice, slick pants, topped with a tunic or collared shirts. You’d never seen Cassian clean up so nicely. 

“Everyone.” You cleared your throat, stepping through the threshold. “Tonight is the night that my mate and I officially accept the bond.” You said, your eyes on Azriel’s. His shirt was tight against the muscles below, his wings spread out in a way of teasing you. Your dress was a mix of ivory and black with details that looked like shadows swirling around. Once your mating was done (and you were sure Azriel wouldn’t try to kill anyone who looked at you), you and Azriel would go to the temple and swear vows to be married. You may be attached to him through the bond, but you wanted for it to be through the law as well. And so did he. 

“Thank you all for coming. Please, have as much fun as you want once we leave.” You said and walked up to Azriel, a bright smile on your face. He looked at your with all the love and adoration in the world. “Azriel… I love you to no end. And I will love you forever. I offer you this food as my acceptance of the Mother’s blessing. Our mating bond.” You said and held out the plate to him. 

You could almost feel everyone holding their breath before Azriel took the plate in his hands, and began eating. Everyone cheered and you laughed, one of Azriel’s scarred hands came towards yours and squeezed it. Something told you that once he was finished with the food, he would want to leave. Immediately. So you sat down next to him, eating a little bit of your own food as you watched him eat every last bite, not leaving a single thing. As if on cue, you felt the bond snap further, driving your desire for him immediately into the roof. You could see it in his eyes, you were in a whirlwind of a week. Or month. Gods, you hope it was a month. 

You giggled as he didn’t even wait to start kissing you, pulling you up from the chair and kissing your neck. “Thank you all for coming.” You said and laughed when Azriel growled as they all tried to speak to you. You felt the shadows consume you and he winnowed to the outer bounds of the cabin. 

You clumsily flew the rest of the way to the front door. You giggled as Azriel picked you up and carried you through the door, immediately pushing you against the wall. “I think this is the most romantic you’ve ever been.” You joked. 

“I think this is the sexiest you’ve ever been.” He said down the bond. Your eyes widened as you kissed him deeply. “That’s right, sweetheart, I don’t even need to ask to know you want me as much as I want you.” 

You sent a vulgar gesture down the bond, kissing his neck. “Would you just fuck me already?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“No, sweetheart,” he said out loud, looking deeply into your eyes. “I’m going to make love to you, many, many times tonight. And then I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging me for a break.” He rasped. 

If your legs weren’t wrapped around his waist, you would’ve dropped to your knees for him right there. “I’ll start begging now.” You said, trailing your hands towards his wings. “Please, Az, make love to me.” You whispered. 

A soft growl came from deep within his throat before he winnowed you within the cabin to the bedroom. He set you before the bed, turning you around to take off your dress slowly. He took his time kissing every part of your body, telling you why he loved it. From your neck, your shoulders, your hips, your stomach. All the way down to your core. He spent extra long on that part, devouring you until he brought you to your climax. 

You returned the favor, getting on your knees and sucking him until he finished in your mouth. The bond was in full force the entire night. 

When he finally laid you down on the bed and entered you, he held you hands above your head, intertwining your fingers. You moaned his name and he did the same with yours. 

You stared into each other's eyes as you both came. And in those moments afterwards, when you curled against him, hearts beating in sync, you realized you finally found your place in the world. After going through so much, you would spend the rest of your life with your mate. Maybe soon you would try for a child, have a little Shadowsinger running around. Or maybe you would take your sweet time with your mate, getting to know every single fact about him for another 170 years of your life before you had children with him. 

Whatever path you took, you knew that you would be happy with Azriel. With your mate. And most importantly, with yourself.

A/N: Awww this is the end y'all... I can't believe I posted an entire series... I hope you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have any requests for drabbles, or what I could include in a sequel, let me know! I'd love to hear your thoughts as well. Thank you so much for all your support as well!!! I love each and every one of you that has liked, commented, and reblogged. It has meant the most to me.

Series Masterlist

Taglist

Tagging (a special thanks to he taglist, i've never had one this extensive before, thank you all for supporting me!)

@cherry-cin @cleverzonkwombatsludge @nickishadow139 @complete-randomness2 @lilah-asteria @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @mariahoedt @6v6babycheese @secretsthathauntus @krowiathemythologynerd @fightmedraco @he6rtshaker @kayla-rose15 @aelincaddel @mfri06 @hauntedstudentobservationus @brieflyclassymortal @read-write-sleep-startover @krowiathemythologynerd @ialwayscryatendings @chxosangxl @tanyaherondale @randombibitch @plants-w0rld @etsukomoonbeam @riorgail @herondale-lightworm @panther-girl-124

[tbgblr2]

The Ren Faire Situation 

A birth story written in conjunction with @allkindsofpreg

---

“Are you 100% sure?” I asked, not hiding the concern in my voice.

You just smiled “I’ve made up my mind, I’m going.”

We had planned for the last few weeks to go to the local ren faire, where you were looking to get dressed up and enjoy the event, whilst taking what was likely to be the last chance to show off your pregnancy enhanced curves in public before the baby comes.

The problem was, the baby was coming… contractions had started this morning, and 3 hours on, they didn’t seem to want to stop.

So here you were, dressed up in your best pirate/wench outfit, pregnancy fuelled bosom looking magnificent, enhanced by the dress, cleavage spilling out of the top and leaving very little to the imagination, your bump – oddly smaller since your belly dropped a few days ago – still prominent behind the flowy fabric. A tie caught between the two, bright and causing the eye to immediately look at the area it highlights.

I’d always known you were a bit of an exhibitionist… hell, our baby was likely conceived when I was railing you on the balcony of a hotel with a crowd cheering you on from below – but I will admit, I kind of wanted you to myself when you gave birth.

But you wanted to make a spectacle of it. Have all those eyes looking at you. You know you could make it look like it was an accident – you could even make the news - “lady gives birth in public” has always been something that got your juices flowing. And here we are – contractions noticeable but not debilitating, and we’re about to walk out the house to walk half a mile down the road to the fair – and who knows what will happen from there.

“Are you ready, my lord?” you ask in a fake old world accent, pulling the skirt of your dress to the side with one hand and holding your stomach with the other, lowering into a polite curtsy. I take a moment to enjoy the birds eye view down your low lacy neckline before offering my arm and helping you to a standing position. In one fluid motion You’re upright and pressed against me, leaning down for a quick kiss.

“My god, you’re sexy,” I murmur against my lips, hands exploring your body beneath the elaborate folds of your gown.

“Mm, just wait ‘til you see me with a head crowning between my legs.” Even the thought makes you shudder with desire as you hike up the fabric to give me better access there.

I chuckle and slide my hand up your thigh, brushing over the fabric of your panties. “We may not make it to the fair if you keep this up,” I say, applying a bit more stimulation and causing you to gasp. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay.”

You know I’m wary about your intentions—and honestly, I make a compelling case—but you’re only going to have one first birthing experience and this is how you want to do it. “Don’t worry, baby, it’ll be fun.” I look doubtful as you display your best pout. “It’ll at least keep me distracted.” As if on cue, your stomach tightens, and in turn you make a point of keeping your stance and expression neutral, the only indication that anything’s happening a slight change in your breathing. “See? I can do this.”

“You can do anything,” I agree, removing my hand so that the hem of your dress falls back to the floor. “Guess we should get going then.”

You hook your arm around mine and, perhaps a bit too eagerly, glide out the door.

The walk to the event was a bit slow going, considering your size, but you make the most of it with seeing various turned heads, and the occasional honk and cheer from passing cars as they see your gravid form walking down the street. You had been doing curb walking for the last few weeks to try and get things moving, and automatically fell into that rhythm, up and down, up and down as one foot landed on the curb and another on the road next to it. The added jiggle factor of your breasts bouncing up and down helped with getting you noticed of course. Let’s just say that as we turned the corner into the site of the faire, you were very flustered – and it wasn’t just due to the exercise. We stopped twice on the way for a breather and to let a contraction build and pass, but thankfully we arrived without incident.

You feel another contraction build up while we’re waiting in line for tickets, but it’s easy to ignore amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Everyone is in costume, many with even more on display than you, and, not to be outdone, You loosen your own tie a bit. I notice and cock an eyebrow at you as you give me a wink—perhaps later I’ll tie you up tighter or perhaps take it off altogether; the possibilities are endless and equally thrilling. We can’t keep our hands off each other and the booth attendant has to toss a piece of popcorn at us after a few gruff coughs to get our attention. She seems equal parts amused and irritated when you request two and a half tickets as you press your hands into the curves of your belly, showing it off.

Once inside, you make a beeline straight for the giant turkey legs, dashing off before I realise, surprisingly spritely for someone in your advanced state of pregnancy considering how much walking you had done already. I soon catch up to you as you join the back of the queue - the turkey legs being one of the most popular things in the area meaning the line was always big.

You were panting a little out of breath, but smiled back at me "You're too slow."

I circle my arms around you and pull you back into an embrace, kissing the top of your head as I feel your chest raising and falling in line with your heavy breathing. We both burst into a giggle as the line slowly starts to work its way down.

As we get to the front, the lady serving the food has a wide grin on her face as you approach.

"Hey there, what can I get you and the bump?"

Entirely straight faced, you respond "Bump? Oh this? I just REALLY like the turkey legs." You emphasised the size of your belly by rubbing your hands up and down it tracing the shape under your dress.

Her face was a picture, completely unsure what to do with herself. She was stammering and clueless what to do next, in worry that she was going to offend you, but the onset of another contraction soon put paid to your charade.

You couldn't do much else than wince and rub your belly, but used it as a convenient excuse to apologise to the lady behind the counter and explain that yes, you were indeed pregnant, and you would really like 2 turkey legs. And no… one was for me - you weren’t going to just pig out on them. The baby obviously didn't like you making fun of the poor lady and gave you a kick in punishment.

I was smirking through this entire exchange but we soon got our food serving, a couple of drinks and headed off to watch a band play. As we got to the showground area, one of the local attendants brought over a chair for you to sit down on, whilst I climbed onto the ground between your legs. We sat down and had a few minutes of relaxation until you started to huff and puff a little, hand rubbing your belly.

"Starting to get noticeable I presume?" I asked. You nodded, leaned forward as much as your belly would let you so you could speak in a whisper close to me and said that when we were in the queue for food it was the first contraction which had taken your breath away. You thought it was because you had just rushed to the queue, and the strenuous activity had been an influence… but right now you're sitting down, doing nothing… and yeah, it’s now very noticeable.

"We can always back out?" I asked… already knowing your answer.

"Not a chance. Did you see how much people are looking at me, looking at the bump? This is going to be EPIC!"

We stay listening to the band longer than expected—they’re quite good, and the baby seems to like it. There are little kicks and twists that seem to coincide with the beat and our amusement begins to attract attention. You’re more than happy to let the other people in the audience touch your belly to feel it too, and pretty soon we’ve got the whole crowd dancing along. With a firm grasp of your hand and waist, I twirl and dip you through several more contractions. Another one starts up just as a song ends and I pull you into me, managing to hide the grimace on your face.

Someone comes up when the upbeat tempo begins again and asks if the little one is still boogieing in there, and you turn to her with what you hope is a smile. Clearly something about your face is off, or maybe it’s my laboured breathing or the way you’re holding your stomach, but she asks if you’re okay as you wave her off.

“Just overdid it, I think. My back and feet are killing me!”

She hums in sympathy and recalls how difficult those last few weeks always are, how you just wish the baby would get here already.

You’re smiling in earnest as you say to her, “It definitely won’t be long now.”

We go to the sword fighting demonstration next, and the people in the front graciously offer us their seats when they see your bump hovering beside them at eye level. You give them a small curtsy that turns into a very ungraceful plop down onto the beach seat. “I’m just never going to get used to balancing with this thing,” you say by way of apology to the people on either side of you, pressing in the fabric of your dress around your stomach to emphasize its impressive size. “Won’t be a problem much longer, though,” you say, giving it an affectionate pat.

I’m chosen from the audience to participate—our entrance made a bit of a scene and did not go unnoticed by the actors—you whoop and holler as they pull me on the stage. They teach me a few moves and then “challenge” me for my affections, seeming to imply that the baby you’re carrying may or may not be mine, as you somehow wind up on the small platform right along with me. I do surprisingly well mimicking the moves showed to me earlier until finally I’m at a standoff. A contraction hits hard and fast and you double over with a surprised yelp and both of us on the stage turn to look at you—to cover up the slip, you make it part of the performance, like you had feigned a labour pain to fluster him, and shout, “Quick, my love, strike while he is distracted!” The actor takes the cue and allows me to land the final blow while the two of us share a passionate kiss (which earns us a fair few whistles and applause from the crowd) before taking a bow (admittedly, you didn’t bend too low) and running off before anyone can question whether you’re really that good of an actor.

The public escapades up until this point and - after that last contraction - knowing it won’t be long until the big finale has you all hot and bothered as you pull me into what you hope is a vacant tent. You wrap a leg around me waist, your hands toying with the ties of my costume. “Got time for a little more swordplay?”

As we slip into the tent we’re giddy, giggling happily, but after a few furtive glances around to make sure we’re alone, we’re quickly getting serious and down to business. Kissing across your cleavage and up your neck has you shuddering in delight as I take a moment to lift your top over your head and expose your underwear clad body to the world. My hands explore your body as I strip you of the bra you were wearing along with tugging down your panties and leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. You’re standing there naked in front of me, glorious in your bountiful pregnant form, as you pull me close and tug down my trousers, bunching them at my feet.

My “sword” is well and truly on display as you’re licking your lips in delight as you manage to find a position you can support your body whilst leaning back against a table, opening your legs in accommodation.

My first thrust was strong, and made you yelp with the unexpected force. One of my hands grasped your hair and pulled your head back exposing your neck further to my kisses as you moaned in delight with my thrusts now slowing to a much more relaxed tempo.

You couldn’t hold that position long with the weight of the baby positioned as it was so you eventually turned and braced yourself against the table with your hands, presenting your ass to me. My knees slid between your legs and pressed lightly to the side, parting your own legs, you bobbed down into a bit of a squat to give even more access.

We scrabbled around in this position for a few thrusts into your waiting pussy but because you were quite low down it was a strain for me to keep thrusting up whilst getting the angle I needed to.

With a quick slap on your behind - resulting in the most magical squeal I’d ever heard - I pulled up a chair and sat on it as you finally lowered yourself on me - giving me free reign to enjoy your breasts and belly as you bounced.

Our groans joined each other as your approaching climax caused you to speed up your actions, my own cum releasing deep into you in a flood as I couldn’t hold back any longer. The resulting sensations tipped you over the edge as your orgasm caused you to yell out with pleasure, lost in the moment of bliss.

The sound you made must have alerted someone passing by as we heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Jumping we both looked at each other as you scampered off with an amazing high speed waddle out of the back door of the tent, as naked as the day you were born - completely oblivious to if there was anyone waiting on the other side.

I grabbed your dress and bra, pulling up my trousers but not fastening them to at least allow me to walk without tripping up. I join you outside to see that thankfully there’s no one there so I hand you over your dress and bra whilst fastening my trousers.

“I’ll need my panties too” you say “you’re dripping out of me down my leg” and that’s when we both realised that in the rush to leave I’d left them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

You shrugged “oh well guess someone will have a nice surprise… and I’ve got to deal with the leak” as you pull the top over your head - not bothering with the bra either, stuffing it tight down and pushing it into my pocket - and glance around the side of the tent in order to get back to the main show area.

We walked around and found somewhere opposite the tent we were at to check on what was happening but no one came out. They’d either dashed out before we got dressed and we missed them, they hadn’t spotted the thing we had left, or were left enjoying them - either way you seemed to be getting a thrill out of what had happened.

The next contraction took you by surprise through as you grasped onto me. I turned my head to see you visibly biting your lip to avoid letting out a scream. Suddenly there was a splash and a puddle formed between your legs. We both knew what that puddle was.

Without the cushion of an amniotic sac, the baby suddenly felt much lower, the contractions much more insistent, and the need to push much more urgent. The groan that emerged from your throat was guttural, instinctual, and you crouched down where you stood, clutching onto my forearms for support.

“Are you pushing?” I asked, slightly whiplashed between the thrills of having sex, nearly getting caught, and now this. “Already?”

You just gave me a squeeze in response, putting all your focus into breathing and controlling you volume until the contraction was over. With my help you stood back up and wrapped your arms around me, both of us still a little shaken.

Even though it came rapidly you were a little more prepared for the next one, able to maintain your standing position while your body worked to bring the baby down. You buried your head into my chest as we swayed together through the worst of it. We were hidden away, tucked in the narrow alley between tents, and any passersby would mistake it for a tender embrace. But we’d have to come out of here eventually if we wanted an audience.

There was a major show going on at the moment—something with jousting and fire and circus performers—and we made our way toward the back of the crowd. The skirt of your dress was large enough that it obscured the worst of your awkward, bow-legged waddle, but it was still a slow process. Your hand never left your belly, as if supporting it from the base would somehow relieve some of the force of the pressure bearing down within it.

Most people’s attention was on the performers, but we did garner a few nervous glances as those closest to us saw your restless shifting form and heard your grunts.

“Are you alright?” asked one of them, who was wearing a ridiculous feathered cap and carrying some sort of wooden instrument, eventually whispered when you were bent over and gasping after a particularly brutal contraction.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a strained, “Fine.” They glanced to me for confirmation; I shrugged, but couldn’t quite hide my growing anxiety.

The concerned bard remained undecided, but kept an eye on you, and when you dropped to your knees a few contractions later, determined that it warranted a trip to the medical tent. The bard tried to help you back to your feet, but you had decided that you weren’t going anywhere. You screamed when they tried to lift you, loud enough to stop the production mid-charge, and all eyes in the large stadium turned to gape at you. “I’m- I’m having a baby!” you yell, for the sake of anyone not close enough to see what was happening.

The elaborate ties of your dress were already loosened and askew from our previous activities, so it was easy enough to subtly work the laces and slide the fabric from your upper body. It looked like an accident when the heavy textiles fell dramatically around your kneeling form, exposing your full, heavy breasts and huge belly. I knelt beside you, as if making moves to preserve your modesty, but you lurched forward suddenly onto your hands, the dress falling down your thighs and exposing the rest of you.

The restricting fabric prevented your knees from widening as they needed to, and you begged me to get it the rest of the way off you. I helped you crawl forward a step and as a result your legs were blissfully free, but this position hid the spectacle from your audience.

You grabbed for me and held as you got your feet under you, lowering into a deep squat with your breasts, belly, and pussy facing out toward the crowd. You moved my hands to your inner thighs, forcing them open wider and pulling open your dilated folds, and pushed.

The realisation of what just happened seemed to ripple through the crowd - the immediate people around us either recoiling in shock, or many grabbing their phones and hitting record.

As much as you were incredibly turned on by the attention you were getting, the force of the contraction making you to push out our baby was a significantly more pressing concern. You bellow out, completely uncaring who hears it “this hurts more than anything I’ve ever done… labouring all day… it’s just…” your voice was cut short as you simply howled in pain as your eyes closed and you bore down, desperate to move the blockage between your legs.

As the contraction began to fade and you started to regain your senses your head turned towards me, you had tears in your eyes. “Help me” you managed pitifully.

I managed to lean in close to you so my whispering voice could only be heard by you “how are you feeling? Is this just an act or does it hurt?”

“It fucking hurts…” your reply had tones of desperation in it. The next contraction was quick to pick up and you were soon pushing again, a bulge visible between your wide splayed legs suggesting the head was going to be very big.

“Here here now you poor baby, let’s see if we can help you” came a voice. I looked up, and you managed the same to see an older woman - 60s or older - pushing her way through the crowds and trying to force - unsuccessfully - to make those recording the spectacle on their phones stop and give you a little dignity.

She grunted with exertion as she kneeled down between your legs, her hands reaching down to the bulge, surprisingly chilly against your hot, distended skin. You shivered - I was trying to work out if it was through the ministrations of the lady who walked up touching your sensitive areas, or you had just orgasmed from the attention you were getting.

“I’ve pushed out 8 babies myself and caught 5 grand babies from my daughters” she offered “so these hands are good hands and know what to do.”

“What do I do?” you asked, echoing her words back to her.

She chuckled and gave me a wry smile. “In my experience—and from the looks of it, yours too—whatever your body tells you.”

“Oh god,” you groaned, the pressure bearing down between your hips insisting that you bear down with it. “I need to- I need—“

“Baby’s head’s right there, I think you’re safe to push whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m not ready! It wasn’t supposed to be like this; there’s so many—hnghhh, fuck—people!” Your words dissolved into moans as you yanked desperately against my flared knees, but all that did was pull taut your skin and emphasize just how small your opening was in comparison to the large head bulging behind it.

“That’s it, let it stretch,” the woman soothed, running her fingers along the edges of the modest crown. You pressed yourself into her touch and she hummed in recognition. “Nothing to be self-conscious of here, dear. Do whatever feels good for you; it’s all natural.”

You brought your fingers to your clit and rubbed a few quick circles before the stimulation became too much. You cradled your belly as you pushed, but your hands soon wandered to your breasts, your nipples, and the resulting whines were a mix of pleasure and pain.

“It’s too big!” You wailed between pushes, looking to me in desperation. “It hurts. It’s burning, please, do something.”

I looked to the woman and she shrugged. “She’s the boss.”

I looked warily around at the many pairs of eyes fixed on us, but they faded into the background as soon as I wrapped my body around yours. You took one of my hands in yours and guided the other one between your legs as another shot of pain jolted out from your stomach, up your spine and through your hips. I thumbed gently at your sensitive nub and explored the changes in the folds that I knew so well.

“Help me stretch.” came your plea.

I dipped a finger under your stretched skin, gently tracing the cap of our baby’s head. Another contraction started and you pushed, my fingertips spreading you open even wider than the head. I pulled away quickly at your pained yelp, but it had helped—the head was staying put now, even between pushes.

“It’s stuck, it’s- I’m going to tear!”

“Oh no you don’t,” the woman said, getting her hands in the way between us, taking back up their work with the emerging head. She placed her palm flat against the exposed crown, applying a fairly firm pressure to keep it from coming out even as I continued to stretch painfully around it—prolonging the torture. “Pant. Pant, now,” she instructed.

“Please, I need to push, let me push!” you whined, unable to resist your body’s urges. You bore down again, but she just pressed in harder as you cried out as the two impossible pressures clashed right at the peak of your pain.

I had managed to get myself out of her way and resulted in getting directly behind you. You shoved your hips back, desperate to retreat from her iron grip, and your ass rubbed against my hard cock. You hear me whisper a string of curses and ground harder against my hips—if you had to suffer on the precipice of release, so would I.

You shuddered and relaxed a bit as the contraction waned, and the woman likewise relaxed her grip against you. There were a few gasps as she pulled her hand away and the crowd got an unobstructed view of the massive crowning head.

The view of a couple of flashes from people’s cameras were ingrained in your mind as you sit there, panting, the few moments of respite between contractions giving you little time to pant through and get some energy back before you needed to push again.

You leaned back against me, rubbing my engorged cock between your body and the fabric of my jeans. I let out a little groan as I felt myself approach my own little precipice.

The next contraction ramped up though and more of the same happened again - the desperate need to do nothing else but push, and this random stranger lady pressing back against all your effort.

You lost it as the frustration toppled you, all focus on the pain radiating between your belly and your legs, and this woman who was actively trying to make it harder for you.

“Let me push!” You screamed between gasps of the contraction as she just tutted at you.

“Don’t be a baby dearie” she took it in her stride. “I’ll let you stretch nice and slow so you don’t tear. You have a big one here.”

“Please!” You gasped, “Please… I’ll tear, I just need it out and you’re stopping me.” The last word was a chilling wail.

Despite your obvious discomfort my own sordid desires were being tweaked simply by the amount of effort you were putting in. Your body pressed back into me as you undertook push after push, my cock getting rubbed more and more.

I felt myself release as you wailed out. My cock pulsing and throbbing as each squirt filled my underwear. I felt it run down my leg. I pulled you in close grabbing your hands and crossing them over your chest pulling you tight against me as I hoped that there was no evidence of the leak on my trousers with all the cameras trained on us right now.

My shiver wasn’t missed by you as you look up in my eyes, meeting me with a weary but loving grin, for a few moments you smiled until the smile was replaced by a scowl as once more it was time to push.

Your body twisted and trembled as the war against instinct continued. Your hands grasped at nothing as you sought an outlet for the pent up energy you couldn’t focus into your core—your fingers clawed at my hair, the grass, the fabric of your discarded dress, the tight skin of your stomach.

“Fuck this hurts,” you huffed, more for me than for the onlookers. Then, louder, “Another contraction, already?”

You reached a shaking, tentative hand between your legs, brushing the woman’s aside and winced as your fingers grazed the tender flesh. It bowed and flexed with the force of the contraction alone and you whimpered as your lips peeled slowly back around the widest part of the head.

“Alright, now we’ve got ‘em right where we want ‘em. Give it all you’ve got, honey!” I almost hissed the words trying to keep it quiet enough that only you could hear.

In your opinion, sweeter words had never been spoken and wasted no time putting your chin to your chest and giving a hard shove. In a cruel twist of fate, the baby now seemed content to stay right where it was. You tried again, pushing harder this time, and howled in frustration when it didn’t budge.

“Come on now, girl, push!” came the woman, I had echoed something similar.

“I’m trying, it’s- fuck, it’s really stuck!”

After another two contractions of stalled progress, she finally believed me. “How about we get you on your feet,” she suggested. “Come on now, help her up,” she prompted, but I froze, keeping you tight against me.

“My- I can’t,” I whispered frantically in your ear, and you nodded— you understood.

You waited for the next contraction, took a deep breath, and leaned forward putting everything into the push, making an effort to make sure that the lady’s hands wouldn’t get in the way of this push. Your hips lifted just enough so they were hovering on top of my crotch and you screamed, all the anxious and excited attention fuelling another mighty push as the head shot out the rest of the way with an impressive gush of fluids… which sprayed across the entire front of my trousers, concealing and blending with any other stains that might have been present.

“Fuck,” you gasped, both in surprise and relief, as you got the rest of the way to your feet. Then an agonized, “Fuck!” as the baby spun and the shoulders settled quickly and violently into place against your tortured hole. You bent my knees and braced your palms against your thighs as you started to push again.

The lady beckoned me forward and I dashed around from behind you to kneel in front, hands poised in place just under the dangling head of our baby.

Now at eye level with your pussy, I watched as the shoulders bulged and gravity threatened to pull the heavy child the rest of the way out. “What should I do?” I asked the old woman, though my eyes never left you.

“Catch!” she said with a laugh, and I raised your hands just in time for the baby to slide into my grasp.

Your yell of triumph was magical as the vernix-covered baby slid into my hands, the lady, unexpectedly diving forward to catch you under the arms as you sagged, threatening to collapse with the effort. You were gasping, panting for air, you were shell shocked, but one thing was clear – you had realised you had done it. My god you were grinning.

The lady helped lower you to the ground as I held on for dear life to our baby – a daughter – my eyes weirdly focused on the umbilical cord connecting the small bundle in my hands to your gaped opening.

“Shit” was all I could mutter.

“Shit, indeed” you echoed.

You realised a blanket was suddenly placed over your shoulders as paramedics arrived, covering you up from the gawping onlookers. You’d done it. You had your dream. You’d given birth in front of a crowd. No doubt Youtube and who knows what other sites will be flooded with footage of this tomorrow. At least we know we will have a record of our birth.

The baby was taken from me as her umbilical cord was cut, and she was checked over. I sat next to you in a daze as paramedics helped check you over.

You leaned in close to me as you kissed me and then got very close to my ear, whispering so no one else could hear. “We need to go one better next time. We live stream to the entire internet !”

[missmoonfrost]

Should have known better - a wolfstar short fic

Written for the prompt: Forget by @wolfstarmicrofic Sometimes a supposed-to-be microfic ends up ~ 1500 words. Sue me🤷‍♀️ Warnings: Alcohol, miscommunication

Remus should have known better, he really should. But here he was, unwillingly waking up to painfully sharp sunbeams and jarring whispers. Judging from the conversation none of them were feeling their best. No one else seemed to have a bed that refused to stop spinning, though.

“You ok, Moony?”

Sirius' gentle voice warmed him, but Remus didn’t answer. Chances were, if he had tried it had only been a whimper.

The curtains opened and Remus caught a glimpse of Sirius' ever-flawless black hair. He curled up and covered himself entirely with the blanket. Sirius of anyone could not see him like this.

“Want to join us for breakfast?”

“No.”

“Want me to bring something for you?”

“No, thanks.”

Remus should have known better than to have accepted that glass from Sirius' hand last night. He had been dizzy already from spending the night looking wistfully at Sirius and drinking butterbeer after butterbeer to avoid the dancefloor. But Sirius had smiled at him with that smile and looked at him with those eyes and he hadn’t stood a chance. He remembers the taste herby, slightly bitter and strong. He would have known it was something Sirius had mixed, even if he hadn't told him.

After that things had been going downhill fast. He remembered actually getting on the dancefloor, something he never thought he would dare to do. He remembered people swirling around him. Or was it he who had been swirling? He remembered being on the floor, crawling on all fours. He remembered leaning against a wall. He remembered Sirius had come to sit beside him, at least for a while. He couldn’t quite recall what he had been saying, but Sirius had looked at him, talked to him, laughed at him, and shook his head at him. His face had been so beautiful. So enchanting in the mess of moving people and blinking lights.

With the others gone for breakfast, Remus drifted off into an uneasy sleep. When he woke up again, he was feeling a little bit better. He didn’t dare try eating yet, but unsteadily got up, washed off, brushed his teeth, and put on some clean clothes. He went back to bed and picked up a book, but soon put it down again. His head hurt just from reading. It really was that bad.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he could hear the others stomping up the stairs and speaking loudly. There was the usual shoulder buffing, bragging, and bickering. Remus kept the curtains open, listening. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Against his will, he felt himself smile as he saw James mimicking the silly dance Peter made up yesterday. Sirius sarcastically praised what an excellent dancer James had become as the night moved on, namely tipping over a table in his deed.

“You seem to have cheered up,” James smiled as Remus let out a quiet laugh. “How much of the evening do you even remember?”

“Did I tip over a table too?”

Considering how much he had to drink nothing would surprise him. Truth was the end of the evening was rather blurry.

“Not that I reckon.”

The words didn’t comfort Remus at all as James just grinned bigger. Something ought to have happened. Peter also turned to him with great interest.

“Remember who you danced with?”

“Eh… Mary at the charade game, if that counts. Lily in the beginning.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know.”

Remus felt his heart pound. He didn’t know. Had he made a complete fool of himself? Probably.

“Stop it, guys.” Sirius came to Remus' rescue, as always.

“No, no.” James continued regardless, “Who did you kiss?”

Kiss? He had kissed someone? All he could muster as an answer was a shaking head and an open mouth.

“You kissed Sirius.” Peter made a show of falling on his bed laughing. James joined in.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

“Oh. Shit. Sorry! I’m so sorry! It was just… I was drunk.”

Sirius suddenly sprung to his feet and slammed the door, leaving the room quiet behind him.

Remus covered his face with his hands. This was worse than he’d imagined. A complete fool – yes. And a lovesick idiot who couldn’t hide his feelings. His unreciprocated, unnatural feelings for a friend.

He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let this friendship be over like this. It was the most important part of his life. Not having even a shard of a plan, he rose and ran after Sirius.

Luckily Remus knew Sirius' habits. He found him in the owlery, where he sometimes went when upset. Sirius didn’t turn when Remus approached, just let out a big sigh.

“Leave me alone.”

“Padfoot, please.”

“I can’t… I… Just not right now.”

“Please let me explain. I’m sorry.”

Sirius clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “I just wished you were anything else than sorry!”

“I - What?”

Sirius swiftly turned around, facing Remus.

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I know how drunk you were. But… you seemed to enjoy it. And I thought it was a good opportunity to try – that if you didn’t want to it would be easy to dismiss as a drunken mistake. Only… when you actually did, it hurt way more than I thought it would.”

Suddenly Remus felt dizzy again. The world was upside down. Because even the idea of him rejecting Sirius did not exist in this world. It was so absurd it couldn’t be happening.

“Do you mean that you wanted me to kiss you?”

“I know I shouldn’t have even considered it. I shouldn’t have –“

“I never meant to hurt you! Please, let me kiss you now.”

“Just stop! Don’t you dare pity-kiss me! I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll move on.”

As angry as he was, with eyes glaring and jaw tight, Remus didn’t miss the pain lining his voice.

“Please, Sirius”, he whispered softly, “please come here and let me make this right.”

Sirius stood unmoving. Lips slightly parted. Eyes searching Remus for some explanation, though he thought he just said it as clearly as he could.

Remus stepped closer, slowly, giving him time to withdraw if this wasn't the moment that he hoped it would be. If anything, Sirius shifted an inch closer.

Remus put a hand on Sirius' cheek, softly brushing his black curls behind his ear. Even slower, he leaned forward, closing his eyes, and let his lips touch the corner of Sirius' mouth. The air of a quick exhale tickled Remus' lips and he felt Sirius' hands on his back, pulling him closer. Their lips pressed against each other, still soft and tentative, until Sirius' hand found its way to Remus' neck and Sirius let out a moan that asked for more.

Remus just oh so willingly gave him more. He let his tongue lick Sirius' lips, which immediately parted. He sucked in his upper lip, then let his tongue swirl around in Sirius' mouth, then sucked Sirius' tung that was suddenly in his own.

They broke away both gasping for air.

"I don't understand how I could forget anything like this." Remus breathed.

"It wasn't quite like this. This is much better."

"Then I'm counting this as the first time."

"As long as it's not the last." There was a vulnerability to Sirius' voice that Remus had never heard before. A desperate plea he felt a violent urge to answer.

Remus secured Sirius' body against himself with one arm on his back and one on his thighs. He lifted him up to sit on the long wooden bench that ran round the walls of the owlery. With one hand on each side of him, he pressed Sirius to the wall in a kiss. Sirius' hands were in his hair, and Sirius' heels were on the back of his thighs, pressing him even closer. It was wild. It was all he had dreamt it would be and more.

Remus felt a hand slip inside his shirt, moving up and down his back. He was just about to do the same when he heard a gasp behind him and spun around. A wide-eyed first year with a piece of parchment in his hand stuttered:

"S-sorry, I w-was just going to send a letter."

Remus smiled, too in love to be embarrassed. Sirius also looked amused, though his cheeks were flushing pink.

"Maybe we can find a better place?" Remus suggested and held out a hand. Sirius took it and jumped down from the bench.

Sirius' hand already under his shirt again before they reached the stairs told him the speechless first year was probably not the only innocent bystander they were going to intimidate before the day was over.

[unforgivenntired2]

My hero academia boys find you crying? (Angst)

Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Kirishima Eijiro, Denki Kaminari

Izuku(Deku)

He would first start panicking trying to figure out what happened to you.

"A-Are you okay?! Oh my god do you need something?? Can I get you something??"

After the mini panic attack he just had, he's going to try to understand what the reason is. If you don't want to tell him? No problem. He'll stay and hug you hard, telling you softly to let the tears fall. That it's okay to cry. "You can talk to me about it, sweetie. I'm always here for you."

Somehow hugging him only makes you sob harder and eventually tell him what was wrong. He'll stay there the whole time, listening intently and running a hand up and down your back. He'll tell you that its fine. That everything's going to be alright. And even if it's not, he'll always be there for you even when there's no one else left.

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo's initial reaction might be gruff or abrasive, but underneath his tough exterior, he does care for those close to him. It's hard for him to express that he's worried.

"Oi brat. Toughen up." He might start with a more of a confident voice, but somehow seeing you cry makes his heart ache so.. so badly.

He might stand there awkwardly for a moment before grumbling, "What's got you bawling like an idiot?" But as you continue to cry, he'll soften slightly, realizing the severity of your emotions. Despite his discomfort, he'll awkwardly offer his arms to invite you to hug him, trying to offer some form of comfort. He'll scoff when you come closer and mumble. "My stupid little idiot."

He'll hold you as if you're made of glass and somehow deep inside he's scared that he'll hurt you somehow. He might not say much, but his presence alone is his way of showing that he cares.

Shoto Todoroki

To be honest, he doesn't know what to do. He just stands there awkwardly for a while until you look up at him. He would quietly approach you with his usual stone face, but behind it, it's filled with worry.

"Are you okay?" His voice would be soft, almost tentative, as he approaches you.

He'd sit beside you quietly, offering a comforting presence until you feel ready to talk. Todoroki might gently place a hand on your shoulder or offer you a tissue without saying much, allowing you the space to open up if you choose to. He won't ask you to open up about what's wrong. If you feel like telling him, you will.

And whilst you tell him, he'll listen silently and sometimes his sheer inattentiveness towards things would make you let out a small laugh. Todoroki doesn't get it but nevertheless he's happy he made you cheer up a bit.

Denki Kaminari

Denki's reaction might be a mix of confusion and concern. He's not always the best at handling serious situations, but he cares deeply for his friends.

"Hey, uh, what's wrong?" He'd approach you with a slightly awkward smile, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Seeing you cry would likely catch him off guard, and he might fumble for words at first. "Um, h-hey, it's gonna be okay, right? You know, whatever it is, we can figure it out together."

Despite his initial uncertainty, Denki would try his best to comfort you. He might crack a few jokes or attempt to lighten the mood with his lighthearted personality, hoping to bring a smile to your face. Some of his failed attempts at it would make you giggle through the sobs.

Denki would listen attentively to whatever you have to say. He might offer words of encouragement, assuring you that he's there to support you no matter what.

Throughout the interaction, Denki's genuine concern for your well-being would shine through, even if he's not always the most eloquent or composed in expressing it. He'd stay by your side, offering comfort and companionship until you feel better.

Kirishima Eijiro

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice would be soft, but filled with genuine concern as he approaches you.

He'd sit down beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder or offering you a reassuring smile. Kirishima's presence alone would feel grounding, as if you're not facing whatever troubles you alone.

"Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. I'm here for you," he'd say earnestly, his eyes reflecting his sincerity.

If you choose to confide in him, Kirishima would listen intently, nodding along and offering words of support. He'd validate your feelings, letting you know that it's okay to feel the way you do.

"You're really manly for opening up about this," he'd say, his voice filled with admiration. "But remember, you don't have to go through this alone. I'll always have your back." Kirishima would stand up and flex his muscles as if to show you his manliness making you chuckle.

"And anyways if anything happens to you, I'll always be there to save you my princess."

Throughout the conversation, Kirishima's unwavering support and positivity would be a source of comfort, helping to lift your spirits and ease your burden. He'd stay by your side, offering encouragement and solidarity until you feel better.

[jujumin-translates]

[18TRIP] Ten Murakumo | [SSR] Crow Under The Full Moon | Two/Faced

Location: HAMA Tours - Office Floor

Momiji: Alright, finally done…!

Momiji: (I know it was a bad idea to work overtime, but it just didn’t sit right with me to rest with paperwork left to do.)

Momiji: Now I can just take it easy tomorrow…

Ten: Good work, Chief.

Momiji: Oh, Ten-kun. I thought you left already… Did you forget something?

Ten: Well, I guess you could say that. More importantly, are you done working?

Ten: Want to go out for a drink now? I’d love to treat you to a good drink as a reward for working so hard this late.

Ten: Sound good? Let’s go.

Momiji: (...This is a little suspicious. Since when has Ten-kun been the type to say something so admirable like that?)

Momiji: (But since he’s gone through the trouble of asking me…)

Momiji: Alright, but just one drink.

Ten: That’s the answer I was looking for. Miss, if you’d like to follow me.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Location: Bar

Momiji: It’s so quiet in here…

Ten: Have you been here before by any chance? Right. This is Kuguri-san’s favorite bar.

Ten: Last time he brought me here as a “reward”, I got totally hooked.

Bartender: Sorry for the wait. Here’s your Hungarian wine and Klondike Highball.

Momiji: Thank you very much.

Ten: Alright, a toast to all the hard work and effort done by you, Chief… Cheers.

Momiji: C-Cheers.

*Glasses clink*

Ten: Must be a lot having to deal with so many different types of members. Now’s a good opportunity, so if you want to complain about any of them, I’m all ears.

Ten: I am always on your side, after all.

Momiji: I know and I thank you for that.

Momiji: (Ten-kun feels a little closer today than he usually is… He’s a lot more touchy-feely than usual too.)

Momiji: (He even playfully hugged my shoulders on the way here… Just what is up with him?)

Momiji: …Mhm, the wine is really good.

Ten: Right? You don’t have to keep it to one glass, you know. Drink as much as you want.

Ten: It’s on me today, so don’t hold yourself back.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Momiji: (Yikes… I feel a little dizzy.)

Momiji: (I think I ended up drinking too much because Ten-kun kept encouraging me. Thank God I have the day off tomorrow…)

Ten: Are you drunk? Your face is so red. Cute.

Momiji: (Isn’t he way too close? I can really see how long his eyelashes are like this…)

Momiji: (Huh? Did he just glance at someone behind me?)

Momiji: (Nobody’s there… Maybe I just imagined it.)

Ten: …Ah.

Momiji: What’s wrong?

Ten: I think I’m a little bit drunk too…

Ten: Why don’t we go outside and get some fresh air?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Location: Wharf

Momiji: Alright, keep steady. Just walk straight ahead.

Ten: Haha, you’re sooo warm, Momiji-san.

Ten: I just want to borrow your shoulder and keep walking like this forever…

*Fabric rustles*

Momiji: Uwhoa!?

Ten: Since there’s no one to disturb us, that means I’m allowed to indulge myself at least for today, riiiight?

Ten: Let me hug youuu.

Momiji: Hold on, you’re all over the place…! Be careful! I’m going to go get you some water, so just go and sit on that bench over there, and—.

*Footsteps*

Momiji: (Footsteps? Someone’s coming up to us…!)

Unknown Woman: Haah, haah… Ten…!

Ten: …You’re finally here. Took you long enough.

Momiji: Huh? W-What do you mean…?

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Unknown Woman: Ten… Who is that? Is she…!?

Momiji: (S-She’s glaring at me really intensely!)

Momiji: Who is this woman…?

Ten: My ex-girlfriend.

Momiji: What?

Ten: I’m going to let you in on a “little secret”, so just listen to me for a moment, okay?

Ten: She started stalking me after we broke up. She’d always be following me around, whether I was going to campus or working part-time for HAMA Tours.

Ten: I really wish she’d just give it a rest already~. Maybe if she sees I have a new partner, it’ll snap her back to reality.

Momiji: …I see. So you’ve been putting on a show for her.

Momiji: Does that mean your drunkenness was just an act too? Did you really have to go that far?

Ten: It’s gotta be realistic. Doing stuff like that is important. Please keep up the good work for me~, Chief.

Ten: Even though I just work part-time, I’m still a member of HAMA Tours. Isn’t caring for my mental health part of the job?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Option 1: Play along with Ten’s act.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Momiji: (I’m really curious to know about the kind of breakup that would lead to this kind of thing happening, and I’m really curious about his relationships too, so…)

Momiji: There’s no avoiding it… If you’re in trouble, I’ll help you, Ten-kun.

Ten: That’s what I was hoping to hear. That’s what I love about you, Chief.

Ten: Alright, follow my lead. I’m going to hug your shoulders, so cling to me with everything you’ve got, okay?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Option 2: It’s better to be honest.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Momiji: …If that’s your plan, then I can’t help you. You should just be honest and talk to her properly.

Ten: I thought you’d say that.

Ten: So that’s the kind of person you are, Chief. You’re one of those people who think they can understand almost everyone if you just talk to them.

Momiji: I didn’t mean to sound that naive, I just…

Ten: I’m not so sure about that~. You’ve always been so carefully protected, so you probably wouldn’t understand…

Ten: Don’t you know that there are some things in this world that can’t be solved with lip service?

Ten: And that’s why I’ve got to reject your opinion, Chief. The show must go on.

Momiji: (H-He put his hand on my waist…!!)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: Hey, stop being so secretive and say something already! Who is she!?

Ten: Do you really not get it unless I spell it out for you? You’ve been watching us all this time, so you should get it by now.

Ten: She’s my new partner.

Momiji: (He’s nuzzling his cheek against mine. Isn’t this a bit much…!?)

Ten: That’s why you need to just give up and move on to someone else.

Momiji: Be careful with what you say! You don’t want to provoke her too much…!

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: …Y-You don’t have any clue how I was feeling…!!

Momiji: (This is bad, she’s rushing at us…!)

Momiji: Watch out, get away from—.

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: Ughh, you should’ve just said so from the beginning~!! As long as you’re happy, Ten, then everything’s okay!

Momiji: (She’s smiling happily and giving us a thumbs up!?)

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: Ah, I’m so sorry for misunderstanding. I—.

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: I was just so, so worried about whether or not you were happy after we broke up. I guess I just ended up following you around by accident.

Momiji: Huh?

Momiji: What!?

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: This one here’s got a nice face, but he’s kind of a mess, isn’t he? And on top of that, he’s got no real life skills, he’s like the epitome of a sugar baby.

Momiji: (That sure is a whole lot something that she’s saying…)

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: But. He was really kind to someone like me. I just wanted him to be happy.

Ten: …Huh.

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: Looks like everything’s okay. I’m glad. I’ll never follow you around again, don’t worry.

Ten’s Ex-Girlfriend: I… Hope things last between you and her for a long time. I wish you both the best!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Ten: …Haah. That’s finally over with.

Momiji: Having a stalker like that is hard to believe. But I’m glad there’s someone who cares about you that much.

Ten: I didn’t ask for that, though.

Momiji: Even so, you should be more happy to see such a wonderful person, Ten-kun.

Ten: Ohoho, giving me advice, are we? So you’re talkative when you’re drunk, huh~? If you keep on talking, I might have to shut that mouth of yours myself.

Momiji: How can you even do that?

Ten: …

Ten: It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. It’s not fun when drunk people take things so seriously.

Ten: Good work, Chief-san. Let’s call it here for today.

Ten: I’ll repay you for this eventually.

[woniefull]

Jealous

it's my right to feel hellish i still get jealous

sypnosis: you were always the jealous one, but what if one day the roles were reversed?

warnings: fem!xjay, jealousy, just a bit suggestive if you squint

a/n: not proof read + feedback is always welcomed

wc: ??

"not now ______."

jay goes to grab his cologne sitting on top of you vanity.

"right because we can only talk things out when you're in the mood for it."

that was a lie and you knew it. but you were so frustrated that you couldn't seem to care.

jay and you rarely got into arguments. however, when arguments did arise they would get pretty heated.

this one seemed to be your fault. you had spotted jay with a girl earlier today. it was so obvious she was flirting and you couldn't believe that jay was just standing there like an idiot.

you were the jealous and heated one in the relationship. whereas jay seemed to be more laidback. but at the same time, you never gave him a reason to be jealous. you never entertained anyone who would try to get at you.

deep down you knew jay wasn't doing it on purpose. he was a bit naive at times. but it hurt because it was a recurring problem that he seemed to brush off almost all the time.

"look babe let's just try to enjoy our time at the party okay? let's not let this fight ruin our night."

jay is facing you now and his arm reaches for your waist. you step back to avoid his touch causing him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"you're always dismissing my feelings jay."

"i promise we can talk about this after the day is over. this is our last college party. i know how much you were looking forward to this day."

jay tries his best to sound sympathetic. he knows how much of a party freak you are, in fact, both of you had met at a college party during your freshman year.

"honestly not so much anymore. i'll be leaving with karina, don't wait up."

and with that, you were gone. jay was left alone with his thoughts and a deep sense of guilt.

"ooo girl you look nice."

and you did. you wore a short black dress that stopped right above your mid-thigh. it had an open back and tied around your neck.

you smiled at karina as your hands tied the straps of your black heels.

"thank you love, you look gorgeous."

karina always made your mood better. so when you finally arrived at the party, your argument with jay earlier was already off your mind.

"okay i can tell you're feeling down and i know what will cheer you right up!"

you laughed as she dragged you by your wrist into what seemed to be the kitchen. karina started talking to a blonde-haired guy. she quickly looked back at you, and the guy did the same.

"this is my friend jake! jake this is my best friend _____!"

he was a good looking guy, didn't seem to be too far off from jay's age.

"nice to meet you jake! care to let me know why karina seems to want to introduce me to you?"

jake chuckled as he ran a hand through his fluffy hair.

"she said you weren't in the best mood and let's just say..."

he picks up some of the alcoholic beverages that were spread out on the table and presented them to both you and karina.

"i know a couple ways we can have fun."

it had been around an hour since you first started drinking. you were dancing with karina drunk off your asses.

"i swear jake's drinks hit different karina. what does he put in them?"

karina wraps her arms around your neck and you both sway to the beat of the music together.

"i honestly don't know bu- wait isn't that jay over there."

oh right jay

you had completely forgotten that he was even here.

okay maybe not completely. however, you tried your best not to think of him at all, because every time you did, it made you upset.

you couldn't help but look at where karina was pointing.

"ofcourse."

another girl touching up on jay and there he was allowing it. although he wasn't paying any mind to her and was scanning the room with his eyes, it was honestly infuriating and annoying.

jay's eyes met yours and he started to walk towards your direction.

"i heard a game starting let's go karina."

it was now your turn to drag her and lead her away from the crowd. you spotted jake sitting in the living room with about 15 other people.

"what game?"

jake looked up at the sound of your voice and smiled once his eyes laid sight on you.

"truth or dare or take a shot."

"nice, we want to play."

jake scooted over to make space for the both of you. karina was giving you a worried look knowing how bad you'd get when pissed off and drunk.

Ignoring karina's concern, you shrugged her off. jay's behavior irritated you, prompting a desire for revenge. you wanted him to understand your frustration. watching him sit across from you, his frown deepened at the closeness between you and Jake. an idea immediately popped up in your head.

karina leaned her ear towards your lips as you whispered in her ears. her face of alarm instantly shifted into a sly smirk.

"you got it girl."

jake had started off the game so your turn had come up almost immediately. trying your best to not smile, you looked over at karina after you had chosen dare.

"don't make me do anything too crazy."

karina giggled and looked over at jay.

"i dare you to sit on any boy's lap here for 15 minutes."

jay's head perked up. he processed what karina had just said, his calm demeanor started to turn into an anxious one. turning his focus back to you he positioned himself, ready for you.

"hmm okay."

you got up, with your dress riding up a bit. jay's eye twitched at the way jake looked at you.

"i choose...."

you turned to jake. poor guy, his eyes brightened almost right away. maybe it would've been him if he sat somewhere else. but for now, the guy sitting next to jay would have to do.

let's see how he feels having something he wants so close to him but can't have.

turning towards jay's direction you saw his toungue poking at his inner cheek. you screamed internally. he only ever did that when he was heavily ticked off.

he quickly realized what you were trying to do as you began to eye the guy next to him.

"i choose you."

pointing at the guys beside jay you turned to plop yourself on his lap.

tried to.

a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and you found yourself on someone else's lap.

jay.

you squirmed trying your best to get away.

he only held onto you tighter as he slowly nibbled at your ear.

"i think that's enough."

"you don't get to tell me what's enough!."

somehow you managed to break free from his embrace and started making your way outside.

jay followed right behind you.

thank god he couldn't see the smile forming on your face right now.

"______ stop walking."

"no."

"c'mon let's go home and talk it out."

"now you want to talk? well i don't want to."

talking back to jay was your favorite thing to do. he always looked his best when he was pissed off.

"sweetheart please."

"i said no! now fuck off."

honestly, you don't even know where that came from but you might have regretted it.

key word, might.

because before you knew it jay had you slumped over his shoulder, with one hand laid on your ass and the other reaching for his keys.

"i don't know who you think you're talking to but i know it's not me."

"jay let me down!"

"stop acting like you don't like this princess."

and with that you stayed silent.

he knew you so well.

you slowly opened your eyes as light began to make it's way into your shared bedroom. rubbing at them you turn away from the window just to meet jay's eyes already looking at you.

"i'm sorry."

his hand starts to caress your face.

"jay you apologized about a thousand times already. and i've said it's okay about a thousand times now too."

jay pouted and pulled you to his chest.

"i know but i want to make it up to you. i feel horrible. i promise i'll never make you feel like that ever again."

wrapping your arms around his waist, you took his scent in.

"i think last night was enough of an apology from you."

jay chuckles and looks back down at you.

"hmm maybe trying to apologize again wouldn't hurt?"

[cupidcures]

When Tulips Kiss | Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

CHAPTERS: 𝜗𝜚 ten | eleven | 𝜗𝜚 twelve

WORD COUNT: 2.1k (not proofread)

nintendo

“Are you sure this is a good idea…” You paused and laughed nervously as you near the place where they all lived, and that’s including the one and only, Hwang Hyunjin. “I don’t wanna intrude on you and your friends’ personal space.” You finished and fidgeted with the basket of fruits you made for them. Although they made it clear that you’re welcome any time, you can’t help but feel like you shouldn’t come, especially considering how things were before. But maybe it’s better to leave things in the past and forget about it? You felt a gentle pressure as you looked to the right of you and saw Minho squeezing your shoulder with a softened expression.

“You’ll be fine, I already told the boys and they’re fine with it. If you don’t want to then it’s totally okay and I could walk you back to your dorm, but if the only reason why you’re hesitating is because you’re nervous about my friends, they’re really nice I promise. They’ll love you, and you’ll love them too.” Minho reassured you gently to try to loosen you up a bit and ease you, and it worked, sorta.

“Okay, I’ll come. Sorry about that, just nervous that’s all. Now let’s go!” You lifted your head up to look more confident as the man beside held your hand and led you toward the front door. It doesn’t take very long until you get there, probably 10-20 seconds until Minho takes his keys out with a jingle and unlocks the door, opening wide for you to enter. You thank him, but the moment you enter, you could feel the confidence slowly seep out of your body. Looking back at Minho for confirmation, he nods at you to continue, and you sigh and take your shoes off, leaving them by the entrance. You shook off the nervous feeling you were experiencing the best you could, as the fragrant aroma came to your attention.

“What’s that smell?” You asked as your stomach grumbled, leaving you to chuckle shyly and Minho to laugh at you, in a lighthearted way of course.

“When I told the group chat that I was bringing you over, Felix wanted to make some ramen so you had something to eat while you were here. That means he cares about you, by the way.” He responded and took you to the dining room where you placed the fruit basket, then to the living room to meet his friends. In real life, this time. Chan was on his phone scrolling, Changbin and Jeongin were playing Super Smash Bros on the TV, and you assumed Felix was in the kitchen. Gosh, you can’t think of any other time when you were this nervous before, and you don’t understand why. You didn’t have trouble with socializing even if you were more on the quiet side. Maybe it’s because you guys didn’t have a good first impression?

“Hey guys I’m back, this is Y/N as you all already know.” Minho introduced and grinned proudly as they all turned their head to the both of you as you shyly waved.

“Hello!” You greeted them as they all said their responses.

“Hey Y/N, you look great!”

“Y/Nnieeeee hello!!~”

“Y/N HI!! SORRY, I’M ALMOST DONE, I’ll bring it over there as soon as it’s ready!!”

“Y/Nnie we’re so glad you’re here! Come watch us play!” Jeongin beamed and took you away from Minho before sitting you down on the couch, fist-bumping Changbin while you were at it. You watched as Jeongin won against Changbin in every single race and how Chan would cheer and pat him on the back, then go to comfort Changbin who stood up and threw a fit as a joke, prompting everyone in the room laughed at his childish behavior. Minho sat down next to you after coming back from… Well, you don’t really know, but somewhere in the house. Felix eventually came out from the kitchen, bringing out seven bowls of ramen for all of us to enjoy. Wait.. seven?

“Ramen is ready!!!!!” Felix exclaimed with a shit ton of energy before sitting down on the floor.

“Thank you for the meal, Felix! OH RIGHT! I brought the fruits that you guys wanted in a basket! I’ll get it!” You remembered and got up to the dining room table to transfer the fruits to the living room table instead. The boys erupted in cheers as you brought the fruits out, causing you to let out a light giggle at their excitement.

“See? You fit right in.” Minho whispered in your ear and then gave you a tender smile, which you returned to him. You then turned to Felix to ask him who that seventh bowl was for, that was until a certain someone appeared in your vision. Fuck. And of course, it was for Hyunjin. It totally slipped your mind that he was part of this group. You didn’t know it then, but your gaze on him lingered a little too long for it to be considered normal. His hair was disheveled and his cheeks were glowing bright red. You must’ve been staring for a while because Hyunjin ended up looking your way and made eye contact with you. He raised an eyebrow and you pried your eyes off of his, looking back down at the food.

“Yo Hyunjin! Come on and sit down, let’s all eat together!” Chan patted the space next to him and you sighed to yourself, as the empty space Chan told him to sit at happened to be right in front of you.

Jeongin waited for Hyunjin to sit down before clasping his hands together, “Alright! Thank you for the food! Let’s all eat well!” He cheered and picked up his chopsticks as we all waited for him to take the first bite, then proceeding to eat after he did. The atmosphere in the room was lively and so SO warm. You sat back and observed how everybody interacted with one another, and you smiled to yourself. If you were being honest, you caught yourself staring at Hyunjin more than you’d like to admit, but the way he joked around and messed around with his friends almost made you forget about what happened, and only remember all the good parts about him. Keyword: Almost. You snapped out of it and continued to eat your food, joining in the conversation here and there. You weren’t used to this particular group setting, and it was obvious. At least, to Jeongin, and the guy that you used to know. Almost everyone here was so nice to you and was always trying to include you in on the conversations so you don’t feel left out, and you’re grateful for it. You did your best to flow with the conversations, and for the most part, it worked. You felt your eyelids getting heavy and so you rested your head on Minho’s shoulder and you felt him stiffen up for a moment, before relaxing and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. You closed your eyes simply just to rest them, but you stayed listening to the conversations the boys held with each other. But in timely fashion, you felt a pair of eyes staring at you after you had closed your eyes. Everything in you told you to not open your eyes, as deep down you knew whose eyes you would meet when you opened yours, but you did it anyway. To your surprise, you made eye contact with Hyunjin once again, but that wasn’t what surprised you. It was the glossy sheen in his eyes that made them sparkle even more than they usually did.

Was he.. about to cry?

Concern and worry flashed through your mind, and you cursed at yourself for still caring for him after everything. You waited until he looked away first, but just like 4 years ago, his eyes stayed on you, and all you wanted at that moment was to be able to read his mind and see what he was thinking. You were sure that if the two of you stayed looking at each other for any longer, someone would notice, so you forced yourself to look away and lift your head off of Minho’s shoulder.

“Everything alright?” He patted your head as you giggled and nodded.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Where’s your bathroom?” You questioned as he told you how to get there, so you thanked him with a kiss on the cheek as the boys around “ooooo’d” at the interaction teasingly. You use the couch as support to help you stand up as you walk your way to the bathroom, once again, feeling a pair of eyes burning the back of your head. You enter the bathroom and close the door just to stare at yourself in the mirror. You let out a conflicted sigh while you took this time to fix your hair and makeup.

“Why did he look like he was about to cry..?” You mumbled quietly to yourself, thinking of all the possible reasons, apparently all possible reasons BUT the most obvious one.

Once you finish putting chapstick on, you open the door to join the rest of the group, only to be pushed back inside by Hyunjin. A rush of emotions rushed over you in an instant as he closed the door behind him and locked the door.

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin crosses his arms, demanding an answer out of you, but all you can do is look at him with a disoriented look. He stares at you a little more longer before exhaling in frustration and brushing his hair back, one of his habits you remember from years ago.

“What’s your goal here Y/N? Why are you doing this to me??” He urged in a hushed manner to not attract any attention from outside.

“I’m doing nothing to you Hwang. Why are you so vague and yet you expect me to know what you’re talking about? I can’t read what’s on your mind so can you please, for ONCE, be forward with it??” You looked away from him, copying his body language and crossing your arms as well. He leaned his head and back against the wall and looked to the floor. He stayed silent for a while, and it was killing you. The silence between the two of you was deafening, the only noises you heard were the distant chatters of your friends in the next room.

“Stop calling me Hwang, please. You know me as Hyunjin and, as far as I know, we’ve passed the surname stage a long time ago…” Hyunjin took a breath in and you turned your attention back on the boy, waiting for him to continue. “You’re hurting me, again. And you don’t even know it. Or maybe you do, and you just don’t care. I hate seeing you around. I hate seeing you laugh and I hate seeing you happy.” Hyunjin takes a step towards you and looks into your eyes, desperately searching for something, but you didn’t know what it was that he was searching for. His words felt like a punch to the gut, and you could feel your lips start to quiver. You already knew he felt this way about you, so why are you so hurt over this?

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You spoke to him in a bitter tone, attempting to cover up the ache you were feeling in your chest.

God, just let this conversation end already.

“Tell you something you don’t know? Okay. I hate all of it because it hurts me. It fucking hurts seeing you so happy when I’m not even with you, when we hate each other. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was NEVER supposed to be like this, how could you be so happy?” Hyunjin bit his lip, cheeks flushed, partially because of the fact he was still drunk, but mostly because he was embarrassed.

“What do you mean? You hate me that much that you don’t wanna see me happy?” You furrowed your brows together and put your hand under his chin to make him look at you.

“…..Are you serious?” He stared into your eyes in disbelief, looking for any ounce of dishonesty, but there wasn’t any. There was just confusion. And so he laughed, leaving you only more confused.

“Nevermind. Forget this ever happened, I’m drunk anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking. I hate you so much.” Hyunjin stepped back while shaking his head, but before you could even open your mouth to say something, he opens the bathroom door and goes inside his room.

Hyunjin locks his bedroom door and throws himself on his bed. He convinces himself that it hurts him to see you around and happy because of how much he hates you. But we all know that if you were around for him, if you were happy because of him, if it were him instead of Minho, he would finally realize that it’s not hate that he’s feeling. But it isn’t him, so he’ll never realize it.

a/n: sooo… hyunjin struggles with communication and y/n is painfully oblivious to everything! 🤗 also sorry… i didn’t expect for this part to be a written one ngl

𝜗𝜚 WTK series masterlist

TAGLIST (OPEN)! @jeonginplsholdmyhand @jeonginsgirl @mlrroh @mafiulaputaama @seungzsmin @hannie-bees @skz1lov @porang-poranglinos @sillyhal @mitchii @nessas-archive @soulphoenix1618 @gnab-nahc @yongbokkiesworld @hyunjins-dimples @nappynapnaps @0914-space @isagerada

if your blog is underlined, it means i wasn’t able to tag you :’(

[effervescentdragon]

Extremely enthusiastic Nico Rosberg and extremely confused Esteban Ocon doing a karaoke version of “Living On A Prayer” in Austin, Texas, 2016 

for @blorbocedes because I love you ❤️️ [source]

[ranvwoop]

its wallowing hours! again.

[astrxealis]

okay rambles but i started creatively writing in like ... 5th grade? and. oh god just a little encouragement to anyone looking to get into writing or insecure or whatnot, but HELLS, maybe it's to he expected with my (obviously) very young age and inexperience with writing then, but my writing was really. yeah. Yeah. but then i'm what... a lot older now, obviously, and my writing has gotten leagues better. i'm probably not a good example for this bcs childhood years development stuff are different etc etc BUT practicing writing more and whatnot really does go a long way :]

[sysig]

See you everywhere, now that you’re gone (Patreon)

[screampied]

‘ CANDY BOY ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. who would have thought that the #1 camboy in your city was no one other than your virgin roommate gojo, who’s totally putting on a show for his fangirls. he talks too much, but maybe you can shut his mouth and put his sweetened little fantasies to reality.

wc. 5.8k

warnings. fem! reader, camboy!gojo, college au, gojo's a virgin, switch! gojo, unprotected, dirty talk, he gets pússy drunk quick, overstim, "good boy" usage, cunnilıngus, premature ejaculating, nipple play, lots of spıt, handjōbs.

if someone would have told you that your loser of of a roommate who stuffs his mouth with a bit too many sweets, cries at romcoms, and is just an overall dork was a camboy, you’d call them crazy. batshit crazy even, yet that’s exactly what happened—

gojo was rightfully one of the top camboys in the city, probably in the world too. he was sort of a household name, it was more of a side hustle for him. he did it only for the money—sure, he adored his fans, even the ones that went a little too extreme with the provocative thirsting. but that’s all part of the job, he’s about seven months strong in his little gig. every saturday and sunday, he logs on under the user of: @/GOJOSLUTORU.

the moment that same notification pops up that he’s live, a plethora of his fans join immensely, wondering just what their favorite camboy satoru was up to today. his streams would last for a good two hours—longer sometimes if it was some kind of special event where he’d reach a massive amount of donations, a special treat for his fans. gojo was beloved for his flirty personality, he’d make his fangirls swoon with his words, despite knowing full well he doesn’t know the first thing on how to please a lady.

that’s until you came along—more like catching him right in the act. it couldn’t have been any more embarrassing though. eleven thousand eyes were cheering him on, showering him with lewd "good boy" praises until you drop your bag.

“satoru?” you utter, curling your brow into a surprised furrow once you take in the scene in front of you. tossing the spare set of keys into the bin, you glance at your roommate—he freezes mid stroke with the most flustered expression. his hands were a bit … occupied, and a glimpse of a familiar cloth you once wore catches your eye. “are those my panties?”

“no….?”

with a deadpan, your shoulders drop before you drag your feet towards him to take a quicker look. oh, those were definitely your panties. so that’s where they ran off too. gojo tries to shield his nude exposed lower half with a nearby towel but it’s no use—you saw everything you needed to see.

“anywhooo,” he swallows, taking a brief peer at his chat that was flooding with all types of questions. they wanted to see you, they wanted to see gojo’s pretty roommate who he’s always rambling about on stream. clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair before pitching his tone. he tries to sound more attractive but ends up butchering right away, stuttering at his first pathetic sentence. “ i- i didn’t think you’d get here so early. how was the exam?”

“it was … fine,” you mumble, barely acknowledging his words. your mind was racing vigorously, trying to process how you’d just seen your roommate half naked. going up behind him, you lean in towards his neat set up—you grew a bit curious, immediately, your eyes meet the other eyes that stare back at you. near the top right displayed his large following of eight hundred thousand, the top left displays his current view count, a whopping amount of almost twelve thousand. peeking at the chat, you’re met with dozens of freshly new comments saying how pretty you are, asking if you’re his girlfriend he always talks about, and so on. “you’re a camboy?”

“heh, camboy’s kind of an exaggeration but,” and he’s nervous, you can hear the slight tremor in his voice. it’s cute, gojo was prepared for you to judge him for his side hustle but instead you don’t. he relaxes a bit, shifting his attention away from his crude chat and towards you. “i like to label myself as a um, streamer..”

you have a growing simper. “i don’t think streamers usually get naked for their audience,” and you take a quick stare at his attire—he was practically shirtless, his boxers were covered although he was wearing some kind of tank that had ‘submissive and breedable’ printed on the very front. you furrow your eyebrow, though you choose not to question it. his nervously sly smile only grows once he catches your eyes quite literally checking him out. glancing at the comments again, you hum. “why do they keep asking if i’m your girlfriend? you don’t have a girlfr-”

“woah, s-shut up!” he whines, cupping a hand over your mouth. you giggle, feeling the warmth of his palm rub against your lips. gojo lowers his voice, speaking in a faint whisper. “they think you’re my girlfriend,” and he peels his hand away before running a finger down his nape. “i told them that because-”

“satoru,” you roll your eyes, noticing how he was quite stiff with his body language. being this close to you, your mere elegant fragerence was so exhilarating for him. you made him this nervous, truth be told ; you were far too caught up in your academics to even realize your roommate had a little crush on you. however, you do wish you found out in a more … non less of a lewd way, a way where he wasn’t caught red-handed fondling with a pair of your pretty sage-colored panties. with a sigh, you mumble to him. “you wanna fuck, don’t you?”

that’s definitely not what he thought you was gonna say,

with pouty shimmery lips, gojo’s eyes widen before a sheepish grin marinates against his features. “pft. do i wanna fuck, whaaat?” and he doesn’t even last a second before sighing, dropping his head down in defeat. “y-yes..”

the ringing from his monitor — dozens of women sending him gifts, tickets, donations, begging for their favorite camboy to notice him only gets more disruptive.

the ringing grows louder, the repetitive chiming sound of bells, the blaring notification it makes whenever someone sends him a sweet contribution. pretty soon, he was on the verge of meeting yet another goal. ever since you got spotted on the stream, his viewer count doubled.

“well, why didn’t you just ask? besides, there’s other ways than using my panties to get off.” and a wave of embarrassment washes over his face. the towel’s still covering his torso before he shoots you a shy smile. any closer you could’ve got to him and he thought he was gonna explode. the heat radiating from you had his head going in a crazed ditz. stroking his cheek, you speak softly.

“i’m sorry,” he whines, bottom lip poking out. you end up sitting flat on his lap, and instinctively, the curvature of your waist was met with two big hands snaking around it. you’re so pretty like this, he wanted you so so bad. swallowing, he peeks towards his chat before you cup both of his temples to stare right back into your eyes. “i was gonna ask you but- but i’ve never done this, you know,” and the way you slide a finger behind his neck, skimming the texture of your middle finger down his undercut snatches a purr from him. “i- i want you, but i just don’t know what to do with like .. i wanna make sure that i don’t embarrass myself.”

oh, he couldn’t have been any more cuter,

you heard the slight crack in gojo’s voice at the end of his candied sentences before you sling your arms over him. “don’t be embarrassed,” you softly reply, still straddling his lap. “i can always show you how.” and he gulps, your voice was smooth as silk. sweet as honey, the more you strum your thumb down his undercut, the more he can hear the rapid pulse of his heart beat throb through his ears. the simplicity of your touch was enough to have him weak.

“please..” he murmurs in a hushed tone, loving the way how gentle, how tender you were with your touch. gojo mewls out a needy whimper, feeling a sudden tent rise near between his legs. he was hard, you’d giften him a pretty solid boner and whilst you were propped up on his lap, you felt it rub against you all too well.

gojo awaits for you to make the first move, but you’re teasing . . seeing if he was going to initiate, and he does, inching his sheeny lips into yours.

your roommate pulls you into a deep kiss, he tastes like candy, candied. with your arms still occupied, wrapping around him, you glide your tongue against his, parting lips, teeth clashing amongst each other in sync. you could hear the faint sounds of whimpers run from his lips, he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands though—so gingerly, a hand of his strums down your back, giving the fabric that stuck against your skin a soft yank. he wanted you, the strain beneath his half on boxers only grows the more he starts to suck on your tongue.

heavy, wheezing breaths collide against each other, hitting each moving muscle like a wave,

he’s so eager,

gojo’s mind clears everything out of his head and he’s just focused on you. the saccharine tang of your signature lip gloss, he tastes it and it’s so delicious.

through cerulean-pristine hazed peripherals, gojo looks towards his chat to read some of the comments . .

chososdoublehomicide: i miss choso

zorosthroatwarmer293: i wanna be gojo >:( she’s so pretty

secksybabeamy: Hey hot stuff ;) Subscribe to my only fans!

throatgoatemily: His whines omg

as the kiss deepens, gojo whines once your hand slithers its way down between his legs. slowly removing the towel that sheaths his exposed body, you feel against his dick. at first touch, he whimpers, then whines, then whimpers again.

he was so pent up—you could feel it, you were gentle with your fingers, brushing it against the length of his dick before gently wrapping a hand around its girth. gojo moans in your mouth, feeling hitched breaths arise from his lungs. he could never get enough of how fucking sweet you were,

and he didn’t even want to.

pulling away for a long gasp of fresh air, he bites his lip as he looks down to feel your hands stroke his cock. gojo had quite the staggering inches on him, he shivers at how precise your hand movements were—

up and down,

with a hand of yours gripping over his fat length, a thumb of yours runs down the vein that coats his shaft. its pulsing, he’s needy for more of your touch so bad that it sends shockwaving static to rigorously coarse through his bouquet of neurons.

“y-your hand feels so much better than mine, heh,” he breathes, swallowing the imaginary balled up lump that resides near the back of his throat. blue irises, dilated and all stares at you—a hand reaches towards your back before his thigh starts to bounce. “not to be weird but i kinda had a dream about this, angel.”

“a dream about me stroking you?” you hum, amused before sneaking a wet kiss near the crook of his twitching lips.

gojo nods wearily, forever deeply captured by your beauty. your hands swiftly resumes to stroke him, feeling the tender skin that lives near his frenulum peel back every few seconds. gojo moans, burying his face into the very depths of your neck. so desperate, he wanted more and more. “aw, is this too much? should i slow down?”

“no.. don’t stop,” and his desperate plea was so sweet, though he wanted to go further. you giggle once he suddenly lifts you up, dragging you towards the bed. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry. can’t wait anymore,” and he hovers over you with that crazed look of total desire. “can i … eat you out?”

with a coy smile, you’re laid on your back as he just stands over you — eyes gawking at your entire physique, the way your thighs were all out with the short hem of your shorts reaching against your ass. you could tell gojo was impatient, that hungry stare in his eye never once faded.

“yeah,” you coo, parting your legs slowly. oh, you were a fucking tease.

not only were you a tease for him, you were a simple force to be reckoned with. no panties on either, gojo felt himself get hard yet again before he kneels down. with your roommate positioning himself between your legs, he lets off a soft sigh.

combing your fingers through his soft tangles, he looks up at you with a craving yet impish expression. you giggle, making him look right into your eyes. peering at his chat that was going ballistic over his girlfriend, you speak in a soft tone. “do you know how to even eat pussy, ‘toru? i can h-”

“girl i know how to eat pussy,” he grumbles, and he sounds almost offended at you asking if he needed any sorts of help.

sure—gojo literally didn’t know the first thing of eating a woman out, maybe visually.

but now that he’s up close, he has to stop himself from folding right then and there. so soaked, he gets a full view of your slick entrance, your pussy was the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes upon so far.

as he’s a few inches a apart, with sprawled open thighs—the last thing you’d expect was for to gojo to start drooling all on your cunt. a stringy, syrupy concoction of his own saliva pours out of his mouth and onto your folds. just a quick glimpse and he’s pussy drunk. fuck, he’s more embarrassed than he’s ever been but he can’t help it. gojo didn’t even get a taste and he’s already salivating at the sight of your sopping wet arousal. a thumb of yours wipes the spit that dribbles near the corner of his mouth and he whines at your touch again before he finally digs in.

lolling out his tongue, the very tip licks near the inner moistened entrance of your pulled out labia. gojo for probably the umpteenth time lays his tongue flat before he goes all in. a broad left hand of his attach towards the fat of your thigh as he remakes a long striping lick. “s-shiiit, ‘toru.” you gasp, the coldness on his tongue taking you by sheer surprise.

the texture of it .. you’re weak, gnawing on metaphoric bars of your enclose as well as the skin on your lip, you whine.

for someone who’s never had much experience, let alone no experience, you’d easily second guess. your back arches forward while gojo’s tongue rummages through every part of your clit. he sucks on your nub, closing his eyes and fully sinks into bliss. gojo’s pristine white brows cock into a furrow before he slides a thumb down your wet entrance. he just can’t get over how wet you were for him. sopping wet, inept lips of his constantly quivers before he gives your cunt a sweet kiss.

wet for him, he breaks his lips away for a few seconds just to smear his face against your pussy.

“m-mhm,” he whimpers, wanting your scent to linger on his face for as long as it could, your scent .. it was hard to not get obsessed, a few minutes in and he already felt his mouth watering.

as bundles of minuscule taste buds of his tingle with excitement — his tongue swiftly swirls through every orifice, not missing any spot. he searched through the gooey crevices of your walls, lips moving in complete tandem. his dick strains between his thighs that it’s almost painful.

if eating you out tasted this good, he only imagined what it’d feel like to be inside,

shoved deep into your pussy, stuffing you full with his luscious thickset inches . .

that same repeated whine that always sounds raw dies straight out of your esophagus, you yank on the strands of your roommate’s messy hair as his pace quickens by a mile. in the midst of devouring your heat, a broad hand of his caresses near the juncture of your thighs—he kisses the long slope inside of your entrance, lips all glossy and glittering with gloss thanks to you. that same panging throb starts to grow within you again. your toes curl up tightly before your eyes meet the drywall splattered on the ceiling. his tongue, the way it continues to scrabble all through every part of your cunt, he grows addicted almost immediately. gojo can’t help but lather a few sloppy kisses on your folds, sliding his tongue through your slit.

he even starts to tongue fuck you, softly thrusting the swollen tip of his tongue in and out until you’re about to whine out again for him.

that was his favorite part by far, pushing his tongue in and out of your puffy folds — relishing the way your pretty pussy coats the underside of his chin with a lustrous amount of sweet, burnished slick.

“ngh, ‘toru,” you’d wail, and your hips start to jitter against his face. he doesn’t mind . . in fact, gojo brings two hands to grip against the curves of your hips.

once he maintains a secure grasp, he lets you rub your wetness all over him. with his tongue thoroughly exploring in every part, he starts to whine too .. so eager to touch himself but he wants to keep his hands on you. a whiny whimper wrenches from the back of your throat before you start to babble. “satoru, ‘m gonna cum, fuuuck. jus’ like that, keep l-lickin’ there, baby.”

he was such a quick learner, part of you thinks he maybe had more experience than you oughta thought. gojo can’t help but attack your sweet syrupy folds with a multitude of kisses, drooling lips of his making you more sticky than you already were. your legs could barely hold themselves open.

he had to pry them open with clammy hands, slurping in every drop as if he was dehydrated with thirst. a thirst you happily quenched with him being propped between your legs. after a while, he runs a thumb down your slit once more, pretty eyes glancing up at you, wanting to see your sweet face. “a-am i doin’ a good job?” and his voice was a bit hoarse, the way he speaks, drooping eyes and a sheepish grin—visibly pussy drunk, you grab onto his strands before rocking your hips into his mouth. he giggles, muffled noises eliciting from his mouth, taking your eager jittery movements as a yes.

he just couldn’t get enough of his roommate’s taste.

occasionally, he likes to depart his lips to gather a nice concoction of saliva—only to then spit right onto your sopping folds, whining at how it was so shiny. so pretty, he’s mesmerized again at how it looks, and you end up cumming with the cutest shrieking orgasm. it snatches out of you roughly, your speech is slurred for a moment as your legs quaver in utmost pleasure.

you’re shaking, feeling him clean you up with the flatness of his tongue—gojo moans, white lashes fluttering as he takes your beauty in. this was so much better than one of his risqué wet dreams. so much better,

without even a single word leaving from his lips, he gets up to pull you into a kiss. almost immediately, you taste yourself that lingers on his tounge. it tastes sweet, gojo props himself between your thighs as you sit up, a free hand of his sliding between your stretched out legs. the constant rings of his donations continue to scream out that same annoying chime before he leans in to shut his computer. he’d probably have left so many—thousands of his fan girls devastated, but there was only a new fan girl he was fixated on.

you.

gojo was addicted, with tongues colliding against each other, hot breaths wafting against each own, he feel his breath hitch at your touch. a hand of yours snakes down to feel on his erect dick. he whines, gnawing at the bottom of your lip before his tongue gets more curious. he licks the bottom of your chin, the side of your mouth, only to then pull you into another deep kiss. “f-fuck, ‘m so hard,” he rasps between sultry kisses, heaving from each breath. you still couldn’t get over the taste of yourself that loiters all on the flat of his pink tongue. “i wanna feel you from the inside, angel.”

“but your stream,” you tease once he finally pulls away, taking a second to catch your breath yourself. you felt the heat roam across the room before stroking his cheek — flushed lips of his burn with such intensity, you had him feral. “your fans, i wouldn’t wanna interrupt them, ‘toru.”

“fuck them,” he pouts, the cute frown on his face tugging against his lips. “okay that’s mean, they help me pay rent but just- i want you right now,” and he’s so needy. he paws at your t-shirt, glossy eyes widening, god. his bottom lip pokes out, squinting for two seconds before seeing how your nipples invitingly poke out. so perky, he could feel his mouth watering sporadically. he lays you back before swallowing, a loud gulp before he hovers over you. “you knew this was gonna happen, didn’t y-you? such a tease.”

you simper, opening your legs for him and he gets a good glimpse. gojo sucks his teeth, still so soaked. he only dreamt of what you’d feel like inside.

probably so tight and warm,

the more he thinks about it, the more he could feel himself starting to drool. gojo’s panting as if he’d just finished a marathon. a hand of his wraps around his length—giving it a few solid pumps. “i thought you’d wanna do doggy for your first position,” you sweetly say, and oh, he pouts for you again. you sit up, awaiting for him to take the lead first before smiling. “missionary though? you’re not so good with eye contact, baby.”

“i know how to do missonry.” he grumbles.

“missionary,” you correct him with a titter.

he pouts again, preparing to align himself. so wet, your pussy was sopping wet, swollen from just being eaten out so good. a warm breath fans out through his lips before he rubs it against your slippery slit. “and don’t call me baby,” he moans, although the simple pet name for him a lot harder than he thought it would. slowly, gojo’s fat leaky tip continues to ghost against your folds. you hold back a sweet moan, laid all out on display for him on the mattress. he’s waited for this moment, had dreams about it, even fantasized about it. “fuck,” he’d huff out, and his voice cracks. you’d laugh but he’s staring at you the entire time with that cute pouty expression. “can- can we hold hands? for you know, leverage?”

“leverage, sure,” you play along, your fingers locking against his. damp, perspiring palms squeeze against yours before his rounded tip starts to slowly make its way inside. immensely, a breath gets caught in his throat and he whines. the warmth he’s rudely greeted with makes him gnaw his pearly whites together. “you’re kinda b-big, so go a little slow, ‘toru.”

“i’m big?” he repeats—cutely enough, it boosts his ego that you think so, yet his confidence fades the further he dumps a few hefty inches into your entrance. as you expected, you were a bit tight and stiff for a few seconds—unyielding against him for a moment, you moan. saying gojo was big was a mere understatement, he couldn’t help but lean in to lay against your chest. “how’s it feel? s-slower?”

“it’s good. that’s good,” you start to heave, gasping once he inches his head closer to latch his lips against your neglected cold nipples. he doesn’t even lift up your t-shirt, he runs his tongue through the fabric and sucks on your perked tits. “t-toru, fuckk.”

it was a soft twinge sensation at first before he’s close to bottoming out . . so close,

it’s at the moistened tip of his tongue. gojo’s shaft resumes to go in further, you feel him pulse inside before once he’s all the way in, he’s already out of breath. with his mouth occupied—he’s still sucking on your nipples through the shirt, whiney. a free hand of his runs gives your left thigh a nice firm grasp before he starts up a single few thrusts.

you whine, tossing your arms over him and he glances down at you—beads of sweat race down the sides of his brow before he sits up in a proper position. gojo can’t get over how pretty you look for him like this, he’s fully in and he sneaks a kiss onto your lips. “can i m-move?” and the falter in his voice was adorable, gojo’s breath continues to get more heavy before you give him a nod. he peppers various kisses near your mouth, neck, and of course, your precious chest. his personal favorite,

with frail arms wrapped around him, pulling him close—you run your ankle down his back and he moans. “oh, ‘s even better than i imagined,” he whispers against your ear, hot breath sending you antsy judders. the more his breath goes against your skin, the more you smell how minty it was. fresh, you desperately yearned for more so you pull him into another kiss for the nth time. “ugh. the way you clamp down, ‘s gonna kill me,” he babbles in a low puff. he’s speaking between staring up at decent pace for you to get accustomed to. you whimper, trying to get adjusted to his barreling length but he was just so fucking big. it was an ongoing rumor that between gojo—and his best friend suguru geto had the top biggest dicks. of course, you always wondered exactly how whoever started that rumor would even know, but gojo was definitely a packer. he stretched you out in ways you’ve never felt before. with strained breaths, he coats your mouth with many wet kisses. time and time again, the feeling of himself going into you raw has him drooling again. “pussy’s so wet, ‘m gonna die, oh my god.”

“don’t be dramatic, you’re not gonna die.” you try to reassure him. the grip on your hand only grows tighter, crimson lips of his suck against the underside of your chin.

so damn needy,

mussed strands of white tickle against your forehead the closer he presses his body into you. gojo was shivering, just a few minutes in pussy and as if it was a game—he’d be on the last level, game over. albeit, you feel it too. the warmth, it turns into a sweltering hot. as his hips rock, his whines start to become more vocal. he sneaks a hand down to feel the area that’s being stuffed, a thumb skims against your tummy before he moans,

“feel me t-there, yeah?” he whispers, a cute attempt at dirty talk but alas, it’s subtle. gojo easily folds once your eyes meet his gaze.

you moan, intertwining your fingers with his, moaning out a soft, “yeah,” and you sound out of breath yourself.

he’s jerking back and forth — his pace, his tempo . . wasn’t too slow or two fast, perfect.

with a quivering bottom lip, he leans in to lick against the outer shell of your ear. your cunt’s singing in harmony, sloshes of wet that leaves its metaphoric vocal cords and you start to get a bit louder. “f-fuck, ‘toru right there—fuuuck.”

“s-shit, you’re so pretty,” he pants, repeating his ways at coating your entire face with his wet kisses. you had him weak, entirely. you found it a bit silly considering how this could have happened anytime—anytime at all, all he had to do was ask. but gojo being gojo, he was not only a man with barely any experience, but he was nervous. he’s always had a bit of a crush on you but confessing sounded way scary. it was as if this entire thing was mere coincidence though, you happen to find out he’s not only a sloppy eater but,

he’s a camboy.

part of you wonders what he does on his streams. if you saw him rubbing one off while thinking about you—you could only imagine what other lewd antics he participated in.

gojo’s rutting into you at a much more quicker pace, he’s whining into your neck;

forgetting to praise you, and it’s more of the other way around. you’re cupping his face, stroking his cheek before repeating in that same melodic voice, “good boy, ‘s so good, makin’ me feel good, ‘toru baby.”

your voice, oh your voice, he could listen to it all day. you feel the constant twitch of his cock inside you and he whines every time your ankle rubs down his back. with the way your pussy holds him hostage— it’s so provocative, his reaction time was as slow as a sloth, droopy eyes stare at you before he grunts out a pleading, “f-fuck, ‘s gonna come,” and his voice sounds like a soft purr, gojo was like a kitten to you— so cute, his pout always make things more true too. he’s groaning in your ear, fat balls thwacking against you before his ears starts to ring. you’re moaning with him, bodies thrusting in sync that it’s almost like a pornographic choreography. “ugh, i- i feel it, ‘m gonna cum so much. so hot, gonna die.”

“breathe, baby,” you whisper, pulling his face closer to you. his chubby cheeks squish together once he’s within your grasp, the sharp piston of his hips makes you moan. his thrusts gets a bit sloppy and you press a kiss onto his mouth. “mwah,” you hum, watching how flustered he gets at a lick of your affection. “you wanna finish inside, don’t you?”

gojo whimpers. “yeah, yeah. really bad,” and the moment you suggest that, his ears perk cutely. he’s gotta be careful though—with a cunt as addicting as yours, he just might end up falling in love.

speaking of love, it’s as if heart eyes pour into his irises as he glances at you—again, metaphorically of course. gojo gulps at the tender touch of your fingers, leaning in to nip a kiss near your neck. through muffled words, he mewls. “i wanna fill you up. ‘s only fair since you’re milking me s-so much, ‘m so thirsty,” and he’s just babbling, pulling him close—he whines once he feels your finger glide through his sensitive undercut again. “hngh, gonna break me. let me make a mess in you please? i’ll even eat it out of you once ‘m done.”

you’re tempted at his pleads, giggling before dragging him into a deep kiss. “such a blabbermouth,” you tease between kisses, staring to feel the tears of sweat race down the sides of your forehead also— with a sly smile, you lick the drool that was about to run down the side of his lip. “finish in me, ‘toru. it’s okay. be my messy boy.”

his eyes dilated once he hears that,

your messy boy.

he even repeats it, “y-your messy boy, yeah, ‘m so messy for you, roomie,” and as he’s preparing for his inevitable release, he sinks into your warm embrace. “one more kiss, h-hold me.” and as if on command, you yoke his head in close, giving him a deep, passionate kiss. his pulsing heart beats through his ears. gojo—by this point, he was already whipped. the way his hips pick up, growing more sloppy and deranged—he’s feral.

the feverish under parts of his thighs burn, longing for its incoming conclusion climax—yet, as your smoldering heat gnashes against his, it finally comes.

with a primal gasp, it’s here.

the nirvana—euphoria, whatever it could have been called to describe this feeling, it was here.

gojo whimpers, going into a complete spazzing fit once he feels the slow orgasmic waves of himself starting to shoot literal humid blanks inside you.

it’s hot, parching hot— your heat against smelts his, it scratches a fervor itch in your brain. his tongue rummages the inside of your mouth again as he’s painting the insides of your gummy walls with his snowy white color.

satiny ropes of your roommate’s seed trickle into you, it’s so gooey and hot that it starts to stick against the inner parts of your thighs. each rough kiss reflects the same desire the both of you share before he shudders.

slow thrusts, he’s barely moving as fast as he was before but he’s still active. he wants to make sure you feel every inch he’s saved for you,

for weeks, months, maybe even years—

“god,” he whimpers out, pulling away from your glossed lips—a pretty cobweb of spit departs from each and he happily laps it up with his tongue. who knew your roommate was nothing more than a mere freak.

not you, not by a long shot.

it takes a moment for him to catch his breath, with a flustered look— gojo’s now clingy.

he doesn’t wanna move away from you, nor does he wanna exactly pull out. not just yet, he’s plugged you full of sticky cum that was threatening to ooze of your hole before he kisses the bridge of your nose. “that was so awesome.”

and just like that, the mood’s ruined—you pant, he’s hovering over you, his weight barely on you before you sigh.

“you know,” you change the subject, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “your moans, you sound more like a girl than me, ‘s kinda hot.”

“whaaat?” he grumbles, his sweetened pout forever returning. “that’s not nice, ‘n besides if it’s anyone who moans louder it’s you, angel.”

you kiss near the twitching corner of his lip, watching his sudden attitude shift like a light switch and he’s now a puddle. “you finished a bit early though,” and with your arms wrapping around him again, you speak in a soft voice. “wanna go again? you’re a natural, ‘toru.”

“please,” he whines with a nod, feeling how sweltering hot it felt to be still buried into the comforting tightness of your cunt. “this time, i wanna try doggy.”

“okay, pretty boy,” you tease, leaning in for another one of gojo’s sloppy, need kisses. just before he could pull out, the door springs open. the hinges scream once it pulls back and the two of you both look to see what the racket was.

as the door opens, it was geto—gojo’s best friend, and he had the most disgusted look on his face.

with a scrunched up face, he utters. “i’m never running errands for you two again, what the actual fuck.”

and as he turns his heel to leave, gojo snorts. “suguboooo! aw, don’t leave just yet. you can always joinnn.”