#is it so much to ask that things be Still???

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR EX HUSBAND FINDS OUT YOU'RE DATING AGAIN, HOW DO YOU END UP FUCKING HIM IN YOUR BED ?? ❞

✧ pairing: ex-husband!satoru gojo x f!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo is the man everyone wants, except you -- well you married him and you wanted him, but when he pushed you away after you had your daughter, you had no choice but to divorce him. so what happens when he comes to pick up your daughter for his weekend, and he finds you ready for a date? and how is it you always end up under him?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, exes to lovers, modern au! (no curses), gojo is a CEO of a company, gojo has a daughter with you, divorced, some angst, switch! gojo, nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (near entryway), semi exhibitionism, sex (p in v), creampie, swearing,

✧ wc: 8,271

“You were supposed to be here at 6:00 PM,” 

Satoru Gojo stood in your doorway, as opposed to splashed on the covers of magazines and countless front page articles — you would think it would be business magazines, but you would only be partially correct — he made the covers of business, fashion, health, entertainment, and even a few women’s magazines. 

And what every single one had made apparent in their colorful print was that Satoru Gojo was anyone’s ideal man — the CEO of the wildly successful Six Eyes Corp, a philanthropist in his free time spent mentoring children and teenagers through establishing proper programs, and he was flawlessly beautiful — ocean blue eyes you could drown in, porcelain skin seemingly without a blemish or scar, and pretty lips that were a weapon when curled in a smirk. 

Just as they were now. 

“Well,” he smirks, leaning against your door frame, “I’m sure it’s 6:00 PM somewhere,” 

“Well, I’m not concerned with somewhere else since you daughter exists here, not elsewhere,” your words lacked their usual bite, only tinged with annoyance rather than cutting anger, “but good thing I told you to be here an hour and half earlier than I needed you,” 

Needed him as just as you did before you had divorced — just as you asked him to be. But he only grew more distant by the day — and soon he was already out the door when you had served him with divorce papers. 

And now, you can almost forget how it used to be — your eyes catch sight of the picture on your mantle of the two of you with your daughter, Satoru’s lips pressed to your cheeks as yours were pressed to your little angel — almost. 

He gapes at you as you walk inside, as he follows behind you, the click of the door closing overshadowed by the sound of his voice. 

“How could you lie to me, sweetheart? Thought we had a bond of trust,” you don’t have to look back at him to know he has a pout on his lips that would quickly melt into a grin if you conceded. 

“Bond of trust ended when you showed up two hours late to pick up our daughter,” and he grumbles, cheeks tinged with pink. 

“That was one time! I’m never that late. And it’s only on a Fridays when I have—“ 

“Meetings all day,” you finish with a sigh, “I know, Gojo, I know it’s not on purpose — but I know you’re always late on Fridays so I found a solution,” your lips curl, “anyway, our girl is napping still, so give her a bit before you wake her, but you can stay here until she does,” you’re shrugging off your bathrobe, littered with flecks of makeup, only to have a gorgeous black dress underneath. 

One that he very much hadn’t seen before — and he would know, he’s explored every centimeter very intimately of each one of your dresses, but this is new. His eyes skim down the exposed skin of your thighs — very new, but very familiar. 

He’s running fingers through his hair, not bothering to hide how his gaze rakes over his body, “Special occasion? Don’t tell me your birthday suddenly moved months, or I forgot our anniversary,” 

You scoff, as you pick out earrings from your jewelry box,  “Does an anniversary count when you’re divorced?” you can’t hide the hint of bitterness in your voice, and he’s stepping closer as you look in your vanity to put your earrings on, only to meet his gaze in the mirror, deep blue sucking you in as it always does. 

“But you’ll always be mine,” and you roll your eyes, expecting a cheeky grin, but find genuine longing in his expression, before it's hidden away behind a frown, “but you still haven’t told me where you’re going, sweetheart,” 

A sigh stuck in your throat, ignoring the use of your usual pet name that he had lost the rights when the ink dried on your divorce, as your teeth graze your bottom lip, “I have a date tonight,” 

He tilts his head, “A date?” and you can already hear it in his voice — ice creeping over usually still waters, “who’s the lucky guy? And do I get to meet him?” 

“And have you scare him off?” And he only grins in reply, hands slipping into his pockets. 

“If he’s intimidated by me, isn’t that more on him than me, sweetheart?” His footsteps only grow closer, as you turn to look at him, his hand on the wood of your vanity, nearly caging you in on side, “after all, he may be your date, but I’ll always be your husband, and the father of our daughter,” 

You didn’t know whether you wanted to kiss him or slap him — slapping him was self explanatory, but the want to kiss him was a lingering feeling, one that you couldn’t shed — no matter how much time passed. But that was the thing about Satoru Gojo — it was easy to fall in love with him, but even harder to fall out. 

And a part of you could never admit to yourself that you never did. 

No matter how hard you try.

“You haven’t been my husband for a year and half now, Gojo — a year legally now,” 

And he’s changing tactics, “You still haven’t answered my question, who are you going on a date with?” And you already can feel the beginning of a headache throbbing in your forehead, and you know why no one could say no to Satoru Gojo — because you’re sure he’s never understood it. 

“Why do you need to know?” And he's tilting his head, a small scoff parting his lips. 

“I need to know who you're potentially bringing home, don’t I?” and he’s far too close, and you don’t know why you’re not pulling away — his breath warming your skin, as he drags a finger down your cheek, “The man who might step foot in our home, might meet our daughter,” and his thumb brushes over your lips, “might kiss my wife—“ 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects you. 

You rub at your temples — yup, you definitely have a headache now. You brush past him, heading to the living room to pick up some of the mess, hoping your ex would somehow fall and hit his head on the doorframe and forget this conversation.

“And this dress?” Ah, no such luck, “did you buy it for the date?” 

“Do you keep a catalog of my wardrobe?” you scowl as you pick up the strewn about toys and things to collect into your daughter’s toy bin, and he’s bending down too to pick up your daughter’s things in his hundred thousand yen suit. 

“So you didn’t deny it,” and you sigh again, but grit your teeth all the same, his sharp words finely grating on your nerves. 

“This isn’t a business negotiation, you don’t win just because you use my words against me,” you stand up after picking up the last of the things, “yes it’s a new dress, and yes I bought it for the date since this is my first date in years, happy?” 

“Thrilled,” he says flatly, and you know it’s not the end of the discussion, “remember our first date?” 

And how could you forget? But you decide to humor him, if only for a break from the interrogation. 

“Which one? Because one was a date, and the other—“ 

He raises an eyebrow, “It was a date too, I asked you out—“ 

“You asked me to hang out—“ 

“And we kissed—“ 

“Only because I told you how I felt first—“ and he smirks again and you know you’ve dug yourself into a hole, cheeks burning at his stupidly smug face, “shut up,” 

“And what did you say again?” He slips the things you have in your hands into the toy box, his fingers brushing yours, and his touch is the same as you remember, even the barest brush was enough for your traitorous soul to yearn for more. 

“You know what I said,” his lips curl, the same smile he had given you all those years ago that made you fall for him in the first place, but his raise of his brow tells you he’s not going to let it go until you say it, “I told you that I liked you for a long time, and I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Because maybe by then it would be too late,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, featherlight — just as the bunches of butterflies that bloom in your stomach. 

“And you say that wasn’t a date,” and you scoff, biting back the small smile on your lips, “will any other first date compare to that?” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you know his brow is furrowed without having to look at him, “do you have to call me by my last name—“ 

“I do, because Satoru was my husband, and Gojo is my ex—“ 

“I’m still your husband—“ and you give a bitter chuckle. 

“In what world? We’re divorced, it’s over,“ 

“It doesn’t have to be,” 

“But it does. This isn’t me confessing to you on a movie night curled up on my twin bed. This is my ex-husband asking me to give him another chance far too late,” you slip past him, but he follows behind anyway, as you stand near the entryway to your home,  “it’s time to move on,” and you’re stepping from your bedroom and only reach the doorway when he speaks. 

“How can I move on when I never wanted to?” You still yourself in your tracks, fingers curling into a fist. 

Not this right now. Not now. “Gojo—“ you sigh. 

You’re so tired. You were hoping you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. You never had expected to have this conversation, not when you wanted to only marry one man your entire life was the one to break your heart. 

“It's almost two years too late for this conversation,” you willed your voice not to break — not when your heart was long broken by him, and you wouldn’t allow him to do it again, “you should have had it with me before I filed. When I asked you to spend your time with us, when I asked you to take time off, when I asked you to be present in our lives—“ 

“Sweetheart-“ and you snap. 

“Don’t call me that,” your quiet words hang in the silence, the wedding bells he heard in his head were nothing more than the sounds of bells drowning out the mourners screams, “don’t call me that when you don’t get to anymore,” 

“I’ll always be yours, sweetheart, a few papers don’t change that,” and he’s stepping towards you, but you’re rooted to your spot, and you want to say it’s stubbornness, but you know what it really is —weakness, because Satoru Gojo was your one and only weakness. And even now, walls raised and erected against him came tumbling down with one touch. 

Because he knew exactly where to touch and what to say. 

“Do you think any other man could please you the way I can? I know every place, every sound, every inch of you — inside and out,” he’s nearly against your back now, “are you going to let a stranger do that? Let them learn how to please you, but knowing your husband knows how to do it better,” 

“Ex-husband,” and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, “we shouldn’t—“ 

“And yet you’re letting me,” his nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, warm breath sending a shiver down to the tips of your toes, and his words sending a wave of need right to your core, “because you know it’s true,” his hands tentatively brush against your hips and when you don’t resist, he squeezes, drawing a gasp from you, lips curled in a smirk, “more sensitive than usual, Princess? Been too long?” 

“I swear to god—“ he’s cutting you off with a bruising kiss, a rubber band snapping back against your skin, and now it’s taut against you, ensnaring you in its grasp. And yet, his kiss is so sweet, affection dripping from the slide of lips to the caress of his fingers against your cheek, and it reminds you of just why you don’t want to let go. 

“You don’t have to swear yourself to me, but I’d appreciate it, Princess,” and his mouth reminds you of the reason you (and that you don’t). 

“Gojo—“ and he’s placing more kisses along your jaw now. 

“Shouldn’t you at least call me Satoru now that we’ve kissed?” 

“You’re impossible—“ 

“And yet I’m here,” his teeth nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tongue flicking over the blooming love bite, “almost forgot how sweet you taste,” he’s humming, as he kisses along your shoulder before he toys with the strap of your dress, “almost,” his large palms slide down your body, skimming your bare thighs as he’s pressing you against the walls, “but your skin isn’t what I want to taste,” 

You gasp, “we can’t—“ but why were you letting him? Irritation overrode by lust, and he knew the spots to make you bend to him, his hands squeezing your hips, “fuck you,” you wonder if his touch are phantoms engraved against your skin and muscles, forced to repeat the same patterns again and again — and a hand slides back up to cup your cheek. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” his lips find yours again, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before slipping inside. His hand is lifting your thigh around his waist, as his lips part from your own, eyes raking over your pretty, bitten red lips, “do you know how much I missed you?” 

“No, I don’t,” and his smile slips from his lips, as he cups your chin, “Satoru—“ 

“Even all the days I was gone, there wasn’t a second I didn’t think of you,” you waver a moment at the sadness rippling through his gaze, “I know I wasn’t there—“ his lips press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Why weren’t you?” 

And that’s when there’s a knock at the door that makes your heads snap over to stare at the door a good four or five feet from you, the shadow of feet visible through the crack at the bottom of the door, and you were sure it was your date. 

“Fuck,” you whsiper under your breath, “you have to go—“ your palms pressed flat against his chest, but Satoru doesn’t budge, “please, I have to get the—“ 

And his hand is slipping up and under your dress, hiking the material higher, “do you really want to go on your date like this, sweetheart?” His fingers graze your soaked panties, a gasp pulled from your lips, lithe fingers rubbing and pinching your clit through the thin fabric, “gonna go see him when you’re this wet?”

“Please—“ and his fingers snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin, drawing a squeal from your mouth, “fuck—“ 

“Any louder, Princess, and he might hear us,” he’s leaning down to press his forehead to yours, forcing your gaze to meet yours, “but maybe I should let him, let him know who’s the only one who can make you feel this good,” his words only make your cunt flutter, as if your body was in agreement, even if your mind was still in denial, “you’re much more honest down here, Princess, but you always were,”

Another knock as your attention is being tugged only for him to yank it back as his finger slips inside you. You’re burying your face in the crook of his neck to stifle your moans — his fingers were so much longer than yours, reaching places you could only have dreamed of — when you had dreamed of him. 

His finger squelches as he fucks you open, walls squeezing around him as your molten insides cling to his touch desperately. Small whines and pants are muffled against your hand as you clamp it over, your phone vibrating uselessly with your date’s messages inside your purse. 

“Please, Satoru let me—“ and he’s ripping your underwear, as he’s forcing your dress higher, “I have to tell him—“ 

“Tell him what?” His eyes are nearly glowing in the dim light of the fluorescents leaking in from the living room, “tell him you’d go on your date with him but you’re too busy being finger fucked by your husband?” And he’s sinking another finger into you, making your head loll back against the wall, “tell him that you’d let him fuck you in our bed, but you’re too busy letting me?” 

“Sa-toru—“ you’re biting back your whines, glancing at the door, but he’s forcing your gaze back to him, his thumb pressed against your chin, “just let me—“ 

And he’s turning you in front of the mirror near the entryway, forcing you to look at yourself — your lips kiss bitten and ruined, your dress hiked up and mussed, and underwear tugged down to your ankles. 

“Do you want him to see you like this?” His breath is hot in your ear, a soft murmur that makes your knees nearly buckle, “want him to see you how much of a mess I’ve made you?” His fingers sink into you again, a third finger with the other two. The lewd squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, your eyes catching sight of your own moans and pants in the mirror, your walls squeezing around them, “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, sweetheart, and now you can watch too,” he’s guiding your gaze back to watch yourself, watching him knuckle deep in your sweet cunt, “gonna make you watch your tight pussy break my fingers,” he spreads his fingers inside you, letting you watch your slice drip down his fingers and wrist and splatter on the floor.

And your head falls back against his shoulder — he’s thrusting into you faster, your walls working deeper and deeper into you — fingers curling against your molten insides, until he’s finding that one spot that has your lips falling open, “I’m so—” your voice is a broken whisper, and he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Please—“ 

“Cum f’me baby,” his thumb rubs at your clit, and you do, walls clamping down as you cum, his fingers relentless as they fuck you through your orgasm, a wordless moan of his name on your lips. He’s holding you up as he does, your body buckling under the pleasure, blood roaring in your ears that slowly ebbs away, as his fingers slow, and you’re shuddering under his touch, “good girl,” and your walls flutter as he pulls out as if they want him to stay, and he’s tilting your gaze, “watch,” your eyes open reluctantly, a small moan on your lips as you watch him carefully each one of his fingers clean, pink tongue darting out to lick at the trails of your juices that had dripped down his palm and wrist, “still the sweetest thing I’ve had, princess,” 

And there’s another knock, as he clicks his tongue, “Doesn’t give up does he?” and he’s pressing a kiss to your neck, “must have really done a number on him and he’s willing to wait this long for you, huh?” he hums, nuzzling the hollow of your throat, “but I can relate. So, should I let him down for you?” 

Your eyes fly open, meeting his cheeky gaze with a glare, “Don’t you fucking dare,” 

“What? You still want to go out with him? Be my guest, but,” and he’s pulling at your ruined underwear until they rip under his touch, “can’t wear these, can you?” you gape at him as he pockets the ruined panties with a shit eating grin, “for later,” and you’re scoffing, and you hear a call of your name through the door. 

And you take a better look at yourself — completely disheveled and marked up along your neck from his kisses and nips, your skin shiny with a sheen of sweat, and your lips obviously bruised and bitten from his treatment. 

“Fuck,” you can’t go out like this — it looks as if you’d spent the morning before getting ravished, panic sets in as you hear his voice through the door. 

“Want me to send him on his way?” Satoru’s hands curl around your waist, “our angel’s still fast asleep, and that means we can spend some time together—“ 

“Fuck off,” you hiss, walking over to the door, “Atsuya, I’m sorry I can’t go out today. I’m not feeling well,” 

“Eh? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” And Satoru steps forward to speak but you cover his mouth with his hand. 

“No, I’m fine, but I have the flu and I’m still contagious, so I don’t want to get you—“ Satoru drags his tongue between your fingers — this fucker, “sick,” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and take care of you?” Satoru’s hands are dragging over your sides, squeezing your far too sensitive hips. 

“Hear that?” Satoru’s whispering to you between the gaps of your fingers, “He wants to take care of you. Should you let him? Maybe he could fuck you better in the home we bought together and in the bed we shared,” 

“No, I’m fine, really, I-I—“ and Satoru’s sucking at your finger, tongue curling around the digit, and you grit your teeth, “I’m going to rest. I’ll text you later, I’m sorry—“ and you don’t get to hear the rest of what he says, as Satoru’s pulling your hand away, and finding your lips in another kiss. 

You hate how good this man is at kissing, his lips and touch must have the ability to leech sense from your brain, and leave lust in its place. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you mumble against his lips, as his lips burn a trail of kisses down your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me, except that I love you,” he’s pouting again, “you think that guy could please you the way I could?” 

“No, but maybe he would actually be there,” you bite back and his kisses pause, smirk slipping into a frown. 

“I know I’ve made mistakes—“ 

You give a bitter chuckle, “Mistakes? You left us,” 

He opens and closes his mouth, “you’re right I did, and I’m sorry,” his words are slow, but so is the anger building inside you, “but I’m asking for a second chance, begging for one more chance—“ 

You finally turn to face him, and you can only hope the tears welling in your eyes weren’t noticeable, “You don’t get to beg, when I already did,” your voice finally breaks, as your clenched fist shakes, “where were you? After our daughter was born, you were gone. You kept saying you would make time for us, you would be there for us, but you just busier and busier, and the only time I’d see you were the nights you made it home to crawl into bed,” 

“I—“ 

“No, I’m tired, I’m tired of waiting and being upset, I’m so done—“ and he’s pulling you into his arms, and the familiarity of his grasp is nearly enough for your defenses to crumble, but you can’t, “Satoru” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I did wrong. I know I don’t deserve you or our baby, not after all I did,” he’s murmuring, “but it was never because of you or her,” 

Tears spill from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks, “I used to cry, thinking that not only that I wasn’t enough, but your daughter wasn’t enough either—“ 

“You weren’t the ones that wasn’t enough,” he cuts you off, “I am,” the last words come out a whisper, as he runs fingers through his hair, “I’m the one who wasn’t good enough,” 

You stare at him, “What do you mean?” 

He’s scrubbing a hand down his face, “I don’t know how to be a husband, much less a father. I didn’t think I even wanted to be either, until I met you,” his voice softens, “and then I wanted it all if it was with you,” 

“Satoru—“ and he’s shaking his head. 

“I thought I could handle it — but when I saw you two — the two most important people in my life — how much you were counting on me, how much you needed me to not fail — I threw myself into work,” he’s swallowing, “I thought if I could support you both, things would get better. But it only made things worse because I pushed myself away,” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought I’d mess it up — I don’t know how to be a father. I didn’t even know I wanted to be a husband until we got married,” and you swallow, “I thought I never would after watching my dad neglect and abuse me and my mom,” you knit your brow together, “and there were so many nights when you were sleeping, I got so frustrated with our angel. She wouldn’t sleep, she screamed for hours, and I just felt like I had failed her. And I would just fail you too,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “so—“  

“So you ran away,” you finish, voice caught in your throat. 

He gives a curt nod, “And when you filed, I knew it was coming, but I thought you both would be better off. I thought even if I was miserable, it would be worth it to see you two happy—“ 

“Satoru, do you think I would be happy without my husband?” Your sigh stuck in your throat as your fingers find his cheek, featherlight, but he crumbles and melts against it, as if he was a statue made to wait for your touch, “you’re nothing like your father. I see you with Satomi, I see how much you love her — you dote on her, you know what she likes — she gets a cut and you’re panicking,” you chuckle as he huffs, a cute blush settling over his cheeks, “and you were a good husband, when you talked to me and didn’t run away,” 

“I know,” and the question unspoken hangs in the air, “can I be again? Your husband,” and your instinct is to pull him into your arms, where you wanted him to be, where you always wanted to be, but your instinct is tangled in fear, barbed wire dragging you down and digging into your skin. 

“I want you to be,” his eyes light up, hope flicking across his gaze like a comet tail, until it burns out with your next words, “but I’m scared,” you swallow, arms crossed, hoping if you physically hold yourself maybe you could hold yourself together, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” 

“I won’t, I promise,” he’s cupping your cheek again, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, “every night I only thought of you and Satomi — there’s no one else that matters,” he’s drawing closer again, it makes you want nothing more than his touch again — it had been too long — too long without him. 

And your lips find his again, it’s a chaste kiss at first, a breath shared a centimeter apart, as his eyes find yours, brow furrowed, “We have a lot to talk about,” you murmur, as your lips graze his again, and he’s chasing your lips, “but it’s going to take time,” God, you want to kiss his knowing pout away, as you drag a thumb down his lips, “a lot of making up to me and our angel,” He’s nodding obediently, a complete puppy under your touch, as he shivers as your fingers run through his hair before tugging, “are you ready for that?” 

“Yes, baby,” he’s biting his lip, fingers twitching wanting to touch you. 

Your lips curl, “Good boy.” 

“All that big talk and now look at you, Toru,” Satoru’s white knuckled fingers fisted at the sheets of your shared bed, as your own fingers teased the head of his leaking cock through his boxers, “such a mess for me,” 

You kneel at the foot of your bed, settled between his thighs, and though you were on your knees, you were the one who held the power. Fingers tracing the trigger right within your grasp, his cock twitching against your hand. 

“Please, sweetheart, fuck,” he’s hissing when your lips lean down to press a kiss to his clothes weeping slit, the wet heat of your mouth seeps through, making him twitch against your touch — a spark of need that burns against his skin and boils his blood underneath with need, “please, don’t tease me,” 

“Well that’s not fair,” you hum, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the elastic against your skin, sending a shiver up his body along with an ache that reaches his bones — and he wondered how he had let your grip on him grow this deep — and how he had ever let it go when it felt this good, “when you’re being teased I’m supposed to relent, even though you made me cum downstairs in my entryway?” 

And he’s swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing just as anticipatory as the rest of his body, a bow string drawn tight just waiting for you to release it. But you wished to toy with the arrow more. 

“I have half a mind to make you clean my cum off the floor with your tongue,” you click your own tongue as a taunt, but that only makes him squirm, “but maybe I’ll spare you since you’re being so good for me,” you’re dragging your fingers down his boxers, freeing his cock— already far too hard, flushed and dripping with precum as it slaps against his stomach, the flared head nearly begging you to touch it, “tell me what you want,” his cock is far too gorgeous, you thought that from the first time you saw it  — long and curved, and the veins that ran along it were so pretty— just like the man himself. 

And a whimper escapes his lips, “sweetheart, please, touch me—“ 

“With what?” you thumb his tip lightly, smearing the cum down his shaft, “my fingers? Or my mouth,” and your lips lick the pre that clings to your thumb clean, dragging your thumb down the flat of your tongue. 

“Y-Your mouth,” and you’re smiling, your lips curling as his pretty gaze pleads with you, “please,” 

“Imagine your subordinates saw you like this, begging your ex-wife to blow you, nearly ready to blow your load already just from fingering me,” your fingers toy with his balls, while you leans down to trace the tip of his tongue up the bottom of his cock, “what do you think they’d say?” And your lips part to let his engorged tip enter, as his head falls back with a groan, the wet and warm mouth, as you start to bob your head up and down his length. 

“Fuuuuck, pretty,” and you’re pausing as you wait for a reply to your question, his own tongue tying itself in knots, “think I’m down bad for my wife,” he’s grunting, the words ‘my wife’ and his groans sending white hot arousal to your needy cunt, “think I’d let her fuck me anyway she wants and they would be right, sweets. I’d let you use me,” your tongue is wrapped around his length, as his dick sinks deeper into your mouth, nose brushing against his pubes, his hips held taut as he forces himself not to face fuck you. 

And his eyes flutter down to meet yours, only to find your eyes drowning in lust, molten with need that nearly burned him with want, lips sloppy and dripping with a mix of precum and your spit out of the corners of your mouth, and your fingers —buried deep in your cunt as you sucked him off. 

Fuck. 

With the nasty way you slurped at his length, the noise ringing in his ear as your fingers begin to squeeze and stroke his balls, he wasn’t going to last much longer. His hips bucked against your mouth, and he’s muttering apologies but you let him, moaning as his tip hits the back of your throat. 

“I’m close—where—“ and you’re sucking hard, tongue flicking against his slit and when he fucks your mouth once, twice — he’s gone. He’s cumming down your throat, hot spurts of cum painting your lips and mouth, his head falls back, fingers gripping the sheets as his eyes flutter open. And he watches you pull away from his cock, sticky strings of cum and saliva connecting you to his length still, “fuck, sweetheart,” his softening dick already twitching at the sight of you — your pretty tongue darting out to lick his cum from your lips. 

“You taste as good as I remember, Toru — always so sweet,” and you’re pulling your own fingers from inside your tight pussy, and he snaps. 

You’re on your back on the bed now, flopped down against the mattress as his hand closes around your wrist of the hand that was just inside you. Your words are lodged in your throat but come out a shiver when he brings your soaked fingers to his lips, he kisses each one before sucking and licking them clean. 

“Toru—“ and he pulls away from the last finger with a pop, eyes clouded with need, “I—“ 

“And you say I taste good?” he’s humming, as he leans over you, “wait until you taste yourself, Princess,” and his mouth is insistent on giving you an entire course of your taste on his tongue, mapping out a detailed cartography of very crook and crevice of your mouth, “aren’t you so much sweeter?” He’s pulling away from your bitten red lips, spit connecting your lips still, “and that taste is all mine, just like you, wifey,” 

The pet name sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins, stoking the burning need already threatening to consume you both, “Toru—“ and he’s already stripping your dress away, pulled away up and over your head, thrown away like every thought of why this was a bad idea. Your nipples perk in the cool air of your bedroom and under his hot gaze, standing at attention as if they’re begging for his attention. And he’s more than happy to oblige. 

His fingers toy with the buds, rolling between your forefinger and thumb, until he’s bending down to take one in his mouth, and you’re arching into his touch, your fingers finding purchase on his shoulders. 

“Bet Atsuya would love to see you like this, huh?” He’s switching to the other side, teeth dragging against your nipple to draw a gasp from your lips, “Would love to see you such a mess like this, spread out and needy,” and he’s spreading you with warm palms, his half hard cock brushing against your thigh, “Were you gonna let him fuck you on this bed? Our bed?” 

He doesn’t allow you an answer as his fingers spread your dripping walls, “Gonna let him taste you like this?” His lips warm your fluttering pussy, nearly begging for his touch and to swallow you whole, “when I already said this pretty cunt was mine,” he clicks his tongue far too close, making you whine, “g’nna have to answer my question first, Princess,” 

“No, I wouldn’t,” and he presses a chaste kiss to your dripping pussy, making you whimper, your walls spasming around nothing, “Toru,” 

“Remember when we moved into this home?” his lips are teasing your inner thigh, teeth dragging against your hot skin, “we broke the bed in all night long,” he’s looking up through half lidded eyes, “think he could please you like that? Make you moan his name?” 

And you’re growing desperate as his lips draw close to your clit, tongue dragging against it, only to pull away to your thighs again, “no, no, only you, Toru, please—“ 

“Only I what?” oh you know he’s goading you, but your want is drawn taut like a stringed instrument, tweaking your strings when you’re dying for him to play you — “c’mon sweetheart,” 

“Only you make me feel this good — fuck, Toru, I swear to god—“ your head falls back into the pillow as his face buries itself in your cunt, his laugh vibrates against your walls, pleasure rising faster than smoke from a burning building. His fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place now, settled between your legs. 

“You swear to me what?” and you swear his god complex gets worse and worse, and the way you moaned with his head between your legs wasn’t helping, “sorry, Princess, I have my mouth full,” and his tongue as silver as his words were, parting your folds with ease, as his lips slurped at your folds messily. 

Fuck, he was too good at it, and he knew it, smirk on his lips as the wet, nasty noises of his mouth wrapped around your cunt and your bordering pornographic moans filled the silence. Pleasure ribboned up your body, mixing with the sharpness of his fingers pressed against your plush thighs to keep you in place. 

“Gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, Princess,” and you hear the telltale squelch of his hand around his weeping dick — the shudder of your groan making him moan all the same, “taste so fucking good, never gonna go a night without tasting you again,” he murmurs far too reverently with his tongue dipping back into your folds for more of your juices, “you know how many times I fucked my fist to the thought of eating you out again? Never gonna spend a second without burying myself in this cunt,” 

“Toru, I’m close—“ and you are, greedy tongue flitting over your clit, his nose bumping against his folds, and the practiced ease of his touch — he knew just what to do to make you cum. And he did, his mouth closing around your clit, before sucking harshly. 

You cum on his face, swallowing your slick with the thrust of a desert weary man, his eagerness apparent on his soaked face, as you finally came down your high. He doesn’t waste a drop, only pulling away with a pop when your orgasm ebbs away, licking his lips clean of your juices. 

“Still dripping even after I licked you clean?” He clicks his tongue as he watches your slick soak the sheet, “gonna have to find another way, maybe you need something bigger,” he hums in fake contemplation, “what can we use?” 

“I have some sex toys that might do the trick,” and he scoffs, as he kisses up your body, before pressing his hard erection against your thigh. 

“Don’t think any toy you have compares to me,” and you’re gasping as he drags the head of his cock against your puffy clit, “nothing can fill you up like I can,” and he groans as he watches your releases mix, “just for that, g’nna make you beg for it,” 

“Toru,” you’re whining, but he’s only teasing your entrance with the head of his dick, your walls fluttering, already begging for him to sink into you, but he’s waiting for your mouth to do the same, “please, fuck me, I need you inside—“ 

He grins, “Well how can I deny my pretty wife when she asks so nicely?” And he’s splitting you open with his thick cock, balls deep with only a thrust of his hips. Your hands are grasping at him for purchase, needing to hold onto him as his cock stretches your walls out. It’s as if you remember him, walls sliding to accommodate him as they always did, but clinging to him desperately, a grunt parting his lips, as if they never wanted him to leave again. And you didn’t. 

“So fucking tight, Princess,” he’s groaning in your ear, a swallow roll of his hips drawing a chorus of moans from both of you, “don’t have to break my dick off to keep it — I’ll take you anytime you want,” and he’s pressing your thighs forward, slinging one over his shoulder, as he presses himself even deeper. 

A whine leaves the back of your throat, “too deep, Toru,” and his cock twitches inside you at that, “fuck,” and it takes everything in him not to blow his load there and then, 

“You love it when I fuck you like this, Princess, or do I have to remind you?” And he does, beginning to piston in and out, the lewd slaps of skin and moans filling the air of your bedroom, “be careful or our daughter might wake from the sounds of her mommy getting fucked,” he clicks his tongue, “maybe we should give her another sibling?” He’s watching the way your cunt eagerly welcomes his cock, sinking in and out with ease, “fuck another baby into you, hm? Would you like that princess?” 

“Toru, ngh,” your walls flutter at the thought of a kid, of his seed filling you up, “please—more—“ 

He gives a chuckle, “I’ll give you everything, sweetheart — fuck you so full that you’ll be dripping with my seed for days,” he’s grunting, legs trembling as his thrusts grow more sloppy as his orgasm begins to build, “fuck, you feel so good for me, “gonna give you another baby, make sure everyone knows you’re mine, my wife—“ 

“G’nna cum, Toru,” you’re falling back against the mattress, as he bends down to press a messy kiss to your lips, all tongue and teeth, before his fingers reach down to rub at your clit. Your eyes finding his, face flushed a pretty pink, eyes shrouded in a deep lust that was reserved only for you, and as he bucks into you even deeper, he brushes against that spongy spot that has the taut string snapping as you fall apart. 

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, as he grazes teeth along your neck before biting. And you cum hard, toes curling as your mouth falls open with only moans of his name on your lips. The way your walls squeeze around him has him only rutting into you harder, deeper, messier — as he watches the ring of cum pool around the base of his cock, fucking you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum—“ and you’re pulling him into another kiss, legs wrapped around him as he falls over the edge with you. Hot cum spills in ropes inside your walls, his hips rolling as he does, if only to fuck his cum deeper inside you. 

“Toru, s’good, I—“ you’re incoherent nearly under him, soft kisses pressed along your jaw as you both come down from your highs, cock softening inside you only him to pull out, another groan of your name on his lips when he watches his cum drip from inside you, staining your thighs along with the sheets. 

And you whimper when he’s gathering his spilled cum on two fingers only to push it back inside, “can’t let you waste a drop, can we, sweetheart?” 

He’s finally pulling away, his other hand cupping your cheek, as he finds your lips in a lazy but far too sweet kiss, “Toru,” you mumble, “I never stopped loving you, because I don’t think I ever could,” 

His eyes grow glassy, his fingers finding the back of your neck, “I know nothing I’ll do will make up for what I did — to you and Satomi, but,” he presses his forehead to yours, “if you both let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” 

And tears burn at the corners of your eyes, “Just stay with us, and promise to never leave — that’s enough,” and your lips brush his, “you’re more than enough for us, Satoru,” and he kisses you again and again and again, nearly climbing on top of you again, when you both hear a tiny gasp from the door. 

Your heads both snap over to your baby daughter leaning against the door, badly hidden behind it, as she pokes her head in, “did mommy and daddy make up?” 

Your cheeks burn as you cover your face — you both had checked on Satomi before but she was fast asleep still, and now — you checked the time — 9:30 PM, you were sure she’d be up all night. 

“Yes baby, mommy and daddy had some stuff to talk about,” Satoru grabs your robe for you, handing it over as he pulls his discarded boxers on under the sheets, “come here,” and she squeals as she runs into her daddy’s arms, Satoru scoops her up before pressing kisses all over her face, her giggles and his grin nearly too much for you. 

“Now she’s gonna be up all night,” you murmur to Satoru, and he’s smiling. 

“I can tire her out,” he grins, and then he adds with a whisper, “and then I’ll tire you out,” and you flush, shoving him playfully, “come on, my love, let’s go play for a while and let mama rest,” and he’s sliding out of bed, carrying her out of the bedroom, and you watch him, lying on your side, with a smile on your lips.  

Maybe it wasn’t so bad having a husband — especially when it was Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru lets you and Satomi sleep in the next morning, making a smoothie for himself, as he starts to prepare breakfast. He did tire you both out last night, especially you — and you did some exhausting of your own, his fingers running over the hickies you left all over his neck and collarbone with a slight hum. He tied your apron on himself, only boxers and a sleeveless tee on. 

He started to crack eggs into a bowl with one hand. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again — he meant what he said. He would make it up to you, or at least he would try — and he would spend the rest of his life treasuring you and his kid — and maybe another if you let him have his way, he thought, biting back a grin. 

You had turned him down last night when he asked, 

“Don’t you think it’s time we try for another one?” His arms are winding around you, half hard erection already pressing into you, as the two of you stood right outside your daughter’s doorway, watching the angel sleep, “we did do well with the first one,” 

“Toru, we just got back together, we’re not having another kid,” and he’s already pouting, you know without looking at him, “but that would be nice — for our daughter to have a sibling,” and god, it made him to take right there (which he did), but he couldn’t wait until all three of you were ready. Because he wouldn’t dare to miss a second of it — never again. 

And then a knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and his brow furrows. Who could it be this early?

He walks over, checking through the peephole, a grin growing on his lips, oh, perfect timing. Satoru opens the door, leaning against the doorframe, “Yes?” 

Atsuya Kusakabe frowns, jaw nearly dropping as he attempts not to gape at Satoru Gojo standing in his date’s doorway, nearly dropping the bag of medicine and soup he had packed up for you, “Uh, sorry, I was looking for—“ 

“My wife?” He raises a brow, and Kusakabe’s face blanches, as Satoru only smiles with a shrug, “sorry I should say ex-wife, we did get a divorce,” and Kusakabe’s mouth opens and closes, “but you know, she never stopped being mine,” 

Kusakabe clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “where is—“ 

“She’s sleeping still,” Satoru’s lips curl, as he sighs, “she wasn’t feeling well yesterday, but I think I made her feel better last night,” and he’s rubbing the back of his neck, movement drawing his attention to your marks littering his body. 

A flush crawls up his neck and ears and he clears his throat, “I-I see,” he thrusts the bag into Satoru’s hands, “could you please give this to her and let her know—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing at his temples, “tell her whatever you want.” 

And he’s gone, door slamming behind him, click of the lock. He holds the bag behind him, only to walk forward to see you peeking from the bedroom, his button up shirt thrown over your head, as you rub your eyes,  “who was it?” 

He only smiles at you, dropping the bag in the trash, “No one important,” and he’s finding his way to your side, arms winding around your waist, “I made us breakfast,” 

“Oh really?” You hum, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses that only makes you sigh contently, “what’s the occasion?” 

“Oh, just the first day of the rest of our lives, nothing too big,” he hums, and you laugh, his favorite noise that only makes him fall deeper in love with you, if that was even possible, “have to treat you right don’t I, wifey?” 

“Yes, you do,” and your lips find his again, “my husband,” and the word sticks in his chest, a missing piece that fits right back into place, and fixes a hole that had been aching for far too long, “should we go wake up our daughter?” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Together.” 

✧ a/n: so i didn't think i'd finish this week with being at my sister's and having a con this weekend but i found the time! i hope you enjoyed this one. this is my reality for gojo i'm living in :) fun fact, satomi and satoru both mean enlightenment! :)

✧ taglist: @jasminelee324 , @forest-hashira , @spider-fan72 ,, @rougebrainsludge , @theshylittleelfgirl , @ririchurl , @johannakhalafalla , @hanlay , @fawnlikelore , @vickkysthings , @dead-kats , @hantaslittlearsonist t , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @augustwinesworld , @forest-fruits-jam , @kirashuu , @catsgomurp , @daddytojji , @notgoodforlife , @hyori2 , @shrimpy109 , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @sunamatic , @rougebrainsludge , @redmangotango , , @psychxbby , @nakariabnrb , @mua-for-now @dazailover1900 , @alwaysfreakingout , @yamaguccitadashi , @equikaz , @gojosatorubrainrot

[suguann]

LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME LOVER—JJK MEN.

✎. jjk men showing you how much they love you. | wc. 2k+

tags. fem!reader, window sex, possessive behavior, mirror sex, oral sex, public sex, pregnancy, fingering, praise kink, size kink

featuring. gojo, nanami, geto

masterlist

↬ GOJO

He doesn’t think you’ve looked more breath-taking than you do right then, humming softly to the music on the radio while painting your toenails, the last stretch of daylight kissing your exposed knees through the window. You’re so lost in your own little world that you don’t notice him watching you.

The important emails on his phone go unanswered, saved for another day when you’re not there to distract him. You stretch your smooth legs to inspect your work and glance across the living room to give him one of those soft smiles that sends warmth through his middle.

“What do you think?” you ask, little sunflower yellow toes flexing on the coffee table. 

“They’re pretty, baby.”

Another smile stretches across your face, that full lower lip caught between your teeth. “You think so?”

“Positive.” His phone lies forgotten on the cushion beside him, and he leans back to make room for you. “Come here.”

His eyes make a lazy trail up from your delicate ankle bone to the soft slope of your collarbone that peeks out from one of his t-shirts as you walk towards him, getting his fill until his fingers itch to touch and retrace the invisible path. 

Gojo can’t help it. He’s struck by the sight of you.

He wishes he could trap the shocked and delighted sound you make when he pulls you into his lap, keep it tucked away in the untainted nooks and crannies for him to return to later. A little melody on repeat for the days he feels undeserving of such sweet things, how he treads the fine line of corrupting that wide-eyed innocence you have of the world.

Still. Still, the truth is, he’s a little greedy, and he doesn’t really care how bad of a person that makes him.

Everyone looks up to him in some way. Nobody ever called him a saint. 

Gojo works out more of those soft sounds—pressing you against the chilly, tall windows in the living room, fist in your hair, and his mouth attached to the long column of your throat—that make his mouth go dry. Your back arches to ease the way he fucks up into you, tits brushing up against the glass, and he loves how the distant city lights below shimmer around you like a halo.

A high-pitched whimper, sharp breaths fogging over the window. “‘Toru people can see.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of how your soft and silky little cunt sucks him in—wrapped up all warm and wet around his cock—cursing under his breath when he tells you he doesn’t care. You’re his, anyway. 

“Let them see,” he grunts into your neck, teeth catching along your skin before licking at the vulnerable spot above your pulse. “Let them see how I fuck you because they can’t have you.”

Gojo can barely control himself at the mere idea that anyone would ever think they could. He’ll be the last and only one to know how you turn into a fucking vice when he hits particularly deep—how you shake like a leaf, legs coltish, after he makes you cum hard. 

↬ GETO

It feels like the epitome of terrible days: from the tomato stain on your skirt to your boss forcing deadlines down your throat and surprising Suguru at work only to find a pretty, willowy brunette sitting on the corner of his desk, her hand resting on a stack of graded papers, and fluttering her long lashes at him. 

The final nail in the coffin (a stupid nail, but a hammered-down nail nonetheless) is how she laughs and touches his arm, and Suguru doesn’t brush her off. He actually laughs back, all perfectly straight teeth on display and eyes crinkling at the corners. One of those heart-stopping smiles stretching across his face that you foolishly thought were all yours. 

Suddenly, you wonder if it was out of obligation that made him compliment you that morning in your dress—look at you, a kiss to your cheek, I’m going to fucking ruin you—a perfunctory greeting after being together so long (like making coffee or picking out paint), to make you feel better, or if he meant it—

A tap with sticky fingers to your cheek. “C’mon, watch.” 

You feel like you’re looking from the outside in, a spectator with a front-row seat that has your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his spit-slick chin and cheeks resting against the crease where thigh meets hip. He gives you a syrupy grin that tightens something in your stomach like a screw. 

“Not me,” he says, words laced with amusement. 

Hesitantly, your gaze trails up from his to the floor-length mirror perched in front of the bed, and what you see has your fingers sinking into the sheets. 

You can hardly pull your eyes away from how your leg looks draped across his broad, muscular back, making you look so small even though you sit above him. And it’s like Suguru knows what you’re seeing because his grin grows wider. 

“See, look how perfect you are. That woman in the mirror is so fucking pretty, I can’t believe I get to tell everyone she’s mine.” His thumb parts you open for his mouth. “Why would you think you look otherwise, huh?”

“I…don’t know,” you whisper, head a fuzzy mess of weak excuses that evaporate before they even have a chance to make it onto your tongue.

“Hm, that’s not a good enough answer.” 

Your hips twitch when he noses at your clit. 

“Awe, I bet that feels good, huh? I’m gonna show you what happens when you talk bad about my pretty baby,” then he sucks it into his mouth, making you squeal.

He can’t blame you for squeezing your eyes shut at the slick, hot pressure dragging through your folds—shaky fingers tightening in Suguru’s long, dark hair. It feels equally like everything and not nearly enough until he suddenly pulls away, taking that jittery feeling in your belly with him.

“Why’d you—”

“If you look away, I stop.” He chuckles lightly at the little pout you give him before his lips suck at the tender spot near the crease of your thigh, “so watch.”

↬ NANAMI

After lunch, he drags you across the street where there’s a park for him to set up a picnic blanket under a tree. Kento rests his head on your lap, slipping an arm around your waist and rubbing the sore spot in your lower back from being on your feet for too long. 

It’s all very innocent: him kissing your round pregnant belly, you running your fingers through his soft hair and talking about the latest work gossip. 

You hum when you feel his fingers crawl up your thigh, slowly at first and with no destination, just soft, aimless circles here and there, until the calloused pad of his thumb skirts over the front of your underwear, making you jerk with a small squeak.

“Kento,” you giggle, fingers tightening in his hair. 

He smiles at the scandalized look spreading across your face and leans forward to press another kiss against your stomach.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, hand pushing up your dress. 

You glance around the park to see if anyone is paying attention to the two of you—an elderly couple feeding the ducks frozen peas by the pond, a mother and father playing with their giggling daughter in the grass, college kids throwing a frisbee, all far enough away to be out of earshot (but that’s not the real problem here)—before you look back at your husband. 

“W-what?” you sputter, wide-eyed realization taking over.

He presses another open-mouthed kiss to your thigh. “Do you trust me?”

A soft whine slips past your teeth, the hand not in his hair curling into the blanket. “But everyone will notice because I’m—I’m—”

(A beached whale. An air balloon. A carnival-sized melon. You get the gist.)

“Gorgeous.” He smooths a hand over your bump, open-fondness radiating across his features, the subtle hint of possessiveness there making you shiver. “You look so fucking gorgeous with my baby growing inside you. Let me take care of you.”

“B-but—”

Everything else melts away to the pulsing heat between your legs and your husband groaning from the wetness he finds there. Your shaky thighs fall open wider when his fingers hook under the edge of your underwear (unflattering things worn for comfort over sexual appeal), pulling them aside to run his fingers through your slick seam. 

Pregnancy brain clouds your judgment, and before you can think twice about your actions, how you definitely shouldn’t let Kento eat you out in the middle of a public park, you nod your head. 

His lips ghost over the tender flesh of your upper thigh. "I need to hear you say it."

It’s a low and shaky yes that has his fingers finally sinking into you to the third knuckle, steadily pumping in and out of you. You buck down onto his hand, trying to bite back the moan threatening to alert everyone in the park of the head under your skirt.

“You’re going to cum for me, just like this,” Kento tells you, voice muffled by a layer of powder blue cotton. “Alright, darling?” 

[girlgenius1111]

no time for losers

everyone saw alexia's goal celebration. only you got to see [and participate in] the match celebrations later that night. smut. 18+.

ps. this fic was made possible by @sunnyaelia who made very specific requests ☺️🤭🙃

-------

You held out as long as you could, truly. But you’d been ready to pounce on your girlfriend all day, the endorphins and emotions of the day only increasing this urge. The first people began to peel away from the after party and head up to bed, and you saw your opportunity. Alexia had kept you close to her all night, and now you stood pressed up against her, one of her arms slung along your neck. You’d been fiddling with the rings on your fingers when you saw Ingrid and Mapi slip away. You knew what they were up to. Lucy pulled Ona out of the room after that, but you were quite sure the Englishwoman just wanted to get some ice on the poor girl’s face. Once a few more of your teammates had left the room, you turned to tuck your face into Alexia’s chest, knowingly exactly how to get her to take you upstairs. 

If you were horny, she’d make you wait, just a bit. Even if she was too. If you pretended to be tired, though, she’d take you upstairs faster, so you let your eyes fall shut as you listened to the steady thump of Alexia’s heartbeat in your ear, just barely audible over the loud music pumping into the room from Patri’s speaker. 

“Tired?” Alexia asked gently, her hand gently placed on the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly. 

You nodded against her. It wasn’t a lie, you were tired. You’d played 60 minutes in an incredibly physical match. You were just much more interested in activities other than sleeping at the moment. 

“Vale, let’s go up.” She paired the words with a soft kiss to your head, keeping you held close to her as you both bid your teammates a goodnight and exited the room. She was being incredibly gentle with you as she led you upstairs, but you really hoped that would change soon. 

-------

“I thought you were tired?” Alexia huffed, breaking away from the deep kiss you’d pulled her into the minute the hotel room door had shut behind you. 

“I am.” You shrugged, letting your lips drift down to her jaw and work their way down her neck. 

“Just not too tired for this?” She wondered teasingly, while still holding a note of concern in her voice. 

“Nope.” 

“Promise?” Alexia asked gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you looked up at her. 

“Promise.” You confirmed. That was all she needed to hear before she was backing you up against the wall, one hand on the small of your back, the other threading through your hair. Her hands were everywhere, really, fluttering over your skin before settling at the hem of your shirt, trying to tug it up. You let her pull it off you, blushing slightly at the smirk that adorned Alexia’s features as she gazed down at you, before she was moving back in.She wasn’t being gentle anymore as she kissed you, and you were glad for it, though you still had a few things to do before this could go any further. 

“Ale,” you hummed.

“Hmm?” She didn’t pull back, nails scratching bluntly at your lower back. 

“Ale.” You repeated. 

Alexia groaned, but pulled away, giving you a cheeky smile to tell you that she wasn’t really annoyed. “What do you need mi amor?” 

“I need to wash the sunscreen off my face.” You whispered against her lips. “And I’m thirsty,” you added as an afterthought. She chuckled, gently pushing you away from her.

“Go wash your face. And take your clothes off.” 

“They’re already half off.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Go.” She instructed, turning you in the direction of the bathroom. She headed for her suitcase and you were rather excited to see what she was searching for. 

-------

When you exited the bathroom completely bare, you found Alexia in the same state, except for the harness and dildo fixed over her hips. She was neatly folding her clothes, putting them in a pile on the dresser, but she placed something on top of the pile that grabbed your attention. 

She turned to look at you, a cocky grin on her face brought a matching grin onto your face. You walked closer, grabbing the captain's armband off her pile of clothes and motioning for her to hold her arm out. Now it was Alexia’s turn to blush, just a bit. 

“Amor,” she complained, though she held her arm out all the same. 

“Mi capitana.” You hummed, slipping the armband on and wrapping it around her bicep. 

You made eye contact with your girlfriend, noticing a spark in her eye that wasn’t there before. 

“Su capitana,” she whispered, tugging you closer to her. “Then you better listen to what I tell you to do, no?” 

“I should.” You agreed, fighting a smile. 

“Bueno. On your knees.” She instructed, guiding you down as you complied easily, knowing exactly what she had in mind. 

Alexia always let you set the pace with this, but you were in no mood to go slow. The intense makeout session before, combined with the dominant way Alexia was staring down at you combined to make you wet and aching. 

You took Alexia’s strap into your mouth, gagging slightly as you did so. You worked it down your throat much faster than you normally did, desperate to please your girlfriend, and desperate to get her to touch you. You could feel your inner thighs covered in slick, and you pressed them together for a hint of anything at all, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by Alexia, who’s eyes were glued to you.

“Fuck yourself while I fuck your throat.” She instructed, removing one of your hands from where it held her hip and gesturing for you to put it between your legs. You wanted her inside of you, now, her fingers, her cock, anything, but for now, her cock in your mouth and your fingers in your pussy would do. 

You were wetter than you’d ever felt yourself, and your finger slipped easily through your folds and into your cunt. You were more focused on Alexia’s strap than you were on your own pleasure at that moment, though you still made sure to slip another finger in and stretch yourself out for her like you knew she wanted. You quickly found a rhythm that matched her hips thrusting her cock into your mouth, and you shifted, trying to get more comfortable. One of Alexia’s hands moved from the back of your head to trail up her abdomen and grab at her breast, giving it a rough squeeze. Your eyes followed the movement and before you knew it, you were caught up in drinking in the sight above you, your jaw going almost slack around Alexia’s cock. 

Her abs flexed with every movement, short breaths getting caught in her throat as she looked down at you. You were gazing up at her, captivated by the sight of her completely bare except for the captain’s armband wrapped around her bicep. Your eyes were wide, slightly watery, and your face was a mess, but you looked at your girlfriend with complete devotion, complete submission. 

“Joder,” Alexia groaned, the feeling of fucking your throat no longer doing it for her. She grabbed a fistfull of your hair and dragged you off her cock, hastily turning you around and bending you over the bed. You gasped slightly in shock at the change in position, but Alexia just leaned down, kissing messily across the skin of your back. “I need you now,” she whispered, her teeth nipping slightly at you. “I cannot wait.” 

You hung your head and took in a few shaky breaths, nodding quickly as she dragged herself through you, not yet pressing in. “Can you take it or do you need my fingers?” Alexia asked quickly, barely keeping herself from immediately fucking into you when your hips bucked back against her. 

“No, I can take it,” you told her breathlessly. The next second, she was burying herself inside of you, her cock hitting all the right places. 

“Jesus,” you cried, forgetting, or potentially not caring, that some of your teammates were just next door. You fisted the comforter in your hands, holding on for dear life as Ale railed into you. She fucked you frantically, desperate to get herself off and to get you off, like she’d been thinking about it all day. You certainly had. Ever since she tore her shirt off after scoring, you had barely been holding yourself back from her, and she knew it. Her wandering hands at the celebrations told you it, as did her insistence on having you now, as soon as she could. 

You barely heard the click of a button over the wet sounds your pussy was making, but then the strap was vibrating to life inside of you and your pleasure increased tenfold. Alexia’s forethought to bring the vibrating strap didn’t go unnoticed by you, and the slight cockiness that fueled that decision only turned you on more. As if she knew you’d win, as if she knew what she’d be doing as a celebration. 

Alexia wasn’t normally loud during sex, but you could hear her now with every grind and every thrust, grunting deep in her throat, her nails digging into your ass as she wrenched you back against her. Evidently, Alexia decided that was much too loud, because the sounds suddenly became muffled, and when you looked back at her, she’d stuffed her shirt in her mouth, holding onto it with her teeth, eyes shut, head thrown back. 

The 11 jersey dangled from her teeth, though she was still making noise deep in the back of her throat. You hadn’t realized how turned on you’d been since her goal celebration until that very moment, when you were reminded of it. 

And with the reminder of her goal, you were reminded of the pride you had for your girlfriend. You were proud of yourself, and of the team of course, but that didn’t compare to what you felt for Alexia. It was pride and it was pure joy. It was love, an all encapsulating and overwhelming love. It was emotion that didn’t quite match the rough sex you were having, and you were only more sure of Alexia’s perfection when she slowed down and very carefully flipped you onto your back. You let out a sharp breath at the feeling of her cock twisting inside of you, before you were lost in Alexia’s hazel eyes, her forehead pressing down into yours. You pulled the shirt from her mouth, tossing it onto the bed and leaning up for a kiss. Alexia moved closer, too, but she didn’t yet make contact. 

“Te amo mucho de menos, mi niña perfecta,” she whispered. She pressed her lips to yours, her hips beginning to pick up speed again, even as she leaned her weight down onto you. You kissed her back, hard, and slipped your tongue into her mouth. You couldn’t get her close enough to you, couldn’t feel her enough, but you weren’t giving up. Alexia tucked her face into the crook of your neck, exhaling sharply as you slid your hands down her back to grab at her ass, encouraging her to speed up the slow thrusting pace she was keeping. 

“I love you.” You whispered back. “And I need you to fuck me.” 

You felt your girlfriend grin into your skin, felt her shift slightly to hover above you. Her pace returned to the unforgiving one from before, and your head fell back against the mattress, a long whine coming from your mouth.  

Alexia grunted, a sound much quieter than the ones you were making. Her eyes were still so close to you, and it was all you could do to stare into them and watch the pleasure Alexia was feeling flash across her normally very composed face. 

“You feel so good amor,” she whispered breathily, dusting a few kisses onto the tip of your nose, her words an intense contradiction to the soft gesture. 

You couldn’t handle how soft she was being, while also fucking you so well. 

“Ale,” you whimpered, your voice louder than it should have been. Your girlfriend’s large hand slipped onto your face, covering your mouth as she hushed you. Her pace didn’t slow, though, if anything it picked up. The steady stimulation was getting you closer and closer, and all you wanted was more from her, to feel more from her. 

Alexia’s hand wasn’t doing much to lower the volume of the moans falling from your mouth. “Shh, mi niña, you have to be quiet,” she rasped, her lips nibbling at your ear. Before you could tell her that you couldn’t be quiet, she was sitting up onto her knees, spreading your legs wide, and yanking your body closer into her. It was an entirely different angle, and when she began to pound into you again, you could barely contain yourself, squirming against the mattress underneath her, almost overwhelmed from the pleasure. 

You let out a keening whine, one that was sure to be heard from anywhere nearby, and Alexia shushed you again. “Do I need to gag you?” She asked rhetorically, gently nudging your lips apart and slipping two fingers inside of your mouth. You groaned again, this time much quieter as you began to lick and suck at Alexia’s fingers. 

“Buena niña,” she cooed, picking up the pace of her hips. With your mouth preoccupied and Alexia’s jaw clenched tightly shut, the only audible sound in the room was the filthy smack of Alexia’s body meeting yours, and the wet slip of her cock moving in and out of you. 

And then her hand slid down your body, two fingers pressing into your clit, and you swore you saw stars. 

“I want you to come on my cock, vale?” Alexia said raspily, a small smirk tugging at her lips even as her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. “I want you to come when I fill you up.” 

A choked moan escaped from you around Alexia’s fingers and they pushed in further, pressing down against your tongue. Your girlfriend began to circle her fingers around your clit, starting slow but increasing the speed as your hips grinded down against her hand and her cock. Waves and waves of pleasure were washing over you and you weren’t sure where you stopped and where Alexia began. All you knew was that you just needed her to keep fucking going. 

You grabbed her wrist, pulled her fingers from your mouth and guided it to your throat. She gripped it in her hand and squeezed it slightly. Two of her fingers were wet against your skin, her fingers calloused and rough. 

Alexia was always soft where you needed her to be soft. And rough where you need her to be rough. When she released your neck and gripped at your hips to get better leverage it was paired with a soft whisper. 

“Are you close?” 

“Sí, so close Ale. I want to come with you.” You whined, body writhing against the mattress now. 

“Where, hmm? Where do you want me to come?” She asked teasingly. 

“In my pussy Ale, please, I need it,” you begged, your voice barely more than a whimper. 

Your girlfriend could only exhale sharply at your words and rub harder at your clit. 

“Come on, bebe, with me,” Alexia encouraged, the soft praise tugging you closer and closer to the edge. You could just lay there, try to jerk your hips down against Alexia as the pleasure began to overtake you. You heard Alexia swear above you, and you cried out her name as you came, feeling yourself clench violently around her strap. Alexia could barely move, but she didn’t need to. All she needed was to grind her hips where they were, get herself off on the stimulation of the strap vibrating against her clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she groaned, collapsing down onto you to shove her face into the crook of your neck. You clung tightly to her, Alexia’s body shuddering and shaking on you. You reached down in between you, clicking the button on the dildo to turn it off. It stilled inside of you, save for the occasional twitch of Alexia’s hips, and you tried to catch your breath. 

You were just recovering when Ale began to kiss at your neck again, sloppy wet kisses with just enough teeth involved that you knew she was going to be leaving marks. You didn’t really care. 

“Eres tan hermosa, tan bonita.” She mumbled against your skin. Your cheeks heated with a blush and you smiled at the ceiling threading your fingers through the baby hairs at the base of Alexia’s neck. She always got mushy after sex.

Or, if the way her hand was beginning to trail lightly down your abdomen was any indication, she always got mushy during sex. 

Alexia trailed kisses up your neck and down your jawline, nudging your head to press kiss the sweet spot right under your ear. 

“I want to taste you. I want to feel you on my fingers.” She murmured, before leaving a final kiss on your cheek and looking down at you adoringly. “Can I?” 

Who would say no? 

You were both sticky with sweat, still buzzing with adrenaline, and you had never felt such a deep yearning for another person in your life. It was almost comical how quickly after you nodded your head that Alexia was undoing the straps that had the dildo fastened to her waist, slipping out of it, and tossing it off the side of the bed.  

Alexia loved to have her tongue on you. She liked to savor every second, feel your thighs tighten against her head, feel your pussy pulse in her mouth. And she really loved to taste you. She took it slow, pressing loving kisses to your skin as she moved down your body, lacing her hands with yours just before she put her mouth on you. 

Alexia hummed at the taste of you, flicking her tongue carefully through your folds, knowing very well that you’d be sensitive. You were, and you twitched under her, squeezing her hands when she stiffened her tongue and began to work it against your clit. 

“You taste so good.” She groaned, pulling away to speak for just a second. Long enough for you to feel her hot breath on your core. You shivered, moaning softly and arching your back off the bed. “You are dripping, bebe, aye dios mío.”

“All for you.” You gasped, pulling your hands from hers and threading them through her hair, trying to press her closer into you. She took the opportunity, spreading your legs with her hands before stroking a careful finger over your entrance. 

“All for me? How lucky am I, to have the most beautiful girl in the world on my tongue, dripping all over my fingers? Screaming my name.” Alexia whispered filthily. “My good girl, opening up for me so well.” 

You whined at the praise, tugging lightly at the roots of her hair in an effort to tell her that you wanted more of it. Even if it took Alexia’s tongue off you, she kept it close enough that you could feel the vibrations of her words on you, her finger beginning to slide in and out of your pussy. 

“You like that? You like to hear how good you are for me?”

“Sí Ale, your good girl.” You cried, squirming slightly when Alexia slipped another finger into you. It wasn’t a stretch by any means but she was curling them perfectly inside of you, sliding over and over the spot inside of you that made you grab helplessly at the sheets. 

“My good girl.” She confirmed. “Are you going to make a mess on my fingers?”

“Mmhmm,” you sighed, trying to stop your legs from completely shutting around Alexia’s head. 

At the confirmation, Alexia returned her attention to your clit with a renewed eagerness. The combination of her fingers and her tongue were mind numbing, and you felt yourself hurtling over the edge once again. The blonde’s fingers fucked into your cunt rapidly through it, and just when you thought you felt that absolute best that you could, Alexia began to whisper against you as she pulled her tongue away from your clit, and slowed your fingers. 

“So good when your pretty pussy comes for me. My perfect girl.” Alexia cooed, enjoying the completely fucked out expression on your face. 

“Your perfect girl,” you whimpered back, wanting nothing more than to just be Alexia’s forever. Your girlfriend fixed her attention on your core, still leaking, still overwhelmingly wet, and knew what she wanted next. 

You’d barely come down at all before Alexia was lifting up her head from between your legs, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand, a slightly mischievous smile on her face. 

“I want to feel your pussy on mine,” Alexia rasped, swinging a leg over yours and pressing herself down onto you. She was soaking wet and she moved fast, clearly on edge from getting you off. Her body grinded perfectly down onto yours and your jaw practically dropped at the sight of her above you. Her abdomen tensing and untensing, her arms flexing as she held your legs apart. Her breasts bounced lightly as she moved, her hair half out of her ponytail. She was so enticing, so perfect, and she was yours. You could barely think straight. 

“Fuck, you are so wet,” the blonde sighed, and if you hadn’t been confident that any words that you tried to speak would come out as a garbled, whiny mess, you would have told her the same. 

Alexia knew just how to position herself to perfectly stimulate you both, her strong legs helping her grind back and forth, back and forth. You could hear how wet you both were, every inch Alexia moved making a filthy sound that only heightened everything. It was perfect, and even though you’d just come, Alexia had just gotten you off, you could feel your abdomen tightening, your legs really beginning to shake against the mattress. You moved against her as best you could, though it was hard to focus on grinding up into her when she was being so entirely distracting. 

You were close, bordering on overstimulation, but in the sweet spot where there wasn’t a single thought in your head other than the pleasure Alexia was bringing you. Alexia was close, too, her hips beginning to buck somewhat frantically, sharp breaths leaving her mouth at an increasing speed. 

“Bebe,” she cried, “I am- close,” 

Alexia wasn’t asking permission, she was setting an almost unspoken expectation, and you knew it. 

“Gonna come,” you told her, still out of breath even as your girlfriend did all the work above you. The sight of her alone took your breath away. 

“Dios mio, amor,” Alexia whined, her voice hitting a higher pitch as her hips stuttered. 

“Shit, Ale, don’t stop,” you moaned, gripping her hips in your hand to encourage her to speed up. That did it for both of you, the added contact and the added speed combining to push you both over the edge. 

Alexia cried out, much louder than she normally was. It lasted longer for you, until Alexia could feel your pussy pulsing against hers. You pushed at her hips, needing even the slight stimulation of her wet cunt on you to stop. 

“Too much,” you whimpered, tugging on Alexia’s hand in an attempt to get her to come closer. She did, climbing off you and collapsing onto her back, immediately tugging you into her arms so that your head was resting comfortably on her chest. 

You lazily kissed at the skin of her chest before looking up at her. She was already looking down at you, a small smile on her dazed face. 

“You are so fucking beautiful.” She whispered, thumb brushing over the flush of your cheeks. 

You shook your head gently. “You are perfect.” 

“Hmm.” Alexia hummed, dragging you up closer to her, until she could plant a kiss on your cheek. “No, you.” 

There was really no use arguing, though you had 4 reasons from today alone why Alexia was the perfect one in the relationship. 1 insane goal, and 3 other… convincing things. 

Your eyes shut and Alexia watched as you grew sleepier and sleepier. She didn’t forget the look on your face just a few minutes ago, one of awe and love. You looked at her the same way when she scored, when she ran for the first time after her second surgery. When she bought you flowers and coffee on a sunday morning, and when you rolled over in the morning to find her already awake, just looking at you. Alexia was so much more than just a footballer to you, and she really, really loved that. And you. 

------

i didn't proof read so. as always. tell me if you find typos.

hope you enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻🙃🙃🙂🙂🙂

[joonieskinks]

I’m just imagining Simon who happens to stumble upon your roommate ad. And of course he thinks he’d be a perfect candidate. He’s clean, minimal and of course, gone most of the time. He’d still pay, he’s good mannered, quiet- he would absolutely be good for this pretty girl whose profile picture on his phone he can’t stop looking at.

He just wants you to be comfortable with someone like him, with someone who looks like him- but when he meets you, all those fears go out the window. You’re kind, so warm and open to him. You’re receptive and he’s so unnerved by it. You’re not what he was expecting at all, but he’s so in love with you right from the get go.

It makes leaving for missions so much harder. Especially on nights like tonight when you’ve made dinner for two, you’re looking absolutely gorgeous in your pajamas, you’re smiling sweetly at him. Bloody hell, the things he would do to you if had the chance-

It doesn’t really click with him until this moment that he actually can do something about it. In his head, he’s conjured you up to be so out of reach and untouchable. But that’s not true at all, it’s just a fear that he’ll overstep. However at this point, the night before he goes, it feels now or never. He supposes he can always move out if it doesn’t work, he’s just got to know.

“Simon? You okay?” You ask gently, taking your apron off and hanging it back up on the pantry door.

He gets up from the table and heads straight for you. You stand there in shock as he removes his mask, he takes your hips into his grasp and pins you against the door.

His forehead meets yours and he closes his eyes, inhaling your scent and enjoying this moment being so close to you. Your hands automatically latch onto this shirt, toying with the fabric, eyes moving to admire his face, his lips.

“…want you.” Simon murmurs out, his mind is reeling and he wants needs to feel you on him, to have you at least for tonight. At least to try. He just needs you to reciprocate, show him some kind of sign you want this too.

“Please”. You beg and just like that he springs into action. His lips latching onto yours, he’s shoving his leg between your own and you’re writhing against him and the door. Your hands in his blonde hair, exploring his chest, you go until you run out of air. He’s digging his thumbs into your hips, cherishing this moment and heavens above - you feel so good on his body, better than he could have fathomed.

Simon ends up making quick work, bringing you to your bedroom where he lays you down, his body on top of yours. Grinding into you, his mouth never leaving yours, your neck, your breasts. He then moves to take off your clothes, making his way down your body. Gently removing your panties and kissing your inner thighs, the scruff of his slight beard making your skin tingle.

He laps at your folds, his tongue circling your bud, his fingers deep within you. You cum around him and he’s in awe at the sight, your back arching in pleasure. You glance down at him and he’s smirking, it makes him feel good to know he made you come undone like this, that you’re all his.

“You’ve got me all night, love. There will be plenty more of this when I get back.”

[contact-guy]

Part 7, the final comic in my SIGN OF THE FOUR chapter. (Part one), (part two), (part three), (part four), (part five), (part six).

The context for this conversation is: Holmes has had no work from Scotland Yard due to rumors about his and Watson's relationship. He responded to this with excessive cocaine use and then working himself unhealthy on the one case that came along; Mary Morstan's. Meanwhile, Watson befriended Mary, who is also gay, and realized that a lavender marriage with her could make him and Holmes safe, as well as granting her more freedom. Watson has not yet told Holmes of his decision.

(This is part of the Watsons sketchbook series!)

canon scene under the cut, which is achingly poignant in its own right:

“Well, and there is the end of our little drama,” I remarked, after we had set some time smoking in silence. “I fear that it may be the last investigation in which I shall have the chance of studying your methods. Miss Morstan has done me the honour to accept me as a husband in prospective.”

He gave a most dismal groan. “I feared as much,” said he. “I really cannot congratulate you.”

I was a little hurt. “Have you any reason to be dissatisfied with my choice?” I asked.

“Not at all. I think she is one of the most charming young ladies I ever met, and might have been most useful in such work as we have been doing. She had a decided genius that way: witness the way in which she preserved that Agra plan from all the other papers of her father. But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment.”

“I trust,” said I, laughing, “that my judgment may survive the ordeal. But you look weary.”

“Yes, the reaction is already upon me. I shall be as limp as a rag for a week.”

“Strange,” said I, “how terms of what in another man I should call laziness alternate with your fits of splendid energy and vigour.”

“Yes,” he answered, “there are in me the makings of a very fine loafer and also of a pretty spry sort of fellow. I often think of those lines of old Goethe,—

Schade dass die Natur nur einen Mensch aus Dir schuf, Denn zum würdigen Mann war und zum Schelmen der Stoff.

“By the way, à propos of this Norwood business, you see that they had, as I surmised, a confederate in the house, who could be none other than Lal Rao, the butler: so Jones actually has the undivided honour of having caught one fish in his great haul.”

“The division seems rather unfair,” I remarked. “You have done all the work in this business. I get a wife out of it, Jones gets the credit, pray what remains for you?”

“For me,” said Sherlock Holmes, “there still remains the cocaine-bottle.” And he stretched his long white hand up for it.

[undertheorangetree]

Tantrum

Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.

Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.

When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics.  If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.

Though not without complaint.

She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.

“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”

It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”

He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.

She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.

“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”

She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”

The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.

She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.

Read the rest here :)

[ktgoodmorning]

Keeping Secrets

Claudia Pina x putellas!reader

You get a new addition, much to your sister's dismay but your girlfriends excitement.

Masterlist

“Mapi, I’m serious right now, you can’t tell anyone I’m doing this. Not Claudia, definitely not Alexia, nobody.” The older woman rolled her eyes at you but you both knew she’d take you seriously, if anyone wanted to avoid the wrath of your sister, it was Mapi. You wouldn’t have even bothered bringing Mapi but you needed the moral support and it was her friend that’d be doing the piercing for you. 

“I don’t understand why you’re not telling Pina, though. She’s gonna see it soon enough anyways, right?” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“I already told you, I’m not hiding it from her, it's just a surprise cause I know she’ll love it.” You apparently didn’t hide the smirk on your face as well as you’d hoped to, but you knew that the second you let Claudia see your new tongue piercing, she would be obsessed for more reason than one. 

“Ew, if you don’t wipe that look off your face I might actually throw up,” you giggled at the older woman and pushed her away playfully, something you inherited from your older sister. “Come on, I have to fill in as your older sister since Alexia still doesn’t know about you two. Which I still don’t think is a good idea, by the way.” She gave you a knowing look but still kept a smile on her face. 

You knew she was right, both about her stepping into your sister’s role, and also that it was a bad idea that you and Claudia were hiding your relationship from her, but at this point you just weren’t ready. To be fair, it’s not like Alexia was the only person you were hiding it from. The only people who knew about you two were Mapi, Ingrid, and Vicky, and Vicky wasn’t even supposed to know. 

Vicky only knew about the two of you because she had been playing games on your phone when you got a rather X rated text from Claudia and easily caught on to the nature of your relationship. The younger girl knowing about it was more of a nuisance than anything else. Her new favorite thing to do was hold it over your head when she wanted something from you. You didn’t quite think she’d actually spill your secret, but it was a risk you still weren’t willing to take, so every time you said no to her, she’d give you that look, with that stupid little smirk, until you eventually gave in and gave her what she wanted.

Mapi, on the other hand, had been surprisingly mature about it all. You and Pina had both, unknowingly, been telling her about your feelings for each other before you ever got together, so it only felt natural to tell her when you finally did.

 The night Claudia finally asked you out and you said yes, you both were so giddy and excited that you called her to tell her. The defender knew it would happen eventually but was just waiting for you two to figure it out yourselves only because Ingrid told her to stay out of your business, so when she got the call, she was almost as excited as both of you. She also knew however, that she had a big responsibility being the only one who knew (besides Ingrid). 

Both of you were close with her, making her protective over both of you. The fact that neither of your other friends or family knew, only made her more protective, especially for you. 

Mapi was obviously quite close with your sister, so she felt she had a duty to fill that sisterly role when Alexia was kept out of the loop. Because of this, it was typical for you to see her switch from her role as your friend to that of a protective older sister. The athlete didn’t approve of the way you kept it from your sisters and made sure you knew that from the very beginning, but at the end of the day, she knew you were an adult and couldn’t force you. So at the very least, she’d make sure to stand in for them until they knew.

That’s how you found yourself here, getting glared at every time you made a suggestive joke over the piercing you were about to get. “I still don’t get why you’re getting a tongue piercing, Cari. It sounds painful and you can’t even see it!” 

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t feel-”

“IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE I’LL HIT YOU!” She gave you a gentle shove while you were busy laughing at your own joke. It truly wasn’t the only reason you were getting the piercing but it sure didn’t hurt. You knew Claudia would love it and love how it looked on you and you were excited to finally do it. Your schedule had been so busy that you had been waiting for a day where you had time, not too close to a game day, and today was perfect. All you had was a recovery session later in the day before a couple days off to take it easy and let it heal. The more time off you had, the easier you knew it’d be to hide it from your sister too. 

...

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting in the locker room in front of your cubby, using your tongue to play with the new metal bar going through it. To say you were excited would have been an understatement. Just feeling the metal in your mouth gave you a confidence boost you didn’t know you needed. 

You were buzzing to show Claudia, knee bouncing, fingers tapping along the side of the bench next to you. The plan was to wait until after training to show her. You knew the second she saw it that she’d be too excited to play it cool and keep the rest of the team ( and more importantly your sister) from seeing it. She also was likely to be all over you and give away the secret of your relationship as well, so you decided to wait until you were home, or at least in the car, before she could see it.  

You were on your phone as you sat there, waiting for the rest of your teammates to arrive, especially your girlfriend. More of your teammates started to walk in but you paid them no mind, spending your time texting Claudia, excited to see her for the first time all day. You missed your sister coming in and shooting you a suspicious look over the small smile that was plastered on your face as you texted. If you realized it was there, you would’ve worked harder to hide it but it was so subconscious that you had no idea you were doing it. 

“Somebody’s in a good mood today, what’s got you smiling at your phone?” Alexia greeted you with a smile and a small ruffle to your hair, something she knew you hated and was always doing anyway. 

You scowled at her actions and immediately put your phone down, maybe a bit too quickly, causing your sister to instantly take note. “Nobody, I’m just in a good mood, I had a good morning with Mapi.” You gave her a small shrug and watched a smirk growing on her face. 

“Hmmm, I just thought it was a cute dog video or something but since you said it’s nobody, I assume it must be a person then?”

You met her with an eye roll but you couldn’t deny the blush that was growing on your face, suddenly nervous you’d give yourself away. “Alexia, don’t you have something better to do?” you sighed. 

She furrowed her eyebrows at you, seemingly intrigued by something else now. “What’s up with you, your voice sounds weird?” Her question was light-hearted enough but you instantly froze.

The one thing you didn’t account for- the way your tongue was a bit swollen and your speech was a bit off as you got used to the new piece of metal in your mouth. The comment from your sister made your eyes go wide. Your mind was racing to come up with a lie but simultaneously went completely blank. You opened your mouth to speak but then shut it when you came up with nothing, only incriminating yourself even further. It was clear to everyone in the room that you were hiding something. 

You didn’t realize how many of your teammates had now arrived, including your girlfriend who came bouncing through the door at that exact moment. Her face lit up when she saw you but dropped the second she saw the look on yours. Clearly she realized something was going on between you and Alexia. 

All the girls knew not to get involved in anything between you two, but it was obvious they were trying to hide their interest in the current situation. You saw the little side eyes and short glances your way as they tried to catch a word of what was going on. 

You and Alexia were close; you had a great relationship. But it also wasn’t unusual for you to butt heads at times. She was fiercely protective over you and at times it pissed you off. Sometimes you wished she could be more like Alba and not worry so much about pushing you to be your best but just let you live your life instead. When the two of you got to fighting, everyone knew, there was no getting in the middle of it. 

The second she saw your reaction to her previous question, Alexia’s soft smile turned to a cold glare, “Hermana, what are you hiding from me?” 

“Nothing, Ale, it’s no big deal, I just-” 

“Don’t lie to me! You know I don’t like when you lie and you’re still talking weird. Open your mouth.” Her voice was cold in a way that shook you to your bones. She was oddly calm, as if she could explode any second, and somehow that scared you more than any yelling match you had with her. It pissed you off that she’d do this with your teammates around but it still made you shrink just as much as it did when you were little kids. 

Your sister took your silence as disobedience and shrunk in closer to you, “Open. Your. Mouth.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see your teammates all frozen around you, watching closely to figure out what was happening between you. Mapi was worried, knowing exactly what you were keeping from her and also knowing that she was partially responsible for it. Claudia was worried in a different way. She was confused as to what it was you were keeping from your sister besides your relationship and knew how much this interaction would hurt your feelings. 

You continued to shrink under Alexia’s gaze, finally submitting to her and opening your mouth, gently sticking out your tongue to show her your new addition. You watched her eyes go wide. Her mouth opened and shut a few times in an attempt to figure out what to say but still came up short. You wanted nothing more than to disappear at that moment. 

“Ale-”

“Why would you do that?” she cut you off, her voice a harsh whisper, still scarily calm. 

“I-”

“Why?! Why would you do that, (y/n)?!” 

This was the moment she snapped. 

Your sister was immediately standing over you, voice raised like you expected it to be from the beginning of the conversation. You sighed in annoyance, trying your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes at her reaction. Why couldn’t she just let you live your life? Instead she had to be yelling at you in front of all your teammates over a simple piercing. 

When you glanced around the room, you saw Claudia staring at you with eyes as wide as saucers. You didn’t know it but your girlfriend was torn on how to feel right now. The second she saw your tongue piercing, she could hardly hold back a smile. Her mind instantly went to how good it looked and started wandering to some of the other benefits she could see coming from that piercing. But her excitement and attraction to you was quickly overshadowed by protectiveness for you. She knew she couldn’t step in- the last thing you needed was for Alexia to learn about your relationship and she knew you could handle yourself. But gosh it was hard to just sit and watch you shrink under your sister. 

Mapi was chewing on her bottom lip nervously. She was the one person who could sometimes step in and diffuse your arguments but she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not, especially with her involvement in the situation.

Seeing your teammates' reactions gave you some level of courage, lighting a spark in you to stand up for yourself. “Alexia! Why can’t you understand that I’m an adult and can make my own decisions?” 

“Because your decisions are stupid! What if it gets ripped out during a match, huh? Then what? Or when you break your teeth on it? Just so you can feel cool or something? Is that it?” 

“It’s not your decision! It shouldn’t matter what I do! It doesn’t matter to you when I do anything else and now when you don’t like it suddenly you have a problem?! You don’t get to do that, it’s not fair to me!” 

“Don’t pretend I don’t care about you! Do you realize how much I do for you?” 

That really set you off. You were always telling her how grateful you were for everything she did for you throughout your life and it wasn’t fair for her to hold that over your head. 

You raised your voice even further, basically screaming at your sister in the middle of the locker room, “This isn’t about you for once Alexia! I made this choice for myself! It has nothing to do with you and I don’t need your opinion on it. It’s ridiculous that you’re so upset over something this small. I have nothing left to say to you, if you don’t get it by this point, that’s your fault, not mine.” At this, you stormed out of the locker room, overflowing with anger towards your sister but also embarrassed that your whole team had just watched that argument. 

You didn’t have a plan as to where you were going after leaving the locker room, you just needed space from your sister. The two of you were both stubborn and it wasn’t unusual for it to bubble up like this, you just needed space. As soon as you had walked out, Mapi started tearing into the captain, trying to get her to understand where you were coming from. 

While the older women yelled at each other, Claudia half-heartedly continued getting ready for training. She was trying to figure out how to react or if you’d even want her to follow you. She wanted to, for sure. She wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and make sure you were okay. But she wasn’t sure you’d want to risk your secret getting out, especially when Alexia was already mad at you. 

The brunette gave it a few minutes, feeling like it was an acceptable amount of time for her to leave the room without it being obvious she was following you. She wandered the hallways some, not expecting to stumble into you sitting on the floor, tucked away next to some random vending machines, virtually out of sight from people walking the main corridor. 

“Do you want love right now or do you want some space?” Claudia squatted down next to you for a moment in an attempt to give you some room in case you didn’t want to see her. Normally she’d want nothing more than to engulf you in a hug but with the secret of your relationship looming and you still being in a public place, she didn’t want to overstep. She was also more hesitant knowing that arguments with your sister were sometimes a touchy subject. 

You raised your head to look at her from where it was resting against your knees when you heard the familiar voice. “I don’t know. I’m fine,” you shrugged, “I just needed to get away from her for a minute.” 

Claudia responded with a nod and sat down next to you, close enough you could lean into her if you wanted but not too close that it’d be suspicious if anyone walked by. “I get it. I can always just listen if you want to rant about it or anything.” 

It was killing her not to ask about your piercing. She wanted almost nothing more than to get a good look at the piece of metal in your mouth, but she knew it wasn’t the time to ask.

“Thank you, Clau.” You leaned your head on her shoulder, just grateful for her calming presence next to you, especially as she rested her hand on top of yours. “It’s just frustrating, but I know she means well.” 

Your girlfriend gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “she does, but it still doesn’t make it any less frustrating.” 

Alexia’s reaction to your piercing was exactly the reason you hadn’t told her about your relationship. Everyone knew she just wanted to protect you but she seemed to forget you were your own person with your own life. The captain had a hard time loosening her reins on you and that was exactly what caused you to push against her at times. 

When she felt like she’d given you an appropriate amount of time to calm down, Claudia finally spoke up, deciding she couldn’t hold it in any longer. The brunette’s voice was tentative, much more than it ever was, still not sure if she should bring it up yet. “So do I get to see what made her freak out so bad?” It was clear she was trying to hide her excitement and suppress a smirk that continued to grow. 

You gave her a light chuckle at how quickly she could pull you from your annoyance and bring you back to the excitement you’d had earlier. “Clau, you can’t do anything crazy when I show you, we're still in public remember?” 

You laughed at the way she nodded quickly, eager like a little kid awaiting a treat. When you stuck out your tongue to show her the new addition, Claudia’s jaw just about hit the floor. She had seen a glimpse of it when you showed your sister but now that she could really see it up close, she was blown away. 

“Ay dios mio, you’re so fucking hot, babe,” she groaned as she leaned into you, looking for any sort of physical contact, but you didn’t give her much, still just keeping a hold of her hand as you giggled at her reaction. 

“Clau, we can’t do this, you know that. Someone might see us.” You could both tell your words were tentative, not quite fully convinced yourself as you both leaned into each other further. 

“Mmmm I know but look at you. How is my girlfriend more badass than me?” She pressed some light kisses to the side of your neck, doing her best to be careful but ultimately failing. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go the rest of the day without kissing you, knowing that’s in your mouth.” She mumbled into your shoulder, sure to keep her voice down in case anyone came looking for the two of you. 

“Well I have even worse news then,” this was the part you were a lot less excited about. “I’m not supposed to be doing any kissing for a few weeks while it heals.” 

“NOooo!” Her whining was much louder than she had been just moments before, throwing her head back dramatically. 

You gave her shoulder a light smack but still just smiled at her reaction, “Claudia, be quiet someone could hear you, you have to calm down.”

“Calm? You want me to be calm right now? How am I supposed to go that long without kisses?” she stuck out her bottom lip to pout at you, something she did all the time. 

“You can still kiss me though, just not on the lips! And I think we can both agree that it’ll be worth it in the end, yes?” 

Your girlfriend’s pout had been replaced with a smirk as she just hummed in response and buried her face in your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses anywhere she could reach. You both knew you shouldn’t let her continue but didn’t have the willpower to stop. At some point during her kisses, she had turned to face you better, reaching one hand to land on your waist and pull you closer, the other grabbing at your thigh. 

“Clau, we can’t- we can’t do this.” you struggled to get your words out, suddenly caught up in her actions. 

“Hmmm, are you gonna stop me though?” you felt her fingernails dig into your thigh as her hand ran dangerously higher. 

“No,” you whispered breathlessly as her hand continued to move up, “But if we get caught I’m blaming you.”

And as if on cue, you were suddenly being yelled at. “Dios mío, habláis en serio?!” The two of you immediately pushed away from each other, scattering as far away as you could when you heard the voice. 

When you looked up, you were relieved to see that it was only Mapi and let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, flinching as she started to scold you. 

“What is wrong with you? You’re at training! You’re just lucky it’s me who found you and not your sister! I can’t even imagine what she would have done. If you’re gonna pull shit like this, you need to tell her about you two, cause she can’t accidentally stumble into whatever that was.” She grabbed you by the arm to pull you up from the ground, both you and Claudia looking down sheepishly. 

The older woman held you in front of her, pressing a finger into your chest, “you are going to go back to that locker room and we are going to tell everyone I found you calming down after your argument with Alexia and we just happened to run into Pina in the hallway. And you both,” now she pulled your girlfriend up next to you, “are going to hope to God that you didn’t leave any marks on her neck, because I can only defend you so much. Understand?” 

Neither of you could make eye contact yet, still scared of how serious Mapi had become, nodding your heads rapidly at her statement. “And Pina, you keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Si, si, I will, I promise.” 

“Good,” she appeared to be satisfied by your answers and started pushing you both back towards the locker room. “Now I’m gonna try to erase that image from my mind so I don’t throw up.” 

You did your best to suppress a smirk at Mapi’s reaction and tried to sneak a look at your girlfriend who was walking along next to you. The two of you locked eyes for a brief moment but looked away quickly to make sure you wouldn’t giggle at you both having the same thought. 

“Hey! I saw that look! Keep walking!” This time you could barely keep it together at Mapi’s feigned seriousness, while the three of you continued back to the locker room, your secret still safely between the three of you and Vicky, just praying it would stay that way.

Not sure how I feel about this one, let me know! Planned to do more in this universe but now can't quite decide, would love some ideas if you want more of it, I know not everyone loves the Pina ones as much.

Masterlist

[likedovesinthewindd]

Ex bf art donaldson seeing reader for the first time in a decade and forgetting the meaning of personal space. That man would not take his baby dear eyes and manly hands of you until you fall for his submissive aura.

I'm actually going crazy wtff I'm obsessed!!!

He's the last person you had expected to see in a place like this, but you'd suppose you would've never imagined yourself in a place like this either. Loneliness drove people to strange places, it seemed.

He looked good. He still looked good. He's visually grown and matured, no longer the coy college boy but a refined man, yet he still looked boyish when he smiled or laughed. It warmed you to see he hadn't lost that light behind his eyes after all these years – life could be cruel, after all. You had half a mind to ask him how Tashi was doing, but the slight tan line on his finger being the only indicator of said marriage told you to leave the subject unscathed for now.

You didn't say anything when he chose to move in next to you in the booth instead of across, or when he insisted on buying you a drink, or when he looked at you as if you had been the answer to an unheard prayer. You didn't say anything because you, in return, had relished in the feeling of being seen, desired after so long.

He talked about how he's retired now, about how much happier he's been since he put the racket down and about his daughter, and you listened dutifully, watching his eyes lit up in that same boyish way when he talked about about Lily.

In return, he asked you about your life and what you've doing, all while his thumb rubbed over the top of the hand grasped in his. "We probably look like some happy couple to other people right now," you had commented, looking down at your hand clasped in his but making no move to pull it away. He had laughed, thumb still across your skin, and replied with a huffed, "yeah, we probably do." Not pulling his hand away either.

It was so strange to you; after all these years things still felt so natural with him. A part of you still wanted to be bitter about the way things had ended back then, but you couldn't find it in you to be. Not when it still felt so right.

"What?" you asked after a silence a little too long. He just smiled, and your chest clenched at the sight. "I'm really glad we found each other again," he replied softly, almost too soft for the noisy atmosphere of the bar. You wouldn't be able to hear anything anyway with the way your heart was beating in your ear at his words.

The two of you sat like this for hours, catching up and laughing at each other's awful jokes until you realized how late it had gotten. He offered you a ride home which you had accepted gratefully, and now as tge both of you stood infront of your door, you wished the night didn't have to end. You weren't even sure of you would see him again.

It was great seeing you again, Art. Thank you," you spoke as you opened your arms in an offered hug which he accepted gladly. Your arms wrapped around each other, your hands rubbing against his back and taking the moment to savour his cologne. He still managed to smell the same, and you nearly sobbed at the thought.

You pulled away from him with a sigh, finding a pensive expression on his face. "You okay?" you asked. The furrow in his brows relaxed slightly before he answered. "Yeah, it's just," he breathed before continuing, "I think that's the most intimate thing I've experienced in a while."

His confession hit you like a ton of bricks, and you hadn't realized you hadn't said anything until he spoke up again. "That makes me sound a loser."

You laughed at that, not because you agreed but because there wasn't a world where you could think Art was a loser. He could be a total washout, the worst tennis player on the ranking, and you'd still think highly of him.

"I don't think you're a loser, Art," you told him as your hands rested on the sides of his face, taking a moment to appreciate his pretty face. Still as pretty and sweet and funny as all those years ago.

The kiss felt like a reunion between two hearts. Like this very moment had been exactly what you had been looking for for the last ten plus years. It felt like home, and when you pulled away, you felt homesick.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathing in the moment before his head lifted to kiss your forehead. You couldn't help but smile. You were finally home.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (31/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The promised back massage - and friends help each other.

Warnings: 18+ (thigh riding, inexperienced!reader)

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm so proud. Charlie won his home race! I'm still crying. feedback is appreciated!

"So?" asks Charles as you move further and further away from the beautiful house. "What do you think of them?"

You smile at him. "You have a really great family, Charles. Maybe a little wild, but it's obvious how much you love each other."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I love them more than anything. Ever since my father died, we've taken every opportunity to spend time together." He swallows briefly. "We appreciate each other. And that's worth a lot."

You carefully reach for his hand, which is resting on the shift stick, and turn it so that you can interlace your fingers with his. You place it on your lap and stroke the back of his hand in gentle circles with your thumb. "Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me."

"Actually, I didn't have any other choice. I think my mother would have kicked down our front door if I kept you from her." Charles has to grin. "I definitely wouldn't have survived that."

"So that's how it is," you grin and let go of his hand with mock outrage. "So you only took me with you out of pure self-protection."

Before you can cross your arms in front of your chest, he grabs your hand again and brings it up to his mouth so that he can tentatively blow a kiss on your knuckles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that it's incredibly important to me that you know my family? And that you like them?"

You feel the heat rush to your face as he brushes his lips over the thin skin of your fingers. You take a quick breath and stare at him before nervously - and slightly turned on - looking away from him. "Maybe." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible and hope that Charles doesn't notice the tremble in your voice. "I'm definitely glad Arthur didn't do anything to you. I bet he was a kid back then who just bit other children."

Charles has to laugh at that. Loudly and fervently, and you don't know if he does it on purpose, but he presses your hand firmly against his muscular chest and holds it there. You feel the vibration under your fingertips and air rushing through his lungs, and his laughter is so infectious that you can't help but join in.

When he finally lets go of your hand, he wipes the tears from his face. He takes another deep breath before letting out one last laugh and then places his hand on your thigh like it's the most normal thing in the world. The warmth of his skin almost burns through the fabric of your clothes. You try not to let it show. "Believe me, mon amour. I should even have a scar from his teeth somewhere."

When you stop at a traffic light, Charles leans forward a little and pushes his back through. When you hear a few of his vertebrae crack, you grimace. "Does your back hurt?"

"A little." He leans back into the seat again, but stretches his neck to the side. "Not being able to lean back for hours is more uncomfortable than you think." When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks, you lightly punch his shoulder. 

"You idiot." Charles laughs in response. "You're just after a back massage!"

"You take what you can get." His hand squeezes your thigh. 

You roll your eyes. "You could have just asked for a massage, you know? I imagine the stool isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture."

Charles shrugs. "I didn't want it to be weird in any way."

Your gaze focuses on his slender fingers on your leg. "Do you mean because of this morning?" you ask meekly. 

"Actually -" Charles clears his throat. " Because of Arthur, actually. He was hinting at something and - I don't know." He steers the car onto the street where your apartment is. When he takes his hand off your thigh to change gear, you miss his touch. Without another word, he parks the Renault in the building's underground garage and without looking at you, you take the elevator to your apartment. 

The silence between you is a little awkward. The fact that you brought up the incident from this morning has somehow killed the mood and you'd like to slap yourself for it. You could have left it at that - after all, you had spoken to each other and agreed that everything was fine between you - but you had stupidly cast it in a different light.

You get ready for bed in separate rooms in silence. While Charles brushes his teeth in the bathroom, you change in the bedroom and slip into comfortable shorts and a shirt that you're not sure if it belongs to you or Charles. When you run into each other in the hallway, you don't look at each other, but pass each other with lowered eyes. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and are about to bang your forehead against the porcelain of the sink. Until just now, the day had been wonderful. You met his wonderful family, had a fun evening and although you had a little slip-up this morning, Charles and you got on really well. Your friendship hasn't been tarnished and apparently you've been so good to each other that the Leclerc family think you're a couple. 

That's another thing you need to sort out. Between the two of you and definitely with his family. Even though you've only got to know the Leclercs properly since today, you've already grown fond of them and it doesn't feel right to fib to everyone. Above all, it doesn't feel right to Pascale, who has invited you into her home and insists that you spend Christmas with them. Pascale, who has such a big heart and didn't hesitate for a moment to take you into the family. 

It's not fair to her - even if a small part of you wants to keep things the way they are. Even if it doesn't reflect reality, the word girlfriend doesn't ring false in your ears. The thought of it makes you feel warm and somehow the blood tingles in your veins. 

You blame it on the long day you've had and the fact that you're too emotionally exhausted to put one and one together. How crazy would it be if you were actually Charles' girlfriend?

You immediately push the thought aside when you return to the bedroom and see Charles lying on the bed. He continues to scroll through his phone without looking at you and doesn't even glance at you as you slip under the covers on your side of the bed. 

You want to press your face into the pillow and scream, but you can't do that because it definitely wouldn't ease the tension in the air. You could also cry quietly to yourself, but Charles would notice even that. But you could also -

"Am I still getting the back massage?" Confused, you look over at your friend, who puts his cell phone aside and looks at you. He shrugs and then runs his hand through his hair. "You said I should just ask. And I thought I'd try my luck." His hand wanders over the comforter and when he finds yours, he intertwines your fingers. 

"Charles -" you begin, but you don't know how to finish the sentence. You're relieved that he doesn't take offense at your comment and wants to ease the situation by pretending nothing happened. You would love to kiss him for it. The thought sends a warm shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," Charles apologizes as he mistakes your awkwardness for hesitation. "It was a stupid idea. I just thought -"

"It's okay," you interrupt him and squeeze his hand, whereupon he squeezes back twice. "Apparently the stool was super uncomfortable. And friends help each other, don't they?" 

The Monegasque returns your gentle smile. "Friends help each other," he repeats, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to your lips and back again. " 'Um - should I take my shirt off? I think that would be smarter, don't you?"

Before you can say anything back, his hand disengages from yours and in one elegant movement he pulls the garment over his head and throws it to the other end of the bed. You watch the muscles in his back flex as he slides down the bed a little and lies on his stomach without hesitation, as if he can't wait another second. 

You have to strain to tear your gaze away from him. "I think I still have some body lotion somewhere." You quickly run back to the bathroom, where you spot the cream on the shelf next to the door, and sprint back to Charles, who has put his head in his hands and is smiling at you. You stand uncertainly in front of the bed, swaying from one foot to the other. "Where - I mean - how -?"

"Just sit on my legs," he says gently and pulls the blanket off him so that you can sit on top of him. "I think that's easier than from the side. Isn't it?"

"I - I don't know," you reply quietly and stop in your tracks. Of course, it would make more sense to sit astride his legs, but then you would also be sitting on him. And you definitely don't want things to get weird between you again. 

"Just sit down, please. I won't bite." Charles reaches out and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. He doesn't let go until you swing your leg over his and get comfortable on the back of his thigh. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

You're glad he can't see how hard you're swallowing. The fine hairs tickle the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and heat shoots into your face as you slide your butt around to find the best possible position. When you finally find it, you remove the cap from the body lotion. "Careful, it might be a bit cold."

"It's okay, it can't be that bad - oh fuck!" Charles exclaims as you pour the contents of the bottle onto his back. Goosebumps immediately spread across his back and arms and you have to stifle your laughter. "Don't you dare laugh at me. My goodness, you could have warmed up the cream in your hand!"

"Sorry," you grin and close the bottle again before placing it on the bed next to your knee. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"It's definitely meaner," Charles replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "You owe me a longer massage for that. At least half an hour." 

"No problem," you smile. You hope he doesn't notice your hesitation, because it takes a few seconds before your head commands your hands to rest on his broad back and spread the cream. With your fingers spread apart, you glide over his spine, his shoulder blades to his neck, where you feel the first lump under your fingertips. Slowly, but firmly, you press your thumb over the spot. 

And Charles moans shamelessly. "Fuck, that feels good." He closes his eyes as you continue to work on his neck. "I think you've missed your profession."

"You think so?" you ask softly. Your fingers glide to his hairline, his muscular neck and back over his shoulders. "Maybe I wouldn't be unemployed right now."

"I'd hire you in a heartbeat." As you press the side of his left shoulder blade with your thumbs, he exhales audibly. "Yeah, right there."

Smiling, you look at him before returning to your task. "I think you're too old for that stool. I'll sit on it next time."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping for a massage too." Charles' voice sounds rough and deep, completely relaxed. With his eyes closed, he enjoys your touch and misses you biting your lower lip. 

Your mouth goes dry at the thought of feeling his hands on your bare skin. You'd be only too happy to repeat this morning's incident if it meant that nothing would change between you. That you would remain friends. 

Nervously, you slide around on his legs. "Maybe."

You don't receive an answer. In comfortable silence, you run your hands over his back, pressing certain points in his muscles that make the Monegasque hum and moan softly. It's nice to know that he can let himself go with you and that you seem to be doing him good. 

Your hands wander down to the hem of his shorts and before you can really think about it, your thumbs slide just underneath so that you can massage the marks the shorts leave on his skin too. Charles takes a gasping breath and for a moment you think you've gone a step too far, but Charles doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks. 

"I miss this."

You tilt your head, even though he's not looking at you. "What do you mean?"

"Being touched," he answers your question quietly.

You pull your fingers out from under the hem and let them glide over his spine. "We touch each other."

Charles lets out a sigh. "I know. But - I don't know." His mouth twists into a thin line. "That's something else."

"Explain it to me." 

"It's been months since I've touched anyone, or vice versa. And I'm not talking about friendly touching. What we do," he explains. You don't know why your heart tightens as if it has heard bad news. 

Your fingers trail over his shoulders and then down his arm. Goosebumps spread under your fingertips. "Okay."

"Not that I don't think it's nice," he tries to get his act together. "I love it when I hold your hand or when we cuddle in bed. That's not even up for debate." When your fingers reach his wrist, he grabs them and squeezes them twice. "I don't know how to describe it." 

"What exactly do you mean by 'touch'?" you try to draw him out. "I mean, apparently there must be a difference between what you mean and what we do."

Charles shrugs and lets go of your hand so you can continue. "I miss having my hair played with. Or having my legs rubbed." Lying down, he runs his hand through his hair once, "I don't know."

You chew the inside of your cheek. "Do you mean - I don't know - like more intimate touching?" When you hear yourself say that, you try to turn it around again. "I mean - I'm not talking about sex. But rather that emotional connection? That you feel close to someone and touching them, like playing with your fingers or rubbing your arms, feels different?"

Charles turns his head in your direction so he can look at you. "I miss being touched more intimately. I really crave it." He turns under you so that he is now lying on his back. He leans on his elbows. You don't know where to put your hands, which is why you hold them strangely in the air. You try to fix your gaze on his face, but it flickers briefly to his abs. Something that doesn't escape Charles' notice. "What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"My relationship went down the drain months ago. It's obvious I'm touch starved." He sits up straight and reaches for your hands, placing them tentatively and hesitantly on his chest. "I can't stop thinking about this morning."

You can feel his heart beating under your palm and there's a sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. "We're friends," you state the obvious. The one you agreed on. 

Charles nods. "And I don't want that to change either. I really don't." He exhales and you feel his warm breath on your face. "But don't you miss it? Being touched? Being touched intimately?"

As he licks his lips, your brain shuts down for a moment. "I've never - I don't - I -" you stumble over your words and heat rushes to your cheeks. You don't know why you're confiding in him. You don't know why your hands are wandering from his chest up to his shoulders. The only thing you can feel is Charles' arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His one leg slides between yours so that you're sitting on his bare thigh. You just hope he can't feel your arousal pooling in your shorts.

"Mon amour," he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. From there, his fingers glide along the soft skin of your neck, over your collarbone, along your arm, until your fingers intertwine again. "Your shorts are pretty thin." He leans forward slightly and lays a feather-light kiss on your neck. You blow all the fuses. "I can feel you dripping for me. Let me help you." His hand settles on your hip and gently he pushes you back a little on his leg, but only to pull you forward again. Electricity shoots through your veins as you moan shamelessly into his face. "Friends help each other. All you have to do is say yes."

Something primal flares in his eyes as he brings your hand to his mouth and places his lips on your knuckles. A gentle gesture that is in complete contrast to how you feel inside. Fire blazes under your skin, heat coursing through your whole body as he places your hand against his cheek, then presses a kiss to your palm. "Nothing changes," you murmur, to which Charles nods. 

"Nothing changes," he confirms. "We stay friends." His hands slowly slide under your bottom, under the hem of your shorts. You feel his hot skin on yours as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. "I promise."

Your crotch rubs against his leg with such relish and when the hem of your shorts catches on your clit, you burn out all your fuses. "Yes."

Charles' lips find your neck as his hands cup your ass and guide you over his leg. With your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades. Pleasure pulses through your body as his mouth moves over your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin but not lingering long enough to leave a mark. Each kiss is gentle, the complete opposite to his grip on your ass and the way he rubs you over him. 

"Charles." Your voice is little more than a sigh and you think you can feel his raging boner against your leg, but the thought quickly fades as one of his hands pulls away from you. Instantly you miss his touch, his skin on yours, but before you can do anything, his fingers reach into your hair to gently pull your head back. 

"I'm here, mon amour," he breathes against the newly won space on your neck. Gently, he sucks where your pulse is, and you think you feel his teeth against your skin for a moment. "I'm here."

You don't know where to put your hands, so you just use them to press his face closer to you. You feel his tongue at the point where your neck meets your shoulder and arch towards him. "Please."

You don't know what you're asking for, but Charles knows all the better for it. He rocks you over his leg, which is wet and slippery from your arousal, and as your knee gently bumps against his cock, he moans into your ear. 

Absently, your hands disengage from his hair and scrape down his chest to the hem of his shorts, but before you can go an inch further, his thumb and forefinger curl around your wrists. "Mon amour, today is about you," he murmurs, kissing your cheek as he notices your disappointed look. "Don't pout. Otherwise we'll stop here and now." 

You move over his thigh on your own and, without taking the chance, you nudge his boner again with your knee. "But you said -" you begin, but Charles lets go of your hands, only to hold them behind your back. 

"Nuh-uh." His lips find their place against your collarbone. Apparently he notices that you close your eyes, because his free hand rests gently against your throat. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is no more than a gasp as you open your eyes and look up at him pleadingly. You want him closer, want to feel his lips on yours, his cock splitting you in half. You want him to ruin you for any other men.

You approach the cliff, willing yourself to plunge down it, but when you close your eyes again, Charles merely presses your lap against his leg, preventing you from moving any further. You look at him in shock. "Charles."

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." He holds you tight, chest to chest, and you try to move somehow, to rub against him. And he lets you. His hand loosens from your wrists while the other continues to rest on the column of your throat, but doesn't squeeze. "Look at me, mon amour," he repeats to himself, shamelessly sliding his hand inside your shorts so he can cup your ass. With one final movement, he pulls you forward, the hem of your shorts rubbing perfectly over your swollen bundle of nerves and white lightning flashes through your veins. "Look at me when you come for me."

And you do.

[hannieehaee]

MAIN THING (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: after years of insistence from soonyoung, he finally convinces resident social butterfly seungkwan to introduce him to his unrequited crush; a fellow idol at hybe who he has not been able to take his eyes off since moving to the company.

content: idol!hoshi x hybeidol!reader, simp!hoshi, he's down horribly bad, seungkwan is fed up with hoshi, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 746 (teaser); 11k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: june 14th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: time for more horrendously down bad hoshi

masterlist

"Just introduce me to her. Please," whined Soonyoung for the nth time that week.

"I already said no! Just go talk to her yourself like a normal person," rebutted Seungkwan, attempting but failing at disregarding his insistent friend.

"He can't do that. Last time they made eye contact he ran to hide behind Mingyu," snickered Jeonghan, invested in this conversation whenever it was brought up.

"I just need you to get the ball rolling. Please, Kwan-ah," he pleaded as he got up in Seungkwan's personal space – a thing everyone knew not to do.

Rolling his eyes, he sighed, "She already knows who you are, you know. There's no need to introduce you," he muttered under his breath.

"Wait, what. She does? Like knows knows me? Or just knows of Hoshi of Seventeen?", his eyes widened in shock, grabbing onto Seungkwan's shoulders to get his full attention.

"She knows Kwon Soonyoung, dumbass. She's one of my closest friends, why wouldn't she know of you?", he grumbled, attempting to shake off his friend.

Soonyoung sighed at the short-lived hope he had of you having maybe taken an interest to him and brought him up in conversation with Seungkwan, just to have confirmation (yet again) of you simply knowing him as Seungkwan's groupmate.

It had been two, no, three years since Soonyoung had first developed a special interest in you. Thinking back to when Pledis was first acquired by Hybe, Soonyoung still remembered the first time he saw you in person very vividly.

Instantly, he developed a crush on you from the very first glance, only falling further any time you'd cross paths in the building.

He had known of your existence before that, of course, but had never truly acknowledged his obvious crush on you until he first met you in person.

Unfortunately for Soonyoung, he was far too shy and introverted to ever actually engage in conversation with you, much less slide his way into your life the way Seungkwan so easily had – Seungkwan, who had become one of your closest friends. On the contrary, Soonyoung would actively go out of his way to avoid you, never even so much as making eye contact whenever Seungkwan would bring you around.

It was easy for him to become the mockery of the members due to this. Leave it to him to have his years-long crush become best friends with one of his best friends, leading him to your constant, nerve-wracking proximity.

At some point he decided that maybe he should break out of his shell – the shell he had created specifically to shield himself from his feelings for you. He decided that instead of avoiding you, he'd do the next best thing ... which was to ask Seungkwan to officially re-introduce you to each other.

You were blissfully unaware of Soonyoung's crush, he knew that much. Did you know of his existence? Barely, as you'd only interacted a handful of times, with those always being brief and impersonal interactions. This gave Soonyoung the perfect opportunity to start brand new with you. Except he'd need the help of his most extroverted friend, who just so happened to be your best friend.

After begging Seungkwan to please work his social butterfly magic on him, he found himself unsuccessful. Seungkwan would merely scoff and tell him to grow up, leading Soonyoung to be mocked by one of the other eleven members, and then the cycle would repeat. Currently, it was Jeonghan's turn to snicker at Soonyoung's misery, it seemed.

Taking note of Soonyoung's pouty lips and saddened demeanor, Jeonghan took pity on him and clapped his hands decisively before speaking up again.

"Okay, how about you let Hoshining here take your place in doing the TikTok challenge for maestro with Y/N? If they hit it off, then you've done your due diligence, and if not, Soonie can just go get fucked. Everybody wins," he suggested as he shrugged at Seungkwan.

Soonyoung lit up at this, choosing to completely disregard the last two sentences of his suggestion. This was more than enough for him to get the ball rolling.

Immediately joining in on the plan, he turned to Seungkwan once more, ready to beg again.

"Don't say anything," Seungkwan shushed him with a lift of his finger, opposite hand now digging into his temple in what Soonyoung hoped to simply be exaggerated annoyance, "I'll do it, just, please grant me twenty minutes of silence," he pleaded.

That worked well enough for Soonyoung.

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[monamipencil]

───── “imperfections?”

               ⋆˚｡ or, in which svt appreciates your beauty.

pairings; hyung line x reader, established relationship. | a/n; this was so lovely to write. pls be kind to yourself and life is too short to worry about shallow things. love yourself, just a bit more today <3

⋆ SEUNGCHEOL ⏤ hip dips; cheol is someone who does not care for so-called flaws. if anything, he only loves them more. would do a double-take when you say that you hate your hip dips. he rests his hands on your hips, holding you like you'd break and he looks at you softly. “see? they're molded for my hands.” he presses his lips to your forehead and stills for a moment. “you're so beautiful. don't ever doubt it.” he takes you to greek museums, pointing out that even aphrodite has hip dips. “my beautiful aphrodite,” he kisses your hips, worshipping your body.

⋆ JEONGHAN ⏤ scars, birthmarks; he has curious hands, always discovering your body and memorising the map of your skin. his fingers outline any birthmark littered on your skin, and he kisses them. same for scars and stitches. he grazes his nimble fingers along them while asking for the backstory. he listens intently, still brushing his fingers over them. if you got it in a funny way, he chuckles and shakes his head. but if not, he locks his fingers with yours, comforting you silently. jeonghan kisses your scars and birthmarks like a silent prayer against your skin and you won't ever feel inadequate.

⋆ JOSHUA ⏤ stretch marks; he never understood the hate around stretch marks anyway. soft fingers trace the lines scattered on your belly, shoulders, hips and elsewhere. it's a habit he has developed, to slip his hands under the waistband of your pants and feel the lines under his fingerprints. it's calming and it grounds him to earth, a wordless reassurance that he's ok and that you are there. a frown decorates his face as you complain about them. but he cuts you off, telling you how much he loves your marks, and he's not saying it because he has to, but because he genuinely feels that way. because he loves you for you.

⋆ JUN ⏤ smile; more than anything else he loves to make you smile and laugh. and if you try to hide your smile, he'll remove your hands and kiss your lips. if you try to tone down your laughter or laugh in a different way, he'll tickle you. jun loves you in the most authentic form. he frowns when you tell that you've never liked your smile or laughter. how could anyone hate a smile? that too, yours? he'll never understand that. he shakes his head, telling you that you look beautiful always. he loves it when you smile into kisses, to taste your happiness on his tongue, to feel your smile, to be the reason behind your laughter. his love heals your inner child.

⋆ SOONYOUNG ⏤ nose; soonyoung is filled with so much love that it pours out through his finger tips. and he can't help but boop your nose all the time. if you do something he finds adorable, he'd crush you into a hug before showing cute aggression all over your face. he pinches your nose, cradling your face and kisses the tip. but he's overcome with so much love that he doesn't really know how to contain it. he rubs his nose against yours and there's something so intimate about it to him. he will cry if you tell that you don't like your nose. and he's very passionate about proving that it is beautiful. no days pass by without his compliments and kisses.

⋆ WONWOO ⏤ acne; he has eyes for the little details. he notices any small changes too. if you get acne before your periods, he'll notice it and remind you. and it's kind of cute to him, little spots that grow on your face and when they're tinted a bit red or brown. kisses your skin, feeling the texture with his lips. and if he gets any pimples too, he'll introduce it to your pimples. he's goofy like that. stares at you like you're the night sky, connecting your acne like constellations with his fingertips and feeling like he touched the sky with his bare hands. he doesn't allow you to be insecure ever, always appreciating you no matter what. life is too short to care about small pimples anyway.

⋆ JIHOON ⏤ dark circles; whether it's by lack of sleep or genetics, he loves them. eyes are the window to the soul, and sometimes those emotions can seep out, staining the skin around your eyes. or maybe, it's a gift passed down by your ancestors. he's worried that you are not getting enough sleep but if it's normal, he finds them attractive. he caresses it under his thumb, kissing your eyes. he doesn't get why you want to hide them. why would you want to hide your moon-kissed eyes? they're beautiful, you're beautiful and you're his muse. it makes you look serene, your smoky eyes brings a calmness that only the moon could do. he writes about your eyes often, a secret serenade.

tags;

@seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys

(send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[finelinevogue]

to new beginnings

summary - you and harry are drunk on the streets of rome

word count - ~1k

pairing - husband!harry x reader

✨☀️💛☀️✨☀️💛☀️✨☀️💛☀️✨☀️💛☀️✨

“It’s literally this way.”

“No it isn’t.”

You tugged on Harry’s hand, attempting to make him follow you down a road - that looked like an alley - that you were sure would lead you to the main square.

Harry was insistent you were going the wrong way, but who could actually tell when you were both as drunk as each other.

Harry stood still as he watched you were drunk eyes and a soft smile, as you tried to tug him your way.

“Haarryy!”

“Y/NN!”

“Come on! I know what I’m doing.”

“No you don’t. You’re sloshed!” Harry laughed, watching you spin around in circles for whatever reason.

“I’m not sloshed… I’M IN LOVE.” You shouted to the universe, and also the unfortunate old couple that just happened to be walking past at the same time.

Before you could apologise, the old man spoke; “I remember when we were like that, Carla.”

You smiled warmly, looking from them to Harry. Harry was already smiling towards you, that spark still in his eyes for you even after 5 years together.

5 years together but only 2 days of being married.

Marriage was pretty happy so far.

“We still are.” The old woman smiled at her husband as they passed by.

You continued to walk off then, walking down the road you wanted to go down.

It was a very small and quaint alley, lots of balconies with hanging green baskets and drying clothes. You looked up at them as you passed by, your trainers padding along on the cobbled floor as you walked.

As you were in your own little world, you didn’t hear Harry sneak up on you until his arms were around your waist and lifting you up in the air to spin you around.

“Harry!” You laughed, your jaw hurting from smiling so much.

“Will you ever learn to listen to me?” He bit playfully onto your exposed shoulder, where the thin strap of your dress lay.

“Never!”

“Is that how marriage works? You being in charge?”

“Obviously.”

He safely set you on the ground and you brushed your dress-skirt down, before twirling around and throwing your arms around his neck.

“What?” He asked, smiling down at your happy face.

“I’m in charge.” You tried to say seriously, but you were too drunk to be in complete control of your face.

“Okay.” Harry gave in, kissing your forehead.

“No, I am. I really am.”

“I know.”

“That means I can control you to do loads of things for me.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Harry asked, even though he was ready to say yes to everything.

“Umm, buy me flowers every day.”

He kissed you then, “Done.”

“Okay,” You blushed, “Hmm. Come on beach walks with me every weekend - no matter how far from the coast we are.”

He kissed you again then, “Yup.”

“Uhh what about…”

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes to anything and everything. Boss me around all day everyday, I don’t care as long as you’re happy, my love.”

“I am. Very happy.”

You leaned up to kiss him properly then, showing him just how much you love him. You scrunched the small hair on the back of his neck and pulled him closer, moving in tandem with each other like you’d known each other a lifetime not only five years.

You pulled away first but quickly moved to kiss his jaw and leading down his neck, kissing and nipping at the skin to give him a hickey.

“Babe… No!” Harry laughed, knowing how much you loved giving him hickeys but never somewhere everyone could see.

“Nooooo.” You whined as he pulled your head away from his neck.

“Baby, you’re drunk and I’m drunk but I know we’re going to be mad at each other if you give me a public hickey. So be good and stop.”

You scrunched your face up in pretend anger.

“You’re annoying.” You kiss him on the lips once more.

“So are you.”

“That’s not very nice.” You feigned shock.

“Aww, are you sad?”

“Don’t taunt me.” You rolled your eyes.

“Lemme kiss you to make up for it.” Harry leaned in to kiss you but you shoved your hand on his face and pushed him away before he could.

You laughed as he pretended to be hurt by your action, but you ran off down the road before he could say or do anything.

He shook his head with a smile as he watched you go, nearly tripping over a cobble stone even in your flat shoes.

“Y/N/N, be careful.”

You stood at the end of the alley watching Harry still standing there with a fond smile.

“C’mon! I hear music.” You urged him.

So he came.

He wandered over to you casually, feeling like he had all the time in the world to spend with you. Every moment of his was now yours and he couldn’t be happier to share them all with you. You. He sometimes couldn’t believe he’d managed to end up with you.

You held out a hand for him and he took it, slinking his fingers through yours.

You hummed in delight and the both of you walked in silence, off towards the vibrant music of the city to dance the night to new beginnings.

[azrakaban]

Thief - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: Why did I do this? Far too late too be writing there will be no spell check <3

Summary: Mattheo keeps using pick up lines on you. Will they work? That's a different question...

The house isn't mentioned too much, but reader is implied a Gryffindor <3

n/n: nickname

Warnings: Mattheo (he's a warning okay), swearing, mentions of drugs and cigarettes

...

"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." Mattheo smirked, and you nearly choked.

For the past two weeks, Mattheo had been popping out of nowhere to use stupid pick up lines on you. It's become quite alarming, with him dropping smoke bombs on you to appear out of 'nowhere', flying up to your dorm window on his broom, sending a howler... Mattheo Riddle is nothing if not persistent. And it was all started by a conversation you'd been having with Pansy Parkinson a week ago.

...

"-I just don't think they're that bad. Cheesy maybe, but I'd say yes to a good pick up line actually." You said to Pansy, walking to potions together.

"What constitutes a good pick up line though?" She questioned you, giving you a side smile.

"If it makes me laugh, it's good. The perfect combination of cheesy and funny. Most people overdo them. The craft of a perfect pick up line is an art." You replied, fiddling with the straps on your bag.

Mattheo Riddle then brushed past you, dramatically falling to the floor.

"Ouch! I just skinned my knee! Falling for you." He said, smirking.

You stood there, frozen and confused. "What?" You said finally.

"You said you'd say yes to a good pick up line, princess. How was that?" Mattheo said, standing and looking at you with a small smirk playing at his lips.

You laughed. "Come up with an original one and then we'll talk."

"Oh come on! That was original!" He protested, before being smacked over the head by Enzo.

"Liar, I told you that one." Enzo said, rolling his eyes at you with a 'can you believe him?' expression on his face.

You shook your head, smiling before heading to potions with Pansy.

You smiled, shaking your head as you walked with Pansy to Potions.

...

That was how you'd got to the point you were at now, still waiting for Mattheo to come up with a pick up line that didn't make you want to jump off of the astronomy tower.

That was the deal. If Mattheo could make you laugh with a pick up line, you would go on a date with him. If you didn't laugh, he wouldn't be allowed to smoke a cigarette for the rest of the day. So far, it's been 3 weeks of no cigarettes for Mattheo.

...

"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." You nearly choked, resisting the urge to smash a book over Mattheo's stupid pretty head.

You looked to him with a sigh, being met with a shit eating grin.

"That's my favourite so far personally." He said conversationally, opening his Transfiguration textbook.

"That may just be one of the worst." You replied, shaking your head with a smile.

"Yes, and?" He raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your essay. A few other students cast weird looks your way, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin sat together. You paid them no notice, crossing out a few things on your essay.

Mattheo leaned across, trying to look at yours, and you pulled it away.

"Ah ah ah. I know your thieving tendencies, stealing pick up lines from books and people, you're not stealing my Transfiguration notes." You said, glaring playfully.

He rolled his eyes with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Fine. But just so you know, the name for people who can turn into animals is 'Animagi', not 'AniwhatthefuckjustcameoutofRiddle'smouth'.

You glared at him, crossing it out and scribbling over it to make it unreadable.

"When McGonagall asks, I'm blaming you." You said, looking up a definition in your text book.

"Sure. You'll probably find what to say to her under 'I was the recipient of a legendary pick up line.'" He said, gesturing towards your textbook.

You smacked his hand away, and he gasped, recoiling.

"Offended, princess. Offended." He said, putting on an expression of mock offense.

A Ravenclaw boy from your charms class came over, and instantly, Mattheo's guard was up again. He glared at the boy, and the boy, thinking better of it, decided not to disturb you two. You giggled.

"You switch up faster than Snape runs from shampoo." You commented, highlighting a part of your book on merpeople. Mattheo glanced over.

"You know what the little mermaid and me have in common?" He said abruptly.

"Bad grammar?" You guessed. He sighed dramatically.

"We both wanna be part of your world." He wiggled his eyebrows, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying.

"Mattheo, what crime did I commit to end up in this purgatory?" You said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"The only crime is your criminal beauty." He said with a smirk. You groaned. "Sorry yn, I'm not good at holding conversations. Can I hold your hand instead?"

"I'm going to cry. Or die." You whispered to yourself.

He laughed. "You'll come around eventually yn. You know, my favourite number is 14, because you're the 1 4 me."

You nearly screamed. "Leave. I'm begging you. Come back later."

"Alrighty, fine. Do you believe in love at first sight or should I come back later?"

You threw a book at his head, which he caught somehow.

"Damn girl, good thing I've got my library card because I'm checking you out."

You glared at him, and, finally picking up on his cue, Mattheo left.

...

It had been a few days since the library incident. Three days of peace. Thank god life isn't Duolingo, because you were about to lose that streak.

A note was slipped onto your desk during history of magic. You looked up, read it, and steadfastly ignored it.

'God damn girl r u a bank loan cuz u got my interest ;)'

Another appeared when you started doodling. 'r u an artist cuz u were so good at drawing me in (⁠✷⁠‿⁠✷⁠)'

that one you actually replied to, flipping over the paper. 'damn boy are you the terms and conditions? Because I don't give a fuck what you say ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡' .

When Mattheo received that note back he sighed dramatically, clutching his heart as if you'd mortally wounded him.

A minute later, the note was back on your desk. 'My favourite insect? The butterflies u give me ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯'

You groaned, quickly scribbling a response. 'Can you stop for just a few minutes pls I'm trying to pay attention to the history of magic.'

'I may not go down in history but I'll definitely go down on u ;)'

'Azkaban. Now.'

'xx.'

...

The next day, in the Great Hall, you were saying with your friends when Mattheo came over and joined you at the Gryffindor table. You raised an eyebrow.

"Last time I checked, Riddle, your tie was green." You said, smiling slightly.

"It is. I just wanted to see you in the morning. I mean, kiss me if I'm wrong, but the rain is so heavy right now." He said nonchalantly.

You turned to look out of the window.

It was a clear day, with sun shining through a cloudless sky.

You sighed, turning back to him as he gave you a 'what can I say?' look. You shook your head, smiling.

He turned back to your table, looking at the food. "Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?" He said, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. "Go back to your own table Riddle."

"Are you my appendix? Because I feel like I should take you out." He replied, smiling slightly.

"Wait what? Is your appendix okay?" You said worriedly.

"Yeah no it's fine, don't worry. Just a pick up line yn, calm down, it won't bite. Just me making jokes about bad health, like 'are you asthma? Because you take my breath away.'" He replied, shaking his head with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Okay..." You said, still slightly concerned.

Mattheo smirked. "Are you my father? Because I wish you were around more." You looked at him, even more concerned than before. "I'm starting to wonder if you need therapy." You said, a small smile playing at your lips.

"I don't need therapy, I just need you to come to dinner with me, because I can't spell menu without me n u." He said, smiling. You very nearly laughed, which didn't go unnoticed.

Mattheo stood up, nodding a goodbye before heading back to the slytherin table, where his friends were not so subtly calling him over.

"She nearly laughed. Shit." Mattheo whispered to his friends. They laughed. "Not funny. I really like her, I wasn't expecting her to nearly laugh. I'm close." He said, mainly speaking to himself.

Theo clapped him on the back. "You're down bad mate." He said, shaking his head. Mattheo sighed, turning to look at you quickly. "Yeah. J am." He admitted.

...

A few minutes later, you stood, heading out into the entrance hall, and were immediately ambushed by Cormac McLaggen. Yippee.

"Your lips look lonely, do they wanna meet mine?" He said, smirking.

"Are you bad WiFi? Because I'm feeling no connection here." You replied, not looking at him and trying to brush past him.

He stopped you, gripping your shoulder and not so gently shoving you back. You adjusted your bag and faced him, looking confused.

"A little too fast to brush me off there l/n." He said, still with that obnoxious smirk. To be fair, all smirks are obnoxious. Well... not all smirks. An image flashed into your mind of a certain slytherin with curly brown hair and chocolate eyes.

You zoned back into the moron stood infront of you, who was now attempting to lecture you on how you should have replied to his pick up line. You zoned out again, until you registered what he was saying.

"-Make it up to me." He finished, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry what?" You said, looking confused.

"You heard me. You'll need to make it up to me, because you just embarrassed me." He said, puffing up his chest with his own importance.

"I don't need to do anything for you, McLaggen. I rejected you, your ego can take it." You said patiently, waiting for it to sink in for him. You attempted to walk away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the Slytherins leaving the hall. A hand grilled your wrist, painful and harshly. McLaggen glared at you.

"I don't get why Riddle is telling everyone to leave you alone, 'Princess'. You're not even that special, probably just whoring yourself out to the first guy who comes to yo-"

That was all you heard before someone's fist connected with Cormac's jaw, sending him flying to the ground.

You watched in slight horror as Mattheo pummelled McLaggen into the flagstones. Only slight horror though. McLaggen was insufferable.

You watched, frozen, as Mattheo's friends held McLaggen down for him, rather than pulling Mattheo off of him.

Eventually, the teachers arrived and pulled he boys off of McLaggen, whom was now sporting a black eye, cracked teeth, a dented nose and a split lip.

"Nobody calls her that. And only I call her Princess." Mattheo spat.

You were dragged with them to McGonagall's office and told to wait outside.

...

A half hour later, Draco, Theo and Blaise emerged from the office, not looking at all bothered by what just went down. You gave them a sheepish look, and Blaise shrugged.

"We got detention, no big deal." You felt bad, given it was partially your fault.

"I'm sorry you guys got detention." You said sympathetically. They shook their heads.

"It's not your fault, l/n, it's not like you asked us to do anything." Theo said, rolling his eyes, but not maliciously.

"Is Mattheo okay?" You asked carefully, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Enzo said, appearing from McGonagall's office with a smirk. Draco elbowed him, and Enzo sighed. "He's fine, but he's got two months of detention, so no more evening study dates/hangouts for you two." He continued, and you blushed.

"They're not dates." You said, shaking your head. Blaise smirked. "You might wanna tell him that. He comes back from the library looking like Cupid was feeling particularly violent."

You rolled your eyes, smiling. "I'm sure you're being dramatic." The boys violently shook their heads.

"Far from. There are Polaroids. Seriously, y/n, I know we're supposed to be his wingmen and make him seem cool and chill, but the reality is that Mattheo is absolutely disgustingly in love with you." Theo stated plainly.

"And it's a pain for all of us when he won't shut up about you (no offence), so do us a favour and go out with him?" Enzo continued, looking at you pleadingly. "Before he realised you didn't want to be talking to McLaggen, he looked like a kicked puppy."

You pictured the image mentally. Damn his stupid pretty brown stupid eyes.

"I can't go out with him until he makes me laugh with a pick up line I haven't heard before." You said, sighing. "If I just go out with him without laughing, he wins! I can't lose to him, I've been so strong all of these weeks." You said, gritting your teeth.

"Are you saying it's been hard for you to turn him down?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. No. Shut up." You said, hiding your face in your hands and sinking down onto a chair by the door.

"It's okay to like Mattheo, y/n. Sure, he's a massive pain in the ass and he's rude to a lot of people besides you, but you read Twisted Love, you're probably into that." Theodore said, shrugging.

You gave him a look of disbelief. "You know Twisted Love?" Theo blushed faintly.

"I have sisters."

"Anyway guys, I appreciate whatever it is you're doing for Mattheo, but my decision is clear. When he makes me laugh, I'll go out with him." You said, smiling.

"Fine. We'll help him out, because we're rooting for you two." Enzo said, checking his watch. "Don't I know it." You muttered. Enzo smiled. Mattheo emerged from McGonagall's office, looking only slightly like his mood had been dampened. You gave him a small smile.

"You okay Riddle?" His eyes moved to you, and a hint of surprise flickered in them.

"Y/n? Did McGonagall ask you to wait?" He said, confused.

"Actually, y/n is here of her own free will." Enzo cut in, smirking. You blushed, looking down and Mattheo smiled faintly.

"Oh yeah? Going soft on me Princess?" He said, crouching down to force you to look at him.

You looked up and he straightened, still watching you intently.

"In your dreams Riddle." He smiled.

"Actually, you are in my dreams, y/n. You're a recurring dream for me, do you want to make us a reality?" He said, giving you a look.

(I'm sorry I have to insert this, it's this look. This one.)



You smiled. "You know the rules, Mattheo. I laugh, I'll go on a date with you." You said.

He sighed dramatically. "I'm in pain, y/n. Pain. But that is true. And I will be holding you to it." He says, smiling.

"I'd expect nothing less from you Riddle." You fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater.

"Good. Do you mind if I talk to you? Alone?" Mattheo asked, his tone changing to one of slight concern.

You frowned slightly, but nodded. He led you away from his friends, who quickly disappeared off to the Slytherin common room.

Mattheo took a deep breath and turned to you. "Y/n, I know I'm irritating you. I know I'm distracting you, I saw the mark you got on your last transfiguration exam. And I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was distracting you when you tried to revise, and I keep pestering you everywhere, and if you want me just to leave you alone I completely get it." He said, looking slightly mad at himself.

You opened your mouth to talk but he cut you off.

"And I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, you don't owe me a date, you didn't have to wait for me outside McGonagall's office just because I fought McLaggen for you. You don't have to do anything for me, okay?" He continued, looking away from you.

"I know I don't have to do anything for you Mattheo. I want to." You replied, speaking quietly and hesitantly.

He frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You want to?"

You nodded. "I like your company. I don't mind having you around, it's fun. You're not as bad as I first thought. Actually, you're nothing like what I first thought." You said, trailing off as you saw his smile.

"And what did you originally think I was like?" He smirked.

"Arrogant. Sarcastic. Bit of an asshole." Mattheo shrugged, agreeing with you.  "Honestly? I thought that the whole pick up lines thing was a joke for ages." You admitted.

The smile dropped from his face. "A joke? What do you mean?" He said, frowning and trying to meet your eyes.

"You know. Like you were doing it for a dare." He shook his head. "Y/n, I'd never do that. I genuinely do care about you a lot. Merlin, I care about you so stupidly much that I punched a guy. I know that's bad, and I swear I'm not usually violent but he was harassing you. And all I could think was 'no. no no no no no.'" He sighed.

You smiled, taking a step closer. "You're sweet, Mattheo. Kinda cute actually." He raised an eyebrow.

"You think I'm cute?" You blushed.

"no. you must have hallucinated it." You said, shaking your head.

"I mean, I'm flattered y/n. I hope you know CPR, because you're taking my breath away." He said, smirking as you stepped closer to him. You giggled slightly, before realising.

Mattheo's eyes widened. "You laughed. You laughed at my pick up line. The one I came up with literally a second ago." You smiled.

"Maybe I did. What does that mean Riddle?" You said, stepping closer.

"It means you should go on a date with me. But you don't have to if you don't want to, okay?" He said, smiling down at you.

"I want to." You said. Mattheo exhaled slowly, stepping closer. His hands came to rest on your hips, not moving. He gave you time to push him away, but you didn't, so his hands stilled.

"You want to?" He repeated, making sure.

You nodded. "Mhm. It's why I've gone along with this for so long." You giggled, as his forehead uncreased and he relaxed slightly, before quickly lifting you up and spinning you around.

You laughed as he put you back down, noticing the lack of space between you. Your eyes flickered to his lips, which didn't go unnoticed.

Mattheo's eyes landed on your lips, and then returned to your eyes. There was so little distance between you two.

You nodded slightly, registering his silent request. "Mattheo..." You whispered. That was it for him. His lips crashed into yours, one hand cupping your face and the other resting on your hip.

You kissed him back, letting him gently back you into a wall, hand moving to the back of your head to keep you comfortable.

Eventually, you both pulled back for air, slightly breathless. You smiled, and he brushed some hair out of your eyes.

"Be mine?" He said in a low voice, practically begging you.

"I'm already yours." You whispered back to him, letting him kiss you again.

This kiss lasted less time than the first, but was still beautiful.

"But we're still going on that date right?" You asked, smiling.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, princess." He replied, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours.

A flash went off, and you turned to see Theodore and Colin Creevey. Theodore took the photo from Colin, smirking. "Mattheo, you're a fucking simp."

"Damn right." Mattheo replied, smiling slightly at you.

...

A/N: My first actual Mattheo fic! Doesn't make sense, seeing as he's my favourite slytherin boy. Anyway, I feel like I'm horrible at writing kiss scenes, so lemme know if it was too cringy or smth like that! Thnx for reading<333

[whatswrongwithblue]

Imagine Angel Dust questioning you on your sex life with Alastor

“C’mon toots, you gotta give me something!”

“I absolutely do not,” you say stubbornly, turning away from the spider demon but he just scooted closer to you on the couch, practically looming over you.

“Pleeeaaase. I can’t figure the guy out. He’s all flamboyant and goofy one minute and then terrifying and menacing the next. How does that translate in bed? Is he a bottom? A switch? A top?” Angel leaned impossibly closer, his voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone. “Does he let you peg him?”

“Angel!” you exclaimed, leaning over the side of the couch to get away, “that is really none of your business! And he would rip your arms off if he heard you asking such things.”

Angel Dust huffed, frustrated, and folded both sets of arms across his chest, practically pouting.

“This is just unfair. I tell you so much about my work, I don’t hold anything back.”

“I wish you would,” you mumbled, recalling the last disturbingly detailed conversation you were forced to listen to. You still shuddered when you thought about your friend participating in “sounding” or “donkey shows.”

“Alright, well you gotta at least tell me this much,” he said, sitting back up and holding two hands up in front of him. “How big is the guy?”

You shook your head, trying to pull out your phone and ignore him.

“This big?” he asked, holding his hands out about 8 inches apart. “Or this big?” His hands got a couple inches farther apart. “Or, I know, he’s gotta be like THIS big, huh?” Angel’s hands were now over a foot apart from each other.

“Oh my God, don’t be gross Angel, that wouldn’t even fit inside of me.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Angel said with a smirk, “so not as big as some of the Hellhounds I gotta take up the ass.”

“Please stop,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Not until you tell me something juicy about your boyfriend.”

“Ugggghh, seriously, fine,” you say, defeated, and Angel sat forward eagerly, “I mean you’ve obviously seen him shape shift into taller forms. So, let’s just say . . . he’s as big as he . . . or I . . . want him to be.”

“Hmmmm,” Angel said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not a lot to go off of but I think I like your way of thinking. So, like this big then?”

You didn’t even look over to see how far apart Angel’s hands were now.

“What’s the record for how many times he’s made you cum in one night?”

“Angel, you said you would stop!” you yelled, feeling a blush begin to heat up your face.

“A lot huh? Because that, my friend, is the face of a woman who’s lost count,” he said with a knowing smirk.

“I am not dignifying that comment with a response.”

“I’m just sayin,’ I’ve seen you first thing in the mornings. You have the look of a gal who’s well satisfied.”

“Well, I am,” you say, “but that’s all decency will allow me to say. Alastor is a very private man and you should respect that.”

“Decency Schmeecency,” Angel said, throwing himself back into the couch cushions and picking up his own phone, looking bored with the conversation now. “This is Hell, there’s no such thing.”

Relieved he seemed to be dropping the subject, you pick up your own phone and enjoy a couple minutes of silence to scroll through your Sinstagram feed.

“Oh fuck me!” Angel exclaimed, startling you and making you drop your phone.

“What?!”

“That guy has got tentacles!”

There was no stopping the rush of blood to your face then . . . or the little smirk you just couldn’t seem to stop, though you did try and look away.

“Ooooooooh, oh doll face, you can’t hide that look from me,” Angel said, practically crawling over the couch to invade your space once again, “he has totally used those on you, hasn’t he?”

You turned to look at Angel, another retort about privacy ready on your tongue, but your eyes widen in horror as you see two shadowy tendrils raising up behind your friend’s back.

Angel registered the look on your face and sat back an inch.

“Wha-“

The tentacles grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back to his side of the couch, and holding him down.

“I believe the lady said something about decency,” Alastor’s staticky voice said from somewhere behind the couch and then his shadow rose up from the ground before solidifying into the full glory of his demonic form. His body unnaturally long, antlers spread out wide, he towered over the spider demon he had pinned to the sofa.

“S-s-sorry man,” Angel said with a loud gulp, “I was just kidding around, you know,” he tried to chuckle nervously. “I-it was just girl talk.”

“Alastor,” you said, unbothered by your lover’s terrifying demonic appearance, “let him go. He’s harmless.”

“Hmmm,” Alastor said, tilting his head, eyes glowing brighter as he put on a show of considering the prey he had trapped in his tentacles. “Fine.”

Alastor dropped the tentacles from around Angel and within a blink of an eye, was back to his usual form, straightening his bow tie and brushing off the sleeves of his jacket.

“Ready for our lunch date?” you said, bouncing up off the couch and coming to stand by Alastor, who smiled down at you and looped an arm through yours.

“Sounds lovely, darling,” he replied, guiding the two of you around the back of the couch and towards the front of the lobby. “I’m positively starving.”

At the word “starving,” Alastor leaned over the couch, his glowing, toothy expression letting Angel know just how close he had come to being the cannibal’s lunch.

Angel sank deeper into the couch cushions in submission, eyes wide and fixed on Alastor, as the two of you headed for the front doors.

Alastor opened the door, but you paused after stepping through, grabbing the handle and shooting your friend a mischievous smile and wiggling your eyebrows in a suggestive manner at him. It was your own way of confirming his last line of questioning before Alastor had interrupted. You watched Angel’s jaw drop open and then closed the door, leaving him to his imagination.

Husk, who had been silently watching the entire thing from his place at the bar, began laughing.

“Yeah, he totally fucks her with those things,” he said, before taking a swig from his beer bottle. “Did you see the way she looked at them? She was almost jealous when he had you pinned to the sofa.”

“Jesus Christ,” Angel said, still panting a little. “Yeah, I don’t blame her. That was hot as fuck.”

[babyleostuff]

when they take a joke too far | ot13

❥ seungcheol 

as much as i love cheol, i don’t think he’d immediately notice that he took the joke too far, mainly because of the fact that when he’s in the moment, surrounded by other people, you know - trying to be funny (maybe attempting on impressing others with his amazing joking skills), he’d be a bit too focused on the people surrounding him. it doesn’t change the fact that the second he notices you acting a tad bit off, he’s all over you asking you questions - if you are all right, if you want to leave, if you need food or water, his jacket etc etc. when he’d find out you were upset by his joke, oh - he’d be so so disappointed and angry with himself, truly. cheol would apologise, of course, and ask you if you needed space (it would break his heart if you said yes tbh, but he'd understand that). he just wouldn’t want to disappoint and hurt you even more.

❥ jeonghan 

jeonghan knows he can be quite petty and sarcastic at times, and his jokes can be taken ambiguously sometimes, especially when people don’t really know him and his humour. then again, he’d never tell a mean joke on purpose, he’s not mean like that, but sometimes his jokes do not come out as he means them to. it could take him some time to notice you being upset over his joke because after all you’re quite used to his sense of humour, so he’d never think that you could get upset over it. in his mind his joke is just a silly comment, he obviously doesn’t mean for it to upset you, god forbid. when he finds out you’re bothered by it though, he’d apologise in any way he could - he’d be extra attentive, clingy, and careful with you, but giving you space at the same time.

❥ joshua 

immediately feels so bad when he sees your expression fall after his bad joke. does not wait to apologise later or reflect on what he had just said - your visible sadness is enough for joshua to cradle your face in his hands and apologise, as sincerely as he can. even if you’re with friends or other acquaintances, he doesn’t care if people are staring or murmuring to each other, all he cares about is apologising. even if you’d forgive him, joshua would still be a bit more wary around you, making sure to give you space but at the same time still care for you and take care of you, because despite your words - he knew you were still a bit upset.

❥ jun 

wouldn’t be sure whether to pack up his things and move out of your apartment, bury himself under the sheets, or to bawl his eyes out. the worst part is when he doesn’t even realise that he upset you with his joke, because what do you mean that he made you sad and he proceeded to go about his day like nothing happened? HE DIDN’T KNOW, PLEASE FORGIVE HIM. it’s never, ever jun’s intention to make you upset (duh), and it makes everything so much worse - he’s the one who’s supposed to make you laugh, not sad. when he realises that he took the joke too far he’s not sure how to approach you, because if he could he’d apologise immediately, but then again - what if you hate him now?

❥ hoshi 

this man is the epitome of “saying before thinking”, and while he’d never tell a joke to offend someone on purpose, shit happens and not all of his jokes come off as jokes. he also gets easily distracted so it could take some time for him to notice you being upset, but at the same time he’s such a simp for you, so he’d either realise you were bothered by his comment an hour later or the second the joke left his mouth. would be the type to fall to his knees, hug your waist, bury his face in your stomach, and proceed with an at least hour apology because he feels that bad. his dramatic behaviour (and the even more dramatic apology speech) would make you laugh so hard, you’d forget about the joke in seconds. still, hoshi would be extra caring with you because no excuse could justify his joke that was lame and unfunny in the first place.

❥ wonwoo 

to be honest, i don’t see a world where wonwoo would take a joke too far, he’d notice you being uncomfortable before you’d even know you were upset by the joke yourself. BUT, if it (somehow) happened, his apology would come straight away. there is no way he’d be able to proceed with his day without apologising at least fifty times - he’s so in tune with your emotions, it’d be like he could feel you hurting because of the joke himself. wonwoo would feel very ashamed of even thinking, let alone telling such a joke, he’d feel very disappointed in himself, and he’d beat himself up for that for days.

❥ woozi 

would apologise immediately - jihoon doesn’t like bullshitting around stuff, there is no way he’d wait with apologising, not only because he doesn’t like getting into conflicts, but because you deserve that apology. it’s never his intention to upset you, and he wouldn’t be able to proceed with his day without saying something. like, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t? after incidents like those (not that they happen often), he’s a bit more cautious around you, making sure to not overstep any boundaries, and letting you have some space.

❥ dk 

not happening, sorry - there is no way seokmin would take a joke too far to the point of upsetting someone, especially you. no. freaking. way. he’d rather set his body of fire than make an upsetting joke. 

❥ mingyu 

there’s also a slim chance of mingyu taking a joke too far, he’s too good of a person to upset anyone with his jokes. if it happened, he’d immediately apologise, probably in one of the most dramatic ways ever - throwing himself on his knees, yapping about how sorry he is, and how he didn’t know how such a joke could even come to his mind, while he’s eyes would be screaming “FORGIVE ME PLEASE”. he would be so disappointed and angry at himself for saying the joke, like it would take him days to get over it, even if you said you forgave him. there’s just something about taking a joke too far and making your significant upset because of it that breaks mingyu’s heart.

❥ minghao    

he can be very blunt and petty, his humour is not for everyone, but that still doesn’t mean he’d upset anyone on purpose (unless that person is rude, then they get the full on xu minghao treatment). when he notices he took his joke too far regarding you, he’s kind of clueless on what to do next - it’s not like he can ignore the fact that he said what he said, and he feels so ashamed for making you upset, in fact - too ashamed to apologise immediately. all of his confidence and bluntness suddenly leaves him, because how is he supposed to keep his head high when he just made his significant other upset with a joke, he decided to think of and then say. 

❥ seungkwan 

our savage boo can be a tad too savage at times, and sometimes his remarks can be a bit upsetting. good thing is that he quickly realises when he oversteps the boundary of what is funny and what is not, so it wouldn’t take him much time to understand that you got genuinely upset over his joke. would take your hands in his, and with a lowered head (he’d be too embarrassed and ashamed of upsetting you to look at you), and try to apologise as sincerely as he could. seungkwan would make sure to give you some space, though it would break his heart - but he knew that that was what he had to do for you to forgive him completely.

❥ vernon 

vernon isn’t known for coming up with loud and bold jokes, so he immediately catches himself after telling the joke that clearly wasn’t a good one, especially because it was directed towards you. his first instinct is to watch you to see your reaction, he wouldn’t want to say anything right away, afraid that it would make the situation only worse. he’s very cautious when approaching you, he’d understand if you’d need some space, but at the same time he doesn’t want to wait with his apology, because he feels really, really bad. he's also really good at apologising - maybe taking the full accountability for a bad joke is the bare minimum, but then again finding the bare minimum is very hard lately.

❥ chan

chan is usually quite good at controlling what he’s saying, he’s very cautious of the emotions of the people around him, and how his words might affect them. sometimes shit happens though, and not all of his jokes come out as he’d wish them to. chan’s a simp and he’s a loser for you, so he’d catch on to the fact that he took his joke too far quite quickly, and wouldn’t know how to act. he just made you sad, no - he just offended you. his joke, his words made you upset, and that’s a complete failure of his boyfriend duties, because his jokes are supposed to make you laugh, not upset. wouldn’t know how to approach you, would try to apologise through acts of service.

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[muffinpink02]

Hands

To celebrate the girls winning the Champions League and Alexia's beautiful goal, I thought I’d treat the kids (adult kids) to a little one shot. Enjoy!

another thank you to @lucyandalexiafan for showing me how so save a gif.... 👵

Warning - smut 18

You loved days like these, they were rare and far between. Just you and Alexia spending time together. There wasn’t a match on, no training, no interviews or social media days and no meetings. Just you and her, laying on the sofa watching some kind of animal documentary that you agreed to watch. But you had zoned out about five minutes ago, you had much more interesting things to concentrate on. 

Like always, you were playing with Alexia’s hands, you always did whenever you were close to her. You played with the tips of her fingers, studying them, running your own fingers along her long digits. Most of the time you didn’t even realise you were doing it, her hands would end up in yours as soon as you were able to hold them. You just needed to feel them, feel her skin on yours, have her fingers intertwined with your own. 

If someone was to ask what your favourite thing about Alexia was, it would be her hands. Always.

Everyone knew Alexia was talented with her feet, but only you knew how talented she was with her hands. 

Those hands could do anything.

They brought you comfort when you were sick. Alexia would stroke your clammy head until you would fall asleep on her lap to the gentle strokes of her fingers in your hair. You would watch as she made you vegetable soup to make you feel better, her skilful hands chopping up carrots like she was a Michelin star chef. 

Those hands made you feel safe, if you had a bad day at training or maybe a match that didn’t go to plan. Those hands held you tightly, they held your face, and wiped your tears away. They made you feel completely at ease, she made you feel like nothing could hurt you. 

Those hands also did other things. Those hands could make you forget your own name, they brought you pleasure to no end. When Alexia put her hands on you or in you, you would simply melt into her touch. You would do and say anything for her if it meant her hands were involved.

And she knew it. She knew what her hands did to you. She had never understood why, she didn’t see them as anything special but she liked the idea that it was something you loved of hers. And of course she used it to her advantage. 

Only four days ago Alexia had used her hands to rile you up. The blonde had an interview to attend, so when she asked you to join her you of course said yes. 

You were in the passenger seat while Alexia drove to the destination. She had her free hand mindlessly stroking your bare thigh and the other hand on the wheel, she wasn’t looking at you, it was normal for her to touch you like this. Like you, she found it hard to keep her hands off of you, but after a while you could tell she was stroking your skin with a little more intensity to it. You tried to not let her get to you, wanting to try and keep some dignity for yourself, while your underwear started to dampen.

She crept her hand higher and higher, you watched as she slipped her fingers past your shorts, edging her fingers to where your thigh met your underwear. You couldn’t hold the small whimper that escaped your lips, giving her exactly what she wanted to hear. She still hadn’t looked at you, a calm expression fixed on her face, as if she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing.  She slipped her fingers past the fabric and straight to your lips, instantly feeling how wet you were. 

That's when a devilish smile crept on her face. 

She pulled her fingers back and with ease popped open the button on your shorts, all with her eyes still on the road in front. You looked over at your girlfriend, her beautiful face still not looking at you. She slid her hand painfully slow down your front and into the now very wet fabric. She went straight past your clit and straight to your cunt, gathering your juices. You couldn’t hold the moan that escaped your lips, you heard her own small pleased hum, having felt you so wet for her already. She slowly coaxed her fingers through your lips, just barely touching your clit. 

You let out a groan. “Please Ale, don’t tease.” 

Alexia finally looked at you, a small smile on her lips. “You’re so wet already baby. Is someone a little needy?” 

You nodded your head, you moved your hips upwards, hoping the blonde would give you some more friction. And to your surprise she did, she started to circle your clit with her fingers, touching you exactly how you wanted her too. She then dipped a single finger in your core, just slightly, it was a little awkward for her arm but she still made it look effortlessly easy. 

You moaned a little louder as the length of her long finger finally pushed inside, your hips jerked up trying to get her finger deeper. But she moved her fingers up again, meeting your swollen clit. She loved teasing you, she would do it whenever she could, so you weren't too shocked when she did. 

“Alexia.” You whispered. 

“You like that, baby?” She rubbed at your clit like it was her own, knowing exactly what you liked. 

You nodded, your eyes closed. You were so desperate for her touch, you groaned as she moved her fingers faster, you could feel your juices starting to drip. But just as your body started to relax to her touch, her hand was gone. Your eyes popped open in shock from the sudden loss of her. 

“Sorry baby, we’re here.” She pulled the car up to a parking garage. “We’ll have to finish this off later. Come on, I don’t want to be late.” She parked up the car, looking over at you with a sadistic smile on her face, indicating she knew what she was doing to you. You watched as she raised her fingers to her lips and sucked off any juices that stuck to her fingers. Humming softly.

You whimpered, your thighs automatically rubbed together, trying to replace the feeling of Alexia’s hands, but of course it was no use. “Ale, no! Please. You can’t leave me like this.”

That's when you got the look. Those hazel eyes that always looked at you with nothing but love and adoration, changed dangerous. Sending shivers over your skin, you kept quiet, you knew better really. From the start of your relationship Alexia had taken on a very dominant role and you loved it. You loved submitting to her, you craved someone like Alexia. She knew your body better than you did, she understood what you wanted and she was more than happy to give it. You had made an incredible, trusting bond between you, you trusted her with your body as she trusted you with hers. 

Those hazel eyes looked at your own, her face softened, she stroked your cheek gently, bringing her thumb to your lip dragging it down. She leaned in for a gentle kiss to your lips. “You can beg for me later.” 

During the whole interview you couldn’t help but squirm in your seat. She of course could tell just how worked up you were, sending you a knowing smile every now and then. Alexia  liked to do that, knowing you wouldn’t be able to have her for a while after. You didn’t make it home quick enough before she fucked you in the back seat of her car. 

But now, you laid with your back to her front of the sofa between Alexia’s legs. During your day dream you didn’t realise you had brought Alexia’s hands to your mouth, gently stroking her knuckles on your lips, kissing her skin softly. You squirmed at the dirty memories on your mind, feeling your body heat up. 

Alexia could read your mind, like she could read your body. She smiled down at you as she watched your lips gently kiss at her knuckles, she felt her core tighten from the touch, loving the attention you gave her. 

“You okay my love? Are you not enjoying the show?” She moved her hands from yours to guide up your arms, heer finger tips tracing your skin.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m watching it.” You shivered as she brought her hands up to your face, stroking your cheeks. You closed your eyes at the delicate touch. 

“Hmm don’t lie to me bebé. I think you’re distracted.” 

You felt your body heat up, you could tell by Alexia’s sweet tone she was also done with the tv show. 

“No, I’m watching.” You squeezed your legs as you felt her hands glide into your hair. She tugged at your roots causing you to gasp quietly. 

“Turn around.” Just by her tone alone you felt your pussy clench. You turned your body as much as you could, as her hands still had a tight hold on your hair. You were between her legs, your face close to her core. Once you saw her hazel eyes you knew she was just as turned on as you. 

“You can’t go a day without my hands can you?” She stared down at you. 

You shook your head, you whispered your next words. “No.”

She smiled playfully at you. “Open your mouth, bebé.” 

Your mouth was open in a heartbeat, she slowly guided her pointer finger into your mouth, moaning as she felt your tongue. With the way you were lying between Alexia’s legs it was like you were sucking her dick, which you had done plenty of times in this position. She gripped at your hair, guiding your head up and down on her finger. 

“You look so pretty like this my love.” Alexia tilted her head to the side, watching your lips in awe.

The blonde pulled your head slightly back, pushing her middle finger through your lips. She pushed herself deeper into your throat, moaning softly as she did it. You almost gagged as her thick fingers forced your mouth to take more, but it was nothing compared to how she would fuck your throat with her strap. 

“You’re so good for me.“ 

You hummed at her words, loving the way she used your mouth. You sucked and licked at her fingers, making sure to show off, knowing she loved having you like this. Your pussy throbbed, you could feel your underwear was completely soaked now, wanting nothing more than to have her fingers in a whole other hole. 

She finally pulled her fingers out of your mouth, making sure to drag your bottom lip, your spit gathered on her fingers. The Spaniard guided you gently up to her lips, making you sit in her lap as she kissed you hard. She removed your T-shirt with quick movements, revealing your naked torso, your breast on full display for the Spaniard. She kissed your heated skin, pushing your body closer to hers, running her tongue over your perked nipples. Your body was on overdrive, her mouth on your skin like this always made your head dizzy.

“Do you want my fingers baby?” 

“Please.” You whimpered. 

She pulled your hair back, almost painfully but of course it only made you wetter. 

She tutted “That's not good enough. I don’t think you want them that much. Beg me.” Her mouth was inches from your own now. 

You groaned. “Please, Ale. I ne- I need your fingers in me, in any way you want. Please.” 

The smile on her face was dangerous. She pressed light kisses on your neck, making you moan.

“Anywhere? But baby, don’t you think I know I can put my fingers anywhere I want? In any way I want?” She teased. 

You nodded. “Sorry.” Your words were just above a whisper, your eyes were closed, your breathing erratic.

“Do I have to remind you who you belong to? Who this pussy belongs to?” 

She didn’t wait for a response, she didn’t need to. She began to push her free hand down the front of your pants. Her long fingers pushing into your underwear and between your lips. 

She groaned even louder than you. 

“Merda. You’re so wet. This is all for me.” She wasn’t asking you, she was telling you. 

She looked at you with so much pride, her hazel eyes burning into your own. You felt your cheeks blush at her reaction, feeling a little self conscious, but that didn’t last long. She kissed you with so much passion, like she wanted you to know how proud she was of you, from how your body reacted to her. 

Alexia knew she turned you on, she knew you both were completely and utterly attracted to each other. But feeling just how your body had reacted to her made her heart swell and of course, her clit. 

She didn’t wait around, she pushed two fingers straight into your core, making you gasp from the sudden intrusion. Her eyes closed as she felt your soft walls around her fingers, letting out a content sigh. 

“Fuck. You love these hands, don’t you cari��o?”

“Yes, so much.” You groaned, your pussy fluttered, finally having Alexia’s fingers where you needed them most. She wasn’t slow, she pushed hard and fast inside, watching your face as you took what she gave you. 

“You’re so pretty baby, you make the prettiest faces when I’m inside you.” 

Alexia’s words were making your head dizzy, her fingers were relentless, she fucked you hard, hitting that beautiful spot inside you, making you moan louder. You could hear just how wet you were and you knew that meant she could hear it too. 

The hand in your hair was loose now, just guiding your face close to her mouth but never kissing you. You opened your eyes to see her watching you intensely, she pressed her forhead to your own, she looked just as fucked as you. 

“Fuck, Ale. I’m close.”

She kept up her movements, her skilful fingers coaxing you closer to your peak. 

“Not yet, baby. Take a little more I know you can.” She suckled softly at your perked nipples to sweeten the torture. 

Her muscles flexed with each thrust, making it look so easy. Alexia was strong, you loved watching her work out, you would watch her strong hands grip the bar bells, lifting weight heavier than yourself over her head. So you knew she could keep this pace up, but fuck, you needed to come.

You concentrated on nothing and everything, you knew you couldn’t come, not without Alexia’s permission. You had done that once before, and Alexia didn’t touch you for three weeks. She was serious when it came to your orgasm’s, she had the last say on when you could come. When she finally did touch you again she tied you down and ate you out for over an hour. Not once was you allowed to come while she was in between your legs, but when you were allowed to come it ended up being one of best orgasms you’d ever had. 

You started to shake, your thighs clamped on her own, your hips moving harder and your stomach started to tighten. 

“Please, Ale. I-I can’t hold it.” 

“Hmm, tell me. Whose pussy is this?” 

“Yours. Only yours.” You groaned.

“Who makes you this wet?” 

“Y-you.” 

“You feel so cute, I can feel you clenching around my fingers.” 

Your moan broke into a whimper as you struggled to hold back your orgasm.

“God you’re perfect. Come for me.” 

She circled your swollen clit with her thumb, pushing you completely over that sweet edge you had been holding onto for dear life. Your body shook hard, the moan you let out was loud, but Alexia was quick to have your lips on hers, swallowing your cries. She traced her kisses down your neck as you rode out your high, her thumb kept its pace on your clit. 

“That’s it. You were so good, bebé.” 

Your hips came to a stop, you hid your face in Alexia’s neck, peppering kisses on her skin. You breathed out and smiled lovingly at her, you could feel your body relax as her fingers tickled your back, slowly tracing mindless patterns on your skin. 

“I love your hands.” You chuckled breathlessly. 

She smirked playfully at you. “I love your mouth.” 

She guided her wet fingers to your lips. You stuck your tongue out ready to taste your own juices. She groaned as you wrapped your kissed swollen lips around her fingers, dripping with your essence. Her hazel eyes widened as you easily cleaned her fingers. No matter how many times you did that exact act, it always drove the blonde crazy. And you knew it. 

You were suddenly being pushed back, then strong hands lifted you easily to your feet. Alexia’s mouth was on yours, her tongue caressing your own. She pulled back, her eyes were glued to your lips.

“Let's put my favourite thing to work then.” She husked, before pulling you into the bedroom.