#it really is like an overwhelming chorus of i love you

[sapphothetic]

no one has been able to accurately voice what true love feels like since this i think

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“Love, you really don’t have to.” Simon murmured, his heart racing as he watched you sink to your knees in front of him. His heart was racing a mile a minute, his hands shaking as he struggled with where to put them.

He’d never gotten head before, not once. Nobody had ever offered, and Simon wasn’t the kind of man to ask for any favors in bed. He was always curious though, always wanted to know what it would feel like.

“I want to.” You replied, batting your beautiful, lust blown eyes up at him. “Want to make you feel good, Simon.”

Simon let out a soft groan at your words, and watched as you pulled his hardening length out of the confines of his pants. He held his breath in anticipation, his eyes struggling not to flutter closed as he felt your warm hand wrap around his length.

His breath hitched in his throat as you swirled your tongue across his tip, your eyes fluttering shut at the taste of the accumulated pre-cum soaking the head. He felt you moan softly against it, your tongue beginning to drag up and down his now rock hard cock.

His mind went numb when you finally took him into your mouth, your pretty pink lips thinning around the thickness of his length. He felt your mouth tighten around him, creating a tight, wet suction.

It took everything in him not to cum then and there, between the sight of you taking what you could of his length in your mouth, mixed with the feeling of your wet, hot mouth around his cock was overwhelming.

He let his hands fall to your cheeks, gently cupping at your warm flesh as you began to bob your mouth up and down his length. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, twisting at what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Simon let out chorus of soft grunts and groans, his mind still blissfully numb as he concentrated on the wet, lewd noises your mouth was making, and just how fucking good your pretty lips felt around his cock.

The pleasure was almost too much, and Simon could feel his stomach tighten, a pleasant burn filling his abdomen as his orgasm rapidly approached. His whole body began to tingle, his legs beginning to tremble as you attempted to take him deeper into your mouth.

“Wait, wait, please I’m going to cum.” Simon breathed out, his hands which were on your cheeks gently urging you to pull your head away. “Sw-sweetheart, please.”

But you remained where you were, fully intent on finishing what you started. You hollowed your cheeks further, your tongue skimming along the underside of his length at you continued to bob your head.

“Shit, fuck!” Simon growled, his hands finding your hair and gripping harshly, his cock pulsing inside your mouth as his hot cum shot down your throat. Butterflies filled his belly as he struggled to regain his breath, his cheeks burning crimson from embarrassment. “F-fuck, I’m so sorry.”

You pulled away, your eyes locked on your lovers as you made a show of swallowing what was left of his cum. Simon felt his cock twitch at the sight, as a low grown escaped him. “Oh fuck.”

It was simply the hottest fucking thing Simon had ever seen in his life. And god he wanted to do it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always thank you SO much to all the immense support recently!!!💕💕💕💕

[hyuuukais]

heyllo :3

can i request reader x chan? reader is overwhelmed but keeps it in because that’s what they see chan doing a lot of the time. but eventually it builds to a breaking point where the stress causes them to completely shut down. chan doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong so it might be cute if he just sits on the floor in front of reader and plays clips from a song he’s working on and asks for their opinion (by basically talking out loud to himself) and then after reader calms down they are able to verbalize they just need a human weighted blanket and to be told they are doing amazing and their efforts are not going unnoticed.

im fine. 🥲

just hold me, tell me you love me

pairing : chan x reader

notes : me vs the long title. anyway thank uuu for being my first request! i hope this lives up to ur expectations and can provide u some comfort 🫶 sending u hugs and love 🫂💙 sorry it's taken a bit long to get back to! kind of was getting this feeling myself and have been unable to write, but i think i'm getting back

warnings : reader is overwhelmed, mentions of anxiety, fear of opening up to someone, reader is called pet names (love, baby), reader breaks down

wc : 1.4k

All week there's been a growing pressure in your chest threatening to spill all over the floor and leave you a mess, lying on the ground with nothing else to give. Give, you've given all you can, and now that you're home, you can't do it anymore. You seek peace in the quiet of your shared bedroom, your boyfriend still at work in his studio.

Your boyfriend, who works hard day and night. Your boyfriend, who's loving and caring and sweet. Your boyfriend, who you're scared to open up to when things get really hard, because he doesn't share with you either. Although the relationship isn't fresh, going on a year and a half, there are still things you don't talk about. You don't want to burden him with your struggles when you've always been able to power through by yourself.

Fisting the sheets under you, you can feel the need to cry in your body, the hollow feeling in your chest and the tightness in your throat, but nothing comes. It's like your body knows you're too tired for even that simple of an action, for even one tear to slip. So instead, you sit the the blanket over you, face peeking out to stare at the wall with tired eyes. You can't sleep. If you close your eyes, you know you won't drift off and wake up feeling better, you'll just lie there for hours.

"Baby?"

Something spikes in you when you hear Chans voice ring out through the apartment, curling into yourself more. He shouldn't be home this early and yet, here he is, calling your name and wondering where you are; you're never in bed this early. Chan continues to call out for you until you hear the bedroom door opening quietly.

"Love?" Chans footsteps get closer, and you can feel the edge of the bed dip with his weight as he sits down. "My love..."

His hand brushes over your shoulder, but you can't face him. When you bring the blanket over your head more, he seems to get the hint, shifting to lean against the headboard next to the statue that is your body, unmoving and heavy. You can feel him fiddling beside you, and soon, a soft melody fills your ears. It's enough to distract you temporarily from the raging storm in your head, focusing on the beats, and when Chans voice comes through, it's like you can feel a sense of comfort washing over you. Although it's not enough to completely take these feelings away, you're grateful for what he's doing.

"This song has been giving me trouble," Chan comments over the music, sighing heavily. "I can't figure out if I like the chorus or not, and it feels like it's missing something in general, but I don't know what. What do you think, baby?"

Unable to answer verbally, but still wanting him to know you're listening, you roll around so you're facing him. He chuckles as you bury your face under his thigh when you see he's sitting cross-legged, the pressure on your face oddly comforting. Chan places a hand on your back, his arm resting behind your head as he rubs small circles over your thick layer of blanket. Another song starts playing after a while, another soft one, too. You relax under his touch, feeling the vibrations through his body as he hums along to this one and makes occasional comments about changes he'd like to make.

Exhaustion hits you like a ton of bricks, your eyes fluttering shut as he keep playing different songs and telling you all about them. Both of you are aware that he shouldn't be playing so much unreleased music, but all Chan cares about in this moment is you, helping you, calming you, loving you. The company will never know anyway.

"Chan," You whisper, voice barely audible. His humming stops and he pauses the music, looking down at your limp form with furrowed brows. Moving your head slightly, you're able to look up at him on an angle, the cool air of the bedroom breaching your blanket cocoon.

"What is it, baby?" Chan moves some hair from your face, leaving this palm to rest on your cheek.

"Can you just-" You clear your throat, one hand coming up to play with the hem of his shorts at his knee to calm you more. "Just hold me, tell me you love me?"

Without words, he shifts down to your level and nods. Carefully, Chan guides you to face away from him and brings you close to his body, your back pressed tightly against his chest. His chin rests on your shoulder, now enveloped inside your blanket as he holds onto you tightly, scared that if he let's go, you'll fade away. The thought of you being in so much pain, whether physical or emotional, is something he can't bear; he can't sit on the sidelines and watch you wither away. Neither of you speak as you lie there for what feels like hours, although it must only be a few minutes. The feeling of Chan's breath on your neck is oddly comforting, your own hands finding his arm around your waist and holding onto him.

Something about the way Chan is holding you, comforting you without the pressure of being asked what's wrong, has you finally breaking down. It starts small, holding back a few tears, but a few escaping despite your efforts. Then Chan shifts closer, pressing soft lips on the skin behind your ear.

"I love you, you know that? So, so much," He whispers, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he buries his face into your hair. "You're doing amazing, baby, and I mean that. I thought... I thought something might have been wrong, but I didn't know how to go about this. I'm sorry it got to this point, I should have asked. I want you to know you can always turn to me, okay?"

His words have the dam breaking and soon enough, the sobs ripping from your chest have you gasping and hiccupping like there's no tomorrow. You don't register the way Chan tries to soothe you as he pulls you around and into his chest. Subconsciously, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and roll his body onto yours, his head sitting in the crook of your neck. The weight feels nice, grounding, and you can finally hear Chan speaking again.

"Shhh, it's okay, you're okay." Chan whispers into the skin of your neck, one of his hands smoothing back your hair. "You're okay, I'm here, now breathe, alright? Breathe, baby."

He inhales deeply, and you do your best to mimic his movements. It's shaky, but you're doing it.

"Good job, you're doing great," Chan keeps his voice low as he speaks. "Keep breathing."

It gets to the point where you don't need to think about breathing anymore, your head throbbing slightly from the sudden outburst of emotion. Chan's body stays on yours, but he props himself up enough to look at you, his palm on your cheek and his thumb wiping away any remaining tears. You can barely look him in the eye.

All he does is stare at you with those pretty, dark eyes, but you realize there's a dampness under them matching yours. You open your mouth to question it, but he shakes his head, a soft smile on his face.

"I don't want you to be in pain alone ever again." His thumb continues to caress your cheek, even though the tears have dried. "I love you too much to let you go through that. Whatever's going on, tell me when you're ready, yeah? For now, just let me gush about my beautiful partner until they're feeling better."

You can't help the small laugh that escapes you as Chan surges up to pepper your face in kisses, saying praises in between each one. With every kiss, you can feel your face heating up until you try and cover it, but he just grabs your wrists and pulls your hands away. Eventually, he slows down, pressing one last kiss directly on your lips, and settles back onto you.

"Let's stay like this for a while," Chan suggests, knowing you need it, but so does he. "My favourite place is in your arms."

-

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

[bruisedboys]

dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend. his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

-

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lip so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

-

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

[hw4-l1z]

Helloooo! Can you do a Hongjoong x male reader wherein during bouncy era, Hongjoong's part "slow it down make it bouncy" made reader horny so when the bouncy promotions are over, reader invites his boyfriend to his office (reader is a CEO), and made hongjoong ride him in his office chair, subby joongie for him to ease his stress after the comeback and slight subspace? Also Hongjoong is called kitten and reader is master kink?

IT'S HARD FINDING SUB HONGJOONG HWHDJWHFHSJFE AND I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH

Sorry of it's bad I wrote this whilst being like half asleep but here it is annonie:)) also thank you sm teehee🤭

Sub!hongjoong x dom!m!reader

Cw: Un-protected sex// cumming inside// master kink// hongjoong gets called kitten// marking// spit as lube// riding

A/n: (cw: p0rn link) tbh I had this video in mind whilst writing this so enjoy hehe

°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Today was a very busy and stressful day in the company. 2 very long meetings you had attended, one too many employees had called off sick and some employees just decided to be completely incompetent when you had handed out work for them to do. Finally getting a little bit of a rest once you were back in your office, everything had quiet down now that it was night time, you opened your phone to check for messages. You swiped down you notification bar, one of them catching your eye. It was a fancam of your boyfriend, hongjoong, doing his part of the groups newest release bouncy. You clicked on the notification as the video pops up and begins to play. It's the chorus part "slow it down nake it bouncy", watching as he begin to lower himself down, bouncing his shoulders. Your mind begins to wander, the way he does it...it turns you on, only imaging what he'd look like 'bouncing' on your dick.

After a while of having explicit thoughts of him you decide you phone him, not much people are left in the building anyways but you still have more time until the place closes and with how hard you are, you cannot wait any longer.

°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Knock knock knock

You wear on your office door before a smiley, messy haired hongjoong quietly steps in.

"Hi! How've you been hyung" he says, walking over to your desk. "Could be better, it's been stressful...how are you" you give him a tired smile, "stressed too, it's alot of pressure making sure everything is perfect for atiny" he gives a lopsided smile as he climbs into your lap, wrapping his arms around your neck. You place your hands on his thighs and lean forward to press a kiss onto his lips. "You know, you looked really good during today's performance" you said emphasising the 'really' part, you thought he looked more than REALLY good...you thought he looked delicious, hot, stunning. So many words you could think of but you were too desperate to fuck him to say them all. "I did?" He tilts his head, you nod as you slide you hand further up, reaching round to his ass. He let's out a little gasp, realising what you were getting at.

"Here?" He said hesitantly, yet again you nod and begin to undo his jeans. He helps you with getting him out them before reaching down to help get your bottom half off. Once your both half naked you get him back onto your lap, spitting on your hand and rubbing it onto your cock to make a bit of an easier slide. As you begin to push into him he unbuttons your shirt revealing your torso. Once you've bottomed out he begins to move himself up and down on your cock, your hands holding his hips and helping move. "Doing so good for me kitten, doing so well" you praise as you thrust your hips up into him earning a whine out of him. "Thank you master" he moans out feeling you stretch him out so wide.

He leans his head onto your shoulder, grinding his hips down onto you with his arms tightly wrapped around your neck. Softly whining in your ear as he slips deeper and deeper into subspace, the feeling of your cock thrusting up into him is starting to feel overwhelming but so good. He tried his best to continue bouncing on your cock, wanting to make you both cum quicker. He leans back with one hand on your shoulder and the other on your thigh as he thrusts his hips up and down in a desperate attempt to fuck himself onto you faster. Holding on his hips tightly and helping his hips back and forth whilst pushing your hips up, hitting the sweet spot in him. He broken high-pitched moan escapes his mouth "fuck, master please I need more, please please please" he whines out grinding down on you harder. His hips are moving so fast despite how tired and sore he is, he can't seemed to stop the feeling of it being far too good. He throws his head back as you bite and suck at his neck leaving deep purple marks, pretty whines and whimpers come out his mouth as your hands grip him even tighter.

"Mmmf...I'm gonna cum kitten, keep going, that's it, fuck" you groan out as your feel cock begin to twitch. "Ah- yes master, I'm close too, ah-" he begins to bounce on your cock, his thighs shaking and burning but he ignores it, chasing both your highs he slams his hips onto yours hard.

Finally you both cum at the same time, groaning out as you release inside of him. He cums with a drawn out whine, feeling your warm cum spurt inside of him and filling him up, his own cum landing on both your stomachs as he grinds against you helping you both ride out your orgasms.

°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 2

summary: paige and azzi struggle with their unspoken feelings towards each other leading up to their last game.

warnings: slight angst, suggestive language.

disclaimer: everything i write is a work of fiction, any and all similarities to real life is not intentional!

word count: 1.6k +

author’s note: thank you for all the love on pt 1, i love y’all sm!! 💕

paige's pov:

of course i had my makeup bag. it never leaves my backpack actually.

azzi had only done my makeup a few times before, and it really does look better when she does it. but that's not the reason i asked her.

i've known azzi's signature lip gloss since we were sixteen. i've lost count of how many tubes i've gone through myself, telling myself it was just because i liked the flavor. but deep down, i knew.

the shade, the shine, the scent, it all belonged to her.

i guess i just wanted her on my lips.

something about the way she put it on me made my stomach flip.

azzi always gets this really serious look on her face when she was focused. it's especially apparent when she's on the court. once i see her put that face on, god bless anyone who comes in her way.

her consistency followed her off the court also. her fixed gaze on my lips when she applied my makeup. immersed in her own concentration, i took the time to study her.

i knew pretending to "forget" my makeup bag would give me time to admire her. as this being our last game, i don't know how many of these moments we have left.

and just when i had my opportunity...i froze. being with azzi sometimes made it feel like time was standing still. but this, this was different.

i'm still not over it. her lips meeting my skin, her soft breath against my face, the smell of her perfume.

i could melt in her arms if she let me.

following her out of tunnel, i licked a bit of her lip gloss off the side of my mouth.

that's one way to taste her.

lazily, i let my eyes outline her body as she walked with a swift confidence.

i can't believe i left her clueless. my sweet, shy girl finally made a move and i gave her nothing??

i need to say something to her, but my mind is blank, tongue-tied by the weight of her kiss.

azzi's pov:

i sped out of the tunnel trying not to think about how awkward i was. paige trails behind me, walking a bit faster to try to keep my pace. 

i can't believe myself. i've gone years without acting on these types of thoughts. and now, on our last game and i went and made it awkward. what if i made her uncomfortable? and here i was calling her the softie...

just then, i get that familiar feeling—the same one i get when paige is about to pass to me on the court. even when she's not looking, i can feel her burn for me. i know she’s about to say something, i can almost feel the words form on her lips.

i reach the end of the tunnel, where fans scream and whistle. finally catching up, paige walks shoulder to shoulder with me.

the sound of shoe soles on the court, chirping like morning birds. booming chants and whistles blend together in an overwhelming mass. herds of fans reach for her, arms outstretched in longing. the amount of times they chant her name, it starts to feel like it's not even a real word anymore. their rhythmic chorus engulfing everything around us.

my gaze shifts to her face. and just like that—everything stops.

the same noise that was pulsing through me just moments ago quiets to a soft hum. but with the look on paige's face, you'd think she couldn’t even hear them at all. a slight smile across her lips, the kind of smile you’d miss if you blinked. her eyes flicker across my face as if searching for something.

paige's pov:

every time i look at azzi it's like seeing her for the first time.

my ribs cave in like a dying star, heartbeat pounding. my body sings for her.

her beauty is devastating. it wrecks me every time.

she parts her lips slightly when she catches me staring. all i can hear is the stillness in her breath. soothing like a lullaby, she inhales sharply pulling me in with just a breath.

i quickly shift my gaze the crowd before she can meet my eyes. 

“PAIGE, OVER HERE. I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN,” a college aged girl shouts. 

i look up to see a girl decked out in head-to-toe uconn merch. my jersey across her chest as she leans down to me.

i absolutely adore my fans, it gets exhausting at times but i’d never let them see it.

i reach up to sign the girl's jersey. she’s rambling about something but i’m only thinking about how azzi is standing right behind us. i feel bad for being inattentive but i don’t want to waste a minute tonight not looking at her.

especially not when she looks this good.

as an apology, i shoot the girl a wink as i hand the marker back. “thanks for coming, ‘preciate it,” i say to her.

eagerly, i turn to find azzi, but she’s already at the bench.

god, i hope she isn’t still worried about what happened in the locker room. why didn't i say anything to her?

once i reach the bench, i quickly scan her face. i’ve studied her for years, i could recall every dimple, every scar, every freckle. our teammates think azzi is hard to read, but i think she pretty transparent if you know her well enough.

her discipline shows in her demeanor, with a stoic expression.

this time, though, it’s different. this isn’t her normal look, something’s bothering her. she's blinking faster than normal, her eyes darting from viewpoint to viewpoint, unsure where to land. i'm desperate to soothe her, to fix this.

i take a seat next to her on the bench as geno goes over plays. luckily, he’s facing one of my teammates to explain something so i take the opportunity to inch my hand closer to hers. hyperfocused on the small space between us, i finally meet her skin. the muscles in my hand go slack when i feel her.

i give in so easily to her, my god.

my pinky traces the familiar ridges of her knuckles. i can draw the lines on her hands from memory. a heat builds in my fingertips, i need more.

i brush my pinky finger against hers to attempt to soothe whatever she’s thinking about.

c'mon azzi, look at me. get out of your head.

her finger twitches slightly underneath mine.

was that intentional?

i search her expression like it will give me the answer. i look closely for a small smile, a furrowing of her eyebrows, a slower blink.

something, azzi, give me something.

i feel inebriated by my own desperation, but i swear i see her eyes soften for a moment. but still, she’s not here. whatever she’s thinking about, she’s in it deep.

i feel the muscles in her hand relax, and she lets me sink further, slightly interlacing our fingers. finally giving me an inch of surrender. before i can get a grip on her hand, geno turns around. with a swiftness that stings, azzi snaps her hand back into her lap.

i have to take a moment to adjust from her absence. her warmth slowly leaves my hand and i swear i feel my bones ache for her.

azzi’s pov:

paige reaches up to sign her jersey, resting a hand respectfully atop the girls chest. 

a jealousy submerges my mind as i watch, flooding my veins. it's instinctive and all-consuming. i hate the way i want to pull them apart. knees locked, i'm paralyzed by my own envy, choking on words i have no right to say.

you’d think i’d be accustomed to this by now but i’m not. paige is so deserving of all the love she gets from her fans. they see a small part of what i’ve seen in her since we were fifteen. but that’s the part of her i don’t want to share.

sometimes i just wish i could have her all to myself. i know she’s not even mine to keep.

i take a deep breath and try to control my expressions but i break when i see her wink at the girl. my brow creases slightly and i feel my breath stop. my face must have reflected my anger because the girl looks at me confused.

i snap my eyes to the floor and speed walk towards the bench.

i was so stupid for thinking that i could have her. i’ll always have to share her with the world. there’s so much of her to love, i was foolish to think i could handle the weight of fully knowing her.

when she meets me at the bench, i feel her eyes draw patterns around my face.

i need to get these silly thoughts out of my mind. i’ve been able to control myself for years when i thought about her like this. i know better…i just need to-

my thoughts cease when i feel her pinky finger brush over my knuckles. her delicate touch. she's cautious with me like she's approaching a wild animal.

my first instinct is to grab her hand entirely, to plead for more. i freeze caught between wanting to pull away or never let go. my body betrays me and my finger twitches underneath hers.

i can’t let myself get attached to her. i’ll be playing this game forever. i can’t handle the pressure of sharing her with everyone.

i feel her fingers sway across my knuckles like tree branches in the wind. i fight the urge to let her kind touch sedate me. but despite my best efforts, muscles start to relax.

is this girl trying to kill me? she’s playing with me. really, i know how she is. i can’t let myself get my hopes up.

when i see geno turn back to face us, i snap my hand back into my lap.

no attachments, i need to keep it casual.

[mabelstone]

La Petite Mort

hozier x f!reader

part four of lullabies <3 | part three | masterlist

cw: sex sex sex love making ❤️ no other warnings really, it's pretty gushy

word count: 2.6k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n xo

Hours later, the buzz of the alcohol had completely fled my system, leaving me with a residual fatigue and a love struck smile. It felt wrong, but simultaneously, nothing had ever felt so right or natural. Like the sense of deja vu that confirms you are exactly where you're supposed to be.

"Hey," he gently shook my arm from where I was sitting in a booth, almost unable to keep my eyes open. "You 'right?"

"Mhm," I grinned, fighting back a yawn. "And how are you, hotshot?"

"Overwhelmed," he huffed, extending his hand to me. He never enjoyed crowds despite their tendency to form around him everywhere he went. "Let's go home."

I let him lead me out, warmth flooding my cheeks at the simple gesture. The bite of the cold was sharper than earlier, my teeth instantly chattering. He, of course noticed immediately, shucking himself of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

"Andy," I shook my head trying to fight him off, but it was no use. "Now you're gonna get cold."

"I have at least three layers on at all times, the cold fears me," he joked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Thank you," I pouted at him, overwhelmed at such a small gesture. But it wasn't small to me. Everything Andy did was grand in my eyes. "So chivalrous."

"Well, you know me," he shrugged, stifling a grin of his own.

I started humming the chorus of tonights' song as we walked, unable to remember any of the words other than imagine being loved by me, and the beautiful melody that was sure to hang around for days.

"Don't do that," he laughed with embarrassment, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"Why not? It's a beautiful song, after all," I shrugged, unable to hide my smile that stretched from ear to ear. "And wasn't I the inspiration?" I teased, and it was now his turn to glow red.

"Mhm," he grinned, eyes focused on the road ahead of us. We were nearly back at the car, and the adrenaline was beginning to flood my bloodstream. "That's why you liked it, 'uh?."

"So good," I agreed, walking a bit closer to him that now our arms bumped occasionally. "Did you mean what you said? In the song?"

"'Course I did," he chuckled, unlocking the car and opening my door for me. He even helped me buckle my seatbelt. "Don't worry, it's just a song."

He climbed into his side now, the faintest pink tint to his cheeks, but otherwise, unbothered. I, on the other hand, was trying to get my stupid heart to slow back to normal.

I was fighting the urge to climb over into his lap and beg him to do all the things he'd been imagining. Instead we drove in what would appear to be comfortable silence from an outsiders' perspective. Obviously I didn't know what he was thinking, but I can promise you there was no trace of innocence in my thoughts. The air in the car was thick with desire, leaving me on the verge of choking on the tension.

We exchanged few words on the drive back to his, stealing bashful glances here and there. When the car stilled to a park, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.

"Andrew?" My heart continued to pound in my ears, his brows raising slightly in encouragement. "I want you," I confessed.

He turned to face me and I could see his quickening pulse through the thin skin of his neck. He swallowed thickly, pupils blown so wide I could scarcely see any green.

His gaze flitted between my lips and my eyes, and I'm sure I too was all pupil at this point. I couldn't help myself, leaning over the centre console to feel his lips on mine. My eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and I swear something inside of me had come alive for the first time in my life.

He was better than I had ever imagined.

Lips warm and soft, adding the perfect amount of pressure that made me crave more and more. His hand slipped up the back of my head, cradling its entirety in his palm.

He pulled back slowly, his hand still at the base of my skull. His lips were plump and looked absolutely delicious, my heart aching at the loss of contact.

"I want you, you know that," his voice was lower than before, our faces still close enough that I could feel the tickle of his breath ghosting my lips. "But you just got out of such a long relationship."

"You've treated me better these past few weeks than he did in six years," I reached my hand up to cup his face. His skin was warm and soft, the scratch of his stubble in my palm pulling me back down to Earth, reminding me that this wasn't just another daydream of mine. "Please, kiss me."

And he did, pulling me in as close as the confinement of his car would allow. It felt like coming up for air after holding your breath under water, like the relief you get when a siren finally stops blaring. His scent, his warmth, his gentle breaths exhaled through his nose, mingling with mine as we moved in synchronicity, as if we'd rehearsed this a million times. I'm starting to suspect he must have been having similar dreams of me.

I pulled away this time, giving him my best doe eyes through hooded lids as I suggested, "shall we go inside?"

Without a second thought, Andy was out of the car, opening my door for me. Within moments, our lips were connected again, my arms draped around his neck, his hands quick to grab my waist. He lead me into his house, our mouths moving fast, passion coursing through our veins like electricity. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me up the stairs. We were a mess of giggles and laboured breathing, bumping into walls, and desperately grabbing at one another.

Despite the desperation in our actions, he softly laid me onto his bed, crawling in between my thighs before kissing me again. I ran my hands up the sides of his torso, feeling him shudder slightly under my touch.

I could feel his hard on digging into my thigh, and suddenly my clothes were the biggest inconvenience known to man. "Show me, Andy," I breathed in between kisses, his lips now on my neck, my knickers well on their way to being drenched. "All the things you've been wanting to do to me."

He let out a deep, guttural sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a whine. He reluctantly pulled himself from me, slipping his shoes off in two fluid movements. He knelt before me, my entire ankle easily in the grip of his hand. He unbuckled my heels, slipping them off with a kiss to each of my calves. He slowly ran his hands up my legs, planting a trail of kisses upon each inch of skin he touched, the heat in my core beginning to boil.

He looked up through his head of curls, eyes dark and hungry. "You sure you want this, darlin'?"

I nodded desperately, hands instantly finding their way into his hair to bring his lips to mine again. His tongue prodded at my bottom lip and I let him in my mouth without hesitation, allowing him to explore. This only caused my desire for his tongue elsewhere to grow insurmountably.

All of my senses came to life when I felt his hand moving toward my inner thigh, opening my legs wide for him to grant him full access. His fingers made their way to my core, a soft groan fleeting from his lips. "Fuck," he breathed against my lips, slipping a ridiculously long finger inside of me with ease. I moaned into his mouth, one of my hands reaching down to grab his wrist, encouraging him to insert another. He did, curling his fingers with such precision that if I my brain weren't staticky from the feeling, I'd question how many lovers he'd had. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, kissing my neck as he did so, eyes glued to my face as if he were memorising every expression he pulled from me.

"Need to feel you," I choked out breathlessly, desperately cupping his face. "Please."

He smiled wickedly, kissing my lips once more before pulling his fingers out, dipping them straight into his mouth. My jaw nearly detached from my face at the gesture, my stomach flipping harder than ever. I watched in awe as he pulled his shirt off, his pants soon to follow, absolutely shocked that the shy, awkward, nerdy Andrew I thought I knew did not exist within these walls. I could see the outline of his cock through his boxers, swallowing hard. How on Earth was that going to fit? I sat up to rid myself of my dress, allowing it to pool around my ankles as he watched on, cock twitching beneath the thin cotton.

I made my way to him, helping him remove the last bit of clothing keeping us apart, eyes nearly bulging out of my head when I saw him. All of him. He may be the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

His hands quickly found my face, reeling me in with those lips once more before laying me on the bed again. His eyes searched mine again for any doubt, not finding any, but something else. "You okay?"

"Yes, just preparing," I laughed, only half joking.

"You're okay, you can take it," he kissed my cheek softly, lining himself up with my entrance. I gasped at the sharp sting of the stretch, holding my breath briefly. He halted all movement, no doubt used to this happening. "Tell me when, baby."

I rested my hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath before nodding. He slowly slipped the rest of his length in, our beautiful harmonisation of moans filling the air.

It was only painful for a moment before I was practically begging for more. He was as long and thick as you’d expect, but God, nothing could have prepared me. He began to form a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of me while I whined under his touch.

To feel his body weight on mine, his warmth, his scent, his love - I had ascended from my human form. I caved, begging him for more, begging him to fuck me how he wanted to.

He captured my lips with his mid way through a thrust, his cock slamming into that spot that made my brain fuzzy. I dug my nails into his shoulders, gasping into his mouth, “just like that.”

He obliged, one of his hands steadying himself with the headboard, the other cupping the back of my head. I wondered why, until he really found his rhythm.

With each delicious thrust, he would effectively hit my g-spot, making me weak as jelly under him, barely able to form words. My head was hitting his hand with the sheer force of each thrust, and I’m sure the thought of him protecting my skull would make me swoon if I weren’t on the brink of tears, producing noises I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Andy, Andy,” I chanted his name breathlessly, unable to even open my eyes as pleasure cradled my entire being. I’d never heard my voice this desperate ever, to the point that I had no autonomy over my words and vocality, like my soul was speaking without getting confirmation from my brain first. “You- feel- so- good,” I was near crying between each thrust, my mouth completely dry from all the panting.

“You feel good too, darlin’,” he grinned, removing his hand from the bed head and dropping it down to my clit. “So fuckin’ good.”

My jaw went slack, no coherent words falling from my mouth, just rhapsodies of praise in the form of whimpers and laboured breaths.

"Want you to cum for me," he breathed, his thrusts growing sloppy ever so slightly.

"Keep going," I barely got the words out, the coil in my stomach tightening as he dragged me closer to the edge with every word, every thrust, every skilled dance of his fingers over my clit. "Andy," I warned loudly, the high pitch of my tone sounding foreign to my ears, unsure if had even fallen from my tongue. "Oh, my God, I'm gonna-"

Within an instant, I unravelled beneath his touch, moaning a string of curses I couldn't even hear as the static in my mind grew overwhelming. I shook uncontrollably, every muscle of mine growing limp yet tensing and spasming at the same time. My back arched and my toes curled, crescent moon shapes from my fingernails marking his beautiful skin; a reminder to us both of how euphoric he had made me feel. My orgasm rippled through me like waves in a storm, pummelling me over and over as I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, unable to open them, unable to close my mouth as a slurry of cries dripped from my soul. Unsure of what came over me, I begged, “please cum in me,” wanting nothing more than to feel every ounce of his loving.

When I finally came back down to Earth, the waves crashed into him, the most angelic sounds flooding the four walls we were confined to. Overstimulation wracked my bones, panting into his mouth as he rode out the rest of his high, a clash of tongue and teeth as he kissed me once more. He pumped into me a few more unsteady times, his arms shaking as they struggled to hold his weight any longer.

He pulled out of me slowly, the loss of contact leaving me with a hollow feeling, immediately clinging to him the second his head hit the pillow beside me.

“Andrew,” I breathed in disbelief, titling my head to see the tired smile on his face. “I don’t even have words.”

“Could say the same to you!” He sighed, content with his arm around me, our bodies gently slowing back to normal. “What an angel.”

You are the angel, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I basked in his warmth, his scent flooding my senses as my soul unwillingly reconnected with my body.

“Write a song about this, would ya?” I laughed against his skin, tracing shapes into his chest, feeling like I was the main character in a cheesy rom-com.

“Way ahead of ya, love,” he grinned back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wanna have a shower? Or is that too much?”

I looked up at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Andrew. There’s a chance you just knocked me up. No, showering together is not too much.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he groaned, abruptly rolling out of bed, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom. He laughed devilishly at the squeak he elicited from me, kissing my face while I smiled and giggled like a fool.

Fuck.

He towered over me, the beads of water dripping from his hair onto me. He looked beautiful, contented in serenity, similar to how I was feeling, I'm sure. He lathered my body in soapy suds, nothing remotely sexual in the gesture. I did the same for him, enveloped in the warmth of his skin, acclimated to the same temperature of the water. If this were my last moment on Earth, I would die happy. Andrew had a way of making me forget every bad moment of my life. Every poor decision, every tear cried for a man who only thought about himself. Surely, this was too soon to be labelled as love. But it sure felt like it.

"You are so beautiful."

i hope u liked it if u didn't tell me if u did leave requests of something you'd like to see in this next xo and i'm aware of all the run on sentences, i'm sorry if that makes it difficult to read. i will not shut up! even in text

[finelinevogue]

hiii! not sure if you’re open to requests, but could you do one maybe about y/n being one of the background singers for matilda and she gets really emotional during singing it! (harry wrote it about her)

just a lil blurb for you<3 thank you for the inspo xox

word count: -1k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x backupsinger!eader

“And let’s give it up for our wonderful ladies tonight!” Harry shouts into his microphone, leaving the crowd of Coventry to scream back at him.

“We have, Elin.” Harry announces and Elin waves excitedly.

“As, always and forever, we have Sarah Jones.” The crowd goes crazy for Sarah. “A name so good you have to say both first and last name.”

Harry turns to face the audience and notices a fan trying to get his attention more than the others. He pulls out his ear piece so he can hear better.

“Sorry?” He politely asks her to repeat.

He focuses his attention on the fan at the barricade.

“Oh your name is also two-name worthy. What is it? Annie? No.. Amy? Yes, Amy..? Amy Styles? Ah you’re funny, you.” He smiles as he sees what the fan is trying to do here.

“No it actually is!” The fan shouts back and holds up her driving license for Harry to see.

Harry kneels down and his jacket widens open and fans scream as they see more of his chest, whilst the fans behind get a great view if his bum.

He looks at the driving license before laughing into the microphone. The crowd cheers at the tiny noise.

“Are…” Harry stops to laugh again, “Are you part of my long lost family or summat?” He asks and the fan nods her head desperately. “Wow. Never knew there was more of us out there.”

He hands the driving license back to the fan before standing back up again. It’s clear that Harry is thinking about saying something, because he stares at you, next to him on stage, with wonder.

“She’s got my last name before you do, Y/N.” He says into his microphone and the crowd goes completely wild.

You shake your head at him for being so chaotic onstage. You and Harry like to keep your relationship as private as possible, which is difficult when he’s a global superstar and you’re one of his backup singers.

It’s little things like calling each other by your proper names in public, but behind closed doors you only call pet names to one another. Or, you won’t kiss on stage because that’s too PDA for you both, but behind closed it’s exactly the opposite. Sometimes Harry’s lips will be sore when he sings from how intensely he kisses you.

“Soon though, soon.” He says to you, not into the microphone but close enough so the crowd hears.

You hold up your pinky finger and nod your head in agreement.

“I haven’t introduced her yet, but you all love her so let’s have your cheers for Y/N!” Harry shouts into his microphone and the crowd go the craziest for you.

Harry then introduces that he’s going to sing Matilda and gives reasons why it’s so important to him, before the little guitar riff for the song starts playing from Mitch.

The crowd goes still as they anticipate one of Harry’s slower songs. When the words come in, the crowd start singing in a tone that is just so peaceful and lulling.

A few fans wave to you and you wave back, allowing them to have a little scream at the notion. You laugh and catch Harry smiling at the interaction.

You don’t start singing until the chorus, but when you do the same fans hype you up.

The love from the fans is so overwhelming that you start to form tears in your eyes.

It gets even more overwhelming when a red heart balloon is lifted into the air, from the crowd, during the bridge.

You have to take a step back to clear your throat, before continuing to sing, blinking back the tears in your eyes too.

You don’t expect it, but Harry reaches over and cups his hand with yours, giving you a tight squeeze in the process. You smile as you sing, looking over slightly to catch Harry watching you with awe.

The interaction between you two goes viral and becomes the trending topic for weeks to come.

When the song is over, you immediately pull Harry into you and he hugs you back just as tight. The crowd cheers not only for the beautiful song, but also for the interaction between you and Harry.

“I love you.” You tell Harry.

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“Impossible.”

[shitsndgiggs]

hey i understand that you have so many requests right now so take your time! i love your work so much. thanks for writing for the players i love the most. i have a request for hector seeing that no one else is requesting them haha.

could you do one where Hector and Reader are childhood best friends and she always supports him. people make rumours all the time about them and they both like each other but they both are scared of rejection. one day Reader decides to show up to training and Hector ‘s friends tease him to admit it to you.

RUMORS OF LOVE - HECTOR FORT

In which rumors go around that you and Hector are dating

Hector Fort x childhood best friend! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun hung low in the sky over the training ground, casting a warm glow on the field where Hector practiced with his teammates.

Among the spectators, I sat on the bleachers, watching him with a mix of pride and admiration.

Hector and I had been friends since childhood, inseparable through thick and thin. Over the years, our bond had grown deeper, but lately, things had become... complicated.

Rumors had begun to swirl among fans and teammates alike, speculating about the nature of our relationship.

They whispered that Hector and I were more than just friends, a notion that both thrilled and terrified us.

It wasn't entirely untrue—we shared a closeness that went beyond friendship—but neither of us had ever dared to broach the subject.

As Hector took a break from drills, he spotted me in the stands and flashed a smile. I waved back, feeling a rush of warmth at his attention.

It was moments like these that made the rumors sting a little less, knowing that despite everything, Hector valued our friendship above all else.

"Hey, Hector, isn't that your girlfriend?" one of his teammates teased loudly, earning a chorus of laughter from the others.

Hector rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but I saw a hint of discomfort flicker across his face. "She's just a friend, guys. You know that."

"Yeah, right," another teammate chimed in, nudging Hector with a grin. "We've all seen the way you look at her."

My cheeks flushed with warmth as Hector's friends continued their banter, their teasing hitting closer to home than I cared to admit.

Hector glanced over at me, his eyes softening with a mix of amusement and something deeper that made my heart skip a beat.

"Come on, Hector, admit it," Marc, his closest friend, joined in with a mischievous grin. "You've got a thing for Y/N."

Hector's cheeks tinged pink, but he didn't deny it this time. Instead, he shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe I do. What's it to you?"

The teasing intensified as his teammates egged him on, each comment more playful than the last. They teased about stolen glances, inside jokes, and moments shared off the field.

Despite my embarrassment, I couldn't help but feel a rush of hope stirring within me. Maybe Hector felt the same way after all.

"Alright, alright," Hector finally relented with a laugh, his cheeks still tinged with a hint of pink. "Fine, you caught me. I like her, okay?"

His admission hung in the air, surprising everyone, including me. The stadium echoed with a chorus of cheers and playful jeers from his teammates, their teasing turning into a celebration of sorts.

Hector looked over at me, his eyes locking with mine in a silent conversation that spoke volumes.

"Do you really mean that?" I asked, my heart racing with anticipation.

Hector met my gaze, his expression earnest and vulnerable. "Yeah, I do. I've liked you for a long time."

The admission hung between us, thick with unspoken truths and unexplored possibilities. Hector descended from the field, crossing the distance between us with purpose.

His teammates continued to hoot and cheer, offering encouraging shouts and playful jabs as he approached.

"I've been wanting to tell you... I've liked you for a long time." he said softly, standing in front of me.

I swallowed hard, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. "I've liked you too, Hector. More than just as a friend."

Relief washed over his face, followed by a radiant smile that made my heart skip a beat. "So, what do you say we stop letting rumors dictate our feelings and see where this takes us?"

I nodded eagerly, a grin spreading across my face. "I'd like that. A lot."

And just like that, amidst the cheers and laughter of his teammates, Hector and I took a leap of faith into a new chapter of our relationship.

[remlionheart]

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦ ˚ *

Marinade

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ when i first decided that i wanted to write some yuuji angst, i had a v vague idea in my head of what it might look like, but when i tell you that this fic took me for a ride, i mean it. angel boy yuuji itadori finds himself mourning his 22nd birthday rather than celebrating it. sitting alone at a bar, overwhelmed by grief when he's suddenly greeted by the one part of his past that doesn't hurt to look at. 4.9k words. hurt/comfort, angst, smut, fluff, slice of life, shonen, literally everything and anything going on here. i was crying and smiling and rooting for these characters and i'm not sure that i'll ever emotionally recover from writing this, but i'm really happy w the outcome so lemme know whatcha think, luv you ♡ (also shoutout to my girl @bratbby333 for always being my biggest hype-woman and proofreading for me when i've looked at a fic for too long and start to hate it) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

now playing: marinade by dope lemon

Yuuji hadn't seen you since middle school.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He remembered you as the girl who had pretty handwriting and a serious affinity for the color blue. The girl who would leave pastel origami hearts on his desk without ever saying why. The girl who'd hide away in the library during lunch instead of eating with the rest of the class. The girl who he'd watch on the bus ride home with a sinking feeling in his stomach, catching the way your eyes glossed over each time the driver stopped in front of your house.

He learned how much you loved to read and write that year. Glancing at you from across the study hall room, secretly jotting down what number was printed along the spine of your book so that he could get you the next one in the series. He'd leave it on your desk before class started, the same way you did with his origami hearts. Never saying a word about it.

He watched you fill countless journals, your face always so concentrated as you poured your thoughts into them. He’d stop by the shopping plaza near his house after school every time he noticed that you’d reached the last page, spending his allowance to make sure there was a new one waiting for you the next morning. Each one he gave you, a different shade of blue.

But it wasn’t until the last day of eighth grade that he finally mustered up the courage to break the not-so-silent-silence the two of you had been sharing for the last 6 months. He sat down next to you, introducing himself even though it went without saying. His eyebrows furrowed a bit when you wordlessly slipped out an earbud and handed it to him. A rare, but visible smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He held it in his palm for a moment, his eyes drifting along your face as he brought it to his ear, letting the tangled white cord tether the two of you together.

He’d never heard the song before, but he still remembered thinking how fitting it was. Dreamy and melodic - just like you. The singer's voice was full of raw sincerity, adding another layer of atmospheric haze to the already heady beat while the chorus gradually filled the space between you.

He didn't have the right words to explain it at the time, but he felt lucky as he watched you stare out the window that day. Lucky to know how pretty you looked when the sunlight caught the side of your face. Lucky to know which fantasy novels you liked to spend hours losing yourself in. Lucky to know what type of music you listened to when you were deep in thought. Lucky, just to be sitting next to you.

His heart jumped around in his chest when your eyes met his again. Both of you exchanging the same somber smile as you realized what road you were on.

He handed his half of the headphones back to you, secretly relieved at how calm you still seemed despite the fact that your stop was next.

“That song,” he hesitated, the lyrics still swirling through his mind. “what was it –”

But his question came to an abrupt end as the bus began to brake, a new and overwhelming warmth dancing through his veins when he noticed how close you suddenly were to him.

His pupils doubled in size, his breath catching in his throat while you leaned in carefully, pressing the softest kiss against his boyish cheek.

"Have a good summer, Yuuji." you whispered, grabbing your backpack off the floor.

His hand rested where your lips had been, his gaze following you off of the bus. You made it about halfway up your driveway before pausing to look back at him over your shoulder, two lingering smiles blurring past one another as the driver hurried on with her route.

The next two months were filled with sunshine and soccer practice for him. Bike rides and camping trips and basketball courts. His days were usually full, but no matter what he was doing or where he was going, there was one song that was always on the tip of his tongue:

♫⋆｡ ♪ ₊ ﾟ“Do you want me? Just how I am? Do you need me and where I stand?”

One song that would forever remind him of you:

"Let's go steady, let's make a plan. Marinade on that for a little while." ⋆｡ ♪ ₊♬ ﾟ。

And he did.

He marinaded on the infatuation he felt for you the rest of that entire summer.

When August arrived that year and brought everyone back for high school, he was ready.

There were stories he wanted to tell you, questions he wanted to ask you. Playlists he wanted to make with you. Books he'd found while thrifting that he wanted to give to you. Daydreams he had of roaming the halls and laughing with you. Visions of bringing his lunch into the library so he could eat with you. He couldn't wait to hear about your summer. Couldn't wait to catch up with you. Couldn't wait to see you.

Unfortunately for you both though, life had other, much darker plans in store for the pink-haired boy who just wanted to carry around your books for you and hold your hand during passing period.

He was called out of class early on the first day. Forced to leave the building before he even had the chance to see you as he frantically tracked down the nearest shuttle and rushed across town to get to the hospital. His grandpa’s health had been on a slow decline, but after his most recent fall, it had suddenly started to plummet.

Yuuji missed the majority of that week, dedicating all of his time to the man who had essentially raised him. He would bring him food and sit with him for hours even though he was mostly incoherent. He’d tell him about his day and leave flowers by his bedside. He'd watch reruns of old game shows with him that they used to watch when Yuuji was little, completely ignoring the nurses who would say things like, "You need to give yourself a break.”

The hospital staff tried their best to get him to take a day off. To go back to school and live his own life, but Yuuji just couldn’t. His grandpa was the only family he'd ever really had. There was no way he was going to leave him. He ditched the comfort of his bedroom and began sleeping on the cramped hospital futon next to the grey-haired man, teaching himself what each machine hooked up to him was responsible for and what vitals they monitored. He’d sometimes leave throughout the day, but it was only for a couple of hours at most. He'd return with more flowers and books to read to him. By the third week of school, he'd missed almost every single one of his classes, but he didn’t care. His priorities were firm.

Yuuji stayed by his side - day in and day out, until the very end.

When he woke up to the sound of erratic beeping and codes that he didn't understand being called out by nurses, he knew. He knew in his heart that this was it. Amongst the chaos were two sets of shaking hands reaching for each other, his grandpa's last words hanging heavily in the space between them,

“Yuuji... You're a strong kid, try your best to help others, okay?”

He remembered thinking at that moment that there couldn’t be a worse feeling. That he couldn’t possibly have anything else left to lose. He was only 15 and he was now officially all on his own as he watched the only parental figure he had let out his last breath of air.

He had no family, no future, no chance.

Fate was a cruel and calculating thing though. A few days after the funeral, Yuuji discovered that he did have a future. One that was irreversibly sealed the minute he stepped foot into Jujutsu High. He had to let go of everything he'd known in exchange for the damning task of becoming a vessel for Ryomen Sukuna. He had to trade in his mundane role of being a high school freshman for the daunting responsibility of becoming a first-year sorcerer. And arguably the hardest thing of all, he had to give up the simple pleasure of sharing a set of tangled headphones with you to try and save a world that didn't truly care about him.

There was no room for normalcy anymore. This was his new life and it was ending, one day at a time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He sat at a nearly vacant bar by himself, staring down the empty glass in front of him, watching the ice melt as he ran a shaky hand along the back of his neck.

It was 4 o'clock and he was only one of two people here this early. The lights and music were still being adjusted by the workers. Cups being stocked and coolers being filled for the inevitable Saturday-night rush that would come in the next few hours. His goal was to be absolutely obliterated by then - to already be on his way back home before the swarm of college students took over.

He paused, noticing the calendar hanging by the craft beer list in front of him. His heart stuttered a bit as he blinked back at the date. No wonder he'd been feeling so reminiscent lately.

He leaned over the counter hoping to find the bartender who'd poured his first drink, but to no avail.

He grabbed his glass, sucking down the very last drop of whiskey it had to offer, trying desperately to drown out the realization that today was his 22nd birthday and the people who should be here with him weren't.

Almost every friend he'd made over the last ten years had been ripped away from him. They were scattered memories. Familiar voices that he did his best to hold onto. Faces, names, deaths that followed him everywhere he went.

Middle school and the innocence of just wanting to hold a pretty girl's hand while she walked down the hallway were long gone. He was an adult now. A very tired and traumatized adult.

He peered around the corner again, half-tempted to jump over the bar and pour himself another drink when the stereo kicked on, an overwhelming wave of pure, deep blue nostalgia flooding over him without warning.

His back straightened, his eyes suddenly darting towards the speaker as the lyrics drifted across his skin, causing every hair on his body to stand up at once.

"She wanted to die by a river. She wanted the tide to come up and drag her away, so that when she's dreamin', she can watch the tree line fall away." ⋆｡ ♪

It was the same hazy melody that he'd spent an entire summer listening to on repeat. He still knew every word, every beat. It was muscle memory the way his fingertips began to drum along the counter when a bartender finally emerged from the back.

"Sorry, do you need a –"

Time stilled, the glass nearly slipping from his hand as your gaze caught his.

"Yuuji?"

Despite how much you'd changed since the last time he saw you, your voice was somehow just as soft as he remembered it being.

He stared back at you in quiet disbelief, guilt quickly settling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about how fucking strange and unexpected this all must feel for you too.

From your perspective, he'd spent all of 8th grade trying to befriend you only to up and leave without even saying goodbye. And now, 7 years later - he was at your work, looking back at you like you were an actual angel, and forgetting every word he knew.

Your eyes stayed locked on his for another moment, both of you studying the person in front of you before you finally let out a shaky breath and smiled at him.

"Here," You offered, suddenly feeling the need to soothe your own nerves too. "On the house."

He tried to tell you that he could pay for it, but it was too late. You were already pouring two shots and motioning for him to put his wallet away.

"Okay, fine. But..." There was a glimmer in his eye as he pulled his glass away from yours. "What are we toasting to?"

The smile he gave you felt like a warm hug. One that you didn't realize you needed until you had it again. "Oh," You stammered, trying to ignore the blood that was rushing to your cheeks. "What about... To old friends?"

He nodded, still wearing the same expression as your drinks lightly knocked together. "To old friends."

He couldn't help but grin again at the little shiver that swept across your body as you finished yours.

Your hair was longer, your features a bit more mature, but your mannerisms were all the same. You were still the girl that was made up of mid-day sunlight, handbound books, and shades of blue that were too pretty to exist in this world.

You grabbed a beer out of the cooler and slid it to him, once again ignoring the credit card he tried to hand you. "Yuuji, relax." you leaned against the counter, resting your head in your hands so that you were eye-level with him. "They're not gonna go bankrupt over a $2 IPA, I promise."

"If you say so."  

You both exchanged the same small smile, his finger lightly running along the counter. "So," he cleared his throat, completely unsure of where to start. "How've you been?"

It was a loaded question, maybe even a dumb question considering how much time had passed, but he didn't care. He really did want to know how you'd been. What you'd been up to. What type of things you'd been writing about. What your Spotifty playlists looked like. What you did on your days off. He wanted to know everything. All of it.

"Well," you exhaled, trying to find an easy way to condense the last seven years of your life. "My parents..." your eyebrows furrowed, realizing that you'd never gotten the chance to tell him why you used to dread your old bus route so much. "My parents finally got divorced..."

“Oh shit, I’m sorry -"

“No,” You said swiftly, not wanting him to feel bad for asking. "It was more of a relief than anything. They used to fight, a lot. My mom wasn't always the nicest when she drank... It probably should've happened way sooner to be honest."

His breathing slowed as memories of you with tears in your eyes walking up your driveway smashed through his mind. He'd promised himself that he would ask you about it one day, but he had no idea it'd be this much later on. He'd wanted to talk to you about it as kids. Wanted to know what scared you so much about going home, but he didn't know how. It was the reason why he left journals on your desk. The reason why he never let you go without the next book in your series.

For everything he couldn't say, he tried to show. But he'd failed you on both accounts the day he disappeared.

"My parents separated my -" you paused, eyes dragging to his as you corrected yourself. "our graduation year."

He nodded, doing his best to digest the thought of you walking down the aisle in a cap and gown with the weight of your parents' downfall on your shoulders.

"But, after that," you smiled slightly. “I applied to college and got accepted. Started working here. Got my own apartment. And I don't know...” you shrugged, "I think in a weird way, things happened the way they were supposed to. It was like everything needed to fall apart before it got better, you know?"

He smiled back at you, your last sentence lingering in the space between you as he reached for your hand. He probably wouldn't have understood that sentiment a year ago, but watching your eyes widen while your fingers slowly tangled into his, he knew exactly what you meant now.

"I'm really sorry I wasn't there..." His thumb brushed against the side of your hand, steadying himself as he let 15-year-old him and 22-year-old him come together to say what they had both been holding onto for so long. "I didn't want to leave. I just -"

Your heart swelled in your chest, watching him blink back tears he wasn't prepared to shed. "Life got really hard for a really long time for me too. But, whenever I felt myself drifting... I thought of you. Thought of the way you'd glance at me from over your book during class. Thought of the way you smiled when you thought no one was watching. I thought of you... all the time. And it was like, no matter how dark things got, it reminded me that life could be good, because it was at one point. So..."

Your hand tightened around his, two sets of glossy eyes now staring back at each other as he forced himself to say what he should've years ago. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there, but... I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."

You were dizzy with emotion. Swimming through feelings that you'd kept buried for nearly the last decade. The thoughts you'd only been brave enough to write down. The overwhelming urge to kiss him again and again and again until neither one of you had any air left in your lungs.

Your mouth opened and then closed, your body saying more than you were capable of with how desperately you were holding onto him.

You weren't sure what you were doing. Didn't have time to think or care about the repercussions of your impulsiveness.

"Hey Mai," You called out, "I'm really not feeling well. Think I'm gonna go home."

Yuuji's head was shaking no, but the surprised smile tugging at the corner of his mouth was saying otherwise. "What're you doing?" he whisper-shouted, watching you run around the bar to grab his hand again.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mai yelled from the back, but it was too late.

You and Yuuji were already gone, practically sprinting alongside each other, laughing as you booked it across the parking lot.

"First the free beer and now this?"

"They won't go bankrupt over me missing one day." You winked. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

You may have been leading the way, but he was still the athlete between the two of you, purposefully slowing himself down to not be right on your heels. But when he noticed you starting to pant as the road curved into an upward slope, he reached out for you, gently spinning you around to face him.

"Come here." he knelt down, positioning himself so that you could easily wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

He carried you piggy-back style up the hill, the sun fading into an array of pink and orange as you pointed out every bookstore around campus, explaining which ones were your favorites and why. Promising to get matcha with him tomorrow at a local coffee shop you passed. Asking him about his time at Jujutsu High and trying to wrap your mind around what little he was able to tell you as he swore that he'd fill you in on the full story when the time was right. You caught him up on what he'd missed the last three years of high school and how your college classes had been going. You talked about libraries and ghosts and laughed about how in 7th grade he'd joined the occult club just because he thought it'd be an easy after-school credit.

By the time you'd finally reached the spot you'd wanted to show him, the moon had almost completely replaced the sun. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and your hands were full of a mixture of different flowers that he'd picked for you along the way.

"This is..." he trailed off, watching the sky shift into a deep blend of blue and silver. "Beautiful. How'd you even find this place?"

It was an abandoned park surrounded by overgrown trees that overlooked the city, only one rusted swing set left to its name. The hike you had to endure just to find it had more than likely been the cause of its demise, trekking up here with a backpack was hard enough, let alone a stroller.

"I kinda found it by accident." You shrugged. "I was working on an art project and needed a good view of the skyline. I looked up a bunch of different places online, but then I saw this spot and just knew."

Yuuji pulled off his hoodie, sweat trickling down his neck from the late-summer heat as the two of you sat in the grass, his arm gently wrapping around your waist.

There had been so many times you'd sat in this exact same spot by yourself, wondering what the odds were that you were both somehow looking up at the same star.

Your head rested on his shoulder, a warm gust of air swirling around you as you both looked out into the distance, watching the way the stars faded into the Tokyo lights.

"Hey, Yuuji?" You twirled a blade of grass between your fingers, not wanting to ruin the moment, but still needing to be sure.

"Yeah?"

"You promise, right?"

"Hm?" He could hear the concern in your voice, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer.

"You promise that... you're not leaving again?"

"I swear, I'm not going anywhere. And if I do," His eyes returned to yours, his free hand attentively resting under your chin. "I'm taking you with me."

You nodded, warmth washing over you as he traced along your jawline, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Your fears were lost to his touch. Your worries dissolving into the sincerity of his voice. Your need for reassurance wholeheartedly met when his hand cupped your cheek and his lips finally caught yours. Seven years' worth of pent-up feelings pouring out between the two of you, hands roaming and little moans slipping out between breaths while you tugged on the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. He was gentle but eager. Soft but secure. Perfect, in every way.

He hovered over you, easing you onto the grass as he made a makeshift pillow out of his hoodie for you to rest your head on.

You smiled as his lips drifted from your mouth to your neck, his palm delicately traveling up your shirt, pulling your bra to the side while he helped slide your tank-top up over your head. He kissed your collarbones, whispering sweet little praises into your skin. "You're gorgeous, you know that?"

He rested a hand under your back, steadying you as his tongue flickered across your chest. He took his time, making sure to give each nipple the same amount of attention, still humming things like, "the prettiest girl I've ever seen" while his hand traced over your hip.

He tugged at the waistline of your shorts, looking up at you through his lashes as he began to leave featherlight kisses along the inside of your thigh, his blood racing at the sounds you were suddenly making.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

You whimpered out a broken "yes", practically dripping when his fingers spread you apart. He watched you writhe beneath him, drawing slow but firm circles around you. Trying not to lose himself to the way your legs were already shaking for him.

"Yuuji," you whined. "I -" his mouth was ghosting your center, his fingers still playing with your clit while he held you in place. "I n - need you." your voice was heady, lost somewhere in the clouds the faster he went. "I wanna f - feel you, so bad."

"Yeah?" He smiled, his breath still fanning across your core as his digits prodded carefully at your entrance. He groaned at how beautifully your walls swallowed him. "I wanna feel you too."

Your head lulled back, eyes pointed at the sky while your hand tangled into his pink hair. His mouth was warm and heavenly, his tongue running uppp and dowwnnn your center, saliva mixing with slick while his fingers plunged into you.

"Oh, fuck."

He only went deeper the louder you got, flattening his tongue against you with just the right pressure to keep you saying his name. His ring and middle finger hitting spots you'd never been able to reach yourself. You were clenching around him, your thighs locking around his head as you rocked against his tongue.

"Yuuji - you're gonna make me -" he thought it was adorable the way you struggled to get more than two words out at a time. "Fuck, I -"

"Mhmm, just like that."

He was in the same daze you were, sliding in and out of you feverishly until he finally felt the blissful release of your walls spasming around him. Your body suddenly unable to hold it in any longer as you gave him the privilege of really tasing you.

"Oh my god," he moaned, faithfully lapping up every bit of you he could get, only pulling away when you started begging for him.

"Yuuji -" It was needy and light-headed. "Come here, come here. Please."

The way he lifted his head up, smiling at you with your cum dripping down his chin made something inside you ache.

You pulled him towards you, desperately wrapping your legs around his waist as he began undoing the buttons on his pants. He kissed you, again and again and again, using it as a pleasant distraction while he wriggled himself free.

He took a breath, both of you watching in blitzed out awe as he lined himself up with you. "I love you." he whispered, your eyes widening from the blend of his words and the feeling of his tip slowly entering you. "Always have."

His hair brushed against your forehead as he parted your lips with his tongue, your nails digging into his neck with his first full thrust. You were so tight and warm around him.

He tried to ease into you, encouraging you while also making sure you were comfortable. His voice sweet as honey as he asked you things like, "Is that okay, baby?" and "Aw, you like when I go deep like that, huh?"

Your gaze locked with his, your eyebrows knitting together the faster his rhythm became.

You'd thought about this moment before. Thought about what it might feel like, but nothing could've prepared you for the way your heart would race at the sound of him moaning, "You're doing so good for me." The way he'd hold you, looking back at you with stars in his eyes as he filled every inch of you.

"Yuuji -"

"Let it out, baby. S'okay." He whispered, his hand reaching for yours. "I've got you."

Your vision was blurred by the feeling of his tip meeting your cervix, warm summer air brushing against your skin as you reached your breaking point.

"I love you." The words left your mouth so fast you barely had time to register them, but then... they wouldn't stop. It was the only phrase you remembered how to say. The only emotion you remembered how to feel. "I love you." you whimpered again, feeling yourself tighten around him as your confession became more frantic. "Oh - mygod, Yuuji. I love you. I love you. I love - you."

His movements were suddenly beyond his control, his body completely succumbing to the grip of yours. "Fuck, baby - I -" He didn't know if he should pull out. Didn't know if he could pull out. His head was everywhere, his mouth dropping open the longer he watched you.

Your legs locked around him in heady reassurance. "Mm'mm, d - don't stop." You panted. "Cum with me."

It was a sentence he'd only ever thought he'd be lucky enough to hear you say in his dreams.

His hips stilled after one more thrust, your walls holding him tight as he began to twitch inside you. His forehead pressed against yours, his arms struggling to keep him propped up.

You exchanged the same exhausted smirk, leaning up to kiss him while he carefully pulled out of you. A blend of fluids spilling out onto the grass beneath you as he laid by your side with his forearm over his face, trying to regain his composure.

There was a calm silence that settled between you, the both of you looking up at the stars before you rolled over to reach for your shorts, letting him catch his breath while you dug something out of the back pocket.

"Here." You said, unraveling a tangled pair of headphones and handing him one.

His eyes widened with the same curiosity they had 7 years ago as he held it to his ear, your head resting on his chest while a song he knew all too well flowed through the small speakers connecting you. A smile splitting across his face as he held you closer.

"You know, I think you were right." he exhaled, running light fingertips along your arm. "Everything did have to fall apart before it got better."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[avocado-writing]

If you’re still open for prompts, can we get Tav to bring Astarion for shopping, claiming she has no fashion sense, but in truth it’s to make him buy something for himself?

I don’t know if you’ve seen the free cam screenshots, but the inside of Astarion’s test is bleak and messy, and in the lower city camp he’s hanging filthy rags to dry above his tent, like he’s so used to only focusing on his outerwear that he forgot he can actually get himself some nice towels and bedding for personal use.

notes: what a sweet request! i get so many lovely requests for astarion and it's what he deserves tbh.

words: <1k

rating: T

“I’m not sure why you need me to come with you. Apart from because you’re in need of my stellar company, of course,” Astarion sniffs.

“Well, you have the best taste in camp, and I trust you with this sort of thing. Besides, what were you really planning on doing today apart from irritating Gale?”

Astarion makes a show of putting in a bookmark and slamming his novel closed, looking up properly at where you’ve wandered over to him. He pretends to be a bit irked, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the words in front of him anyway - he was too busy sneaking glances up at you as you helped out around the camp. It’s something he’s been doing a lot recently. His eyes are drawn to you. He is drawn to you. Magnetised. 

But that is far too raw-hearted and personal for you to know, so he’s desperately trying to hide his weakness for you beneath a layer of palette-knifed-on apathy. He suspects it isn’t working.

“Come on,” you continue, your pleading too sweet to be ignored, “it won’t take long. I just need to get a couple of bits for my tent, you know, to spruce it up. Please?”

Astarion groans. Secretly, he doesn’t mind. He’d quite enjoy it, actually. But if you know that then you suddenly have power over him, and the idea of letting someone have power over him again, even if it’s you, scares the unlife out of him.

Still, though. When your eyes are buttery-soft and there’s that furrow in your brow which comes with your sincere confusion, he feels his walls being shattered.

“Fine,” he groans, dramatically, “I suppose you do need some help picking out nice things. Let’s head off, then.”

He tries to ignore the way that his heart does a silly little leap when you light up at the idea.

And so, Astarion lets you drag him into Baldur’s Gate. He is once again overwhelmed with how much he missed the city - not during the times with Cazador, of course, but back in his youth, when he was able to stroll about and shop like this under his own free will. When he had a magistrate’s salary and a healthy portion of it could go on things like this, frivolous and fine things. Maybe he is a little bitter at first as you take him store-to-store, but he soon finds himself relaxing into the joy of a spree; when your hand tangles with his he lets you lead him around, quietly revelling in your delight as you leaf through linens and silks.

Your day together becomes a chorus of, “this one or this one?” holding up bedsheets for him to help you decide between, letting him make a lengthy decision as he tests threadcounts against his alabaster fingers. He helps you pick blankets, new soft towels for when you’re able to bathe (a luxury at the moment, but still…) some sweet-scented candles and incense for your tent to cover the smell of dirt caked into you all. 

He suggests lavender. It’s his favourite.

At the end of the day he watches you count out gold onto the final merchant’s counter before taking a heavy woven tote full of your purchases. It feels like a satisfying venture has been had, but he still feels a bit hollow - after all, your hands are full, and his are achingly empty. 

You stop when you clear the doorway back onto the street, and hold the bags to him.

“What? I’m not carrying your things for you. I’m not Karlach!” he says, appalled. You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m not making you my pack mule, Astarion. I doubt you could be - ” he’s about to interject and bite back at that little jab, but you barrel on regardless, “ - they’re a gift. This is all for you.”

He freezes. Blinks. Eyes drop down to the shopping as if it’s a Mimic, waiting for him to let his guard down so that it can eat his arm.

“All for me?”

You nod, and when he doesn’t move to take the handles, you gently open up his fingers like the petals of a flower and deposit them into his palm instead. 

He feels the weight of the new things. Of his new things. He doesn’t know how to respond. His brain feels blank.

“I have money, you know,” he says, partly defending himself against your kindness, and partly against the idea that you might think he’s in need of charity. You sigh and cross your arms, a sure sign of not taking any of his nonsense right now.

“I know, and I am perfectly capable of giving you a gift because I think you deserve one. There is no trick here, Astarion. I just thought you should have a couple of new bits because you barely buy them for yourself. You’re allowed to have nice things, you know.”

Ah. That hurts him a bit, not because you’re being unkind, but because maybe you’re being truthful. His hands became used to a needle and thread by candlelight, to tiny neat stitches done with such precision it was difficult to notice that anything he mended was ever damaged at all. But he does not live that life any more. He can open himself to the possibility of being pampered again.

He likes that idea.

He retracts his arms, clutching the shopping to his body, as if he’s afraid that you’ll change your mind. You smile at him so brightly that he feels as if you are the sun.

“...Thank you,” he manages, eventually.

“Any time,” you say, and he knows you mean that.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @hopeful-n-sad

[pictureinme]

kinktober day vi. SEX TOYS – agent donald buchanan

word count: ~600 tags: male masturbation, dirty talk masterlist | ao3

“Come on, just a little bit more for me, yeah?”

You moan incoherently as Donald fits the entirety of the 8-inch toy inside of you, biting his lip as he does so. He loved watching you like this, maybe even more than fucking you himself. There was something voyeuristic about it, something dirty he just couldn’t resist.

He groans as you grind yourself back onto the length, your eyes lidded as you watch his own arousal make itself known.

“You can take more, can’t you, baby?”

“I don’t… I don’t know, fuck, Don!”

Donald’s view was beautiful: your arched back, hands grasping the covers for any semblance of control, the way you open yourself up, just for him. Unbeknownst to you at this point, he’s slipped one of his calloused hands into his pants, palming himself as he thrusts the silicone into you.

“God, you’re perfect, aren’t you? Perfect little hole, so sexy…”

You moan desperately as he fucks into you deeply, the feeling of being used was almost overwhelming. Hearing the familiar sounds of him pleasuring himself, you turn your head to watch him.

“Let me, please, Don– I need you.”

Donald grins widely at your words but shakes his head, unrelenting in any of his actions, “Gonna make you cream all over this fake cock first. That’s why you bought it anyway, right?”

“No, no,” your head falls back onto the bed, the thrusts speeding up, “Just miss you when you’re on missions… need something to fill me up– ah!”

He hums from behind you, and you can tell his hand is fisting his length even harder, “That’s so fucking sexy, Jesus, (Y/N). Your fingers aren’t enough, you need something big like me?”

You nod shakily, feeling the tip of the toy hitting your cervix, “I do, I really do.”

Donald breathes heavily as he watches how your bark arches even further into his assisted touch, and you smile knowing how easily you can make him break just by existing. The filthy noises created by your separate but joined pleasures echoed throughout the bedroom, but you were far from aware of it.

His incessant strokes against your cervix begin to make you whine, you know you’ll feel the bruising for at least a couple of days after. Your body felt hot all over, the sweat causing all of you to glow in the dim lighting– like an angel if you asked Donald.

“So beautiful, gonna make me come,” his voice is dripping with want, “Don’t wanna come before you do, baby girl, please…”

You mewl at his words, hips swaying ever so slightly as you tighten around the toy, “Please, don’t stop, Don, fuck!”

“Never gonna stop, not ‘til you make a fucking mess.”

Donald’s ministrations never falter, and you feel that familiar knot inside of you threaten to unfurl at any given moment. Your ecstasy increases in volume, noise complaints completely out of the question, “Gonna fucking come, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashes over you quickly and suddenly, you can barely get your words out in time. His hands move faster, keeping rhythm with each other as he watches your body tremble and undulate as you let go. The groans and whines of the two of you create a chorus, and he quickly releases all over his hand, some hitting the back of your thighs.

“Fuck, fuck, (Y/N),” Donald chants your name like a mantra as he comes down slowly.

He watches your wetness drip down your body, meeting his own, and shuts his eyes tightly from the sheer erotic nature of the entire situation before him.

[didhewinkback]

chug

a something old blurb about the beer whale (whale beer?) (wheer?) (bhale?)

warning: slight smut at the end bc i know thats what the people come to see

---

“Just stand where I can see yeh’” was the request he mumbled into your hair before kissing you on the cheek and heading to the huddle, leaving you free to roam, beers in hand, determined to enjoy the show from a new vantage point, surrounded by the crew members you’ve gotten to know and love over the years. 

You spent the first half with Sandy and Sarah and the catering legends, giggling and dancing to the songs you all knew like the back of your hand at this point, locking eyes with him when he brought out Wet Leg, big smirk on his face as he sauntered up to the mic, eyes burning into yours while he sang one line of the chorus over and over, fire in his eyes when you sang it right back to him. 

You duck down to the front of the stage for the second half, ensuring the lads were well hydrated with water and beer alike, feeling like your heart was going to burst watching him have the time of his life on that stage. In utter disbelief at what the past two and half years have been for him and you both, watching him soar to new heights you always knew were possible but couldn’t imagine seeing play out in real time, the boy whose school band played at your 15th birthday party now singing to stadiums across the world, loving every second and being loved in return. 

He’s at his best when he’s up there, his big, open heart ripe for the taking, making the crowd of thousands feel like a small room of his closest friends, relishing in the attention, the screams, the insatiable energy, gratitude radiating out of every fiber of his being. It’s enough to make you weep when you think about it for too long, an impossible to articulate experience of watching the person you love most in this world achieve their dreams over and over again. 

It’s overwhelming, mind-blowing and also really fucking fun, you think, cheers-ing with the lads as you started another round of beer (it is the end of tour after all), watching as Harry runs across the stage, picking up his water bottle, poised for the classic whale, almost like clockwork. But this time, he pauses, doing a quick double take when he sees you down front with the crew. 

He gestures to your half drunk cup, ushering it towards him as you hold it up to the cheers of your group, Brad’s long arms aiding the transfer as Harry takes it from him and after smiling back at the band, downs it in one go, much to the delight of the lads. They’re goading him on, chanting his name, but everything whites out around you as all you can focus on is the way his throat moves, the beer that misses his mouth falling onto his naked chest, dripping down in a way that makes you feel warm all over. Never one to mind a messy face.

It’s over in seconds but feels like it went on for ages, a time bending effect he always seems to have on you. He winks at you before placing the cup down, facing the crowd fully as he spits it into the air, wide grin on his face as you all cheer before he runs to the other side of the stage.

It’s much later, after the final songs, the emotional thank yous, the celebratory post-show drinks on the beach with the whole crew, that you stumble into bed together, both a bit drunk off the booze and each other, burning up from one too many lingering stares across the party, whispered conversations about how good he looked up there, your beer all over him, his ripped chest gleaming in the spotlight. He’s pressing you into the mattress in record time, hands sliding all over your body as his lips leave their mark on your skin, breath catching at the never-ending stream of praise leaving your mouth as you get lost in each other, in this night, consumed by overwhelming pride and love and the carnal need to have each other close. 

“You’re proud of me, huh?” he grunts into your ear, hand sliding down your thigh to hike it up around his hip, the new angle making the both of you moan out loud. “Y’ love me?”

“Yes, H. Fuck. So much, I -”

“Want y’ to show me,” he says, voice deep in your ear as he smacks a kiss to your cheek, your temple, biting at your lips while his hands slide up your body, interlacing your fingers to hold your hands over your head, his chest sliding against yours. “Be my good girl and show me how proud y’ are, how much y’love me. Want to see it. Want to feel it. C’mon baby, show me -”

So you do. 

Again.

And again.

And again.

---

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[dragonsinthedarkness]

"But I hear other voices. A chorus of voices. Multitudes. They reach back centuries. Men and women and children who lost their lives to men like you. Man and women and children forced to wear your chains. I must answer to them.

And this war, Flint’s war, my war, it will not be bargained away to avoid a fight. To save John Silver’s life, or his men’s, or mine.”

I’d like to start from this beautiful speech from Madi to explain why I think Madi is the war itself. Why she was exactly what Flint needed to start fighting it and why she couldn’t be further away from Silver as a person.

Just because I rewatched the final ep. today and I feel the need to honor the one who lost part of herself in this and to reason about the dynamics among the two persons who might have changed the world and the one who kicked that hope back into the dark corner of the untold.

As always, Flint and Silver’s conversation at the end of ep.XXXVIII made me think A LOT. First time I guess I was overwhelmed by emotions, but this time, between the bitterness of the betrayal and the desperation of Flint's loss, I think I started to see exactly what Silver couldn’t get about the war. Which basically is its meaning.

But let me begin with Flint, because is the character I think I know better by now and because I need to start from a warrior who is not the war itself.

Flint started by fighting a war, another one, an easier one, alongside Thomas. He found himself in that period of time, but he lost that war and the one he loved the most with it. Then he started to fight another kind of war, twisted himself in order to fit into its lines. That war was never about liberation, even if that was what he had been telling himself all along and maybe what he hoped he could eventually accomplish by fighting it: it was just about revenge and something to grab in order to stay afloat. It took him to lost every hope of happiness he had left (Miranda), the last possible meaning of his life and of the person he felt he really was deep inside to see the chance for yet another kind of war. A wider one, a harder one, a most fundamental one. It took him to meet Madi. Knowing her, someone completely different from anyone he had known and fought along in the past, someone who was somehow closer to him as a person than anyone he had ever known (except maybe Eleonor, I’m talking mainly about the pirates. Thomas and Miranda were close to him but not very similar in character I’d say and maybe this is why they got along together so well), he finally had the chance to understand that he was not alone in his misery. She had the courage to be what Flint didn’t even know he could become, the fight not for the fight’s sake but for the outcome, as much as he reputed himself already excluded from it, because however he couldn’t ever be part of anything again, not in the way he had been with Thomas and Miranda. But there’s a difference between fighting just to kill and fighting to save who the one you are killing would have been willing to kill, and Madi represented that change for him.

And the war represented the only meaning he was still able to give to his life.

He is defined by his past, absolutely and mainly, and this makes him both someone with valid reasons to fight and someone with reasons to stop fighting.

In the previous episode we see how Silver instead refuses to be defined by his past, which could be a good or a bad thing, depending on how one let that past influence themselves, but that in this specific situation is basically what makes him unable (just my point of view of course) to get the general meaning of that war.

He chooses to erase his experience in favor of the moment, of the future maybe, and this makes him unable (as much as he likes to affirm the contrary, which I had never agreed upon) to understand the minds of the ones who let that experience shape them. And even more, it makes him unable to understand the minds of the ones who don’t need to have cruel experiences behind them in order to feel the fight. That is, Madi.

To link with my previous post ( https://www.tumblr.com/dragonsinthedarkness/758840316125216768/from-the-moment-he-started-speaking-i-couldnt?source=share ), in that infamous conversation in the last ep. Silver confesses he felt the war only (or especially, but I’d say only) when he lost Madi, because he felt the need to honor her sacrifice, avenge her lost and everything Flint had been doing for years, and the point is that that war was EXACTLY that. It was answering to the multitudes of voices who had undergone all that suffering and that demanded justice for it. It was trying to accomplish that as few others as possible could undergo that same fate.

And the point I want to make is that Madi was not only a warrior but the war itself because she felt those voices and the need to answer to them EVEN IF she had never personally experienced such tragedies. She was raised with the Guthries, then in the camp, she had probably even had the chance to be happy in her childhood, but this didn’t prevent her from developing the knowledge of that evil or the responsibility to fight it as leader of her community and as sisters of all the ones who had suffered before and may suffer again.

She wasn’t defined by her own past, but she brought on her shoulders the most painful and important legacy and decided to honor it.

And one may ask for justice for what happened in their own lifetime with a single chance of succeeding, that can make a great warrior of them, but those voices REACHED BACK CENTURIES, as she said. Her justice, their justice, would have been hopeless as long as something bigger as that war started to change things, and this is exactly what Silver couldn’t understand.

Now of course I know changes don’t happen overnight because “the world is too strong for that”, but I’m talking about their reality in that age right now and I think that as much as a war couldn’t have probably changed things, it would have been a beginning at least. A scream echoing in the night of their existences who would have maybe be heard, and as long as even a single person was able to gain goodness from it, it wouldn’t have been in vain.

As I believe all their efforts had not been in vain, despite the outcome.

For one hour, a month or a year (to improperly quote Silver) of freedom.

For one single moment of victory, of light in the dark.

[spotsandsocks]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @spaceprincessem @heartshapedvows @loserdiaz @the-likesofus @daffi-990 thank you my talented pocket pals

I was going to share more shifter fic but thought you all might be getting a bit bored so instead have some demisexual Eddie finding out that sexual attraction hits like a truck.

He hadn’t meant to do it today.

He hadn’t really thought he’d do it ever.

If you’d asked Eddie if he’d had any intentions of telling Buck how he felt about him, the answer would have been no.

Ok so he’d had a few vague thoughts on how he might possibly say something, maybe, one day but any musings he’d had in that direction had certainly not involved blurting it out as Buck handed over a coffee by the fire truck.

It’s not his fault, it really isn’t, he’s not used to feeling like this, hot and flustered and overwhelmed.

And the thing is he forgets. Forgets how ridiculously attractive he is. So when he just appears looking like he does it’s all a bit too much.

It had been fine at the start, he'd been able to tell Buck was an handsome man, a definite contender for that ridiculous calendar he’d had been obsessed with back then but Eddie personally hadn’t found him attractive. That wasn’t a surprise; in general he didn’t lose his head over a pretty face or well shaped body.

Which is why it had been such a shock the day he did. He rembers the first time he’d felt that physical pull towards Buck. The first time he’d looked and thought ‘fuck he’s hot’.

They’d been on shift and he’d known Buck a while, the pair of them getting closer all the time, the other man showing up for him over and over again in a way no one ever had before. Buck had found his place in his and Christopher’s lives and it felt right, as if he was always meant to be there. Eddie had a best friend and then in a heartbeat he had something else.

Buck had walked past him in a t-shirt that was far too tight and shorts that hung far too low on his hips and thrown him a blinding smile and winked. Eddie had walked straight into the station table causing a chorus of protests as coffee spilt everywhere.

His heart had raced and his blood had heated and as he watched Buck walk away he realisesd he wanted more. So much more.

Not sure where this is going or if it will but I quite like this bit.

Anyone who wants to share please do I love to see what you’re writing.

@shortsighted-owl @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @stagefoureddiediaz @underwater-ninja-13 @ronordmann @exhuastedpigeon @wikiangela @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @elvensorceress @rogerzsteven @thekristen999 @wikiangela @eddiebabygirldiaz @buddierights @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @housewifebuck @like-the-rest-of-la @thewolvesof1998 @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy hope I didn’t forget you, if I did you’re tagged anyway 😘

[manawari]

| AU — in which Sung Jin-woo broke up with Cha Hae-in because she was an S-Rank while he was just an E-Rank, which got him uneasy as he thought he was no longer deserving of her. (Past Lovers!AU).

"I. . . I can't do this anymore," said Jin-woo as he moved away from his girlfriend, causing her head to lose balance on his shoulder. "We need to be go on our separate ways."

"W— what?" Hae-in's eyes widened. "Did I do something wrong? Jin-woo—"

"No. I can't let you get involved with me any further, Hae-in. Things. . . Things are different now." Jin-woo slowly tore his gaze from her.

"What do you mean 'different'? You've been like this lately!" Hae-in protested. "It's you who started acting different, Jin-woo."

Because you're an S-Rank. It's ridiculous to see you be with a weak person as me. Jin-woo's throat tightened at the unspoken words — he was not stupid to ignore the growing gap between him and Hae-in. He was an E-Rank hunter, who often got looked down by others due to his inability to fight without getting injured; people laughed at him and mocked him for being soon to be dead if he took another misstep.

"You could just be using Hunter Cha to your advantage!"

"What did you do to bribe her into staying by your side? Surely, compared to her, you are hopeless."

"Her? Your girlfriend? HAHA! Real funny."

"You can't even lift your sword without struggling. How can you say you're a better match for her?"

"I'd rather see Hunter Cha with a D-Rank rather than you, a worthless E-Rank."

Cha Hae-in, on the other hand, was an S-Rank. She had awakened several months after him. As an S-Rank, her strength was one of a kind, being more powerful than most hunters and on par with the famous guild masters in the country. Tremendous attention had diverted to her the moment the mana sphere declared her rank.

Jin-woo was outside, waiting for the result of her evaluation, but only to hear an uproar surrounding his girlfriend. He immediately ran and squeezed through the crowd to reach Hae-in, shielding her from the overwhelming chorus of voices. He squeezed her hand in reassurance and dragged her away.

He knew she didn't like too much attention.

He knew her like the back of his hand.

. . . But now, Jin-woo felt she was slipping away. Everyone was familiar with her, which made it difficult for him to be in the same place as her. Not only they'd make fun of him for "leaning" on an S-Rank, they'd try to tell Hae-in that she was way too good to be with the weakest hunter on earth.

Jin-woo ignored them. He defended Hae-in against them and would only accept their harsh words about him, letting them penetrate through his chest. But the more he absorb those words, the more they crawled to his mind, digging like sharp claws until it bleed.

It got to the point where he chose to let go.

"You promised! You promised that you'd be by my side!"

He left her in that bench. Not a last glance or word. Hae-in was left with questions and heartbreak, broken by none other than the boy who became her first love — they went to the same school, became friends, and Jin-woo had confessed his feelings to her during a school festival. All memories crumbled into ashes.

"All you had to do is not listen to them!"

"They were insulting you, Hae-in. Because of me!"

"And so what? Those people have no idea who you really are." Hae-in argued. "I understand that you are hurt on my behalf, but their words mean nothing to me — you're more than what they believe."

"They are not stopping until I am no longer involved with you."

"So, what are you supposed to do then, Jin-woo? Tell them that they are right?"

". . ."

They had fought about it before. They would spend days talking to each other until Jin-woo had given in to apologize to her. Still, he knew Hae-in was more hurt by his words rather than other people's, which pained him to see what he had been doing to her.

He became the reason of Hae-in's tears.

So, he became the person who broke her heart as well.

Jin-woo convinced himself that it was only for the best. He'd watch the news and see her beautiful face on the TV, standing confidently amidst the cameras next to her guild master, Choi Jong-in, who made his speech in front of the crowd. He was happy for her, knowing she was in a place in her life where she rightfully be. . . Though, it didn't stop his heart from aching.

"Do you still love her, big brother?" Jin-ah asked him one time.

Jin-woo closed his mouth in hesitation, the spoon in his hand halting midway. "I. . ." No, it had already been months since the last time he saw her. Things must've changed. "Jin-ah, it's been so long. My feelings for her have disappeared since that day." He answered.

He had to move on.

And he was certain that Hae-in had already did.

Lee Ju-hee, his only friend— however, had a different opinion. Being a healer who had to constantly run to him and mend whatever wounds were in his body, Jin-woo somehow managed to form a connection with her despite being scolded first before Ju-hee initiated an actual conversation with him.

"I still find it amazing how you met Cha Hae-in first before she became a hunter," she said to him as they walked together in an empty pavement in the park. "You're one lucky guy, Jin-woo."

"Why did you bring that topic up all of a sudden?" He questioned her.

"Nothing. I just remembered it." chuckled Ju-hee. Then, she let out a sigh. "You know, every time I think about it, I can't help but feel like there's still hope."

"For what?"

"For you two," she said. "I don't know Hae-in personally, or what exactly happened between the both of you, but it seems that you still have feelings for her."

Jin-woo's steps halted abruptly. "How. . . How can you say that? Ju-hee, I was the one who had chosen to broke up with her."

"You chose to break up with her because you weren't brave enough to stand up for your relationship," Ju-hee told him. "And I can tell you haven't forgotten about her — what she was once to you." The edge of her lips curved into a smile. "Listen to your heart. You deserve to be happy, you know? Make it as your promise to me."

Jin-woo sighed. I was the one who hurt her. "Fine, I'll be happy, Ju-hee."

"Also, promise me that you mustn't let go of her again. If, your paths cross."

He chuckled.

As if they'd meet again—

And for sure, he was nothing but a stranger to her. A terrible memory. The root of her own heartbreak.

She cried a lot because of him. She was the one who kept holding on when he was about to let go.

Since then, Jin-woo was all by himself. Ju-hee left her hunting job while he was stuck with getting stronger. Overtime, he was gradually peeling from the person he used to be— weak, cowardice, and useless. His life changed anew. It felt as if decades had passed when it was merely a few weeks.

His thin body, prone to injuries and always one step away from death, became built and formidable. His sister barely recognized him when he walked out of his bedroom. Jin-ah mocked and teased him while Jin-woo could only snort at her.

Life had started to become quite good to him.

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . .

. . . . . .

". . . Should I go for it?" His adrenaline pumped against his veins, and his fingers twitched as his dagger continued to form out thin air. Jin-woo let out a grin when—

"What are you doing over there?"

He froze.

Could it be?

"I asked you a question. What are you doing?"

He could feel her presence. And she was inching closer and closer, her steps were almost audible through the heavy silence in the cave.

"I got lost and ended up here," he answered.

"Then, get away from there. That's where the boss lives."

Jin-woo lowered his helmet over his countenance and turned away from his spot, maintaining his gaze low from the S-Rank hunter's scrutinizing gaze. He was about to walk past her when something suddenly tugged on the lace of his I.D. . . But luckily, he was quick to yank it back and grasped on the card to keep it out of her sight.

"Wha— hey! I just wanted to know who you are!" Cha Hae-in exclaimed.

Of course, she didn't recognize him. In her eyes, he was just a miner, a stranger. But to him. . . She was his past love — the chance he had wasted, the heart he had broken, and the love he had thrown away. He was no longer a guy with unruly black hair and soft features on his face, and as he stood before her, shielding his true emotions behind a blunt visage, Cha Hae-in waited for an answer with her eyes fixed sharply on him.

It was as if she had never changed.

Same beauty. Same eyes.

Yet, a different heart.

"I. . ." He swallowed. His lips curled into a forced smile. "I am Park Jin-sung, Vice-master Cha. Pleased to meet you in person."