#me: * hasn’t used this blog for... a long time *

[loveisnotfinite]

I was so sure I had posted this, and yet I can’t find it on my blog. I went back watching it and now reposting. Sorry if I had already shared it and I am behaving like a boomer, but it’s such a nice interview.

It has a whole different vibe, it’s really cozy, reminiscing. Almost melancholic, but in good way.

He recounts their first meeting, remembering their first hug and how it immediately filled him with a sense of warmness. And she says she’s so happy it was him, cause she can’t imagine doing it (this experience) with anybody else.

They talk about the first time they got the call about being the next leads, and their emotions.

I love the way Luke lights up when he talks about Colin and this experience as a whole. He looks like such a nice guy, so open, so generous, so good, deep inside, in the old-fashioned way. Like he has a pure heart. And he has such vibrant clear eyes, so full of life and curiosity, he animates so much when he talks about this season, but at the same time there’s also a tiny shade of insecurity inside them at times, and that is so sweet.

When he says that going back for pick ups was a treat? My goodness you feel like kissing him for such an admission. For such bravery in admitting one’s indulgence in one’s feelings of nostalgia. And Nic goes along saying they both felt kinda sad it was over and to have to say “goodbye”.

I love that he finds this one the steamiest season so far, cause that proves him a very uncommon observer/perceiver. So above range. So subtle in his intakes. He feels so strongly, he can tune in with romantic emotions in such un uncommon way for a man. Although being an actor can obviously help, he comes across as such a delicate soul. One of us, so to speak. And he’s so right. This season is the “steamiest” and not because it has some “visual” quality in it (season 1 was way more smutty) but it is allegedly due to the subtle sexiness of little moments like the when they are talking under the tent and he stares at Pen licking her lips or when he goes to talk to her and can’t see anything but the firmness of her lips or the longing in his eyes, when he enters in their bedroom and can’t help desiring her and he struggles to stay true to his “feelings”. And in turn, the finale, as short as their encounter in the cut, is quite steamy, very passionate: the rapture in his eyes, the way she caresses his chest, how she arches her spine during intercourse, and then reaches forward to get him closer, kissing him full mouth.

I love the way they look in total sync when it comes to their emotions, over anything work related really. The way they seem to finish each other sentences and have a way to foresee where the other is going even before hearing what they are saying. I love how they look e-o in the eyes when answering, as if unconsciously checking to one another to see what the other thinks.

I also noticed when Nicola said she hasn’t been in love since she was 9; it made me think; gave me the feeling she’s very guarded when it comes to love and I can just imagine how’s hard that must be. She comes across as so strong, confident, straightforward and yet when it comes to let one’s barriers down, she’s just one of us.

And the way this chat ends… I mean, the feels... I am believing they are the reason this weird expression boxing with English grammar has been invented. How they acknowledge how nice and kinda liberating it felt talking about this strange kind of melancholy descending upon them when they wrapped the season.

I think it’s my favorite interview so far. IDK it feels so genuine. So not PR. So just them.

Totally madly desperately unrevocably ever so doomily in love with this “couple”.

[rinhaler]

I’m soooo excited to finish writing toxic!megumi btw 🤤

[trash-bin-ary]

Me listening to kollok 1991 ep 19 em pegg’s and mickey’s journals: everything’s fine these people are normal and having a good time and these aren’t the saddest things ever they’re just happy no context yup everything’s fine like look at this screenshot I took 5 minutes ago everyone’s happy and goofing off yep that totally wasn’t from the ooc part everyone’s just happy

[rinneverse]

࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 — 𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒆. ˒ ⊹

syn. you think jealousy is a good look on aventurine. too bad he has to remind you that you belong to him, and him only. (1.8k) pair. aventurine x f!reader cw. jealous aventurine my beloved / fem-aligned reader / pet names used: pretty girl, doll, angel, princess, good girl / oral (f!receiving) / fingering / teasing and begging / prone bone / spanking (like.. one time) / p in v penetration / creampie / multiple rounds are insinuated. teehee. love, oak! loooorrrrrdddddd aventurine. i've been obsessed w him since he was mentioned in topaz's quest ♡. about to start the penacony quest now, i'm literally buzzing w/ excitement over seeing him!!!!!!!

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

aventurine thinks he can be a little bit... petty, sometimes.

but of course, who wouldn't be, when one sees some random stranger putting their hands all over what's theirs?

so obviously, aventurine does the one thing he does best.

put on a show.

"hey, pretty girl," aventurine drawls, sidling up to you as he slides an arm around your waist. the grip he has on your hip is near-bruising, the only indication that he was currently ticked off. "you tired of this bar yet? i'd like to leave soon." his voice is a soft croon as he brings his lips to your ear, warm breath brushing the sensitive skin there. "i've got better things for us to be doin' in mind."

you gasp, playfully slapping his chest. your attention is completely off the man you were just chatting up, and aventurine shoots him a lazy grin. the man merely grumbles and leaves.

it makes him feel pure satisfaction, really.

aventurine turns you in his grip so that you're chest to chest with him—forces you to tilt your head back to look up at him. he smiles prettily down at you, as if he weren't just scheming to whisk you away from all the attention you were just receiving.

"better things, huh?" you say, glossy lips forming a matching grin to his as you look up at the blond. "like what? that man was just about to buy me a drink, you know. how're you gonna make up for that?"

he nearly lets his perfect mask slip—a twitch of his eyebrow is all you notice. but he tilts his head, looks down at you with those pretty lavender eyes of his.

"oh doll, if you wanted a drink, why didn't you just say so?"

your eyes gleam with mischief. you trail your fingers up his chest, your lips pursing in a pout.

"it's more fun charming a guy into buying it.." you sigh dramatically.

"who says you haven't charmed me?"

"no one. everyone knows i've already got you wrapped around my finger."

he can't argue with that. no, he can't argue with the irrefutable truth.

because you do. he's wrapped around your pretty little finger, and you know it. you exploit it. he doesn't mind, though.

aventurine doesn't deal with what doesn't pay off. and in the end, a pretty thing like you always does.

so he smiles again, tilting your chin up with a gloved finger. he lets a little bit of the hunger he feels shine in his eyes—he basks in the way your eyes shutter, your red-painted lips parting slightly.

“how about this, then—will you let me charm you, pretty?” he purrs, thumb coming up to gently tug at your bottom lip.

your throat bobs as you swallow. a shallow nod of your head follows—as much as he’ll allow while he grips your chin.

“good. you know how great i am at making your dreams come true, don’t you?”

there’s no room for debate there, nor does he give you any; aventurine’s smug demeanor is never undeserved, if the way he has you grasping the sheets of his bed later is concrete proof of that.

“’venturine,” you whine, back arching off the ruffled white sheets of the bed, “please, need you inside me, noooow.” the last word comes out in a long moan as his fingers stroke just the right spot inside of you. a flick of his tongue against your puffy clit draws a cry of pleasure from your lips.

he hasn’t even taken his clothes off yet, and he already has you a mewling mess for him. again, he feels that familiar sense of satisfaction flow through him.

aeons. he loved seeing you so debauched, flushed and squirming beneath him as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you.

“c’mon angel, one more time for me—you can do it, can’t you?”

the low drawl of his voice is drowned out by the lewd squelch of his fingers inside you, constantly moving and stroking your walls in just the way you liked it. at this rate, you were going to go insane, but you feel your climax cresting, rising up and up and up, until it comes crashing down with a particular crook of his fingers inside you. he doesn’t let up, doesn’t grant you any mercy as you sob and convulse with pleasure. “’venturineee!”

finally, finally, he stops, withdrawing his fingers (his sleeve is completely soaked with your essence, he notes smugly) and rising after a swift kiss to your sweet pussy. you lay there, a puddle of nerves still buzzing with pleasure.

the clink of his belt and the rustle of fabric falling to the floor, and then you’re being maneuvered so gently, rolled onto your front with large, gentle hands. there’s a pillow being slid under your hips, another for your pretty head, and then you feel the bed dip with the weight of aventurine settling into place right behind you.

you let out a soft cry as you feel the blunt head of his cock rub against your still too sensitive cunt, his hands gripping the plush globes of your ass as he spreads you for him. he loves the little sounds you make as he teases you, dipping the tip in but never quite going any farther than that.

no, he wanted to hear you beg for it.

“what do we say when we want something, princess?” aventurine hums, drawing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, achingly slow.

“oh,” you sigh sweetly. “need you to fuck me. please, ‘ven, need it so bad.”

your plea is like sugared candy on his tongue, a torturous substance he’s addicted to as he allows himself to slowly sink inside you. he takes his time—you’re whining and squirming beneath him, and he has to hold you still with firm hands—but only goes as far as an inch, shallowly moving his hips.

“like that?” he asks coyly.

you look over your shoulder to glare at him. at the nasty look you shoot him, his eyes narrow; he lifts a hand, only to bring it down on the sensitive skin on your ass. you let out a yelp.

“now, now, only good girls get what they want. you’re a good girl, aren’t ya?”

you respond with a desperate whine. aventurine knows when you’re reaching your limit though, and like the good person he is, he’s decided he’s had enough fun torturing you. besides, he’s nearing his own limit—the walls of your cunt just feel so delicious around him—and it’s taking a willpower of steel to not pound you into oblivion right then and there.

aventurine sighs dramatically, hands drifting up your spine, ghosting along your back. he likes the way you shiver beneath him, completely helpless to his whims. he’s quiet for a moment, drinking in the way you’re breathing harshly beneath him as he lets himself dip a little further into you, and then: “alright, i’ve teased you enough. you’ve been so good for me.”

the words are like music to your ears—as well as the only warning you receive before he’s gripping your hips, lifting and adjusting you so he hits just the angle he knows you like, and he starts a brutal pace that rips a harsh moan from your lips.

he’s absolutely unforgiving in the way he fucks you, but he knows it’s just the way you like it. searing, molten heat flows through your veins with every stroke, nerves like lightning as you’re overwhelmed with the all-consuming sensation of aventurine all over you. it’s not just the way he fucks you—the way he presses his chest to your back as his hips rut into you, the way he has you completely pinned, rough hands spreading you oh-so perfectly for him, the way his lips press to the nape of your neck, his breath ghosting along your skin as he groans, right up in your ear.

“fuck—you’re so fucking tight, pretty—yeah, you like this, don’t you? can feel you clenchin’ around my cock.” he makes a point to thrust his hips especially rough at the end of each sentence, coaxing a long, desperate moan from you. you’re mindlessly babbling at this point, barely able to form a coherent sentence as he fucks all sense of sanity from your head.

and when he snakes a hand around you, brushing down your navel towards the apex of your thighs, you let out a broken sob as deft fingers find your clit. paired with each perfectly aimed thrust, you’re coming undone beneath him in a matter of seconds, walls convulsing around him.

“where do you want me, angel?” aventurine coos in your ear. his voice is raspy, lust-drunk and breathy as he struggles to hold himself together, to stave off the orgasm he knows is imminent.

“inside,” you gasp out. “wan’ it inside!” your words slur together as he fucks you through your own orgasm. you feel electric as his hips start to stutter, your only other hint that aventurine is close, so so close, and you want him falling with you. so you clench the delicate muscles in your pelvis, walls fluttering around his cock so perfectly, it feels like life and death and infinity and oblivion all at once.

he presses deep inside you, holding you so tight to him as he cums, hard, just the way you wanted him to. you clutch the pillow under your head to ground yourself, muffling the moan you let out as his hips twitch and then eventually pull away, drawing himself out of you. the sensation makes you hiss softly, displeased at the empty feeling he leaves you with.

aventurine smiles at the sight—of you, blissfully fucked out on his bed, hips still slightly raised from the pillow as his cum drips out of you. it might’ve been obscene to some, but he was so utterly fucking obsessed with you that really, it’s got him ready to go for another round.

he only gives you a moment to catch your breath.

then you’re being flipped over, aventurine slotting himself between your legs, his already hard cock pressing against your messy cunt. he smiles down at you, a purely predatory look in his eyes as his gaze meets yours.

“don’t tell me you’re tired out already, princess,” he drawls, basking in the way your sleepy eyes widen with shock. “you’ve gotta cum at least a couple more times before i’m satisfied. i’m gonna make sure my name is the only one you remember, ‘kay?”

and as he slides into you, torturously slow, you realize that you might just be in for a long night.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. 

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 

You have made him whole. 

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 

When you pull away, he whines. 

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[rimunagenius]

I Could Die For you

ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x reader

ʚ word count: 1.2k

ʚ warnings: RPF!! , fluff, fluff, literal fluff, so much love that it’s sickening

ʚ rimunagenius speaks: to make up for that last post about emily because what the flip!! also the first Kate fic i’ve released that hasn’t been in a series!! yay! also ofc i had to write Kate to one of my favorite love songs!!💕 if you guys do not listen to this song and love it, i’m quitting writing and reporting everyone’s blog…

| Women’s Basketball Masterlist |

Something inside the cards I know is right

Don't wanna live somebody else's life

Kate was so happy. She knew her life was exactly where she wanted it to be. Cold mornings like this, wrapped in the bed sheets, both your bodies wrapped together to create the most perfect fit to a puzzle.

With your head resting on her body, your nose nuzzling perfectly into her neck, your soft snores and exhales ticking her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The way your hand rested on her chest, and the way Kate's hand rested on your waist from the way she was holding you into her body. She knew she didn't want to be anywhere else but here. Lying here, wide awake admiring you and thanking god or whoever was out there, that she was able to do this, and do it with you.

This is what I want to be

And this is what I give to you because I get it free

"Oh my god, Kate." You stood in shock in your guys' kitchen. You had a rough day at work, letting Kate know that while you sat in your office, counting down the minutes until you could come home. So when you walked through the door and wandered into the living room where Kate was watching the NBA finals, she got up to greet you and took you to the kitchen, giving you the flowers and chocolate she picked up on her way home from practice today. 

You had a new adjustments to make since leaving Iowa. Picking up your life and moving to Las Vegas with Kate when she found out she made the roster officially, after living in a hotel room during training camp. You loved her so much, and you had so much faith in the person she was and the skills she had, you knew moving across states wasn't going to be a regret you had years down the line. 

Tears welled in your eyes, the overwhelming feeling of love and appreciation radiating from the blonde who stood a few feet away. "Aw, don't cry. Why are you crying, baby?" Kate walked up to you, wrapping her arms around your neck so you buried your face into her chest. 

"Because. You do this for me just for having a bad day. Your days are full of stress with basketball, still proving yourself, and tired from your work. I don't deserve you, Kate." You were a mess. You missed a lot of things. You missed your old friends, how close your guys' family used to be, and you missed Kate while she was gone. You missed a lot of things—you've longed for those things, but you loved your life here with Kate. You two away from what you knew and grew accustomed to, to independently make what you want and need. 

You loved it but you couldn't help but long for what used to be your life sometimes. "You deserve everything. You deserve the world and more because you packed your life up just because you believed in me. This is the very least I could do for you. I will continue to show you how important you are to me and who I am. You make me better so I'm going to show you every day til I can't anymore. I love you. You work hard and you deserve to be appreciated and seen." 

That made the tears fall harder, but you looked up at Kate, and couldn't believe this was your girl. The woman you got to spend and do life with. You kissed her lips chastely, hugging her close again. You two stood there, looking at the pretty flowers and sharing some of your chocolate. 

She smiles while I do my time

It was so early in the morning. Kate waking you up for a travel day for the Aces. It was an away game to Los Angeles and you wanted to make this game so you took the days off. 

You hated getting up early, and the stress that came with traveling was truly not a great time. Kate knew it, but she loved that you were willing to do it for her.  You didn't like most things, but the look on your girlfriend's face when you watched her do the thing she loves most, play the game that gave her many of the amazing opportunities she's had, it was all worth it. 

Kate walked onto to the court, looking at you behind the Aces bench, and smiled. You already smiling right back at her. She knew that no matter how early she woke you up, or how many times she did it, you'd be there, lift her up, and cheer her on. You knew this was where you wanted to be. 

I could die for you

It was the day after Kate had won the WNBA Finals, and you two had been lying in bed since last night. You couldn't believe that she had come so far from the little girl who idolized the Iowa Hawkeyes Women's Basketball team, to a woman who's grown into the most tremendously courageous and strong woman who won her first WNBA Championship. It was so surreal. 

"You know I love you so much, right?" Kate whispered. One arm wrapped around you, pulling you close to her body, while her other hand held your thigh that lay across her hip. 

"I would hope so." You giggled softly, looking up at the blonde above you, your hand went from her chest to the side of her face, resting against her cheek. You looked into her eyes, the blue of them convincing you more by the second that they were better looking than the sky outside. 

"No, I'm serious. You are the love of my life. I would be so lost without you. I don't think I could live without you—let alone do what I've done this past year without you." Her voice wavered, you could tell her emotions still running high after the night she had last night. 

"Kate, my love." You chuckled nervously, the confession making you giddy, but also overwhelmingly more in love with Kate, if that was even possible. It brought tears to your eyes.

"You make me so happy. Just being right here, with you, is more important to me than winning another ring." 

"Oh my god Kate, stop it. You're going to make me cry. I'm so in love with you." You wiped a small tear that fell down your cheek. Kate smiled down at you, willing herself to not close her eyes and just die happy right here with you. 

"I'm so in love with you, I could die." Kate giggled softly, wiping her eyes before leaning down and kissing your lips softly. You smiled into the kiss. You smiled so hard you couldn't even kiss properly. A fit of giggles came from the both of you. 

"Ah! Kate, stop it! Oh my god, Kate!" You screamed and giggled as she left kisses and tickles everywhere she could reach, especially in your most ticklish spots. You two couldn't be anymore happier. Kate wouldn't want to be anywhere else unless you were there, under her arms or wrapped in them. 

Oh, this life I choose.

You two were just simply two girls in love and wouldn't have it any other way. 

[jj-one]

FIRST TIME’S A CHARM.

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: sports au, football jock!boyfriend!han jisung x cheerleader!fem!reader genre/tags: smut, fluff, light angst (if you squint), reader is so in love with jisung it makes everyone sick, reader is a virgin, oral (f. receiving), fingering, piv, protected sex, use of pet names (baby, princess, etc.), typical nervousness of first time sex, cherry popping, multiple orgasms, spitting, dirty talk words: 5.1k

**old repost from my deleted blog

Feelings of melancholy plagued your heart this morning. You miss him. You want to touch him, talk to him, breathe the same air as him. Your boyfriend Han was your world. He hasn’t replied to your usual ‘good morning’ text yet and the waiting game was slowly eating you up. You have to get ready for cheer practice since tomorrow is game day but you were hoping that your boyfriend could walk you to the gymnasium. You dread going to practice sometimes but Han would always find a way to lift your spirits and make your mood instantly better.

“You need to give him some space y/n.. you know he’s busy, we can just walk together it’ll be fine!” Karina attempts to snap you into a reality check.

She was your roommate and also on your cheer team, she’s been one of your closest friends since you transferred to this school a few months ago.

“But he always walks with me! I’ll just wait for him to reply, what if he texts me while we’re walking there and then he-“

“Jesus Christ y/n, you should hear yourself talk the way you go on and on about this boy! Don’t you think you’re a little too obsessed?” Karina retorts, “Let’s get a move on, we don’t need to be late to practice for the third time in a row!”

Grabbing your arm in the process, Karina heads out the door with you to get going. You wanted to whine and complain some more but you decided to let it go since you don’t want to annoy your friend with anymore talk of your boyfriend. You could talk about him all day long, you never get sick of being around him, he’s just always so busy with football and other things that it’s hard to see him sometimes. Since the gym you were practicing at was near the football field, you’d hope to eventually run into him later.

Your boyfriend did ultimately text you back but not until your cheer practice was over. You kept messing up the routine and Mrs. Park, your coach was getting irritated by your lack of coordination.

“Y/n, what’s with you today?! I know you can do way better than this!” She snaps in front of everyone, your whole team was looking at you and the embarrassment fully sunk in.

You didn’t have much to say other than a simple “I’m sorry” and “I’ll try harder”, it was your fault that you let your inner thoughts cloud your ability of performing. You gave yourself a couple minutes to recuperate and stretch to join the team again, you couldn’t let them down since the stunt you had to do needed to be executed perfectly.

After cheer practice you read the texts Han sent you:

‘Heyyy babe, so sorry for the late reply :( I’ve been practicing all morning and didn’t get a chance to check my phone!’

‘I just finished, wanna meet in a bit? I’m with Chan and Changbin rn’

You were now grinning ear to ear from his reply, you’ve been waiting all day to see him. It didn’t take long for you to respond back to him enthusiastically.

‘Yes! Where are you??’

‘Still on the field but at the bleachers, meet me there’

‘Ok, coming now!!’

‘See you in a few ;)’

With almost lightning speed you make a dash for the locker rooms and changed out of your cheer clothes to go find your boyfriend. Karina wanted to tag along since she secretly has a crush on Changbin but doesn’t quite want to admit it just yet. Making your way to the football field, you see some figures in the distance sitting on the bleachers; presuming to be your boyfriend and his two friends. You picked up your pace practically sprinting at this point to go hug your boyfriend who was still in mid-conversation with Chan and Changbin. You didn’t even acknowledge or say hi to either of them, only focusing on the man in front of you now. You’ve been craving to see him all day and finally being able to hug him made the sadness you felt this morning dissipate.

“How’s my pretty princess feeling today?” Han says, still having you wrapped tight in a bear hug. His fingers stroked your hair as he felt you against him, words couldn’t describe how happy you were in this moment.

“I’m okay now that I’m with you!” You exclaim, nuzzling your chin into his broad shoulder.

Everytime he hugged or held you, it felt like the warmest place you could be. Nothing compared to his embrace, it electrified you in so many ways that couldn’t be spoken into words.

“Ugh! Could you guys get a damn room already? I’m sick of seeing you act all lovey dovey, makes me depressed that I’m still single!” Changbin teases the both of you. You know he was only joking but it made you want to be even more of a nuisance.

“Then turn around and look the other way, we’re not going anywhere!” Han fires back, now bringing his face towards you to kiss him. He plants his lips on yours and gives you a soft kiss, delighting you with the taste of his minty flavored chapstick.

“Mmm… that flavor tastes good Hannie, could kiss your lips all day!” You go back in for another kiss, completely forgetting that Chan, Changbin, and Karina were right there watching this whole thing go down.

“Alright, enough!” Chan interrupts you and your boyfriends almost near make-out sesh with a reminder of previous plans. “Are we still going back to my place for movie night? I didn’t buy popcorn and snacks for no reason!”

“Ah shit, I totally forgot about movie night…” Han face palms from the lack of remembrance.

“Can I join?!” You chime in, hoping that Chan will allow you in the group so you can spend more time with Han.

“Could I come too?” Karina asks, sitting next to Chan trying her best not to make eye contact with Changbin.

“Yeah sure, the more the merrier I guess!” He shrugs his shoulders.

You were glad Chan let the both of you come along since you didn’t know him that well, you only talked to him on a few different occasions but each time he seemed pretty chill. He was the football quarterback and was loved by pretty much the entire university, he was practically the leader of the football team and looked after everyone. Your boyfriend was also a very popular guy and was well-liked by all his pupils, he was a really good defense and took his athletic skills seriously. You were so proud of your boyfriend and everything that he’s accomplished so far.

“Alright, let’s get going shall we? My dorms not that far from here, should only be a 10 minute walk!” Chan says while standing up.

Everyone gets up from the bleachers to start heading in the direction of the dorms and Han takes your hand in his.

“You cold babe?” Han asks while walking, he sees you shivering a bit from the sudden cool breeze of the wind.

You were wearing a short sleeve t-shirt which probably wasn’t the best idea but you were rushing this morning. You simply nod your head to his ask, you could feel the goosebumps rising on your delicate skin.

“Don’t worry, here you go darling.” Han quickly takes the letterman varsity jacket off his body to bring onto yours. The jacket weighs you down a bit and it was completely drowning you but you didn’t care.

“You look so adorable in my jacket babe, always look so cute wearing my things.” He compliments you while holding your hand tighter.

You could smell Han’s scent on the fabric, everything about him felt like home to you. You’ve been dating for 4 months now, you transferred to this new university thinking you wouldn’t make any friends at all. As soon as you became a cheerleader Han noticed you straight away, he asked a few of the girls about you but you were new so they didn’t know much. He wanted to get to know you more so he went in to shoot his shot and ended up being successful, now you’re both dating and are essentially the school’s power couple. The most popular jock dating the new pretty cheerleader was the perfect recipe to get everyone around the school talking.

“We’re here guys!” Chan says while coming to a stop in front of the dormitory.

He opens the door to lead the way for you all and Han has his arms wrapped behind you plastering small kisses to your cheek. You giggle as you walk inside to see more people sitting on the couch. It was some more members from the football team who joined for movie night but you and Han weren’t actually planning to watch movies with the rest of them.

“Let’s go somewhere else, yeah?” Han whispers in your ear, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You agree to his ask and Han tells everyone that you’ll both be back before the movie starts getting good. Chan couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the fact you both casually go into his room, he adds one last piece of advice, “make sure to use protection guys!”

Han doesn’t comment back at that, only reacting with a chuckle and heading towards the bedroom.

Chan’s room was your typical early twenties, frat-boy style living quarters. Clothes spread all on the floor, a couple posters adorned the walls, and the bed was unmade with a few textbooks on top. It was everything you’d imagine it would be, nothing in the slightest bit romantic.

“Wow, what a lovely choice to make our grand escape!” You said sarcastically, looking around at the tornado of a room it was.

“Hey, mine is way worse and you don’t even complain!” Han retorts, throwing the textbooks off the bed.

“That’s because I clean your room every time I come over!”

You sat on the bed with Han beside you, he snaked his arm over to wrap you into another tight hug. You feel the hardness of his chest against you and the sounds of his heartbeat produced butterflies in your stomach. You’ve been waiting to be alone with your boyfriend all day and now that the time has come you can’t keep your lips off him. You brought your face closer to his and sealed his lips to yours, his short brown locks tickled your forehead in the process.

You’ve been thinking about the next big step in your relationship— sex. Sex was what built the foundation of (most) relationships, it only proved how much you love your partner deeply. You wanted to give Han your everything, you’ve never wanted to do something more in your life. As you slowly break away from the kiss, you make sincere eye contact with your boyfriend, his eyes shown nothing but endearment for you.

“So I’ve been thinking about stuff lately…” you trailed your eyes away for a second, not feeling so confident in yourself anymore.

“Thinking about what?” He asks attentively, his eyes were still glued onto you, you could feel the intensity of his stare.

You had either two options: tell him how you really feel and what you actually want or you can save this for another time. You went with the latter and chose to keep it to yourself.

“Never mind… I’ll tell you later maybe, or another time.”

This doesn’t sit too well with Han. He likes when you’re open with him, honesty has always been a huge thing for him and when you act reclusive towards him he gets worried.

“No babe, just tell me. I promise I won’t judge you— I never do! I just want you to feel comfortable and be able to share anything with me.” His hand rubbed your thigh gently which made you feel more at ease and much calmer.

“I think I’m ready to take the next step with you.”

“Next step?” Han replies with confusion, “You mean as in like getting married? I think we’re a bit too young for that right no-“

“No Ji, I meant like I’m ready to have sex!” You finally admit, the look on his face became utterly priceless.

“Oh— really? What made you decide that?” He wonders curiously.

He knew for a long time that he was ready to have sex with you but just never mentioned it until you gave him the green light. He’s never pressured you into doing anything you didn’t want to do, make-out sessions with him would get super hot and heavy sometimes but that still didn’t stop him from not pushing your boundaries. He knew you were a virgin and that it would take time for you to make a decision as the relationship progresses.

“I just love you so fucking much Ji, I wanna give you my whole body, want you to be my first.” You bring your hand to his, moving it to your breasts for him to feel you.

His hand squeezes your boob gently, causing you to gasp at the light action. He cups his whole hand around it and juggles it in his palm, smiling at your beauty.

“You have the most perfect tits.” Han says in almost a whisper, still admiring your presence.

Both of his hands now playing with your boobs as he massages them through your t-shirt, you couldn’t help but go back and kiss his soft lips. The kiss grew more passionate as time went on, you couldn’t stop kissing those precious lips of his, you wanted your face attached to his 24/7. You got on top of him now, tangling your fingers through his luscious hair whilst your tongues glide against each other. He removed one of his hands from your breast to go grab your ass, squeezing your left cheek firmly.

“Lay on your back princess” Han says, instructing you as you lye back down on the bed. You aren’t sure what he has in mind but it can’t be anything innocent.

“What do you want to do to me?” You ask, pressing your thighs together to feel something.

“I want to make you feel really good…” He continues in a sultry tone, “I’m going to make you feel so amazing baby.”

His mouth goes back onto yours, kissing almost roughly this time. Something was taking over your boyfriend and it was turning you on incredibly. He plastered a few more wet kisses to your chin and neck, leaving trails of his glistening saliva all over you. Not a doubt was going through your mind, just undying love and devotion to your boyfriend.

“I love you so much y/n, you know that?” Han says reassuringly, you know he loves you but hearing it still made your heart flutter every time.

“I love you so much Hannie!” You probably loved him more than yourself at this point.

His hands roamed your half naked body once he rid you of your t-shirt and sports bra. His soft, tender touch was enough to drive you crazy and he’s barely done anything yet. You held your breath as his fingers danced across your skin, your brain was completely fuzzy and only filled with desire. You tugged at the end of his shirt so he could take it off and he obliged, pulling it from the top and lifting it over his head. You get a full clear view of body, that beautiful body of his, you wonder how a man can be shaped so gracefully. He had the most broad shoulders, chiselled abs and muscles, but his waist was so pretty and tiny. It didn’t make sense how one could be built such a way but he was perfect, his physique truly mesmerized you.

You go in to feel his muscles, his biceps were absolutely to die for, every time he flexed you swear you could hear your kitty purring down there. He was just so hot, you needed to taste each and every inch of him.

“Want you so bad…” you trace the lines of body, fully enamored by your gorgeous boyfriend.

“I’m all yours babe.”

Han lazily brung his hand to the waistband of your pants, fumbling with the button to take them off but was struggling a bit.

“Here, let me help you.” You guide him in the right direction and he successfully unbuttons them.

Once your pants are off he slides your underwear down past your knees, his face lights up at the sight beneath him. You were nervous but didn’t want to tell him that incase he stops, feeling a lump in your throat now forming.

“Let me know if you want me to stop at anytime.” You loved that he was always making sure you were 100% okay with everything he did.

You nod and let him continue doing his thing, he captures his lips with yours one more time before a hand creeps up your inner thigh. His fingers lightly brush your folds and you shudder from the sensitivity. He smirks into the kiss as he presses a single digit against it, gathering your slick nicely.

“Your pussy feels so wet, I can’t wait to be inside you darling.” Han says after parting from the kiss.

His finger glides between your wet folds, feeling your warm juices gush onto him. He makes a V shape with his fingers to spread you open now, getting a better look at your heat. He licks his lips at the sight, wanting nothing more than to get a taste of you. He inches his head closer to your core and spits on it, watching the saliva run down as he licks a long, slow stripe to your cunt.

His mouth becomes suctioned to your clit as he runs his tongue all over it, slobbering against you whilst holding your hips in place.

“Fuck! So good, so good, so good…” you couldn’t stop moaning, the pleasure was just hitting you all at once.

Your eyes were about to roll to the back of your head and your legs were shaking from Han’s insane pussy eating skills. You felt your chest cave in from all the intense pleasure and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better than this, you were in for hell of a treat. One of his digits entered you, now fingerfucking you. You elicit another moan for him as his tongue picks up a quicker pace, his tongue flicks your nub viciously. His finger slips in and out slowly and adds another digit to make you gasp louder. The feeling of your boyfriend stretching you out for him was amazing, you felt your release coming by the second.

“I- I feel weird Ji..” you try to explain how you feel right now but you just can’t describe it. It felt as though you had to pee but you know you didn’t actually need to.

“It’s okay princess, it’s normal. Trust me, just let go. I promise you’ll feel so much better after baby.” He stopped what he was doing for a moment to encourage you.

His words made you instantly let go, you whimpered from the feeling of his mouth on your clit again. You rocked your hips forward to grind against him while he ate you out, playing with his hair and slightly pulling it once you felt yourself cumming. Your hips shook rapidly around him, his eye contact never broke off with you and it made you lose your mind. You mumble under your breath, trying your best to contain your orgasm but everything came crashing down violently. Han could taste your sweet essence on his tongue as he lapped up all your juices, not letting any of you go to waste. He kept himself buried between your shaky legs and pulled his fingers out, leaving you with an empty feeling.

“You ready for my cock babe?” He finally lifts his head up from your dripping cunt, his face fully soaked from the action he just performed.

“Yes, need you so bad Ji.. want you to pop my cherry.”

You looked at him with the most seductive eyes, he bit down his lip at what you just said. You know exactly how to make him feel the most special, he was special to you though, this whole moment meant everything to you.

“I’ll be gentle with you princess, I’ll try and make this as painless as possible for you.” He kisses your forehead and captures your lips in his.

He gets up momentarily to go find a condom in one of Chan’s drawers and quickly comes back. He undoes his pants to pull them off along with his boxers, opening the wrapper with his teeth and pulling the condom out to slide it on.

“I don’t usually like condoms,” Han explains “but since this is our first time I don’t want to scare you.”

You giggle at that comment, you don’t know the first thing about sex and all of this is so new to you. You’re just glad you have an experienced boyfriend that can help make this easier for you, it made you feel a lot less awkward.

“I guess I’ll have to get on birth control soon then?” You were willing to do anything for him at this point.

“It’s your body y/n, I’m not going to tell you what to do. You make your own choices.”

It was sweet how even right now he’s only thinking about how you feel, he really does care so much about you. Han repositioned himself to be between your legs again, his cock was now pressed along your folds. He gives you another kiss before asking one last time,

“You ready to do this?”

“Yes! Please hurry, I’m getting impatient!” You whine, wanting to finally feel what it’s like to take dick.

“Okay, okay, I’m just making sure you really want to do this!”

He rubs his cock against you, sliding it up and down to collect more of your wetness. You bite down on your lip, waiting for the real moment to transpire. His hand rests on the end of his cock, guiding it to your entrance, he prods your hole gently. A rush of pain inflicts your body from the feeling of just the tip stretching you, you could only close your eyes at the sensation.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you at all.” Han continues pushing himself in.

The more he inched inside you, the more painful it became. It felt as though your whole body was on fire, everything felt so strange to you. You endured the pain in hopes of it becoming better soon, you didn’t want to worry your boyfriend. You feel the size of his cock growing in you, the constant throbbing was making you dizzy. You held onto him tightly, not wanting to let ever go of him. You clench around him as he attempts to fully fit his entire cock but you wince at only half of him inside you.

“Fuck, you alright baby? Did I hurt you?” He studies you with concern, stopping immediately to gauge your body language.

“You’re so fucking tight, even though you’re soaking wet I can still barely fit my cock inside.”

Your face turns red as a tomato, you don’t know what to say and you’re getting too flustered.

“Awe, is my little princess feeling nervous? I told you it’s okay, I’ll be here with you every step of the way, I got you.”

He holds your hand in his, tentatively caressing the inside of your palm, he brings your hand up to kiss it and gave you a warm smile. He continues sliding more of his cock in and is eventually able to get most of himself settled. Your mouth is wide open once he begins slowly thrusting in you. The pain was starting to go away now, just slightly. You focus on the feeling of his length in you, you try to relax your muscles the best way you could. You feel so full, so stuffed, his cock fully immersed in your sweet cunt.

“You feel so good around me princess, just wanna fuck your tight pussy all night long..” he groans while picking up his pace, the discomfort comes back to you now, you wriggle around to make the burning sensation go away.

“Is it supposed to feel like this Ji?” You croak, trying your best to be good for him.

You know that Han would never judge you but you still felt insecure about your performance in the bedroom.

“It’s only going to hurt for a little bit, just keep thinking about me darling, think only thoughts of me.”

You can feel a knot in your stomach form now, his cock slamming into you deeply was making you see stars. You gnaw at his neck to bite down softly, you couldn’t hold in your emotions anymore. The pain was now fully gone again, the intense pleasure washing over you like a tsunami. You kept your eyes tightly shut to feel all of him, focusing on what he told you when he said to think only thoughts of him.

“Your cock feels good Ji, I love how feel inside me!” You cry out to him, arching your back against the bed.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, it all felt too good to be real. He increases his rhythm as he thrusts into you, fucking into your little virgin cunt harder. Your pussy twitches around his cock, you feel that need to pee like when he was eating you out.

“I- I think I’m gonna… cumming…” you could barely get a coherent sentence out. All you could do was continue digging your nails in his back and moan out his name.

“You gonna cum for me princess? Do it. Want us to cum together for our first time.” Han throws his head back as he keeps fucking you. He was bucking his hips in a sloppier motion now, indicating that he was getting close like you. It only took a few more pumps of his cock to get you to form a large ‘O’ with your mouth, your jaw stayed locked in place. Your walls contract around his thick cock and you gasped for air as you lose your breath.

“Ah, fuck y/n!” Han almost says with a growl, his chest feels heavy as he releases his load into the condom.

He continues thrusting slowly into you while gently massaging your breasts. You let go and feel your second orgasm approach, feeling waves of ecstasy throughout your whole body. You were both heavily panting, staring at each other with nothing but complete passion. Han collapses onto you, his sticky and sweaty body rested on yours. His cock was still buried in your cunt, you didn’t want this moment to ever be over.

“So how would you rate your first time?” Han asks while propping his head up, “on a scale of 1 to 10?”

“I’d say a 100/10, I’ll remember this day forever.”

You snuggle up against him, completely forgetting that you had your first time with Han in Chan’s bedroom.

“Well… maybe it could’ve been better if we did this in our rooms.”

“I agree, but hey there’s always next time!” Han finally pulls out of you and notices tiny droplets of blood on the condom.

“Oh my god babe, I popped your cherry!”

You were shocked that even happened since you didn’t feel anything inside you tearing, guess it was a myth that you could feel your cherry pop. Han looked so stoked by this discovery and you wish you could engrain the look on his face in your brain. You just giggle at his actions and give him another chaste kiss, cuddling with him and forgetting the rest of the world around you.

“I think we should head back out soon, they’re probably thinking what the hell we’ve been doing in here for so long.” Han gets up from the bed to go and put his clothes back on.

“I hope we weren’t too loud!” You say, grabbing your clothes to get changed too.

“If they heard us don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. They’ll probably congratulate me by how much noise you were making!”

You blush once again by what he said, you can’t believe you just lost your virginity, you don’t feel any different physically but you feel way closer to your boyfriend than ever before. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have such a loving, healthy, and supportive relationship. Han Jisung really was the light of your life.

Coming out of Chan’s room felt the walk of shame. You couldn’t face any of his friends or Karina in the living room, they all instantly turned their heads to face you. Changbin started clapping loudly and everyone else followed suit after, you knew this was going to be embarrassing but this just felt like pure torture.

“Congratulations bro! It was about time you finally both got some!” Han’s friend/teammate Minho shouts.

Your biggest fear came true, everyone heard absolutely everything.

“Did you guys really have to fuck in my bed though? I just washed those sheets last week!” Chan exclaimed, giving him the evil eye.

“Hey, I don’t kiss and tell! Whatever happened in that room stays in that room.” Han brings his hand to his lips to make it look like he sealed them.

All the guys keep teasing him and you couldn’t stop blushing, maybe you should’ve waited to have sex in one of your dorms since Chan will probably never let him live this one down.

“You missed the movie anyway, might as well just leave and go for round 2!” Chan jokes.

“That actually doesn’t seem like a bad idea… thanks. Let’s go y/n!” Han links your arm around his and speed walks out the door.

Now that you were no longer a virgin, it didn’t feel all that odd to you as you thought it would be. It actually felt nice knowing you lost it to someone you love so much, someone you care so deeply out. It may not have been in the most romantic atmosphere which you’ve always pictured losing your virginity in a much better setting. However, you’ll cherish this special day with Han because even if it wasn’t the ideal scenery you had in mind, it was still a reminder that you had such a strong, beautiful connection with your lover.

[inkbybambi]

⚜️ pornstar!ghost who's so, so in love with you —

words: 3.8k tags: smut, creampie, pet names (good girl, love, darling, etc), throat holding, no use of y/n, fem!reader, ghost and reader are so in love with each other, biting/marking, mentions of sex work. notes: inspired by @ghosts-cyphera 's pornstar!ghost. thank you so, so much for creating him and for letting me bite him and chew him like a squeaky toy. please read the original here and give it lots of love! here is the playlist i made while writing — a mixture of soft and sweet and filthy and everything in between. minors dni, my blog is 18+.

in the muffled quiet of the bathroom, you take a deep breath. your heart beats in time with the rhythmic thumping of the bass that reverberates throughout the flat. that same steady beat of edm songs has been on repeat since you arrived at the party, and your blood hums with the vibrations. you love parties; the drinks, the snacks, the absolute unhinged bullshit that can only be achieved by those in front and behind the camera.

you’re surprised there hasn’t been a noise complaint.

you slip from the bathroom, perhaps just a little tipsy, the warmth of the drinks and the atmosphere thread through your blood like fire, the colored flashing lights casting everything in a multi-colored glow. you move through the crowd to find the one person who means more than the entire world and —

he’s sitting on the couch, pretending to listen to one of the newer talents; she’s a touch too close, fingers reaching out to graze his forearm. he doesn’t even blink twice before he’s pulling his arm away, pretending to adjust his watch as his eyes sweep the room.

as soon as his gaze lands on you, he straightens up, leaning forward in anticipation. the other girl looks put off but neither of you pay her any mind as you make your way to him, crawling onto the couch where he’s (been) waiting for you.

you nestle into his side, taking the red, plastic cup you trusted him with when you went to the bathroom. you take a small sip.

“this isn’t my drink,” you tell him.

“you’re right.”

you pout at him, eyes glittering with the lights.

he looks at you expectedly, pointedly looking at the cup and giving you that look. the one he gives you whenever he wants you to do something, and you always listen.

you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out at him, before dutifully drinking the water that he’s so graciously filled your cup with instead of whatever fruity and far-too-strong cocktail the host had conjured up. he snorts, rolling his eyes fondly as he slings an arm across the back of the couch.

when half the cup is gone, you look back at him, doe-eyes big and glassy, the need for praise and approval simmering under the surface. even in the low light of the room, you see how his eyes soften as he takes you in. his hand comes up to cup your face, cradling it. you close your eyes, nuzzling into his palm as you enjoy the moment of calm. as his thumb gently wipes under your eye, your eyes flutter back open to focus on him, and he tilts his head as he assesses you.

this moment is just for you two. even in a room full of people, you’re unable to focus on anything but him.

he glances at his wrist to check his watch — the one you gave him for his birthday last year and the one that’s been on his wrist ever since, not even taking it off to film unless absolutely necessary.

(and if he got you a bracelet that matched his watch as close as possible for your birthday? neither of you mention it, but you know.)

ghost’s never been one for social niceties —preferring to keep to himself — and you know you haven’t been here too terribly long, only one drink deep, but both of you have a rare day off together and he’d rather be alone with you for as long as possible than at this last minute thrown together “party” by a few colleagues.

he leans in close to graze his covered mouth against your jaw — he never takes off the skull mask, except when he’s alone with you.

("it's part of my charm," he claims, grin stretching across his lips, getting ready for his first shoot of the day. you bite back an amused smile, sitting in front of him and fussing until he sits still so you can paint on his eye black.)

“i think it’s time i took you home, princess.”

and christ, his voice.

it's well known you’re closer than most, so it’s not terribly surprising when you arrive and leave together and generally stick to each other like glue.

you press your lips right against the sensitive skin behind his ear, brushing against the fabric, voice masked by the music but still keeping it low enough so only he hears.

“then take me home, simon.”

his eyes flash dangerously, taking your cup and abandoning it on the coffee table. his large hand dwarfs your own as he drags you off the couch.

you didn’t say hello to anyone in particular when you arrived and you don’t stop to let anyone know you're leaving. you’re too focused on his thumb running across the ridge of your knuckles, the way he laces your fingers together, how you two fit so well together.

if there was a red string tied to your pinky, you know it would lead you right to him.

the ride back to your flat is spent with his hand on your thigh, hot and possessive like a brand.

there's something different about tonight. ghost's touch lingers, as if he doesn't want to be without you for even a second, and you're drawn to him like a moth to flame, helpless to do anything but get as close as you can, hoping you won't burn and turn to ash.

you know exactly where the night is leading when he pulls you to your bedroom, the soft glow of your bedside lamp casting everything in a halo of warm, dim light.

ghost turns to you, hands on your hips, pulling you closer. you fingers tease the edge of his mask, hooking under the familiar fabric and starting to drag up. you pause as his lips come to view, watching him carefully.

glassy eyes meet yours and you forget to breathe for a moment. you want to capture the warmth swirling in his eyes, keep it close on the days that are dark and dreary, on the days that only he makes better.

you pull the rest of the covering off, his hair slightly ruffled, haloed by the light.

a delicate smile graces your lips, reaching a hand up to run your fingers along his jaw — a motion so familiar, a motion repeated in front of cameras and bright lights and others watching. he's sharp lines and features carved from marble but he's so soft, a comfort you can't name when you're with him.

he looks like an angel, heaven-sent.

"whatcha you thinkin', pretty girl?" he asks, voice low, accent thick, capturing your wandering fingers and pressing a kiss to your inner wrist, right beneath your bracelet.

you don't say anything, continuing to admire him, biting your lip. you're afraid to speak. afraid to give a name to these emotions that have settled into your bones and blood, seared into you.

for now, you keep those words locked in your heart, protected by ribs and flesh and walls that he so carefully picks apart with his teeth and tongue and fingers.

you shake your head instead of answering him, a gentle smile gracing your lips, threading your fingers through his hair. it's fluffy and a bit on the long side. he showered as soon as he was off work. he never wants others lingering on his skin.

you tip up on your toes enough to capture his lips with yours, biting at his bottom lip.

he presses you up against the wall, mouth hot and wet on yours. he licks deep into your mouth, fingers lacing in your hair. you grip the front of his shirt, mewling into his mouth as he kisses you like he'll never get to again.

some of your lipstick is smeared on his lips when he pulls away, eyes black. you shiver under his stare.

you press a tantalizing kiss to his jaw, teeth nipping.

"want to film it?" a mischievous smile paints your lips, hands raking lower to hook into the hem of his shirt.

both you and ghost have quite a collection of videos and pictures of you two, hidden behind locked albums and passwords. it's a testament of trust — one that's been carefully built and protected, tucked away where only you two know.

"not this time," he replies, voice soft, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. he cups your jaw gently, wiping away smudged mascara. "this is just for you n' me."

you swallow thickly, choking down words threatening to spill from you. the temptation to say something lingers on your tongue, pressing behind your teeth, daring you to take a bite.

the kiss you press to his lips is far softer than anything, heat just below the surface.

ghost doesn't make a habit of kissing those he's filming with. a bite or two, something more vicious and rough — but with you? sometimes he'll kiss you like you're glass, afraid of marring you, breaking you. other times, it's all heat and liquid fire, consuming you and all you think about for days after.

he'd wake up every day kissing you if he could.

your clothes are a mess on the floor, not that you particularly care right now.

not with the way ghost is pressing his weight down on you so deliciously, hot and heavy, devouring you. he cages you between his thick forearms, barely giving you room to breathe, biting and nipping and licking deep into your mouth until your lips are shiny and swollen, pupils blown so wide, they're practically black.

"wish i could be the only one to see you like this," he pants against the hinge of your jaw, dragging teeth and tongue down your body.

the urge to bite and bruise and mark clouds his mind, wanting nothing more than to bury his teeth into the supple flesh of your thigh, until the imprint of his teeth lasts for days.

surprisingly soft hands part your thighs, baring your glistening desire to his burning gaze.

but that's not what he's looking at.

he's unable to look away from the temporary tattoo that's fading on your skin. it's been washed away from your time on set — spit and water and release coating your skin — but it's unmistakable.

a ghost.

"what's this?" he asks, thumb stroking over the faded lines of the tattoo, breathless.

you rise up on your elbows, desire thick through your veins. you don't have to look to know what he's asking about. but you look anyways, mesmerized by his thumb grazing over your skin.

"the girls and i had some on set," you begin, voice soft. "we were filming in a bath so we figured why not, y'know?"

he looks up from between your legs, predatory and possessive.

you lick your bottom lip, feeling bold.

"thought it might be cute to have you with me," you say, a whispered confession.

ghost looks like he's repenting for his sins, kneeling between you legs. you thread your fingers through his hair, arching your hips up, failing to bite back the whine rising in your throat, needing him impossibly closer.

“oh, love.” his voice is rough, wrecked, dragging his lips over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teasing right along the edge of where the ghost fades. “let’s give you something a little more permanent, hm?”

he shouldn’t — he really shouldn’t — but the urge, the need to mark you is overwhelming. it overrides every other rational thought.

he sees the way others look at you. he'll watch your videos — out of curiosity and not jealousy, he tells himself — and see the way your co-stars have this star-struck, pussydrunk look about them. he never brings himself to finish watching the videos.

his teeth sink into your skin, a sharp shock of electricity and want flooding your senses. your nails dig into his scalp, hissing out a breath between your teeth. his teeth are deep, and you can't find yourself to care. arousal leaks from your cunt, begging to be touched and filled and claimed.

ghost eventually withdraws his teeth. you sink down into the mattress, tension seeping from your body. the sting of the mark he left becomes a focal point of your attention, body buzzing and thrumming with arousal as ghost licks thick stripes to soothe the deep impression, admiring his work .

"laswell's gonna kill you," you mumble, moving to cradle the back of his head, trying to pull him up.

he goes willingly.

his eyes sparkle, a cocky smirk painted on his lips as he drags them from your cheek to your lips, indulging in a slow kiss, tongue pushing in your mouth and licking along the edges of your teeth, grazing the roof of your mouth.

"good thing i don't care what laswell thinks," he says against your lips when he pulls away, continuing the path of his kisses down your jaw to your throat, pressing delicate kisses to your pulse.

his cock lays against your hip, thick and pulsing and dripping pre-cum. you lace your legs up around his waist, heels of your feet resting delicately at his sides.

one arm cages you in while he uses his other hand to push your hair back from your face, lips tracing a path from your forehead down your temple, right above your ear.

"and me?" you ask against his jaw, wrapping around your arms around broad shoulders, enticing him to lay more of his weight down on you.

"and you what, sweet thing?" his reply comes so quick, so fluid, like he was waiting for you to ask.

"do you care what i think?"

he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek before pulling back to look at you in a way only he can. you've seen — felt — the stares of your coworkers when you're filming.

it never compares to how ghost — simon — looks at you. like you were made only for him (and maybe you were, you think, from time to time); like you were the moon and he was so desperately trying to be the stars to be close to you; like his every breath began and ended with you.

he doesn't answer you with words. he's never been a man of many words, anyway.

he cups your jaw so softly, thumb brushing along your cheek. his eyes are so bright, his touch is always so gentle.

you can't remember life before he came into it, a blur of memories and moments lost to time. all you know now is that you can't — won't — go through life without him by your side, so deeply entwined in your blood and bones and soul.

his mouth is warm and tender against yours, and it's so easy to lose yourself to the comfort and the haven he has become. he kisses you like his life depends on it, like he'll stop breathing if he lets you go.

his fingers skim along your sides, down your spine and to your hip, tilting you up against him until your ass is resting against his thighs, cock hot and heavy and leaking right above your clit.

he carefully guides himself down your cunt, slipping himself between your folds, gathering your slick, before notching the fat head at your entrance and you ache.

he's so big — bigger than any of your coworkers, anyone you've slept with outside work — but he pushes himself so easily into your soaking pussy, walls fluttering around each inch that sinks into you. you feel so fucking full of him, the stretch a pleasant burn that ignites in your belly, lighting up your nerves like a wildfire.

always a little delirious when he pushes into you, consumed by the tight, wet heat of your cunt, he pants against your cheek, cradling you against his chest.

you fold yourself into him, legs hitching higher, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. you lick at the sweat clinging to his skin, cologne sticking to your tongue.

without any words, he knows when you're ready. you always need a moment to adjust to his size, feeling the deep, steadying breaths you take. he pulls out slowly, carefully, until the tip rests at your entrance, before snapping his hips back against yours. his lips fall to the column of your throat, feeling each moan he pulls from you, each whimper and whine.

you love the way he fucks you for work. it doesn’t feel like it’s work, not with him, never with him. you try not to dream too much about being able to keep him all for yourself.

this feels different. this is different. deep, slow thrusts, lingering kisses, noses brushing, breathing in each other.

your name sounds like a prayer on his lips, as he takes your fingers to kiss them before lacing them together, pressing your joined hands above you on the pillow.

your vision is hazy, clouded over with pleasure, barely able to keep your eyes open with each deep, steady thrust, his cock kissing the tip of your cervix.

"look at me, sweetheart," he begs, accent slurred and thick, eyes so dark and inviting. you want to lose yourself entirely to him.

maybe you already have.

"you don't even know what you do to me," he whispers against your lips, keeping his confession sacred between you. your breath stutters in your throat, unable to choke down the thoughts drowning you, a tear slipping down the side of your cheek.

he chases it with his lips, placing softer kisses to your eyelids, and then above your brow, moving down your nose to the bow of your lips. your nails dig into his sides, trying to convey each muddled thought through your touch, marking and marring him and staking your claim.

a sharp inhale follows a deeper thrust, choking out his name as pleasure floods your veins like venom, overtaking you.

"there?" he breathes, nails digging into your hip to keep you steady. voice lost, all you do is nod and mewl, pressing your breasts up against his chest, always needing him closer.

"yeah, baby, i know," he says, almost laughing, arm lacing around your waist to press you flush against him, his other hand tangling in the sheets beside your head.

with anyone else, you'd roll your eyes and scoff at the arrogance. but with ghost? you're so pliant and loose in his grip, letting him do whatever he wants with you, so submissive and obedient, only for him.

"oh, you've needed this ever since we got to the party, hm?" his teeth graze your neck, down to your collar, right above the curve of your breast. "bet you would've let me fuck you in the bathroom, hm? let my cum leak out of you for everyone to see, let them know that you're mine?"

his thrusts are sharper, meaner. it's everything you want, eyes rolling in the back of your head as the pleasure burns hotter and hotter, the precipice of release right there. the sound of your cunt drawing him in deeper with each smack of his hips against yours fills the room, each moan accented with your pussy gushing around him, his cock coated in your desire.

"gonna be my good girl and cum for me?" his voice is so rough, a hand around your throat forcing you to look at him, mouth open as you pant out each breath, unable to think of anything but his name.

unable to think of anything but your first name with his last, a contract with your names, a band around your finger.

you can only whine out a yes, please, fuck please, want to cum for you. the fingers around your throat tighten, the edges of your vision seeping black.

a sharp bite to your shoulder is the catalyst for your orgasm. thighs shaking, a moan of his name weak in your throat, your cum coating the tantalizing line of hair from his bellybutton to his cock, dripping down your thighs.

"fuckin' hell," he growls against your skin, snapping his hips hard, grazing your clit twice, three times, before you feel his spend paint your insides. thick, hot spurts of his cum pulse from his cock, drawing out your own orgasm and making your brain static with pleasure.

a mixture of his cum and yours spill out from the edges of where he's buried inside you. his cock pulses a few more times as he comes down from his high, skin slick with sweat that's rapidly cooling.

he presses his entire weight down onto you, burying his face into your neck as your nose buries into his hair. sex and release and the last dregs of your perfume permeate the air.

you card your fingers gently through his hair, a comfortable silence lingering as you both fight to catch your breath. he needs a haircut, fingers tangling in the length. maybe he'll let you give him one tomorrow.

his body sinks deeper into yours, his breath even and steady to the point where you think he might've fallen asleep inside you. you're not about to wake him.

“have you ever thought about leaving?” you ask, hesitant, letting your question linger in the air.

“the industry?” comes his reply a moment  later.

you hum in acknowledgement.

he takes another moment more to think, before his answer comes, muffled against your throat. “sometimes, yeah."

“if i left, would you leave with me?”

his reply comes not even a second later, without any hesitation.

“my love, i go where you go."

you're glad he's tucked into your neck, arms wrapping around him protectively, possessively, throat clicking as you swallow. more tears slip down your cheeks, burning a path down your cheeks and settling in his hair. your eyes close as the emotions threaten to burst from your chest, a weak attempt to maintain your composure.

you can only hold back so much.

“do you believe in soulmates?” you ask, significantly softer. you only ask when you're confident your voice won't betray you. the crack gives you away.

ghost is silent, inhaling the scent of sex and sweat and you.

"'m not sure," he replies. he sounds worried, unsure. your heart beats painfully.

he's scared you're going to leave.

you'll never leave him.

“maybe they’re not in this world," you say, fingers tracing along his shoulders and down his spine. "maybe in another, another life, another place."

he shivers under your gentle touch.

"i think you’re mine," you say, heart beating and aching and tearing at the seams; so, so scared of your confession. "i can’t imagine going through this life without you.”

his voice, so much stronger, more confident and brazen and sure comes after a heartbeat.

“good thing you’ll never have to, darling.”

[ramonathinks]

who’s your god? — geto suguru (oneshot; no part two)

summary: suguru geto is the reincarnation of a powerful god or so he claims, using his abilities to prey on as many weak minded housewives as he can.

warnings: (18+, minors/ageless/blank blogs will be blocked) mention of church/religion, sex, adultery, cult like themes, sacrilege(?), begging, pet names (good girl, slut), corruption, finger sucking, public sex, people are watching, geto refers to himself as god, spanking, manipulation, race isn’t mentioned but i envision all my y/n’s as black so yeah. yes, repostttt

A-are you sure?” You swallow and gulp, staring at the man in front of you. His dark hooded eyes staring back at you.

“I have no reason to lie to you.” He says in a hushed tone as your husband walks up the stairs. With every painful creek of the staircase you can’t help but to wince. “Your purity… is in danger, has been for a long time… many of those in higher powers have spoke to me, they do want to help you to remain pure… to be in a good standing of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“Is there anything I can do?” With pleading eyes and shaky hands you scoot closer to him. You children deserved a pure mother, one to help them cross over when the time approached. You longed to be reunited with your husband when time was right.

“Why, of course.” He did a sly slimy smile. “We’ll sit some time aside and pray on this together at the temple.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much sir– eh, master geto.” You could see his lip curl at the name change and seen his nails dig into him palms. Pulling out a simple cross necklace from the insides of his black robe, he handed it to you, placing it into the center of your palm and closing your hand to form a fist.

“Keep this. Wear it. Don’t take it off until we next meet. It’s vital for the ritual we’ll have to preform.”

So you did. You wore it everywhere and didn’t take it off. Anything to keep your purity safe. You showed with it on, wore it underneath all your shirts and dresses.

“The gods spoke to me,” A phone call on the early morning after three weeks had passed. “It’s time.” It wasn’t even dawn yet, just a little past 3am and you were drowsy. “Wear something light. Very thin.”

You swallowed and looked over yourself, all of the sudden nervous and self conscious. Your body a bit more full and plum since the birth of two babies, everything thin you owned was tight against your body.

But you slipped into a long sleeved dark old dress you owned, that covered your entire body and hugged your figure.

You couldn’t help but feel so out of place and so weird when you walked into the sacred temple. Masked and cloaked individuals stood still, you could barely tell that they were breathing yet alone alive.

Swallowing, you made your way to the center of the temple, where you knew Geto would be waiting.

He stood with great posture and a small cross between his fingers, pressing his lips against it before rubbing his fingers against it, up and down. Your core tingled and you gripped the sides of your dress, feeling too hot to keep walking. Your knees buckled and your hands clutched at the wall by your side.

“Master Geto, he—lp!” You slipped and fell to the floor, landing with a small oof that left your mouth. A buzzing sensation on your clit and even feeling a rough hand on your folds. Massaging and pulling them apart.

“Just let it over take you. Just be glad, I didn’t do this while your husband was around. I’m being mighty merciful to you, my dear.” His voice is a shiver up your spine and his presence overtakes you, you feel him all over and he hasn’t even walked over to you yet.

“Tell me, my dear…” His voice cures your ails, making every moment more breathable again. “If I told you that the only way to keep your purity intact would be the touch of a god, would you still be willing?” His voice is sly and cocky.

You squeeze your eyes tightly, a light relief of touch making you moan heavily before it’s quickly snatched away. “That was just a taste, a small taste of purity that could welcomed back into your little soul.”

Something stirred up inside of your chest and a heavy weight made you groan, making you painfully uncomfortable and aware of just what you were missing.

“I need it.” You voice hoarse and detached, you weren’t sounding like yourself. “I’d do anything for it—!” You voice faded.

You felt several hands on you all at once but nobody was there. Solar bright hotness scarred your chest while the cross marked itself into your skin, the smell of burnt flesh all around you.

As if hours had passed, Geto finally approached you. Putting your head in his lap. He crouched and whispered in your ear, “I’m going to fuck the purity back into you.” Licking the insides of your ear before biting and sucking on the lobe. “You’ll be clean again.” He promised.

Slipping your dress up and removing your dainty underwear. “Already so soaked. You’re already ready for me.” His finger caressed your lips and he kissed you. His tongue licking throughout your mouth and sucking on every inch of your tongue.

Cloaked and masked individuals circled around you both and you clang into his grasp, shivering.

“They have to watch. They have to be here.” He explained calmly. “They’re praying over us, praying for you and your purity… shall I ask again, if you really want this? Remember the feeling that you felt…” That feeling was all you could think about, his touch and his voice amplifying everything.

He knew you wanted it. Hanging it over your head. Watching you pant and groan, your thighs sticky and your head spinning. “Please… you know I need it.”

“What would you husband think of you now…” he twists his fingers in your mouth, drawing them in and out. “Watching you beg like a little slut for me to fuck you… would he like it?”

You couldn’t bare to answer. “Please just fuck me already…” you pleaded with him, your eyes clouded with lust, his filled with sin and all he could do was drink it up.

The dizziness continued as the people watching stepped closer, you gulped and trembled, feeling like you can’t breathe.

“I’m going to give you exactly what you need to be pure again.” He pulls his robe off quickly and your eyes follow. His body sculpted to perfection, lean and a perfect built. Your eyes trailed down to his cock and you tried not to moan aloud.

Long and girthy with a dark pink tip, standing curved and full at your attention. You swallowed hard.

Leaning over you, he rubs himself between your cool wet gooey folds, lining his cock against your entrance. “Ready?” He murmurs and your eyes look between his then to his cock before you look to the lingering eyes around you.

“Yes. I’m ready.” Your voice strong and steady as your hands grab at his shoulders.

He slipped between your thighs and all of the heat and sweat around your body disappeared when a small moan left your lips. His cock completely splitting you open and his fingers digging into your thighs. Your legs spread wide as his hips thrust forward, hard.

Burying his nose into your neck he does a deep laugh. His hips wild with ever thrust, the splashy wetness from your pussy echoing around the temple. Moans bounce around with each time he plunges in and out of you.

Clenching around him, he groans, pulling himself out before quickly tapping his cock against your wet folds that open wide for him. He feeds your deprived insides his merciful cock with a sinister smile before he says:

“Tell me, who’s your fucking god now? Huh? Who do you belong to? Who is fucking you, hm? Who’s fucking this pussy pure?”

Gripping his shoulders harder and meeting his thrust you finally whisper, “You… you are, master Geto.”

His hips stutter when you tighten up on him, “Oh, so tight… so fucking tight.” He squeezed your thighs and ram inside of you, both of your moans loud. “Gonna fucking cum inside this pretty pussy.” He promises, jerking his hips and fucking deeper inside of your core.

Feeling every twitch from you, he uses two fingers to rub at your needy swollen clit. “Oh you like that? You like when I fuck this flower open?”

He plants kisses up and down your throat. “Please just…” you lock your legs around his waist, tightly. Wetness sliding down your thighs.

He shutters and sighs, rocking his hips and thrusting harder inside. His eyes intense as they glare down at you. “Such a good girl,” He says, his voice guff and his cock throbbing hard.

Your nails dig into his skin and your pussy squirts as he works his way in and out of you.“Take it.” He tip kissing your womb ever so gently before he’s pounding inside again, watching your thighs jiggle with every moment.

“Take my cum.” He growls, stilling over you. His body shakes and so goes yours, once his cum is planted inside of you, your body feels cool again.

Panting, you look into his dark eyes. “Am I pure?” Your eyes shining with hope and pleasure.

“Far from it.” He says and your face falls. “Turn around.”

Embarrassed and confused, you turn on your stomach.

You feel his rough hands touching on your ass and squeezing the plushness of it before he does the unexpected. A loud slap rings throughout the temple and you grown in pain. “Count.” He does another one to the opposite cheek.

“O-one…” Your soaked folds growing even wetness. “Two…”

Rubbing his cock between your ass he does another slap. “Three—!”

“I’m going to have my way with you for the rest of the day… until you physically can’t anymore.” He says with a deep chuckle. “Ready?”

[rinhaler]

NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k

What a naïve little thing you are.

That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.

But that suits him just fine.

He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.

But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?

He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.

“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.

But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.

He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.

People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.

You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.

You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.

“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.

Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.

“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.

You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.

And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.

Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?

You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.

You don’t know how to act, do you?

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.

He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.

He's more than happy to show you.

You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.

“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.

You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.

He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.

You dumb little thing.

Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.

You just aren’t thinking straight.

And why would you?

You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?

These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.

So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.

He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.

He’s laughing too.

But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.

“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.

“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”

“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.

God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.

“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.

“No.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.

“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.

“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.

Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.

“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.

You weren’t.

And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.

“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?

“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”

“T-Tax—”

“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.

He’ll make sure of that.

As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.

You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.

All you can think about is how tired you are.

Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.

But you’re lucky, really.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.

He prefers girls like this anyway.

Nice ‘n pliant.

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.

“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.

“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.

He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.

His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.

Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.

You’ll know what happened to you.

You might even remember who did it.

But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.

And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.

But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.

He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.

“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”

His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.

He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.

Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.

You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.

He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.

And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.

You won’t have to worry about that with him.

Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.

Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.

The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.

Your lifeless body surprises him once more.

He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.

His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.

And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.

“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.

He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.

You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.

He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.

His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.

He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.

Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.

With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.

“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.

He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.

But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.

He’s far from done with you yet.

© 2023 rinitxshi

[moonit3]

How about a Yandere! Monster Mimic, where falling in love with a human reader...

(The mimic is a shapeshifting monster that can transform into an object or anyone it has seen, of course it can revert to its true amorphous form if it wants to.)

another non-human of for my blog? yes, please.

MY NON-HUMAN HUSBAND IS PERFECT!

➽ context warnings: male! yandere but he can shapeshift, fluffy content, gn! reader, mentioned cheating but nothing happening, also there isn’t much warning in this one.

➽ word count: 1.8k

➽ synopsis: your monster husband is the best thing to ever happen to you and there is no way you could forget him for that.

➽ yandere! mimic monster x gn! reader

➽ a/n: so you know when shows/anime have small segments inside the same episode (like saiki kusuo and the way of a househusband)? if the answer is yes, then i can tell you that i have write this since i watch them recently and got in the mood for something different compared to my past works. also, shot out to me if there is any mistaken down here!

tv show!

a soup opera is at the tv and smash can’t take his eyes off the screen, not even hearing you calling him to eat. instead, he just keep changing his appearance every time a new actor show up at the scene.

“nash!” you called him, but falling to gain his attention when he doesn’t even bet an eye at you. “it’s time for dinner, remember?”

no answer, he keep watching the tv on his own as the show continues to show the leads going to a wedding between another characters. the humanoid creature returned to his original form when seeing the groom and the bride kissing each other at the altar, afterwards he turn to see you and it was easy to understand what he wants to learn about the scene.

“to make the marriage officially end, the groom and the bride have to kiss each other after promising to spend their lifes together.” you replied. “but something they don’t work together and split up after. it’s common to happen, just like it happened to my uncle and aunt.”

he nodded, taking your words to consideration before going back to watch the soup opera, but this time with a bowl of rice that he began devouring without hesitation. nash always acts like he hasn’t eaten in days, when in fact, he had breakfast and lunch not long ago.

decided that you won’t dry the dishes for now, you took a place next to nash on the couch, watching the tv with him in silence. without taking his many pairs of eyes of the screen, he pulls you closer by his crawl, making you rest your head at his arm.

a smile grown on your lips when he does that, not only that makes you feel safer, but also relaxes your mind. it’s a sweet reminder that nash cares about you, even though he never spoken a word to you and the fact of him being whatever he is doesn’t change how much you care about him.

the cat

it already the third time that nash ended with his face full of cuts and bruises after another failed attempt of petting the stray cat that comes around home. you would be laughing if the whole event wasn’t sad, well at least, to his eyes.

“don’t cry, baby.” the sniff coming from the creature has become a common scene since the first time the stray cat has visited you and the cat always left after making nash’s face their newest canvas. “i’m sure that one day, the stray will become more docile and let you pet their fur. maybe even entering our house to sleep with us.”

he continues to sob regardless of yours words, but he remains still under your care when applying another band aid to his face. it’s a unique scene to have a two meter creature full of colorful band aids on his face, like he has been a victim of children’s drawing.

after you finished taking care of him, nash move away from your touch and made his way out towards outside the cabin, where he began sunbathing and stare out into the sky. to make sure he won’t get in trouble, you took a seat at the couch from the front porch, watching nash resting the sun and not giving much thought to the the wild animals that live around the cabin.

the breeze hitting your body makes you drowsy and your eyes can’t hold much longer, not after working hours and hours to fix the roof before the winter comes around. a yawn escapes your lips before you start feeling tired and your mind begging you to fall asleep after working long hours, but another side of you is forcing your mind to stay awake to spend more time with nash. and speaking of him, the monster approaches you with something in his arms.

“what it is, nash? another worm or grasshopper?” you asked, but seeing his smile reaching both of his ears confirms that it’s something even better. “show me.”

and he does. in his arms rests the stray cat that has been visiting the cabin for the past few weeks, but today it seems friendly, showing no signs of aggression towards nash as it usually does. because of that, he looks happier with the cat peacefully sleeping in his arms like a baby.

the scene itself is an adorable one, something that could easily come out from a kids’ shows and you could smile at nash for finally befriending the cat. your husband look so happy when snuggling the small animal, almost like he wasn’t crying just moments ago from being rejected from said animal.

the smile on your face grown more on your lips when you patted the stray cat, seeing the tiny animal enjoying being on nash’s laps only made you relaxed more, specially when he sat next to you to let you pat the cat even more.

“do you want to keep it?” he nodded, enthusiastic about the idea. “then, we should get a few things for the little one tomorrow when going to the town. got it?” he nodded again.

another yawn came out of your lips, making nash ware of your tiredness and he adjusted your head to be the one laying on his shoulder. even with your eyes closing, you can feel his form shape into a soft fur that makes you wonder if he knows that you love when he does that.

“im going to take a nap, wake me up in a hour or so…” and with that, you began dreaming on nash’s shoulder and he couldn’t be happier to have you by one side and the cat in the other side of his arm. the two most important things to him in the same place.

the old lady and the store

“i know your secret, young blood.”

your eyes widen open when the old lady’s words reached your ears, it’s only seven in the morning and there is already a problem that you need to solve...did nash got in another trouble with the town people? you hope not.

“my secret?” you played like you didn’t know what she is talking about, pretending to be a fool is an easy job for you. “i think you are mistaken, lady. i am nothing, but a mere normal hunter that lives in the woods.”

she didn’t buy your words, not when a grin suddenly emerged at her thin lips, you could already guess the many words that she would say about nash and you can imagine how the townspeople will hunt down nash. however, you stood quiet in front of the balcony, pretending to be a normal hunter while the old lady just stared at you.

“don’t play the idiot, kid.” she got up from her seat, even being shorter than you, the lady knows how to make her presence known and scary. “i know that young hunters like you always have your dirty secrets inside those wooden cabin.”

you only stared at her, not saying any words as she walked closer to you to take a better look at how shaken you have gotten with her intimidation. it’s hilarious that a hunter would be a the mercy of an old widow lady like her, one that barely hits your shoulder, the others would laugh at this scene.

“tell me, young blood.” her voice is now like a thunder stomping inside your head. there is no other clients at the store, so she didn’t need to low her voice at you. “how many people are you sleeping with?”

.

..

…

….

“excuse me? i-i am not sleeping around!”

the old lady laughed at your reaction, not caring if her loudness would reach outside the market, everyone of the town knows better than spying at her. it’s clear to those who could hear outside that you have become her newest victim to her attention and curiosity.

“please, kid.” she patted your shoulder when returning to her seat behind the balcony, this time with the biggest smile you ever saw at her lips. “i know everything about everyone at this small place and i know that you have been *hanging out* around with different people by every week that you comes to the town to sell your goods.”

“you are mistaken, lady!” you tried to make her rethink about the subject, but you quickly realized that she won’t hear you, not when she already looks absolutely certain about your ‘affairs’.

“don’t worry, kid. i won’t tell your husband about it.” she winked, giving you an even big smile when referring about your so called ‘partner’. “after all, i was just like you during my young days. full of beauty and grace, ready to make anyone fall to my feet and trust me, i was good at it~”

her rambling gains an extra awkwardness when you remember that nash did took many humans forms when coming to the town for the past months with you. he would often take different appearances when accompanying you, sometimes he would resemble a bombshell girl from those old magazines or maybe a good looking man from those old spies movies that you often caught him watching instead of sleeping.

well, at the bright side of this situation. the old lady believes you are sleeping around, not that you share the house with someone not human…so things are going good for you, right?

“that’s nice to hear, lady.” your lips curves into an nervous smile when she hands the products and that you quickly put inside your bag, wanting to leave fast as possible. “but i got to go, you know, to meet one of my ‘contacts’.”

she stares at you, again with her classic smile that reaches both of her eyes, “don’t forget to tell me about it when you come back to shop!” and with that, you finally leave the market with your bag full of stuff for the incoming winter.

the path back home was a peaceful one, no wild animals has tried to approach you and the rain didn’t start yet, so nothing has happened during your walk. once you have arrived at the cabin, nash welcomed you with open arms and brought you to a hug and began acting so happy, like you haven’t seen him in years.

nash brings you inside the cabin to show that he didn’t mess with anything during your absence nor has the cat destroyed the interior like you would expected, the small feline is still asleep in the same place you saw before going to the town. showing that he did succeed with his goals, nash helped you organize the things you’ve brought around the house.

it’s always a nice view seeing him becoming taller than you to organize the higher shelves of the kitchen and the storage room. thanks to him, you don’t need to bring the ladder from the basement. and with his assistance, the two of you arranged the foods rapidly and efficiently, leaving time to the two of you relax for the rest of the day.

@moonit3 writings

[solaariia]

the self-concept

hellour! this is gonna be a long post!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

i was studying for my social psychology course today (for context i'm a psych major) and read something that might be helpful for everyone who's been having doubts about manifestation subconsciously being part of our everyday lives—as opposed to something made up by the internet.

the information i'm about to provide is from actual sociologists and psychologists, so this is rooted in studies. i promise i'm not about to pull info out of my ass! this is mainly just a very very brief summary of the self concept chapter we're reading about in class.

side note, i named all the researchers in case you wanna check out their work yourself! i made this post to provide insight about our self-concept and clear limiting beliefs. :)

what is self-concept?

so we hear the term self-concept a lot in the manifestation community. Neville, Edward, Sammy, Dr Joe Dispenza, bloggers on tumblr… all of them talk about it all the time. but what does it actually mean?

the self-concept refers to the total sum of beliefs that people have about themselves. it consists of cognitive molecules that social psychologist Hazel Markus called self-schemas. these are the beliefs about ourselves that guide the processing of self relevant information. but what does this actually mean?

well, self-schemas are to the self-concept what books are to a library. if someone asks about yourself, you will probably answer with something quick like: “i am a woman” or “i am a student.” those simple attributes are part of your self-schema; if we want to go deeper, body weight is also a self-schema. for people who regard weight as a crucial part of their beliefs, something simple like a gym trip with friends or buying stuff at the supermarket may trigger thoughts about the self. but if a person is aschematic (not concerned by a certain attribute) about body weight, no thoughts will pop up.

we already know that the self is a special object of our attention. whether its a thought or a song, our consciousness is like a spotlight. this means that it can shine on one object at one point in time, yet shift rapidly from one object to another and process information outside of awareness. in this spotlight, the self is at the forefront of our minds. its what's most important to us at that moment. keep this in mind for later!

to finish with the explanations, neurologist Oliver Sacks highlighted two important points about the self:

🩷 there is a private “inner” self, and an “outer” self we show to others. if we don’t self reflect to understand how were feeling, how will we understand our emotions and actions?

🩷 the self is heavily influenced by social factors.

now–what does that last point mean? well, what we think about ourselves is rooted from childhood. if we grow up hearing “you’ll never amount to anything” or “you’re my favorite child” (extreme examples i know), then that's what we’ll ingrain in our self-concept. this notion brings me to the fun stuff–the studies!

is self-concept scientifically proven?

psychologist Gordon Gallup performed a series of studies where he put animals in front of a mirror to test if they could recognize themselves. at first, they vocalized and greeted themselves in the mirror (my dog did this too when he was a pup, he would bark at his own reflection and play with it), but after several days, only great apes seemed capable of self recognition, using the mirror just like any other human would. grooming themselves, making faces… in short, they recognized themselves!

why do i bring this experiment up? well, this proves that the concept of “me” is necessary to define our self-concept. we must first recognize ourselves as Something to become Someone.

using that same study in humans, this process of self-recognition begins between 18-24 months. which means that from this point onwards we start to define Self (consciousness).

you might read this and–admittedly–think: “oh this blog post hasn’t said anything about manifestation!” true, but i want to present the basics or self-concept first to understand how it affects our daily thoughts!

there was another experiment we talked about in one of my lectures (i do not remember who performed this study specifically, but Dr Patrick Heck did one similar to this one and the results were the same), where participants were told to take a test. half of them were told to boast about themselves, and the rest were instructed to describe themselves modestly. naturally, participants who spoke highly of themselves scored higher on these tests than participants who didn’t. so… you all see where i’m going with this.

remember how i said to keep the “consciousness is a spotlight” paragraph in mind? i’ll finally touch on it with this next and last thing i’m gonna talk about (in this post at least!).

we already established that the first step in the evolution of our self-concept is the ability to recognize ourselves as Someone. the second step, however, involves social factors. sociologist Charles Horton Cooley introduced the term looking-glass self to suggest that other people serve as a mirror in which we see ourselves. and another sociologist by the name of George Herbert added that the only way to know ourselves is by imagining the opinions of our significant others and applying them to our self-concepts. sounds familiar?

how do i change my self-concept?

Neville mentioned the “mirror-self” on his conferences too. he said that one of his favorite techniques to better his Self was to imagine a loved one speaking kindly of himself. in his book Your Faith is Your Fortune, Neville wrote: “Stop trying to change the world since it is only the mirror. Man’s attempt to change the world by force is as fruitless as breaking a mirror in the hope of changing his face. Leave the mirror and change your face. Leave the world alone and change your conceptions of yourself. The reflection then will be satisfactory.”

since the self-concept is a library (our perception of Self) made out of self-schemas (books brought to us by our peers), we can see that sometimes, what we think of ourselves is just an amalgamation of beliefs implanted to us by the people in our lives. so if we were given these books we don’t like, why should we keep them in our library?

to change these negative beliefs we have about ourselves, all we have to do is replace them with positive ones. i know, i know, this is what every person who studies loa and manifestation regurgitates over and over. its nothing that hasn’t been posted to numerous blogs or twitter threads before.

however, the point about this whole post is to tell you why that is the only way to change your self-concept. if your daily thoughts are filled with phrases like: “my sp doesn’t want me” and “i’m so broke” or “what’s the point? this is all worthless anyways.” STOP. DROP. CHANGE.

journal. write your limiting beliefs in your ipad, paper, wood, stone–whatever.

use your hands to apply muscle memory. once you have them, CROSS THEM OUT!

i can’t manifest = I CAN MANIFEST EVERYTHING I WANT

i hope i shift tonight = I KNOW I SHIFT EVERY NIGHT

i wish i had money = I HAVE ALL THE MONEY I WANT AND MORE

just those small changes are enough to rewire your entire self-concept. also, exposure. the more exposure you have to something, the more insecure it will make you. if you’re having a hard time manifesting, remove all blogs, twitter accounts, and people that limit your beliefs. less exposure to negativity = less negativity reflected in your self-concept.

problems with the Self will always be there. if you remove a negative belief, another will pop up. all you can do is learn more about your “inner” self and recognize how you’re feeling. what you can do is focus on the positives, and automatically, your self-concept will change.

persist in the assumption until it becomes your reality!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

thank you all for making it this far! just in case, the book i got this information from is Social Psychology 11th Edition authored by Kassin, Fein and, H.R. Markus. there’s a lot of interesting information on this academic book that is similar to the ones Dr Joe Dispenza has written, so i could make another post like this in the future! take care!

[helaintoloki]

Relenting

pairing: sparrow!ben x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death, sparrow!ben is an asshole as usual, some fluff if you squint

notes: haven’t posted on this blog in forever but the new teaser brought me back from the dead so here’s this

summary: the world is ending and ben thinks it’s time to enjoy what’s left of it

You swirl the glass of champagne in your hand and watch as the alcohol begins to whirl around the cup. There’s a slight breeze in the air, but it’s warm and strangely comforting despite the current circumstances. The music from inside faintly reaches your ears out on the balcony, and though you feel slightly guilty for missing out on such a momentous occasion for Luther and Sloane, you can’t bring yourself to go back inside. What’s the point? Your time on this earth is limited, dwindling with each second that passes, so why bother trying to act like it isn’t.

An unwelcome presence joins your sulking figure outside, and you don’t even bother to spare him a passing glance. You think you hate him, or at least you want to hate him, but it’s hard to despise the man who shares the face of your long lost love. Blame it on nostalgia or pathetic longing, but there’s still some small part of you that believes he could be just like the boy you knew and loved in your youth, even if he hasn’t shown it at all in the time you’ve gotten to know him.

Finally acknowledging his presence, you take a swig of your champagne before retorting, “Don’t you have to go be an asshole somewhere else?”

“You’re hilarious,” he replies in a deadpan tone, and you don’t have to look at him to see that he’s rolling his eyes in annoyance. You like how easily you get under his skin, and his sarcastic remark prompts the smallest quirk of your lips.

“Yeah?” You reiterate with a small shrug, eager to push his buttons in any way you can. “My Ben used to think so too.”

“Would you shut up about ‘your’ Ben, already? It’s pathetic,” He snaps in irritation, obviously set off by your remarks. “All you do is whine and complain about what a jerk I am instead of realizing I could help you out if you’d just help me.”

“By pretending to be your dead girlfriend? No thanks,” you scoff with a wry laugh before downing the rest of your drink. It burns your throat, but the discomfort is almost soothing in a way. It’s a type of pain you can control and inflict upon yourself out of your own volition. You haven’t been in control of anything since becoming wrapped up in all this apocalypse time travel nonsense, and you grapple for any semblance of it whenever possible.

“It’s not pretending if you technically are her,” the Sparrow insists adamantly, faltering for a moment as he adds under his breath, “albeit a more whiney and uptight version of her.”

He immediately ducks when you chuck your glass in his direction, narrowly missing his head in the process. You wish you had Diego’s precision so you could hit the desired target of his face, but the look of bewilderment on his features is good enough for now. You wordlessly turn to head back inside and rejoin the wedding festivities, because forcing yourself to act like attending wedding at the end of the world is normal is much better than spending another second out here with him, but his firm grip on your wrist halts your movements. If you really wanted to you could break free from his hold, you’re a better fighter than he is and you could easily use your abilities to overpower him, but you make no attempt to do so. The touch is familiar, comforting despite how hard you try to deny it, and you’d like to savor it even if it’s not right.

“The world is ending, and there’s no going back,” he reminds you, the gentleness of his voice almost scaring you. It’s a jarring contrast from the usual sharpness that he speaks to you with, and you’re not sure if it disgusts or comforts you. He sounds like your Ben now, and the realization prompts your breath to hitch in your throat.

“What do you want from me?” You demand with a lack of conviction, your previous confidence dwindling as you morph back into that same scared little girl who once thought she could never survive without the boy she loved.

“I want to spend whatever time I have left on this shit hole with my y/n, even though I know it’s not really her,” the Sparrow relents in defeat as he comes to terms with his fate. “Don’t you want to spend one last night with Ben?”

You remain silent, your lips held together in a firm line and your brows creased in thought as you digest his words. This man is not yours, not even close, but he belonged to another version of you in this timeline, a version that is currently buried six feet underground. This entire time you’ve done your best to fight the urge to give in to him, to let yourself play pretend with the Sparrow and act as if tragedy had never struck the Umbrella Academy. With the world coming to an end, did it really matter now if you finally relented to his pleas? Didn’t you deserve to be happy, too?

Taking your silence as rejection, Ben slowly begins to release his hold on you. However, he’s taken by surprise when you immediately throw yourself into his embrace and pull his face towards you for a kiss. He doesn’t notice the tears that streak down your cheeks or the way your hands tremble as you cup his face; he’s too busy savoring the taste of something that had been taken from his years ago.

As he wraps his arms tighter around your waist, he determines that this time around, he’s not letting go.

[kivino]

I DON’T CARE WHAT’S IN YOUR HAIR || ROOMMATE!JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH X GN!READER

Word Counter – 1.9k

Tags/Warnings – Some friendly banter, can be read as both platonic and romantic, fluff!

Summary – Your roommate Johnny comes back after his deployment and his hair looks like it needs a little trimming.

A/n – I AM ON MY ROOMMATE!SOAP AGENDA AND I WILL SPREAD IT FAR AND WIDE. let me know if you guys would like to see more roommate!Soap things on my blog, i'm very interested in different opinions!!!

ao3 link!!

Soap couldn’t wait until he was finally back home – several months had passed since his last leave and he was getting restless and antsy without the very much-needed rest. And, well, your company, which he missed more and more each day. You’d constantly be on his mind, plaguing his every thought with your presence, from a rather simple, passing “Oh, they’d like this joke” inside his head to talking the ears off of anyone who’d listen to him ramble about his lovely roommate, who he affectionately called “my dumbass back home”. Slowly, but surely, the number of people willing to lend an ear to restless Johnny became less and less, with each day of him staying on the base. So really, it was more of a favor extended to all the resident soldiers there.

Soap could almost feel the buzz of excitement itching under his skin, the commute back to your shared apartment was really long and tiring; the huge duffel bag filled to the brim with dirty laundry and a variety of clothes he shoved inside in a hurry didn’t help with the soreness in his body either. Soap, thankfully, didn’t forget to tell you earlier this week that his leave got approved, which you didn’t seem too excited about over the text, but he knew that you were screaming and jumping from joy. Maybe.

The last time he forgot to do that ahead of time he came back to an absolute disaster inside the apartment, with you trying to cook dinner while doing laundry, vacuuming, and cussing him out for not telling you earlier. Truth be told, Johnny didn’t mind if the apartment was messy, with undone dishes and whatnot, he’d help you do everything, but you were fixed on the fact that you should do it yourself and it’s absolutely crucial that everything has to be perfect by the time he’s back. Ghost joked that you had some military spouse mentality when Soap mentioned it to him (among countless other times he’d tell the big guy about you). Maybe there was some truth to this joke. Just maybe.

Regardless, Johnny could feel the bounce in his step and the same lightness in his chest when he was finally within a short walking distance of the apartment, and he just simply couldn’t wait to see you, even if you were a bit tired after all the cleaning you’d have to do in the apartment to keep up this image of a “perfect roommate”, despite being to him much more than just that. Seconds drag out unbearably long when he’s going up the steep stairs in the building that have certainly seen better times than the 21st century, and Soap thinks he could combust when he has to rummage through his pockets for the keys he hasn’t used in months. Johnny could hear the vacuum moaning from exertion from his place outside the door and an unintentional smile grazes his lips when he hears you cursing something out in your native language. Johnny finally fishes the key out of his pocket, hurriedly unlocks the door, and goes inside, as quietly as he can, which you can still hear even over the sound of a working vacuum.

“Johnny, you ass, you’re finally back.” You’re immediately distracted from the home appliance, as you turn it off and focus your attention solely on Soap, running up to him across the room and helping him with the giant duffel bag. “Thought you died out there with long they held up your leave.” You mumble with a chuckle that turns into a rough shriek, courtesy of Johnny squeezing the life out of you with a tight and warm embrace.

“Aye, there we go, bonnie, let’s hug it out!” If you could hear over his loud booming voice you were sure you’d hear your bones snapping from how tight his arms wrapped around your torso. You’d probably hug him back if you could free your arms out of Johnny’s hug too, but that didn’t seem to be an option at the moment.

“Johnny, for fuck’s sake, you stink!” You only hear a hearty laugh in response to your dramatic delivery. You tried to seem annoyed with Soap, which was a bit harder than you initially thought. You kind of missed him, the apartment felt cold and empty without his chatter.

“And that’s how you treat me after we haven’t seen each other for months? You wound me so deep.” The man says in a mock-sad tone. Deep inside of him, he felt that – you’re not being serious and just messing with him. So, he only continued squeezing you in his arms, without much thought. “When did you shower last time anyway?” you ask with a light groan. “Not in the past 24 hours, I’ll tell ya that.” Johnny’s chest rumbles with a low laugh and you can feel those vibrations going right through you, from how close you were.

“Oh, fuck off. And what’s with the hair? Decided to take some fashion advice from those edgy lads down the road?” You finally look up at Soap and he looks…Interesting to say the least. It’s obvious that someone probably helped him trim down the sides, since they didn’t appear much longer than they were several months ago when he left last. The longer part of the mohawk, however, made him look like he decided to go full mullet, with parts of his hair cut in certain places, like there was an attempt to make it shorter. It wasn’t bad-looking by any stretch of the imagination (in fact, you were sure, that Johnny can make look good just about anything if he managed to pull off the fucking mohawk in the first place), but you had to take the piss at him while you had the chance.

“Everyone’s a critic. Help me cut it then, will ya?” The man asks, slightly loosening his iron grip on you to look you in the eyes with an infectious smile.

“Only after you wash.”

“Naturally.”

And that’s how you find yourself in the cramped, tight bathroom of your apartment, Johnny sitting in front of the mirror on a stool, back hunched over the sink and you standing right behind him, with a pair of scissors and a clear goal in mind – sort out whatever mess was on his head. If it was up to you, you’d find a person who decided to make Johnny the next victim of their questionable fashion choices and cut off their fingers so they can never hold anything that can cut hair in their hands again. But for now, you just have to figure out what to do with Soap.

“You look like a feral rat on steroids, Johnny,” You say, as your fingers slowly drift through the longer, very grown-out parts of his mohawk. You look at his reflection in the mirror and your eyes meet, despite the weird angle his head was positioned at, just to rest on your stomach. Soap gives you a lopsided smile and closes his eyes with a relaxed sigh. That bath must’ve been good, you scrubbed the shit out of the bathroom yesterday.

“Well, somebody’s gotta be the pretty one outta the pair of us.” If you were meaner than you already are you’d yank his hair to teach his ass a lesson. But you don’t. And he knows you wouldn’t do that, which is why you can see one barely open blue eye staring back at you from the mirror. He’s such a pain in the ass, but you love him. The world will collapse the day you actually acknowledge that though.

“You’re butt-ugly.” You mumble instead, playing with the damp strands of hair that refused to stand up the way they did before his deployment. You didn’t know much about the military dress code but you’d be surprised if he wasn’t violating any regulations with how his hair looked.

“Yer mum would disagree.” Johnny gave another hearty laugh and leaned more into you with his back. It really felt great to be back home. He could’ve still lived with his parents and sisters back on that farm, but as much as he loved them, relatives were too much sometimes. Maybe he should visit them soon with you. That’d be great. Johnny just has to explain beforehand that you’re only roommates, so it doesn’t turn into a big mess, that he’d hate to sort out.

“You don’t even know my mum, you wanker.” You slap Johnny on the shoulder lightly and he doesn’t even flinch. “Come on, straighten up.” He reluctantly obeys and gets up from his unusual resting position, you hear no verbal protests from him. With a light, gentle motion your hand ruffles his hair in approval.

“I’m sure she’s a woman of refined taste.” This earns Soap another slap to the shoulder, to which he laughs like a damn schoolboy. Your eyes are glued to his hair, studying it carefully. You didn’t have much experience even trimming it on somebody else, so this was a bit nerve-wracking – you didn’t want to mess up and make Johnny look worse. Although not a lot of things could look genuinely bad on the man, you were willing to admit that. You finally take the scissors that have been sitting on the edge of the sink for the past half hour and pinch the longer stand that fell over Johnny's eyes between your index and middle fingers. “Well, what are you waiting for? Cut it.” He tries to hurry you, and you can’t even see the way he observes your expression - brows tied together in a thoughtful frown, Johnny thought it looked quite cute.

“Shut up, I’m thinking.” Your eyes rise to the mirror again and he playfully rolls his eyes. He doesn’t say anything though, letting you take your time, as you put down the scissors. You start ruffling Johnny’s hair again and you see the way he closes his eyes in the reflection, a warm smile stretching his lips. Your hand rests on the side of his face for a moment and not even a second passes, before you feel Soap’s palm rest over it in a gentle motion. But it doesn’t end on it, when he rubs his cheek over your skin, his stubble scratching you slightly. You let him have this moment though.

You look at his hair, as you ruffle and play with it using your free hand, and your realization makes you want to bash your head on the wall. You like it better like this. This is stupid and you feel like an idiot. At least you had an idea on how you can tell Johnny that you changed your mind about cutting his hair. Your fingers dive into his hair again, scratching the scalp lightly with the nails as you give your final verdict, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“I don’t think I can make it any worse than it already is, to be honest. Somebody fucked you over real good with that one.” You lie right to his face. Johnny opens his eyes and gives you a mischievous smile when he hears that.

“So, what I hear is you’re chickening out?’ He asks with a light, airy laugh that makes even the cold bathroom feel warmer.

“Johnny, get out of here before I shave you bald”

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[foreverdolly]

this is a self pitying post and i’ll probably delete it later- but when i’m sad i tend to write it out. i’ve used this blog like a diary of sorts for the last two and a half years. i’ve developed a relationship with a lot of you on here and i appreciate all the love i’ve received so far on my last post. my friends that i have in real life, no matter how long i’ve known them, don’t know too much about my upbringing or my parents. i hate the idea of trauma dumping- it’s uncomfortable for other people: so don’t read this if you don’t want to. i wouldn’t blame you.

my dad died from cirrhosis due to alcoholism. he died miserable and alone. he had no friends. his family was sick of him. i tried to call him as often as i could but sometimes he could be mean if he was drunk. i knew not to call him after 11:00 in the afternoon because he would start to drink. he lived in his youngest brother’s basement and almost never came upstairs because he was embarrassed. i haven’t seen him in three years because he lives fourteen hours from me, but i tried my hardest to call him every week and keep him involved in my life. he never saw any of my homes, never met any of my friends, and never even saw me drive a car (i’ve been licensed since i was eighteen). i cried to him almost every week, begging him to get sober.

he never recovered from my parent’s divorce, and for that i feel so sorry. he called my mother his soulmate and always spoke in past tense- talking about when me and my brother were little. he would tear up when talking about the first time he ever saw me in the hospital after my mother gave birth, and he was vocal about the fact that i was his favorite. we shared a lot of the the same interests and always had fun when talking.

when my mom made a suicide attempt two years ago he was there for me almost everyday, calling me despite the demons he was battling with himself.

the last time i spoke to him was thursday- a week from the day he died. he told me that he almost called a treatment facility but he got tired and took a nap instead. his doctors appointment was today at one and he was going to ask to be admitted and then go to a rehab facility. i told him i’d send him money while he was in there- he hasn’t been able to hold a job since i was still in high school.

my dad was a chef. a damn good cook- classically trained in french cooking. he had the loudest laugh i’ve ever heard, so much so that it used to make me cry when i was a baby. we used to wear matching costumes and he’d sign me out from school on halloween and call me out the day after. he took me to my first concert, but he couldn’t afford both the gas and the tickets (so i paid for the gas with my pocket change at the age of thirteen). he wore adidas strictly- shell toe was his favorite.

when i was little my dad was on night duty while my mom was away: tucking us in, reading us books. he refused to read to me and walked out the door but not before saying “bed bugs and stuff”. i thought it was so funny. it became our saying. every night we spent with each other we said “bed bugs and stuff”. so that was my last send off to him. i hope he’s finally resting well and isn’t depressed, ashamed or lonely anymore where he is.

he died in his sleep. they found a solo cup filled with vodka next to his bed and i can’t stop thinking about the fact that he was going to get help today. he was yellow due to jaundice. what a cruel world.

[jasntodds]

Broken Heart Of Gold [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Request: yes, here

Summary: After Jason messes up on a mission, he goes to you

Warnings: Swearing, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, self-deprecating thoughts (jason), mentions of previous homelessness, mentions of death

Words: 2,514

A/n: I was listening to You Are Enough by Citizen Soldier and Broken Heart Of Gold by One OK Rock so here we are lol I also have another fic similar to this here because I will write this concept a million times if no one stops me. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

He’s been doing this for years. He was just thirteen when he first put on the Robin suit. And it was magical.

Being Robin always made Jason feel like he was magic. He was invincible and strong and worthy and enough and important. He had a purpose. For so much of his life, he was the one taking care of his mom and then she died. She died and it left him cold and alone and on the streets. But Robin brought him importance and safety and warmth. Being Robin meant he lived in a home where he was cared for and never asked to care for them. Not that he ever minded caring for his mom because he never did. But it was nice not having to take care of himself, even if he always did anyway. Being Robin gave him freedom and he got to kick ass. He got to go out there and he got to help Batman bring down some of the worst of the worst. He was enough and important. And worthy. But he wasn’t invincible. Because the Joker killed him.

He died and that was that. Robin wasn’t magic or invincible. Robin was just some kid in a mask and cape. But, then a betrayal to death and fate happened and Jason’s alive again. He came back and became Red Hood because the Joker was alive and well, Bruce had a new Robin, and the world left Jason behind.

He came back and it’s as if he wasn’t even wanted. He became Red Hood for people like him. The ones left behind. The ones Bruce won’t help in the way he should. Jason became Red Hood, knowing this life only leads to pain and death, to do what Bruce is too cowardly to do. He became Red Hood to be the voice for all the victims like him. That could have been saved if the hard choices were just made but weren’t. He is their voice and their protector. So, he’s been doing this for years. And the missions that go south, still never get any easier.

There’s a loud thud coming from your window, snapping you from your shallow sleep on the couch. You sit up quickly, your head slightly spinning with the sudden movement and you look over to your window, seeing the reflective red helmet shining back at you in the low light of the city and your apartment.

Jason takes the helmet, a mild quiver to his fingertips. “Sorry.” Jason mutters. “Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, moving to your knees so you can get a better look at him. “No, I was just lying down.” You lie, knowing he hates waking you up and you hadn’t been asleep more than twenty minutes anyway.

“That’s good.” Jason clears his throat but he hasn’t made any attempt to get up off the floor or make direct eye contact with you.

It’s all feeling heavy. His head, his eyes, his limps. Everything around him feels like it’s starting to close in. The adrenaline is crashing and everything feels like it’s about to suck the last breath from his lungs. It all hurts and aches and he usually handles it well, the injuries just come with the territory. He’s used to the pain but then nights like tonight happen and everything hurts. Every passed injury is echoing in pain, coming back for vengeance. The autopsy scars burn even though they shouldn’t, his face feels numb even though those injuries have been long healed from the pit. Every haunted injury comes back with a shattering echo.

“Jay?” You ask softly, trying to get him to look at you.

Usually, when Jason comes back from patrol, he's injured in some capacity. But, most of the time, he has this grin anyway that could light up Gotham's darkest alleyways. It's always a little cheeky and always a little arrogant. And charming. Because he went out and he did something good, for people who can't help themselves. His eyes are usually bright, blue and bold with enough energy to power your apartment. Those are the times he usually comes to you but then sometimes, like tonight, it's like every ghost comes back and takes over. The light is gone from his eyes and it's as if he's physically incapable of managing even a fake reassuring smile. It's these nights that are always the most worrisome because you know Jason has a habit of beating himself up relentlessly when something bad happens.

For a second, he’s not sure why he showed up here. You always clean him up and stitch him up. You’ve been doing it since he was Robin. A routine because you always understood when he needed to talk or sit in silence. But tonight, he’s not even feeling like he’s worthy of the kindness that radiates from your unbroken bones. He doesn’t think he deserves the help you always offer and the understanding because he failed tonight. And it was his fault. It was so bad that his jaw clenches as his heart starts to thunder.

"Are you okay?" You keep your voice soft, just above a whisper as if speaking too loudly will shatter him entirely.

His breath hitches in his throat with the question. He nearly shatters into a billion pieces right into your carpet. Jason Todd, on a good day, is rarely ever really okay but tonight it’s so much worse. He’s trapped in a harsh reality of what he does every night and he’s trapped in his own head, haunted by every passed mistake he’s ever made. Is he doing the right thing? Is this the only way? Is Bruce right? Maybe he is fucked up and maybe he never should have been brought back. Maybe those people would be alive right now if it weren’t for him.

Jason swallows his own heartbeat, a task that feels more like swallowing river rocks. "Yeah, I'm fine." His words are short and brittle while a redness starts to wash over his eyes.

You nod slowly before you get up from your spot on the couch. Jason watches you carefully and he knows you’re about to offer him the care he swears up and down he does not deserve. You crouch in front of him, resting your hands on his knees. Jason nearly pulls away but he knows it would hurt you if he did and he doesn’t want to cause anyone else any more pain. Not tonight.

“You don’t look fine.” You say softly as you tilt your head to the right. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jason nods as his mouth runs dry. “A few places.”

“Okay so I’ll get the kit and you can move the couch.”

“You don’t have to fucking help, alright? I don’t know why I came here.” Jason huffs but it's weak and ragged, forced as if speaking is too much of a task.

“You always come to me for help, Jay.” Your voice is kind and gentle as your thumbs lightly run over his knees.

“I know but I’ve already stained your carpet and couch. It’s late and you have work. I’ll just go home. It’s fine.” Jason shakes his head, his eyes plastered where your hands meet his knees.

“I don’t mind.” You shrug as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Taking care of you, I mean. It doesn’t bother me.” You offer him a soft smile once he glances up to you. “And Alfred told me how to get the stains out so…you really wanna use that as an excuse or you gonna let him help you?”

Jason lets out a sigh. “I don’t know.” There's a quiver in his voice.

You tap his head lightly with your finger, Jason's eyes finally locking on yours. "What's going on up there?"

You were on the streets together before he got lucky, well, depending how you want to look at it. You've known him for years and Jason has always been the one who wants better for people, Robin and Red Hood just gave him the opportunity to actually help those people. But, with that, he's also been the person who doesn't really know his worth or believes he's enough. A lot of things have happened, a lot of people have come and gone to nail those thoughts into the deepest parts of his mind. Those are always the thoughts that tend to be the ones that stick, even if they aren't true and you know they aren't.

You know Jason has a heart of gold and always has, always will. He thinks dying charged a part of that because sometimes, it feels like he should still be dead. So, he beats his heart out of his chest until he shatters into pieces, the shards always ricocheting back at him. He breaks his own heart because he thinks he deserves it, scattering the pieces in hopes the pain will always be true to what he deserves. But, you come around and pick up the pieces anyway because you always knew he was enough and worthy and important. You always knew that Jason would do what was best, for him and for other people who needed help.

"I got a damn cipher wrong and I was too late." Jason's voice finally cracks, his words harsh and aimed at himself.

His eyes always turn to almost a navy blue whenever he starts crying. It doesn't happen often, at least not around you, but you notice it. It's as if the emotional turmoil takes over every part of him stripping him of the liviness he usually has and that includes the brightness of his eyes. And it breaks your heart every time.

Jason has always had a thing about not being enough. He wasn't enough for either of his parents to stop using or enough for his dad to stick around, get a legal job. He wasn't enough for Bruce. A lot of people have tried over the years for him and tried with good intentions to just genuinely help because he deserved to be happy and healthy and safe but for some reason, it was never enough. Something else would happen and it'd mess it all up and the only one who ever got hurt in the mess was Jason. He's mentioned, a handful of times, maybe it was just him. Destined to like this forever. But you never saw it that way.

"I'm sorry, Jay." You brush the white streak of hair out of his eyes. "Do you wanna talk about it?" You ask, your brows pulled together.

You never saw him as not enough or damaged. He's an asshole, sure, but he's also kind and forgiving. He just wants to help people. Even when you were kids, questioning where your next meal was coming from, he'd try to help other kids if he could. It's what he did. It's what he does. You found out he was Robin and all you could do was laugh because the whole vigilante thing really fit him. Maybe not the way Bruce wanted things done, but helping people who the GCPD can't or won't help. But, even beyond being a vigilante, he's your favorite person. And you wouldn't trade him for the entire world. You desperately wish he could see himself through your eyes. Maybe it would help on nights like tonight.

"No." Jason scoffs, shaking his head. "No, I don't wanna talk or think about it anymore."

"Okay." You shrug casually, knowing he'll talk in bits and pieces later. "So, why don't we get you cleaned up and stitched up then we lay down. We can watch something or I can read to you until you fall asleep. Your choice." You offer him a gentle and kind smile.

"I don't wanna keep you up later. You'll be late for work again." Jason huffs, guilty pulling at the pit of his stomach.

You shrug, giving him a cheeky grin. "Eh, yeah, I can take some PTO." Your face suddenly lights up. "What if I take PTO and we go to Petsmart tomorrow, pick up some food and we go see the kittens at the shelter? If we bring in food, we can hang out with them for a little while."

The excitement in your voice gets Jason to crack a small and fragile smile. You know how much he likes cats. It's a silly offer, maybe, but it is nice and Jason will never understand why you try to hard to make him feel better, even when he thinks he doesn't deserve it. But, he does know, he is thankful for you anyway,

"That's how you wanna spend your precious time off?" Jason's voice is rough this time but it doesn't crack.

"With you and like twenty kittens? Yes." You nod quickly. "And I think you need it, anyway." Your smile falls into something comforting and honest. It feels like home. "Hanging out with animals is good for your mental health."

"Really?" Jason raises a brow at you.

"Oh, are you gonna tell me you're not beating yourself up and thinking you're the worst? You're not. I think you're the best but I know you well enough to know you don't think so when something happens." You suck in a breath, your hands sliding over his knees a few times. "So, we go hang out with some kittens and you'll feel a little better to tell me what happened and then I'll tell you that you still did your best."

"How do you even know that?" Jason scoffs, dodging your eyes again as the guilt starts pulling on his vocal cords.

"Because you always try your best." You answer simply. "It's not always easy, Jay and it's not always gonna work out. But, you always try and that's enough." You place your hand on his cheek, getting him to look at you. "So, what'd ya say?" The corner of your mouth perks up into a gentle and hopeful smile.

The last thing he wants to do is disappoint you, let someone else down. But, he also knows, deep down, that you do it because you care and you really believe everything you tell him. All you want to do is be there for him and maybe it does take some of the weight off of his shoulders. When he's carrying the world, you stand under it with him. And when he's taking a hammer to his own heart, you yank the hammer away and swap it out with glue, helping him put it back together. And on nights like tonight, he's not sure where he'd up if it weren't for you.

Jason nods softly, taking your hand in his. "Yeah, alright, thanks." Jason leans closer, resting his forehead against yours.

"Of course, Jay." You press a quick kiss to his nose. "Now, come on, lemme help you." You get to your feet and offer your hands to help Jason up.

He shakes his head, his chest still feeling heavy but knowing you'll always be here makes things easier. So, he sticks out of his own hands and encompasses yours in his before he stands up.

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