#nts fan fic

[fletchysohot]

V.

Lil' Blue Euros Star

You and Conor have been apart for way too long and he's worried about the next game in the Euros. Happy international break guys!

Word count: 2.7k

You adjust yourself against the pile of pillows stacked haphazardly against the headboard of your bed waiting for the FaceTime call to connect. Once the call connects your face falls when Conor doesn't greet you with his usual giddy smile. . The seemingly permanent brightness in his eyes has been replaced by a certain veil of dullness, his hair unstyled, messy, and unwashed,  his sticky locks falling against his cheek, framing the dark circles that have formed under  his eyes now absent of their cerulean spark. 

“Conor,” you let out and he just offers you a weak smile in return, most likely an attempt at calming your worries. 

“Are you feeling okay babe?” you ask him , your voice full of concern. 

“Yeah,” he says, laying his cheek on the pillow, a content sigh escaping his pale peach coloured lips, “just tired… been training hard.”

“You look awful.” Your eyebrows knit together in concern at the sight of the state the man is in.

“Thanks," he laughs, the skin by his eyes crinkling as a chuckle escapes his mouth. “I missed you too.”

“I'm sorry, I-” you fumble looking for words, trying your best to salvage the situation you've gotten yourself into. 

“I know,” he smiles reassuringly, nuzzling his face against the pillow to get more comfortable. “Do I really look that bad though?”

Your face must give away the answer since the man sighs, rubbing his tired face. “I just haven't been sleeping that well, you know?"

“Jude's snoring that bad?” You chuckle, trying to get him to light up, silently hoping that is the problem and it's nothing more serious.

“No, no,” he says absentmindedly, “Jude's a good roommate…”

“What's the issue then?” You search his face hoping for a hint of an answer or something to ease your mind. Conor would sometimes get nerves before big away games but this seemed different. 

The answer doesn't come instantly, your boyfriend looking around just to avoid meeting your gaze, slight shame clouding his features. 

“Babe?” you ask softly as if speaking to a frightened animal.

“I just… I know these few games are very important… I know a lot of people are watching. Nothing serious to worry about.” He searches for the right words to ease your worry. Or maybe he's trying to calm himself, reassuring himself. You silently wonder how many times he has said the same words to himself in the mirror, hoping they would feel less like lies and more like the truth. 

“Conor…” you frown seeing the subtle remnants of past emotions linger in his features - the way his youthful features are made heavy and older with worry, the way his bottom lip is red and coarse probably from him biting it when he thinks too much, the absence of the familiar rosiness from his soft cheeks. Conor looks so unlike himself it makes you want to tell him to come home now so you can protect him from the world. You are brought out of your thoughts however when he speaks again. 

“They wanna potentially sell me you know." He averts his eyes to play with a loose thread sticking out of the pillowcase his cheek is currently laid on. You frown seeing his icey eyes briefly become misty before he blinks the frustration and sadness away. You hate seeing him like this, helpless and deflated. The past few months have not been kind to him, between fans losing hope in him and everyone having an opinion to share between people on social media and pundits. He had bravely held up a front for you but now the whisperings of Chelsea selling him as part of their summer clearout had obviously become the final straw that broke his back. Your heart broke to see him push himself to the limit, often coming home barely being able to keep his eyes open at the dinner table. 

“You have to take it easy though Con,” you say, finally breaking the brief silence that has fallen between the two of you. 

“I have to prove to them that-" his voice is laced with frustration and fatigue as he tries to mask the anger threatening to appear on his face. You know he is trying to keep his head down, work as hard as he can for both club and country. He had always been adamant that actions speak louder than words adopting it as his work ethic, however somehow no matter how hard he would work and push himself it was not enough to keep up with the expectations from the people who held his faith in their hands. And even though he was insistent it didn't bother him too much it was clear to you that was getting to him. But both of you knew Conor would not run his mouth and rather keep it in until he could leave it out on the pitch.    

“No you need to listen to your body,” you say firmly. “We can't have you pick up an injury."

“Babe I'm fine.” His voice becomes shaky once again. 

“Conor you look horrible.” You sit up in frustration. You know you are being harsh to the man on the other side of the screen, but you want, no, need to shake him and make him snap out of it before his inherent need to please people gets him hurt. 

“Please listen to me,” you plead, “ you have to be more careful. I want you home in one piece, not on crutches.”

“I have to prove to the club that-” he starts again, his voice laced with frustration and anger, you know it's not directed at you, but you feel your face turn sour.

“If the club is too blind to see what you bring-” You raise your voice, aware in the back of your mind that the conversation is beginning to move dangerously close to an argument. 

“The club has made a ton of signings. Guys who are younger, fitter, more talented than me and if I don't step up my game and earn my place I'll end up benched forever or worse…” you see his face tense as if holding something back. “sold.”

“Why would getting sold be so bad though?” You say without thinking, too caught up in wanting to eliminate the way his eyes are full of hurt and exasperation.. . 

He looks at you in surprise. Him leaving Chelsea has been lingering in the air for a while now, an unspoken subject that neither of you ever dared breach. Both of you very aware that it has been the reason for Connor to wear himself thin, for the small arguments about seemingly mundane problems. However it is also the one subject you and Conor would not dare touch due to fear of it consuming him completely.  

“Chelsea is my home,” he says after a moment, his PR training kicking in.

“Conor.” you say tiredly.

“Chelsea is my home” he says again. His voice quieter, like he's reassuring himself more than informing you. You know lately he's been having his moments of doubt whether he and the club have become too distant from each other, whether he has outgrown his roots, whether it's time for a new challenge. You cannot help but wonder if with the plethora of changes at the club Conor still feels has a home at Stamford Bridge. 

“Conor,” you say, “I know you love Chelsea, I know it's home, but you know no one would blame you-” you soften your voice speaking slowly, carefully observing any changes in his expression. 

Conor looks at you as if asking “are you kidding me?”

“Okay SOME people would blame you… All I'm saying is - moving to a club that loves you and cherishes you wouldn't be that bad… I just… I hate seeing you like this baby. I'd rather you move than run yourself into the ground trying to prove something they should already know. I just worry about you, you know.” The words fall from your mouth before you have a chance to catch them. You close your eyes and hold your breath bracing for the wrath that may follow now that you have overstepped the unspoken boundary that is Conor and his football career. 

When you don't hear a reaction you open your eyes expecting him to be furious or having hung up on the call. You would deserve it for taunting him like that. But all you are met with is pain in his eyes. 

“Your whole life is here,” he says calmly. He looks soft and tired and defenceless almost like an angel. You feel as if he has laid down his weapons, unwilling to fight or argue, completely at your mercy. The moment feels incredibly intimate, you know Conor has never let his guard down like this in front of you. He is the type to grit his teeth and suffer alone in silence. And yet here he is, offering you himself completely. He's tired of being the strong one, always saying the right thing, looking the right way, not a hair out of place even after playing a 120 minute match in a UCL final.  

“My whole life is wherever you are Conor.” You offer him the words he has yearned to hear for what feels like forever, an olive branch of sorts. 

The man shuffles, about to say something but you cut him off. “I can work from anywhere, wherever you are that's where I want to be, if that means I might have to get up earlier to take a train or have a few business trips here and there just to see you doing whatever you love and glowing, I'll do it.”

For the first time that evening Conor's face lights up with the familiar smile that finally reaches his eyes reigniting a spark the size of a forest fire that has been dormant for months now ,making you feel like all your problems melt away for a moment. Seeing the glow return to Conor's features makes your chest ache with longing to kiss him, to run your fingers through his hair, to feel his body shake as he laughs at your antics. You watch him, counting the freckles on his nose and mapping out each millimetre of his smile, the way the corners of his lips curl upwards.

“I love you,” you say smiling, “so so much.”

“Where is that coming from?” he chuckles, a certain sparkle dancing in his eyes.

“I don't know… I just wanted to say it," you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks. “I miss saying it to you in real life."

“I'll be home soon enough,” he murmurs hiding his face in the pillow most likely trying to hide his own love sick grin and blush. “Just tomorrow's game and…”

“And you'll do amazing,” you smile tilting your head to the side watching him look at you with one eye.. 

“Think Southgate is benching me.” he groans and just like that the forest fire turns into a candle flame in his eyes. 

“Well I'll be hoping for bench cam then." You notice a small smile ghost his lips, “Now do you wanna hear about my extremely boring day that had zero football involvement?”

“PLEASE!” he yelps, “Go into detail as much as you can."

You chuckle at his excitement and begin to tell him about how you had been, what you had eaten for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the dogs you had seen on the street, work and office gossip. Conor's eyes flutter shut about half way through the in-detail analysis of the newest episode of the tv show you were watching to pass the time. You spend a moment admiring how peaceful he looks dozed off, not disturbed by everything going on in his head at the moment and all the worries haunting his waking hours. You wish you could wrap your arms around him, move the strands of hair out of his face, drape a blanket over him so he's not cold, to be able to draw circles on his shoulder as he slept but alas you have to settle for the tiny screen in which he lived, what had felt like a permanent situation as of late. 

The game had been a stalemate since the beginning of the game. Any attempt at scoring by England had been eliminated by the North Macedonian defence and a few mistakes by the England squad. As Conor had predicted, Southgate had opted to bench him and play Mason instead, citing that he was a better fit for today's strategy. Once you saw the lineup and Conor out of the starting XI you felt your stomach drop, knowing he probably blamed himself for not doing enough, reciting all the foul things people on Twitter would toss his way. At the 79th minute the other team's centre back did a dirty move on Jude making him stay on the ground gripping his knee. Your breath hitched as you watched the medics and his teammates crowd around the teen tending to him, you had seen Conor's teammates limp off with serious injuries what felt like countless times now, seeing the same fate hit someone as young as Jude broke your heart. Luckily the boy was on his legs in a few minutes being helped off the pitch by a medic and Mason. You would have to remember to get an update on that from Conor later. The camera on the big screen panned to the dugout where Conor was stood next to Southgate being briefed as he still adjusted his kit. trying to haphazardly stretch his muscles and warm up. 

You felt yourself shift in your seat, almost spilling your drink as you craned your neck to get a better view, earning a chuckle from Sasha who was sat next to you. Your eyes followed Conor like your life depended on it watching him run wherever the ball went. You could feel your heart beat faster and faster by the minute. Every time someone got close to Conor you would hold your breath until you knew he was safe from danger. When extra time rolled around you felt yourself slouch in the seat. They had five minutes to create a good chance that would bring them a win. You watched as the rest of the midfield played tightly passing between each other while Conor ran around them looking for empty spaces to cover everyone else. Finally at the 92nd minute he had the ball at his feet skillfully outrunning the other team, not letting them get the ball. You could see him desperately searching for a teammate to pass to, but everyone was too far or being covered by the other team's players. Conor pulled back his leg and shot for the goal causing you to yelp. Your heart stopped in the minute as you watched the ball fly through the air followed by the entirety of the stadium erupting in cheers. Connor was surrounded by his teammates hugging him and cheering. You felt your friends pat you on your back and tell you congrats as you couldn't keep the bright grin off your face until the whistle blew signalling the end of the game. You watched as Conor ginned at the crowd clapping his hands above his head doing his round with his teammates surrounding him with matching smiles. For the first time in ages you felt like the fans loved him the same way you did, even if their love would pass soon enough, you hoped he would soak it in while it lasted. And by the looks of it he was doing exactly that as Conor looked elated-like he had just won the World Cup with England and with that erased any doubts or worries that could have found home in his mind. He walked around the pitch clapping his hands above his head at the crowd, however his eyes searched for you in the crowd. Once he got sight of you his grin spread even wider. You mouthed a “I'm so proud of you” at him, not sure if he discovered it, but judging by the way he threw his head back in joy he knew exactly what you had tried to communicate. 

[som-iserem]

WHO DID THIS!?!?!

[laurelismyblackcanary]

Normally I use my other blog for this things, but since I haven’t used it in a while I’m going to post it here.

Fandom: Men’s Football RFP

Rating: Teen and up

Category: M/M

Pairing: Gerard Piquè / Sergio Ramos (and others mentioned)

[bobgoesw00t]

Got the next chapter up!!! Only two chapters left…damn this fic is flying by now xD

[youarewhatyoulove-blog]

the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

OR

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

[dogstarmoonheart]

Im pissed here ⬇️ This is a rant made mid-rage

written after an encounter with one of those bloggers who hate everything that isn’t canon and dislikes Wolfstar and throws up from the thought of Jegulus (?).

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

First of all, there are a lot of tropes I don't really like and that I don't take part of. I, for one, like my Lupin awkward and scrawny, not like a cool casanova. I struggle to see the beauty of making Regulus all soft and dovy, as his personality from the start has been based on the fact that he's cold, hurt and uptight. I have never read Y/N as I feel conflicted with the arrangement. WITH THAT SAID, I feel no bloody need to point out, complain or talk poorly about those who do enjoy these things.

I'm a big jily fan. I was 13 (isch??) when I entered the fandom and back then “jegulus” wasn’t a thing. (I've grown to enjoy the "jegulus ship" though, and some of my favorite fics are jegulus-centered.)

I get people being like:

“huh jegulus? how would that even???”

and I also get people who hold onto jily like a life jacket.

BUT for the love of the gods, that doesn't mean people need to be such c*nts.

“This fandom has gotten out of hand”

“I don’t like it when people make ships that aren’t canon” (????? why are you here then?????)

and also people who are so butt-hurt bc. of adaptions and interpretations, like??? what do you think a fandom does???

“That character would never act like that” DO YOU FUCKING KNOW THEM PERSONALLY??

“that’s not realistic at all” your mom’s not realistic at all.

“rosekiller is so offensive” YOU ARE OFFENSIVE

you’re literally 40 go AWAY.

If you want it to be 100% accurate to the books, read. the. fucking. books??????

I’m not speaking for those who change a character to unrecognition, but I stumble upon people who are still mad about Wolfstar??? And it pisses me off dawg. It pisses me off.

Don’t attack people who enjoy non-canon queerness or a cool Remus Lupin or (gods forbid) a kind ratboy (you know he’s my everything)

Kindly piss off Karen (of course not if ur lovely, and happen to be named Karen, you stay right where you are <3)

Sorry, I had to get that out of mi system. Just think it’s bollocks that people can’t just sit back and shut up.

FYI: This house (blog) is safe to all and I hope ye kno’ that nasty hags are just hiding their weird ass values behind the statement “it’s not canon”. They themselves are mucky. They are a bad joke with a borin' punchline ;)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • •

I wanted to share this cuz even if it might not make complete sense (as I wrote it in fury at 3 am) it’s a good enough reminder that yeh should stay gay, stay loud, and keep making old angry people mad. Ship weird shit and idk..make James an emo just to piss somebody off, who gives a shit.

kisses my sweets

[i4bellingham]

So I read “misleading” tic abt Jude and I LOVE IT!!! I have kind of a similar request with Jude. Soo I was thinking, Jude, y/n, and some of the guys are out clubbing or out in a bit or somewhere crowded and then a guy approaches y/n and tries to get her to come with him, like pulling on her and grabbing her. And then Jude and some of the guys come and stoops him and it’s almost like a fight and Jude gets really protective. Then someone films it and it’s ALL over the internet ( you can ignore this I might have just gotten carried away)

PROTECTIVE : jude bellingham x reader

cw: a guy being a fucking creep 🤢, protective!jude, literally jude in this fic will not take a piss from anybody, cussing, shoving resulting to a near fight, will take place after world cup where the guys are out in a club to party and celebrate before returning to their own clubs, also protective!england nt bcs jude is their baby, the creep being socked. switches in povs !! + not proofread !!

　

The nightclub was mellow but overflowing with a bunch of attendees.

It definitely wasn’t your every evening scene but it was a place you’d visit on occasion and by on occasion, it means being dragged and pestered by your friends to go with them some time every once or thrice a month.

But even then, you'd never once experienced something that threatened your occasional visits to the clubs. Normally finding friends amidst the rowdy crowd and entertaining drunk yet very amusing discourse with said people.

Your nightclub trips weren't a scary experience, until now.

“A pretty girl alone in a place like this?” The overbearing scent of bergamot filled your senses, nearly enough to make you feel suffocated by the scent alone that overpowered the entire smell of the nightclub itself.

It was due to the proximity of the unknown guy beside you and you confirmed that when you turned your head to the right and seeing an unfamiliar face; a guy in his late 20’s you presume, a dark haired male with a pale complexion and with a salacious grin staring you down.

Taking notice of a palm's worth of space between the both of you, you automatically scooted away from him with a nervous chuckle, sounding awfully lot like you're having a coughing fit before your drinks are being slid across the marble counter by the bartender who, also got an eye out for look-out.

“Oh. I’m actually here with my boyfriend and his friends.” You emphasized, hugging yours and Jude’s drinks near to your chest before tipping your head a bit as you slowly walked away. “Uh... yeah, bye-”

“Let me take your drinks to your boyfriend and his friends...” The unknown guy tried to take the glasses from you, not even minding one bit but it was near your clothed chest before you're stepping away from the guy, an uncomfortable frown on your face.

You glanced at the bartender, seeing him occupied with another customer's rather large batch of orders before sighing out loud, plastering your fake, friendly smile at him. “No thanks, I got it.”

Now without bidding him any farewell, you successfully walked away and only then did you began to chastise yourself for taking the drinks alone, especially when Jude made it perfectly clear that he could've gone with you.

But you didn't let him, not when he’s got a few fans to entertain himself alongside his mates. The other guys were there with you upon arrival as well but they gradually left your table not even an hour after you got there. You were also hesitant to ask one of the guys' girlfriends to go with you even though you knew that they wouldn’t mind coming with to get the drinks with you. You were simply hesitant to do those and hence you went alone.

And look at where you've landed now.

With a deep sigh, you continued walking the path to your table. You can already see Sasha's blonde hair up ahead and Marcus’ tall frame when an arm suddenly was wrapped around your shoulders, nearly making you drop the drinks on the ground.

“Hi again!” The unknown guy cheers beside you, almost shoving his face against yours before he's gripping at your shoulders. “Thought you might rather prefer some other company. A friend of mine just bought more drinks and I think you could come and join us for some fun-”

You push the guy off of you, scrambling to get away from his grip that the drinks you tried so hard to keep drenched the front of your dress.

“Please just leave me alone.” You place the glasses on a nearby vacant table, wiping away the liquid that soaked the material of your dress with your palm. “You’re really really making me uncomfortable so I would appreciate it if you just leave me alone, please.”

“But I'm already being the kind lad here! Offered to carry your drinks, asked if you wanted to join me and my friends at our table and yet you keep on being a brat and refusing my offers-”

“You also touched me without my permission, overstepped in my personal boundary and made me feel disturbed.” Tears pricked at your eyes, as you stepped away, a palm out to keep the guy from coming closer. “Please just leave me alone-”

“What’s happenin’ here?”

A familiar weight settled on your waist, wrapped nice and snug before you're being hauled against Jude's chest with a protective arm around you.

Jude tilts his head to look at you, worry crossing in his eyes noticing your lack of verbal response and your refusal to meet his gaze.

“Love? What's wrong? What happened?” He gently asks you.

You shook your head against his chest, muttering a few simple words that was enough for Jude to hear.

“Let’s just go back to the table, Jude please...”

Jude’s jaw visibly tightens before he's glaring at the unknown guy, guiding you back to the table with his arms still around you.

The two of you nearly made it to the table when a grip on your wrist pulled you back and making you let out a surprised shriek as the unfamiliar guy wrenched you harshly against his hold, the tight grip sending a throbbing pain through the entirety of your hand.

And not even a second later after that, you were free from the unknown guy’s clasp before Jude’s shoving him to a nearby table, alerting the other guys from your booth because of the fallen glasswares.

“Keep your hands off her you bloke.” Teeth grinding and jaw clenched, Jude balls the guy’s collar in his fists with a harsh glare. “If I see you lay a single, dirty finger on her again, you just mighta go home with a broken hand before this night ends.”

Pickford rushes over and wraps an arm across Jude’s chest, pulling him away from the stunned guy before Wilson and Saka steps in to help their mate haul your trashing boyfriend away.

Jack and Mason stood before the guy, glaring and tensed as they stare the man down before Sterling is guiding two bouncers on the scene with Jesse on tow.

On the other hand, Declan and Henderson are ushering you back to the seats, noticing Trent and Marcus on the booth with the other girls present for the evening, worry creasing their faces.

You glance to where Jude and the three other guys were just a while ago, seeing them nowhere near the spot. You roam your eyes around the area before Declan speaks up beside you with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about Jude, they took him outside to get some air. They’ll probably be back in a few minutes or so just until Jude cool downs.” He tells you and you silently nod your head, still looking over the last spot where you saw Pickford, Saka and Wilson calm your boyfriend from bashing the creep’s head on the table.

Trent leaves his spot in the booth, making you sit down beside his girlfriend Hannah who immediately asks if you're okay. It then probe the others into asking you the same question, with the exemption of Tolami and Lucia who simply offered you a glass of water and with an encouraging pat on the hand, refraining themselves from overwhelming you as they kept the questions to themselves.

Your answers to their questions were short and concise and it didn't take them long to realize that you would probably want your space after what happened. They simply shared looks of both worry and sympathy and with a few shorts hugs being offered to you, they simply sat in silence and waited for the others to return.

The waiting time didn't take long because after sitting down for 10 minutes, Jack, Mason, Raheem and Jesse are walking back to the booth. The four of them asked if you were alright, Jack going as far as joking about socking the guy in the parking lot after your group leaves to which not only did Sasha reprimanded him for, he was also smacked by the other guys for finding his suggestion too much despite feeling absolutely enraged by what happened.

Jordan, Saka, Wilson and Jude came back after 20 minutes, your boyfriend immediately crouching down in front of you and taking your hands in his before he’s got his forehead planted on your thighs, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

“You guys were out for long. What happened?” Jesse asked with a questioning brow raised.

Wilson who was seated on the opposite side of the seating arrangement grumbled something in response.

“The guy went to the parking lot after he was escorted out of the club, we were there, Jude saw him and tackled him on the ground after hearing the maggot say some things.” Wilson sighs but there is an amused smile on his lips. “Landed a rather lousy punch on the guy’s face when Jordan had his punching hand pinned back.”

“Should have brought him in when the wanker went out, no?” Sterling comments. “Let’s just hope this doesn't reach the internet.”

Marcus nods his head. “The PR team's most definitely gonna be pissed if that were to happen...”

“Well the nutter's the one who started it.” Trent piques with an eye-roll. “Would’ve socked him on the face the moment I saw him.”

Henderson shakes his head, ignoring the scoff from Trent as he shares his comment. “That’s why we didn’t let you leave the booth.”

“You’d jump on the poor nutter.” Mason chimes in, earning a fit of laughter from almost everyone.

As you tune down the conversation happening, your eyes landed on Jude's knuckles beside your thighs. They weren't busted open but they were bruised, discoloration already forming around the skin of the knuckles he used to punch the guy with.

You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning down to whisper against his ear as he continued being crouched down, head on your lap.

“Jude? Are you alright, love?”

Jude nods his head with a hum.

“Can you sit down beside me please?” You pat the empty space beside you. “You’re gonna get leg cramps if you remain crouching down there.”

Jude doesn't say anything else but he does comply, silently sitting down beside you with his head hanging down low.

You place a hand on his thigh, pursing your lips as you observe his slouched figure nearly draping over you.

“What’s wrong, hmm?”

He doesn't speak for a while, eyes following the circles being traces on his lap before he’s clasping your palm against his, grip not too tight but enough for you to feel the strength of his hold on you.

“Are you alright?” Jude asks, turning his head to look at you better. “I’m sorry I couldn't be there to help you earlier. I feel so angry and upset that you had to go through that. No one, not especially a woman should ever go through something as traumatizing as that and it happened to you.”

He heaves a deep breath, leaning his head against the tall cushioned back rest of the booth. “I felt so angry at myself when I saw you were almost crying when I got to you. Realized it must've been a little while when the scrub has been buggin’ you ’n I wasn’t there to keep most of it from happening.”

Jude purses his lips, muttering two words underneath his breath as if he was afraid for everyone, for you to hear the fragility and hurt in his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

Gently, you take Jude’s hand and raising his bruised knuckles to your lips, softly kissing the discolored spot.

“That wasn’t your fault Jude. It was something that we all didn’t expect to happen so please don’t take the blame for what happened.” You told him, watching as he knits his brows, closing his eyes. “Just like what you said, nobody should ever experience something like that and we only have those kind of people to blame. But thank you, for protecting me and for standing up for me the way you did. I would have never known what I’d do if you didn’t came by and helped me-”

“Of course I’d protect you. Girlfriend or not I will always protect you...”

Jude leans in and plants a kiss on your temple, pulling a hand away from your touch to wrap at your waist.

“I’d go mad if something happened to you.”

“Mhm and that’s why you socked the guy on the face right?”

Jude chuckles, kissing your cheeks and playfully biting at the skin. “Could've done a better job at punching him but my arm was restrained.”

You were about to open your mouth to respond with something when Jude’s phone rang, interrupting whatever comment you had to yourself before he’s fishing the device from his pockets, eyes rolling seeing the name in the caller id.

　

　　　　　　　　　　ㅡ

　　　　　　　Incoming call...

　　　　　　 　 PR manager

　　　　　　　　　　ㅡ

　

a/n: i am not entirely satisfied with the ending but will revise it whenever i can! also posting this because jude posted a selca on his ig story 😍

[silveredsound]

How you go from harry styles to hockey I will never understand.

I was going to make a little joke, as I do, (would have been v hilarious, best joke ever pls know this) and leave it at that. But like, it's been raining for over 24 hours, it's 2am and it might be good for me to reflect a little.. So sorry anon I am going emote all over your ask (which (the ask) sounds a bit judgey tbh but the written word is NOT a great conveyor of tone so that might be on me.)

On one hand it's just fandom. And, I think it's been pretty clear that as much as I love Henry Stars, I'm not like, a 'Harry is the be all and end all of all music creation and creativity and actions.' I like him for the good and the bad, and I don't leave critical thinking at the door. (Not saying I'm the only person to do this, just that it's hard sometimes in fan spaces and Stans definitely do..)

Which, can make it hard to participate in fandom as a lot of people are not great at irony, or accepting that someone else can say, god damn that is a terrible song - and that it's okay for that to happen. It doesn't mean that the person who expressed the neg opinion is not still a fan of the artist they were speaking about. Same with if the artist you are a fan of does something that gives you the ick.

I def learnt this when Harry went to Google Camp the first time. Like obviously I've been around 1d fandom in some way since 2012 ish I think it was - and it was my own reaction to Harry going to Camp Douchebags the first time that made me go, oh jeez Silv, you are a bit too involved in the parasocial relationship here. Like I was genuinely upset that he'd done something I thought was so dumb and wanky.

Anyway, clearly I still loved - love - him and I celebrated him and spent a fuckload of money on him and engaged in fandom and etc etc. But I just did at that point I think turn a little from heading in a very blinkers on version of fandom to one that's def more me - where you just get to have fun, make fun be creative, make friends! and have a bit of a perv depending on the silk cream vanilla ice cream outfit Harry might be wearing in Nashville.

I like RPF. I mean I like all transformative works and fandom extending and enhancing source material via creation, but I don't have an issue with RPF. I believe in 4th wall. And I clearly have written 1d fic. A lot of my good fandom mates, and real life best friend(s) are people I have met through sharing a love of writing in fandom spaces. Obviously all the best writers in 1d went to Hockey. And I stayed here. And I tried. I wanted to be where my friends where. I had fomo and I was lonely! My fandom had changed in a few ways all around the same time.

But Hockey is very confusing, (for starters as I often say to Angela or Joanna, snow is fake) and nothing clicked for me - it seemed large and I had no idea where to even start and I didn't really try.

But I think the change in some fandom fellow participants, and also anons being mean when they would get even a glimpse in their peripheral that I might have vaguely indicated that Henry did something that I thought was dumb or embarrassing, or just not that good, (it's no fun sharing a thought and feeling chatty about it, and wanting to engage with other people's thoughts if some random is going to anonymously tell you that you are a dumb c*nt and should delete etc etc so I stopped sharing any thoughts at all.) Of course Nick leaving breakfast and then R1 altogether - as well as obviously my whole life narrowing to a point that was just tend Mama- work - tend mama - work - tend mama - sleep - grow a tumour - tend mama left me not so much time for proper joyful engagement.

And then, in Jan/Feb this year, I think as I'd been looking at book reviews and as soon as you search for a book on tik tok they push book tok romance reviews into your feed and I think then that pushed an actual hockey clip (which is a really shite 4th wall issue as is the whole Kraken thing etc) and I can't even remember what it was but I know I then swiped through and watched other videos on the account and like 1d being adorable shites repeating stock answers and sitting on top of each other I was intrigued by what seemed to be very dumb and very entertaining.

But Silv, you cry, what about the emotions! You need emotions! Ah, yes, see, because I am nothing but devoted I had followed Angela and La's hockey blogs, and something La posted grabbed my attention and I followed a link and read an article and I was like. Oh, I want to read more about these kids. So I did. And after a little while I reached out to La and was like, um, I think I get it. And I posted something about the Fantilli Bros and then Max reached out and tbh I don't think anything says it better than my wide eyed enthusiasm reply. (You are probably by now thinking, Silv why is your answer to Max so short, why didn't I just get a paragraph? This is an endless essay with no conclusion or indeed a thesis statement, (that is if you have even made it down to here) & anon I can only apologise.)

I am really enjoying learning so many new things, being welcomed into a new space of connection and joy and silliness and emotional breakdowns. It's been so lovely to meet new people who are so excited to share their niche interest with you and no one minds how many questions I have and everyone searches out Primera and Important Past Instagram Posts from the archives - and of course reconnecting with people who I have always been friends with, fandom changes didn't change that, but it's delightful chatting much more often. The other day Angela and I watched an Avs game together via Tumblr chats, which was delightful, to learn about the team and to talk about random other things, and I've spent my last month of Saturdays watching umich with lovely people who La introduced me to, and having MANY EMOTIONS. (It's like hanging out all posting about a show's fits and one liners and if he's going to sing medicine but it's many pantomime gooseberrys. The performative homoeroticisim, wild hair, jokes, punching (only now during not pre show work outs ) and very goddamn impressive skill and physicality is actually pretty similar). Meghan and I have been able to chat through our very similar horrible experiences with cancer and mums with cancer and it's been so lovely and strengthening to be able to share that experience with a person who beyond gets it, and then also I've been able to announce to her that I want to write a fic about 5 ways Nolan saw god with the UMich Bible Study Group but didn't find faith. which is obviously a completely ridiculous concept but equally worthy of discussion. It's this that I love so much about fandom friendship - you share SO much because you are sharing something that gives you intimate joy, so the relationship always starts from a place of an automatic mutual understanding and empathy - and from there we make it our own.

But also, I really like the game. Like I love watching them play, all of them! It's fast (obviously - and oblig have to say - ice is slippery) and it's hard - and they make it look easy. When one of the special players (they are all special, but one of the ones who play almost with innate ability) makes a pass or a turn sometimes it's almost almost magic, like how the fuck did they see that gap between four players, and did you see how they kept the puck a moment longer so they could release it perfectly into the lane !! Hot.

The game can be all encompassing and it's SO SO SO silly. Like it's the dumbest sport. It's The Show. I'll put on ESPN and stream a match while I'm working during the day (the time difference is perfect for once) and I'm spending time cos I want to, learning the rules and the logistics and business side of it all. And of course, the differences between college hockey and the show. Idk. It just clicked on so many levels for me.

And so, I have no idea why it took me so long to transition from Henry to Hockey, but I am not surprised I did now that I have - it def wasn't something that I was bloody expecting. And Anon I will say this, the last few years of my life have been sad, hard, and tbh shitty. Now, I know what it's like to have fucked years, so I am not saying this to try to be and show off but 2024 feels a bit better. I feel clearer, I have started to lose some weight (15ish kg so far depending on the time of the month) and now I have a meeting w a PT on Tuesday as I actually don't care what I weigh but I want to get stronger and reduce my visceral fat as it will be better for hormones which is better for lessening my cancer reoccurrence %.

God knows it's (2024) not all roses, I literally had surgery again a fortnight ago and the cost of living in Sydney is giving me so much anxiety. I am still a terribly disorganised mess, my work is undergoing a complete restructure (thanks NSW gmnt) and my clean washing is NEVER folded and put away, it's always in the basket - but I feel so happy and entertained and creative - I am writing again! like it's joy. It's ye olde you are who you are at this moment but you are also the 4 year old you and the 15, 27, 34 year old you - girlhood (non gendered concept of not literal interpretation) and I love it. 💛🩵🌱

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

I Still Hear You

Summary: Y/N can still hear Dean's voice echo around her. She doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

Warnings: Dean's Death. Grief. Loss. Very brief mentions of sex. All angst.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 419

A/N: I was missing Dean today, and this sad thing came to into my head. I'm sorry. ❤️💔

The beautiful divider below and at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89

I still hear you. 

I still hear your deep, honey gravel voice, the one that captivated me so easily when we first met. I hear the way your words turned silky when you offered to take me home, and then the shout that erupted from deep in your chest that first time I rode you to oblivion in the back seat of the Impala. I can still hear the sound of the wet, sticky leather as our sweaty skin moved against it. 

I still hear you.

I still hear the way it sounded when we argued, the way your voice would be a bit hard and demanding when you were sure you were right. And how defensive and choked it would become when you were scared you were wrong. 

I still hear you.

I still hear the sleepy way you'd growl into my ear when I'd try to pull myself out of your arms in the morning, and the gentle coaxing of your whispering lips against my skin as you persuaded me to stay near you just a little longer.

I still hear you.

I still hear your full, booming laugh and the way it would burst out of you sometimes, as though your happiness surprised you. Your laugh follows me down the bunker hallways some nights and every time it does, I'm sure you'll be around the next corner waiting with your bright, boyish smile, arms open, pulling me in, reassuring me it was all just a bad dream.

I still hear you.

I hear the way my name sounded on your lips for the last time. I hear the way your breath got slow and shallow near the end, the way your words struggled out of your throat. I hear your certainty that you were leaving for good and the way you begged me to stay safe and live my life. 

I still hear you.

I hear your goodbye. I hear the finality of it. The end of all things.

I still hear you.

I love and hate that your voice still rings through my mind. It's a ghost, and it only makes me ache for things that are no more. But it's also my safety net, a memory to wrap myself up in, a place to live where you still visit me.

I still hear you.

Will I always? Will I never be free from the beautiful torture of the memory of your voice? 

I still hear you.

I still hear you.

Even now…I hear you.

Tags Under the Cut:

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @nt-multi-fandom @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @saikosheadcanons @lgranger67 @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @sunshineandwings86 @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @awkward-and-indecisive @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @b3autyfuldisast3r @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @mysherlock221b @jensensgotyoudean @stixnstripesworld @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @norman1967 @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @b-i-t-c-h-i-e @twirpbunwarrior @mysweetlittledesire @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

[saltyinternetflower]

Hey, here's an idea (*in Alex's voice).

Henry Fox is the son of late Arthur Fox, who played James Bond onscreen for years. He has the power to walk into a room and end the nepotism debate with just a sweep of his hair. Three words that best describe him -- charming, gorgeous, and privileged! The poster boy of Hollywood, the heartthrob of millions, he is just out there serving c*nt and swoon!

Enter Alexander Diaz, an industry outsider, and a norm breaker. He is an overachiever hopelessly in love with his craft. He doesn't take his good looks for granted. He is open to acting challenges that make him feel more alive.

Their paths crossed on the set of "My Dear F*ckig Prince", a queer rom-com based on a fan favorite book. The media is bemused! Alex Diaz seems like a perfect casting choice, but what is Henry Fox doing in a small budget niche film like this!

The truth is, Henry desperately needs an image makeover. He seems to be in the news for all the wrong reasons recently. A flurry of high profile hook ups, breakups, late night misadventures, he is burning the candle at both ends.

He is a PR nightmare dressed like a dream. NOT exactly the kind of acting partner Alex is looking for. The media, too, seems to think they are mismatched in every way.

But small miracles never cease! After a rocky start, they strike up an unlikely friendship. There is a spark that both can feel! Touches that linger, laughter that rings right, and lots of cake fights. Feelings start getting real, and the world isn't ready for it!

Someone PLEASE PLEASE write this🙏 In bite-sized short multi chapter fic 😇😇

[oleandersonafield]

“ ★ hello! my name is neri, i’m a messi fan, and this blog is football-centred and with occasional f1 posts。”

most of the information listed below will be in this carrd.

─────────────────────

★ my pronouns are they/star, but i am alright with any。im from 🇸🇬。i speak english, chinese, & i'm learning spanish。

★ fanart boundaries:

OK with my drawings for personal use (layouts, wallpapers), credit is very much appreciated。 USE OF ARTWORK IN EDITS is OK with credit, and tag me。 REPOST to other websites (weibo, etc) is OK with credit and permission。

DO NOT use my drawings for NFT or AI "ART"。

──────────────────────

BYF

i am possibly neurodivergent (ADHD), please use tone indicators for me, i keyboard smash & capslock, i get anxious at little things, i draw, rb & like rpf。

DNI:

basic DNI / DNF criteria, you use slurs you cant reclaim, lolicon / shotacon, you support NFTs or AI "art"。

DNI IF you know me from my other accounts / you know me in real life (unless i told you about this account)。

★ if i get too loud in group chats, please tell me。

★ if you have something important to tell me, please message in dm。

──────────────────────

where you can find me!

side blog for spam / other interests (warning: rpf/rps, huge spam): oleapodium

writing blogs: scaleoneta, varofourown

ao3: scaleoneta, varofourown

twitter: oleandersofield

instagram: oleandersonafield

tags:

# neri-art -> my own artworks

# my-writing -> my fics / anything i write

# my-doodles -> artworks that are mostly just sketches or something with that

# neri-posts -> non-fanart posts

# neri-rambles -> non content posts which is just me talking

──────────────────────

★ other then messi, i love the argentina nt & my content & the things i reblog will mainly be about them。my favourite football duos are kunessi, julienzo and scaimar。i like the mexico nt as well。i don't really focus on clubs so i do not have a fav club😭。

★ although this blog is football-centred, i will also occasionally post f1 related content。

i also listen to phoebe bridgers, the crane wives, taylor swift, and paris paloma。

★ i dont really care about footballers / clubs you support as long as you are respectful and dont fit my dni。

i hope you make yourself comfortable on my blog! stay safe, and take care :) 🫶👑

[fanfic-inator795]

**Random fandom related rant incoming regarding ROT//TM//NT, don't like don't read**

Okay so, if any of you have followed me for a while, you know that I was in the Rot//TM//NT fandom for like three years before eventually leaving for the most part, save for occasionally peeking in on things (and taking part in the second Fashion zine, which is still in-progress if anyone's wondering).

When I left the fandom, my major point for WHY I left was that I felt like the fandom was becoming way too angst and gore heavy, being way too obsessed with post-movie stuff regarding the Kraang, the apocalyptic future, characters getting brainwashed/mutilated/going through ptsd/disturbing scenarios in general, etc.

This is still my main reason for why I'm still (and probably will always, regardless of how often I end up revisiting the show in the future) keeping my distance from the fandom. However, my other main reason is just the sheer fact that the fandom has a favoritism problem when it comes to the turtles - specifically the fact that Raph is essentially pushed to the sidelines in fandom works I'd say 85-90% of the time.

Just a reminder that I do not - and have not - check the tag every day so maybe my view on things is skewed, but of the ROT//TM//NT stuff that still makes its way into my Tumblr view space or YouTube algorithm, this is definitely how things seem to be.

In general, when it comes to art and fics and edits and all that, pretty much 8 times out of 10 it's going to be focused on either Leonardo, Donatello or both. Without a doubt, when it comes to fan creations involving the turtles, these two get the most solo-pieces. Like- at this point it's not even close. It cannot be denied that they are the fan favorites.

Mikey is next in line, because he's the funny and cute and chaotic youngest sibling, and then Raph is dead-last, getting the least amount of solo-pieces. Hell, half the time when I see Raph included in an art piece/fic/edit, it's only because it's centered around ALL the turtles, making him seem like an after thought. (and even then I've seen plenty of stuff where the artists/writers/editors focus solely on 'the twins' and Mikey, and then either don't include Raph at all or give him very little focus)

What's more, adding onto my frustration at just how angst-focused the fandom was when I left (and, from what I can tell based on my brief pop-ins, still seems to be) is that whenever you DO manage to find a Raph-focused fandom thing, it's him in these angsty or depressing scenarios/AUs, or he's crying over one of his brothers, or he's being the one giving comfort to his brothers.

Because that seems to be all the fandom sees him as! He's the protector, the Big Bro/Mom of the group, the one who dies first in the bad future, the one who we can project bad childhoods onto - though that's not to say that the others don't get projected onto either, they all absolutely do.

As such, you could argue 'oh well, this is just a part of the fandom, it's not a slight against Raph specifically' except it IS because while yes, all the other Turtles get plenty of angst art/fics/edits too, they also get plenty of fun stuff - memes and silly lighthearted scenarios and works where they get to be cool and badass. And as far as I can tell, Raph - for the most part - doesn't get that. At best, he'll get the fandom making jokes about how he's the dumb one or the emotional one. I remember coming across this one Hippoworm fic where all the other turtles got to participate in their wedding and form bonds with Warren and Hypno, meanwhile Raph was the one who ended up being the 'bad guy' of sorts, crashing the wedding because he was too oblivious to catch onto what was happening. This is what I mean when Raph just gets either horribly sidelined or shoved into the roll of support whenever he's not the one getting tortured or brainwashed.

Outside of specific 'Raph is best Turtle' fans/creators (who were already pretty rare back when I was still in the fandom...), you don't see the art of Raph being cool or wearing cool outfits like you do with Leo/Don/Mikey. You don't get fics where he's the full focus and gets to go on this big adventure or have this big interesting arc (AND IT'S NOT CENTERED AROUND TRAUMA, I feel like I have to emphasize this because again this fandom is just so angst heavy). What's more, you go to AO3 to find ANY non-angst/lighthearted Raph-centered fics and it's nearly impossible because, to fans, it seems like he's always got to be attached to one or all of his brothers. It can't just be him or, hey, I'll even take him and a side character/one of the villains (excluding the Mud Dogs because come on now those are literally just his brothers again). Just SOMETHING that lets him be an individual outside of his family - something that, again, literally every other character seems to get!

Even when it comes to something as simple as headcanons - I'd say 95 percent of people view the 'Donnie is autistic' headcanon as canon. But you could argue that Raph has just as many moments that come off as him having autistic traits, but most fans seem to either ignore these bits or see them as jokes, once again seeing Raph as the dumb one whenever he's not the group's shield or responsible one.

On the one hand, I can't fully blame the fandom for this as the show itself often shoehorned Raph into constantly being in a support role for his family. Going by the number of spotlight episodes he gets, it's really just "Mrs. Cuddles", "Sparring Partner" and "Raph's Ride Along", maaaybe "Mystic Library" (even though most fans only remember that ep for the Donnie Rap, let's be real here) and "Man VS Sewer", though the latter still has quite a bit of focus on the other turtles - otherwise he's strictly used as co-protagonist at best and sidekick to one of his other brothers at worst. He does get to land the final blow in "Evil League of Mutants", and gets a bit of extra spotlight in both season finales... buuut then gets kidnapped by the Kraang in the movie (which, regardless of how much it makes sense for the story, it still sucks to see Raph get tortured and put out of commission for more than half the film, essentially being used as a catalyst for Leo's development).

So yeah, hard to build off canon when the canon gives you so little. On the other hand, I still can't help but side-eye the fandom every time Raph - a large/plus-sized and not conventionally attractive character - is either pushed aside completely or strictly used to uplift or prop up the other three skinny 'pretty boy' turtles. Slotting him in strictly as the 'parent' of the group and essentially adultifying him or, even worse, putting him through tons of pain or killing him off so that the others can go through a guilt arc isn't that much better.

Now, could a lot of my feelings towards... all this be personal biases and my own bitterness at my fave being seemingly slighted by the fandom? Sure, you could argue that if you really want to. But from what I've seen, experienced and recalled from my days within the fandom, I feel confident that the points I've ranted about are founded in evidence. The fandom has a huge favoritism problem in my opinion, and it's this plus a distain towards all the angst and torture/gore-fics that have really soured my feelings towards Rise as a whole - and that feeling hasn't gone away.

That's the main reason why I wanted to just get all my feelings out (hence why I'm not tagging this rant), not to attack anyone in particular but just for my own personal benefit. I do hope that eventually I'll be able to rewatch the show (though probably not the movie) and fully enjoy myself without being reminded of all the fandom hang ups and other small annoyances I have with Rise. But for now, gonna be honest, I don't really regret leaving the fandom.

[bravertzposts]

Sometimes I wonder how Bravertz would react if they would read all this stuff we say about them😭 (thank god both of them don‘t have Tiktok🫣)

oh bold of you assume that they don't know haha

honestly, i think they're very aware of the bravertz hype, at least to a larger extent, because that's never been fandom-only, right? fic and slash and all that would be exclusively in and for fandom space, of course, but aside from that, "bravertz" as a thing has been very Out There for years, like. it's pretty much become their brand. not to mention how it's also been used and promoted by the sports media and for PR content (look at the germany nt social media admin, god bless) for quite some time now. oh and bravertz fan accounts and edits have been all over insta for a loooong time, without being hidden from either jule or kai.

so they definitely know about the fangirlies (gn). not only bravertz related but also in terms of their own separate followings.

they're likely not chronically online, i guess, but it's probably still a concious choice that they don't seek out that kind of content (which is very good, very important), instead of a testament to their obliviousness. like, i don't think they see most of it, but i wouldn't mistake that for them not knowing that it exists, yk? i imagine they're at least somewhat aware of the surface levels, even regarding tiktoks, they just don't dive in

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

All of That and More

Summary: Dean comes home looking for the softness Y/N has to offer.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Implied smut, kissing, making out, mostly flangst.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 490

A/N: I've been missing Dean a lot lately, and I've seen some posts from friends who have been feeling the same. So, I just felt like writing this little drabble as a way for us to miss him less and also to give Dean the love he deserves!!

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89

Masterlist || Tag Lists

I wake up as I feel the bed shift behind me.

"Dean?" I croak sleepily, turning my head to see him sliding in beneath the covers.

"Shh, go back to sleep, sweetheart, I didn't mean to wake you up." He says quietly.

"Not a chance." I whisper as I turn to face him and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him to me for a kiss.

He settles in next to me, his lips sealed to mine. After exchanging soft kisses for a couple minutes, he brushes my hair back from my face.

"God, I missed you, baby." He says in his honey-gravel voice.

I wrap my arm around his ribcage and run my hand up and down his beautifully sculpted back, reveling in the feel of his warm, taut skin under my fingers.

"I missed you too. How did the hunt go?"

He doesn't reply; he just buries his face in my neck and I have my answer.

I pull him tighter against me and he groans into the side of my neck. "Fuck me, you smell so good." He says, inhaling deeply and then attaching his lips to my pulse point.

I sigh softly and drop my head back so he can easily reach all the sensitive spots on my neck, the ones he knows will drive me crazy.

He pushes open the buttons on my pajama top and smooths one hand down my side and over the curve of my hip before coming up and resting his big palm on my breast, his fingers curling lightly, promising more.

"How tired are you, sweetheart?"

I arch into his hand and purr as I palm him through his boxer briefs. "I'm wide awake now."

His breath catches and his eyes flare with heat, but his smile is gentle and loving. "Let me tire you out again, then."

He definitely follows through on his promise, making love to me slowly and thoroughly, making up for lost time, and pushing me past the edge to bliss over and over until I am indeed exhausted, my limbs heavy and boneless.

I know too, that he's making something beautiful between us to try and erase the ugly things that linger in his mind from the hunt he won't talk about.

He will eventually talk, eventually tell me about what went down, maybe while he's cuddled up against me later, or maybe not for a couple days, when he'll randomly start talking to me about it as I sit in his lap in one of the wide library chairs.

But however long it takes, I won't push him. I learned a long time ago not to demand explanations from him. Dean needs to open up in his own time.

In the meantime, I can give him this, give him me - let him find solace and comfort in my body and in the magic we create together in the soft light of our bedroom.

I'm not a hunter, but I love one with all my heart, for all he is, for all he does, for all he gives, I will happily give him all of me.

He deserves all of that and more.

Tags under the cut:

1. Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@siospins2

@impalaslytherin

@akshi8278

@maggiegirl17

@candy-coated-misery0731

@nt-multi-fandom

@slytherinlyn314

2. Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@saikoswritings

@lgranger67

@carryonwaywardgirl

3. Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

4. Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@awkward-and-indecisive

@maliburenee

@supernatural4life2022

@spn730015

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@kickingitwithkirk

@waywardbaby

@foxyjwls007

@deanwanddamons

@deandreamernp

@deanwithscissors

@myloversgone

@snowlovespie

@leigh70

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@fangirlxwritesx67

@charred-angelwings

@hopefuldreamers-world

@mysherlock221b

@jensensgotyoudean

@stixnstripesworld

@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

@norman1967

@princessmisery666

@eevvvaa

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

@b-i-t-c-h-i-e

@twirpbunwarrior

@mysweetlittledesire

@waynes-multiverse

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@bernasaurus

@jensenslady79

[sendinthehuskies]

as an england nt historian could you pls provide background for john/joe hart as both an irl working partnership and a fictional ship? bc i have been deep diving 2016/2018 internationals content to forget about the upcoming one and i see there is a lot of....well intimate touches and looks going on. not on a disgusting and marital level as with stonesford but still noticeable. the 'caption this' vid john did with dele ft. harty walks and lallana (remember him lol) is a strong blatant example. sidebar but my deep dive has also taught me that dele and walks had some animosity at england camp back in the day which does not seem to come up much in fic of the time, kind of funny to me. how was this our 3lions squad and our vibe only 4/5 years ago too? it feels like over a decade, completely different times

Joe Hart was an England stalwart and wore the Number 1 jersey for nine years from 2008. He was with City and a double premier league winner for 12 years from 2006.

For John coming up through the England youth teams, Joe was iconic. He has been vocal about the fact that he was a fan growing up and how special it was for him to get his first call up in 2014 to finally play alongside Joe:

“I couldn’t believe it; I’d watched Harty for years as a young guy; playing for England. Obviously training with him was something special.”

John didn’t get a whole lot of time playing for the senior team when he was first called up, but it didn’t matter - he was there, and Joe Hart rated him. At the World Cup in Brazil, Joe said:

“I think we’re all incredibly excited. We’ve all worked really, really hard as a unit – I include John Stones and Jon Flanagan in that, they’ve been absolutely fantastic and a great example of people who want to be involved in this World Cup.

“We want to make them proud, we want to make the people at home proud as well.

“I’ve got a role whether playing it’s John Terry playing in front or whether it’s Stonesy starting his international career,” he said.

“I’m always going to try and fulfill my role in the team.

“But I trust every single one of these players at this level. They’ve proved it at their Premier League clubs and deserve to be in the squad.”

Joe took John under his wing and they absolutely clicked from the get go. At a time when John wasn’t too highly rated and was extremely junior in the England NT, the goalkeeper that he’d looked up to for so many years was determined to see him succeed.

Things changed in 2016 when Man City hired Pep Guardiola. Hart was excited that Pep wanted to sign John but he didn’t know that he wasn’t to be included in Pep’s plans himself:

“Joe Hart personally convinced his friend, John Stones, to join City and the “ambitious project” in 2016 - only to be shipped out on loan to Torino the same month.”

Still, when John arrived at City - very nervous and without people like Kyle Walker - Harty was there for him:

“John Stones on the first player he met at City: “I think it was Joe Hart. I came in with Harty, I didn’t know the way to the training ground. So I rang Harty asking if I could come with him.

I was nervous. Very nervous. I had friends from England, Raheem Sterling, Fabian Delph and Joe Hart - he especially made it so much easier. It's a big period as you know where nothing is, like the canteen, where to be, what time to get there and he coached me through, putting an arm around me. I've still got a note in my locker from him when he went to Torino - I won't read it out as it has some naughty words - but he told me to just be me and not change who I am.”

Joe was gutted to leave City but he didn’t anticipate that he’d then be let go from England. He was part of England’s qualification for the World Cup in 2018, but after an injury ruled him out for a game, Jordan Pickford was given a chance to step in. He did not fumble his audition and was given the number 1 spot for the World Cup. Harty said:

“Not going to lie, I'm gutted. After two years of trying to make the most of a really tough situation, this is hard to take.”

A few months later, he posted on Instagram ahead of the World Cup:

John smashed it at the World Cup, and so did Pickford, and arguably it was the way they played together that made them do so well. It is unfortunate that this connection is what would ultimately cement Pickford as number 1 and see Harty dropped for good:

“Jordan’s positioning allows the team to stay spread and dispersed a lot wider. When we have the ball, he becomes what you might call a ‘second-pivot,” explains Dittmer.

“When you play with a back four, you can use the goalkeeper as the pivot to bounce the ball around. When you play with a back three - like we have done in Russia - you already have that pivot there with the central player which has been John Stones.

“As a goalkeeper behind a back three, you need to become the second pivot.

“You have to position yourself between the central defender and one of the two outside centre-halves to offer receiving positions to help the team play out.

“Those positions are quite complicated and complex to take up but he’s done that really well.

“Jordan’s positioning stops the centre forward from just closing down one option.

“If the forward runs towards Jordan, he’ll play through the pressure. If the attacker presses the central defender, there’s an option to use Jordan and get out round the other side.

“It gives the team more opportunities to play out from the back and retain possession.

“His understanding of positioning has really helped the team stay dispersed, rotate the ball and play forward in a positive way. It’s great to see and it has given confidence to everyone.”

But Joe and John stayed obsessed with each other. When they met at Tottenham years later they were physical and friendly, and Joe always has kind words to say about John - never once has he not been John’s biggest cheerleader.

Joe will always be John’s first England number 1. He was pivotal in John’s City career and the love between them has never dimmed. They will always be famous. The end

[patrice-bergerons]

📚

I thought I was all out of loose fic ideas and then that Belvedere vodka ad happened so may I give you football hooligan!Bond AU, with um my sincere apologies.

But Q accidentally gets yanked into a different timeline and (a) there is no original Q here - maybe he died as a child - and (b) Bond was never raised by his aunt when his parents died but instead taken in by a Cockney family friend and grew up in East London. Raised in a loving, if also boisterous, household, he skated right past M's 'orphans make the best recruits' metric and never got involved with MI6, or for that matter, even the Navy.

Instead he owns a chain of laundrettes as a front and makes most of his money via Crime TM -- and finds it absolutely hilarious that he is using a laundrette to launder money.  Bond is openly bi in this verse, and seamlessly blends together camp with a dirtbag crime lord aesthetic. He is also a true loose cannon.

In the beginning Q is disoriented and also very alone bc no matter in how high regard he hold his colleagues, he has too much sense to go to anyone involved at MI6 with secret knowledge about their lives and a tale about how he is not from this timeline, actually. 

I think he runs into Bond when Bond saves him from a tough spot - maybe he is getting mugged or falls into the Thames - and Bond seeing this attractive but also desperate twink, decides to help him even after he rescues him.  But, he explains, the crew he runs with is no place for a posh Oxbridge boy like Q, so the only way to keep him safe is if they pretend he is Bond’s new boy toy (Q: “I resent that characterisation.” Bond: “It’s either that or the street, sweetheart.”)

I don’t have a plot yet per se but the story would feature a great amount of bewilderement from Q (including the fact that he is now running with criminals), a realisation of how much of the Bond he knows is a result of lifelong trauma and how much, including his kindness, is innate, Q’s skills with guns and ability to make anything explode coming in surprisingly handy, underground boxing which Bond is surprsingly good at, and of course, hot sex. 

Euros would also be on during this time which gives Q more exposure to football and three lions fan culture than he ever wanted to, and I think, in the midst of all this chaos I could sneak in some ponderings on cultural disconnect and diaspora trauma what with Bond a Scotsman being an avid England NT fan.