#this draft came out way better than last year

[thespacelizard]

today i got to write Rizeth encountering his ex for the first time in nearly seven decades and oh boy. Rizeth might still be a little bit in love with her:

She dropped down into the seat beside Catriona and kicked her feet up onto the table. Even irritated, she moved like the dancer she was, grace and power in every inch of her. He’d never forgotten how beautiful she was, but he had put out of his mind what kind of beauty she possessed. She was no fine painting, no sweet song: Elian’la was a tempest, a summer storm, the majesty of a hurricane, bright like lightning, fierce as a wildfire. Every part of her was fully alive in a way he’d always envied, and once upon a time, she’d been his. Once upon time, he’d been hers.

[thatsdemko]

without you there’s nothing to live for - l.norris

masterlist

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy + insecurities + fluff + build up(kinda long I’m sorry about that) + some errors here or there

a/n: while I had bits and pieces of this work in millions of other lando drafts I think I have to give credit where it’s due to @userlando and her anons ☺️🫶 I’m in such a shit mood so i figured posting this might make me feel better. enjoy xx

Lando Norris was annoying. a childhood friend of yours that somehow stuck throughout the years and never seemed to vanish. he was like a a piece of gum stuck to your shoe, he just never left.

and while you’re thankful he’s the longest lasting friendship you have; did you fail to mention he could be annoying?

his hands drum against the kitchen island, a distraction worthy of you flicking your pencil in his direction, but he’s too quick the pencil would just end up behind him, so you result in throwing him a very pointed look that shuts him up.

“is that pencil up your ass too today?”

you give him another look before staring down at the empty grocery list you failed to create, because lando has claimed your flat as his flat. the lavish lifestyle penthouse was abandoned at the instant call of your arrival to Monaco, and now all of his expensive taste clutters your space.

“did you put eggs on the list? I need eggs. it’s good protein—“ he shuts up to the sound of you breaking the pencil in half, another annoyed look tossed his way.

lando could be a lot. but there was no one who could keep up with you. there was no one like him in your corner, and while he pushed your buttons you were eternally grateful for his loyalty despite your rather jaded friendship.

“let’s just go to the store? I’ll drive.” he says like there’s another alternative to the store. ever since he got his license and moved in, you’ve never even put your foot on the accelerator. you’ve almost forgot the thrilling feeling of driving.

“eggs have been added to the list.” you finally say, typing up your notes of a grocery list once you were finally able to think straight without lando tapping away or chatting your ear off.

god was he annoying, but you loved him for him.

—

his wallet funds are bigger than what you have. you feel guilty every time he buys, but it’s not like you have the funds to do so. he knows that guilty look across your face when he ends up paying for 10% groceries and 90% female hygiene products. he doesn’t mind, just shoves his card in the machine and says a thank you for the person who bags your things.

“you have to let me pay you back—“

“no, nonsense.” he cuts you off, the conversation goes like it always does. you beg, and beg, to try and wiggle in a payback, but he refuses. all those years of your parents giving him shelter, taking him to races, or letting him play in your backyard it’s the least he could do.

“but the price adds up, and you’re paying for most of the rent—“

“I won’t have this conversation with you. just get in the car.” he says it without letting you have another word in. it’s his turn to shoot you down with pointed looks every time you try to mention money.

“y/n?! is that you?”

lando’s heart nearly drops to his stomach at the sound of that voice—that voice, being your ex boyfriend. he came out of nowhere, like the stalker he is, and finds himself walking around lando’s spiffy mclaren with wide eyes and confusion at your presence with the formula one driver. he must’ve forgotten lando was your best friend.

“you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”

before you can protest lando shakes his hand. you can tell by the grip lando has on him it’s a firm hard handshake. one to prove a point about the 2 a.m calls of you crying to your best friend from across the world. he was a shitty man, and maybe showing lando off like that would put him in his place.

“this is lando, you guys met awhile back.” you say.

you watch the two of their eyes glimmer in the sunlight with hatred for one another. lando was the guy you told him not to worry about— and he still was— and he was the guy lando was desperately wanting to kick ass.

“don’t remember that.”

“I actually remember, didn’t you spend half the night snogging another girl?” lando’s gentle reminder makes your ex’s face flush pale. you watch a little smile lift to lando’s lips before you both excuse yourselves to head home.

“my new boyfriend is so cool.” you say in a sarcastic tone once it’s just the two of you in his car.

lando let’s out laugh, and just puts the car in reverse. the simple act makes your head spin. his hand reaching behind the head of your seat, the way his eyes quickly glance on you before he looks back to ensure no one is coming. these thoughts were never present until this run in. would lando be a good boyfriend?

you can’t help but explore those thoughts in the twenty minute car ride home in pure silence.

your mind wanders to the idea of waking up to him in your bed. his legs tangled with yours, lazy soft kisses pressed your cheeks. you could melt at just the thought of it.

or maybe he’d make you eggs. you’d wake to the smell of bacon grease and him shirtless—like he always is in the kitchen— creating a masterpiece meal that you devour in minutes.

what switch has suddenly changed in you? because now when you look at lando, your heart does things it never did before. your head spins of ideas of him as your boyfriend and it’s so sickening you could throw up.

“I’m going to unload the groceries, you’re more than welcome to sit and stare into space for as much as you need.” his words spook you. a little yelp escaped your lips that he’d caught you. your eyes bug wide—like they always are when you get into your daydreams— and mind so full you lose track of time and often forget your surroundings. you had no clue you’d been sitting in the driveway this whole time.

“where do you want the tampons again? I seem to forget.”

“under the bathroom sink please.”

you wonder if you can shove your thoughts under there too. a nap is needed to clear your mind of whatever seems to be boggling it all about lando.

—

a nap certainly did help, however, waking up to lando shirtless in your bed also napping? yeah, all that hard work of suppressed thoughts came right back.

you think about taking your finger and running it all over the divots, curves, and muscles of his body. you think about how much stronger he’s been looking lately and how the little hair on his chin is growing onto you. what is going on with you?

it was common for lando to come in your room and sleep with you. nightmares were rare for you, but they happened more often than you expected and lando always wanted to be there for it. but this was just a nap? why did he have to come in and sleep with you? he could’ve just slept in his own bed, that certainly would’ve helped your heart if he did.

you roll out of bed and tip toe around your bed, until your heart makes you stop. you stare at his peaceful state. the way his curls fall over his forehead, the thick long lashes you desperately want, the soft smile on his lips— his eyes are opening, shit, you think to yourself.

you quickly book it out of the room to save yourself from the embarrassment of him catching you watching him sleep. what a creep you were becoming in the matter of hours. this is why you shouldn’t like your best friend. hell, this is why you shouldn’t let your man best friend live with you. it was destined for one of you to fall in love.

but it was also destined for you to most likely get your heart broken.

lando doesn’t date women like you. you’ve seen his roster of women rotating in and out of your place, none of them looked like you: an average woman with average looks. who’d want that?

a little part of hope lingers in your chest when you see him enter the kitchen. his lips press against your temple as he mumbles a good morning.

“how was your nap?”

“not long enough.” you admit watching him type away on his phone. his elbows are pressed against the granite counter tops, his fingers work vigorously against the screen. a little smile appears on his lips that make you nauseous. it could just be max, but it could be another girl.

almost two hours ago this wouldn’t of mattered to you. you wouldn’t of cared if lando invited a girl over and you stayed locked up in your room, but now all of a sudden it’s bothersome.

“what’s got you all smiley?” you ask, partially out of curiosity but partially to just kill your heart with his response. he sets his phone face down on the counter resting his chin in the palm of his hand, “max is coming over, and so is pietra.”

“exciting.” you grin, though the words disagree with your expression making his face drop with worry.

“are you worried max is going to take your best friend spot? he could never, y/n.”

best friend. yeah, that’s all you’ll ever be when girls like ria and pietra exist. deadly beauty that could put a man in his place. when was yours ever going to show up?

—

you’re tipsy off the expensive bottle of wine max brought. your body is pressed against lando’s for support as you all laugh about something max said. you can’t help but wrap your arms around his strong bicep, resting your head against his shoulder listening to pietra expose Max’s recent mess up.

lando doesn’t take notice in the way you’re seated. he knows you’re beside him based off the heat that radiates off your body. you always got overly warm when drunk, and sometimes a bit too affectionate, but he didn’t mind. he actually loved it when you wanted to be beside him.

“so when did this happen?” pietra points her finger between you two, a bright smile pressed against her lips as she cozies herself up to her own boyfriend.

lando clears his throat. he practically yanks his arm out of your grip leaving you to fall back against the cushions beside him. you hide your face into his back out of embarrassment suddenly becoming aware of how you two look. “oh umm—“

“oh gosh! I’m so sorry. I think it’s the wine talking in me.” she quickly apologizes, a blush filters her face similar to yours.

“it’s not the first time today that’s happened.”

“do tell,” max sits on the edge of his seat listening to lando explain the run in, your face is still pressed into his back. you’re hoping that maybe if you just stay there you would disappear into thin air or end up in your bedroom sound asleep away from all of this.

“I still want to kick that guys ass—“

“wait,” pietra cuts off max, her voice demands all the attention in the room. you pry your head from out of lando and peer behind him at her, “you didn’t even tell him you are just friends? you let him assume that you’re dating?”

lando’s mouth opens and closes. nothing seems to come out making max throw his head back in a laughing fit, “oh god! I owe ria money for this, you like y/n!”

Lando’s face is flushed red, a similar color to the glass of wine in his hands. there was nothing he could say. he couldn’t even protest it when it was true. he hadn’t even realized he never corrected your ex boyfriend, because truth be told, he wanted to be shown off as your boyfriend.

“come on pietra, let’s leave these two alone.”

they leave as quick as they came, leaving only the half full bottle of wine for yourselves. you both sit in silence, no one musters up the courage to speak.

you both get ready for bed like nothing happened. the awkward silence eats you up. you want to speak up and tell him you feel the same, you want things to go back to normal. you just want annoying lando back.

when you finally finish your nighttime regiment, you’re ready for bed. you turn the corner into your bedroom and see the silhouette of lando reflecting against the wall. your night light was on, and he was laying in your bed, cozied up under the covers.

“sleeping in here tonight?” you ask slipping under the covers beside him, he moves himself closer to you occupying the middle of the bed.

“you don’t mind, do you?”

you shake your head curling your body against his, “I like it when you sleep with me.” you say making a sense of pride soar through his chest. he likes the way your body molds against his.

“your new boyfriend will protect you.” he smiles down at you, carefully place a kiss to your forehead before reaching over and turning off your lamp.

“thank goodness he’s here, I can’t sleep without him.”

“you know I’m talking about myself right?” he lifts his neck up, face looking down at you, your eyes closed practically half asleep already.

“goodnight, boyfriend.”

“goodnight, girlfriend.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz

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[fayes-fics]

Reprisal

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Turnabout is fair play. Sequel to Acting Up.

Warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, exhibitionism, semi-public blowjob, deepthroat, swallowing, brief d/s dynamics, brief mention of window sex.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: So, I was in the mood to write a filthy blowjob fic, and this has been sitting in my drafts for more than a year. It was inspired by an ask from the lovely @queen-of-the-misfit-toys, so it is dedicated to them. Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

Your toes tingle from crouching in the same awkward position for what feels like the last… eternity. But revenge is a dish best served not so much cold, as when least expected.

You hear him warmly greet all his guests out in the hallway, then beckon them towards the dining room. He sits at the head of the table, just a few inches in front of you. All is unfolding exactly as you expect so far. 

You are so very grateful no one kicks you as they take their places, the convivial buzz of conversation muffled under the thick drape of tablecloth fabric. You shift slightly to get more comfortable, knowing you must wait patiently a while longer; your window of opportunity will arise after their light two-course supper.

Just two weeks ago, your husband had mercilessly made you orgasm silently in front of his entire family as he fingered you to oblivion at dinner. It is now his turn. 

As Smith serves the men dessert, you place a firm hand on Benedict’sknee when you hear him complete a sentence, and his whole leg jolts. It’s the only forewarning you give him before running both hands heavily up over his muscular thighs and grabbing for his resting cock. You feel both his legs jerk, and a hand grabs your wrist forcefully. Next to you, a spoon clatters loudly to the floor, smattering a streak of blackcurrant across the pristine oak floor.

“Butterfingers!” He jests. 

Suddenly, his face appears under the drape of cloth and morphs into one of surprise as he sees you. With a raised eyebrow, you shove a little note into his hand, you came prepared.

Do not give anything away. Now we shall see how well you play this game, my love.

You watch him quickly scan the note, and then his eyes cut back to you, trepidation, challenge, and adoration—a beguiling cocktail. Realising if he stays under too long, his guests will suspect something; he straightens but not before a loving touch to your chin.

“Could not find the blasted thing,” he jokes in explanation. “Smith, please, could you bring me a new spoon?”

As soon as the conversation begins again, you reach to squeeze him again, and he helpfully pushes forward in his chair and splays his legs wider. 

Well played, darling.

You can feel a burgeoning swelling there, and you reach for the buttons at his hip, wanting to dive right in. As soon as you peel open the front of his trousers, his cock springs free, already half-erect. The fact he never seems to wear underwear makes you smirk—your wonderful bohemian whore of a husband. 

You wrap a hand around him, and you can tell from the way his hips surge how much he appreciates it. Slowly, teasingly, you strengthen your grip. He probably suspects you will just use your hands, as he did to you. You cannot wait to see how he will react when you use your mouth on him. You intend to suck him deep and hard, not wanting to be bettered in this game of one-upmanship. 

You shuffle forward, and a hand reaches under the table to pat your shoulder affectionately. 

Without preamble, you suckle his tip into your mouth and feel his whole body tense in surprise, his thigh muscles tensing, and his fingers dig into your shoulder reflexively. Smirking to yourself, you swirl your tongue around his head as his hand travels along the top of your shoulder to cup the side of your neck, his thumb swiping a few tender strokes just under your ear. 

You feel the vibration through his body as he talks, calling upon his friend to regale everyone with tales from his recent travels. “Spare no details!” he appends with an accommodating chuckle, relaxing into his chair and pushing his hips towards you, sliding deeper into your mouth as he does. 

You appreciate his smarts for that decision - he can appear to be listening intently as a gracious host but not having to lead any conversation. 

Taking a deep breath, you sink, taking half of his cock into your mouth, revelling in the contours as they pass through your lips and the twitch of his fingers in the hair behind your ear, his warm palm cupping your jaw. So you push a little lower, as far as you can, without fear of making a noise - you do not want to give anything away by choking yourself on him, as you love to do—that will have to wait for another time, in private. This is more of a challenge for him than anything.

You still, to let him feel the heat of your mouth, enticingly dabbing your tongue over his length, before pulling up and concentrating on his sensitive head, sucking on his frenulum and letting his foreskin roll between your lips, a slight twisting action to your movements that you know he loves. He coughs, causing his cock to jerk into the roof of your mouth, his fingers sliding tentatively around the back of your head as if planning to direct your movements.

No, no, I decide what happens here, dearest.

You grab his hand away and hold it on his thigh instead, lacing your fingers with his as you lower again, his fingertips curling between your knuckles, telling you exactly how much he is enjoying this, even as he remains mostly silent and still, his friend still holding court around the table above.

“I did miss my wife, though,” the man ripostes as his story ends. “Her womanly delights were a wonderful homecoming.” 

There is a bawdy round of laughter at that.

“And what of you, Bridgerton?’ you hear one ask as you change your motion, his tip glancing the back of your mouth with each deep pull.

“What of me?” his voice a touch rough.

“You are not long married. How is that sweet, innocent, young thing?” the same man continues.

You have to tamp the urge to giggle at the irony of being called innocent while kneeling between your husband's splayed legs, mere inches from his unsuspecting friends, sucking his cock so thoroughly that your jaw aches deliciously.

If only they knew…

“She is a wonder, and I love her more than life itself,” Benedict praises after clearing his throat. A warmth blooms behind your ribs as his sweet words, such a contradiction to the utter debauchery of your actions at this very moment.

“Spoken like a true poet,” another man mocks affably. “Come now, we speak of earthier matters tonight, Bridgerton. There are no such delicate ears to overhear after all.”

You want to roll your eyes at their prurient line of talk. Even as you slide up and down on Benedict’s cock, moving faster now, wanting to truly put him to the test, as he did you, something in the way he tilts his hips fractionally tells you all your need to know.

“As I said, my wife is a wonder,” he repeats with finality, gritting his teeth. 

To his friends, it likely seems he is attempting to arrest the topic out of decorum, not the fact he is struggling with composure, which you can detect from the tinge of desperation, the twitch in his legs, the harsh grip of his hand on yours. 

As talk moves on to gambling around the table, the volume increases as the men splinter into side conversations, an opportune moment for you to be a touch daring. Sinking to his root, allowing his solid, hot tip to plug your throat, emitting a tiny moan as you do, buzzing into his pelvis. Benedict’s entire body stiffens, and you feel a crest of victory as he fights not to make a noise; his body at war, wanting to thrust, to grab, to do anything but sit still and take it.

Tougher than it looks, is it not, darling husband?

You want to chuckle, but your mouth is too full of him, a salty bead of precum trickling down your throat as you ease off to allow him a moment of reprieve and yourself a deep, calming breath. Tilting your head sideways and running suckling kisses over the underside of his cock, all the way to his sac that you lap as your other hand wraps around his tip and gives soft teasing squeezes.

His hand untangles from yours on his leg and wraps around your other hand, attempting to halt your motions, silently asking for clemency which you ignore, batting him away. He gave you no such accommodation in front of his own mother, no less.

But you take pity and decide not to string it out for much longer, his friends loud now the wine bottles are empty, one beginning to sing tunelessly, and another joining in a few bars later. Using both of your hands wound around his lower shaft, constricting in a wave motion, and your mouth sucking forcefully on his head. Encourage him to break, to come, wanting that taste to flood your mouth, a heavy throbbing sensation between your legs that is your arousal. You will need him to fuck you ruthlessly once his entertaining duties are over. Perhaps facedown right over this very table or, preferably, in your bedroom window, your nipples pebbled against the cool glass as he takes you roughly from behind, kneeling on the bench seat… the exhibitionist streak that he provokes in you flaring.

The images tumbling through your mind have you feral, sucking ferociously, pushing his thighs out wider to allow yourself greater access, crowding into him, knowing that with the level of noise in the room now, you can make some sound yourself. The back of your head glancing the underside of the table as you bob rapidly, moaning lightly, drooling on the length of his cock, your saliva pooling into his trousers as you mercilessly rise and sink, breathing heavily through your nose. You sense the tension in his legs, his vice-like grip on the table edge, every cell of his being in pure ecstasy and the agony of not being able to show it. He is usually so very vocal and lavish in his praise when you do this. 

“Come for me, my love, give it to me.” you gargle around him, his legs dancing now in a staccato quake.

Even if he cannot decipher your words, he can feel the echo over his velvet skin, and suddenly, both of his hands dive under the table and grip around your ears, finger grasping your scalp. Pushing you deep onto his cock, his whole being seeming to curl around you, his knees lifting high near your shoulders as you feel his sac tighten against your chin, a strong ripple between your lips and then a salty wave in your mouth as he comes hard.

“Are you alright, Bridgerton?” a concerned voice rings out as you swallow victoriously, then slackening your mouth to allow him to slip out, moving to lick him clean as he quivers under your tender ministrations.

“Sorry, gentleman,” his voice is ragged, harsh. “I felt a wave of nausea; perhaps a lunch of venison and oysters was not advisable. But do not fear, I'm sure it was a fleeting moment of discomfort,” he lies to cover his actions, holding one hand up in a reassuring gesture as his other hand strokes your cheek, your face resting upon his clothed thigh, leaning into his doting fingers, akin to a cat. “However, perhaps it is time we sojourned to the parlour,” he announces as you carefully rebutton his trousers. “‘Tis where I keep my best liquors, after all!!” 

You hear a rousing call of agreement, all around the sound of chairs scraping as they stand and drift towards the exit.

“I will be there, anon, gentlemen; I must speak to my valet first,” Benedict fibs, shifting in his seat but not standing.

As the chorus of voices fades, he pushes out his chair and holds up the tablecloth, staring at you slack-jawed.

“At a loss for words, husband?” you smirk, raising a coquettish eyebrow as he assists you in crawling out from under the table.

“The most delightful revenge, darling wife…” he responds, his eyes glittering. “But the use of your mouth is an escalation. I rather think a declaration of war, not a mere battle.” The very beguiling threat of more challenges to come makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

‘“Promises promises…Sir,” you goad with a wink, dusting off your dress and standing up, hoping the invocation of his play title will spark something in him.

A warm hand clamps firmly around the nape of your neck, making you gasp excitedly.

“Insolence does not go unpunished, little one,” he warns lowly. 

There it is.

“Yes, Sir,” your stance instantly submissive, swaying into him. “Perhaps, you could fuck me against our bedroom window later? So the world can see to whom I belong?”

He growls softly, and his nostrils flare as he crowds into you. “That can certainly be arranged.”

“I look forward to it, Sir.” you smile, always enjoying when he behaves domineering. 

However, with a wink, his grip releases, his mien turning gentler, nuzzling your cheek.

“I am quite the luckiest man alive. I love you, darling,” he breathes.

“And I you, husband. Now, go entertain your guests. I will see you later,” you offer, kissing his jaw as you drift towards the door, wrapped in each other's arms.

“I’d rather retire to our bedchamber with you,” he sighs wistfully into your temple.

“I shall be there waiting for you,” you vow. “Naked, except for the jewels you have given me. Thinking of you. Touching myself…” you paint a vivid picture to tempt and tease him.

You squeal as he suddenly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, striding purposefully into the hallway, the sounds of the men in the room across the hall unmistakable.

“Smith,” Benedict addresses the man standing dutifully by the front door. “Please tell my guests they are welcome to stay but that I was, in fact, mistaken. I have taken indeed ill with a dreaded stomach bug and must retire from their company immediately,” he pronounces. 

You laugh at his lie, and he slaps your bottom for good measure.

“Will that be all, sir?” His trusty valet replies, tone world-weary.

“Please escort them out the rear entrance when they are done carousing and arrange for their carriages to pick them up in the mews. I do not wish the neighbours to witness their drunken behaviour,” he rejoinders as he begins to climb the stairs with you still dangling over his shoulder. 

Giggling, you wave to Smith as you go, who merely raises three fingers dryly in recognition—he has walked in upon you fucking you in every room of the house since your marriage; this is decidedly mundane.

And as Benedict fulfils your request sometime later - pounding into you so hard that the window rattles in its frame, you clinging to the wooden sash as you stare out across the treetops of the handsome square - you cannot help but wonder if the request to send his friends home another way was not entirely for your benefit.

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[naeviskz]

genre. idol!hyunjin x model!f!reader | established relationship

words. 1.5k+ tags/warnings. angst, fluff (towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hj is lowkey toxic (but we love it hehe), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread

this has been in my drafts for years and i finally finished it bc i was tired of seeing it LMAO. btw the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rlly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to hyunjin was like conversing with the wall, never truly grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with chan or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

hyunjin felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere ___, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hyune, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious ___? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” hyunjin couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you hyunjin. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” hyunjin angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

hyunjin’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed slit “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, hyunjin!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your dewy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hyunjin-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, hyunjin loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. hyunjin knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a slew of curses leave your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. hyunjin slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and tummy.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing hyunjin’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe you’re all mine.” hyunjin whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much baby.”

“love you too hyune.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

[7ndipity]

“Are You Confident?”

fwb!Jungkook x Plus Size Reader

Summary: The one where you get fed up with Jungkook’s teasing and decide to take him up on his offer.

Word Count: just under 1.7k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut. oral(m. receiving), swearing, Jk starts out fuckboy-ish but turns subby, slight dom reader, reader’s referred to as Noona, not proofread

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my drafts since early December, but I finally managed to finish part one! This is sort of a prequel to this drabble, so if you can read it too if you liked this one. I’ll also be posting part two and a masterlist(hopefully)later this week, so lmk what you think!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

If you had to choose a favorite place in the whole world, you would choose Jungkook’s apartment without a thought. Not your own apartment, not you favorite shop, not even the dream vacation you’d been planning and saving up for forever, just being tucked into the corner of Jungkook’s couch, Bam curled up next to you, his massive head resting in your lap, subtly begging for pets as you vented to his owner about your most recent dating fiasco.

The guy one of your friends had set you up with had seemed nice enough at first, but as dinner progressed, things had progressively gone downhill.

“Did he least pay for dinner?” Jungkook asked, sprawled on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’d assume so, I walked out before the bill even came.” You replied, taking a long drink from your glass.

“Why do you even bother with dating anyway? You said before you hated it.” He asked.

“I’ve told you, I’m… lonely.” You said pointedly, avoiding his eyes.

He squinted at you, understanding suddenly flashing across his face.

“Ah, so you just need to get laid?” He asked, sitting back with a smirk as your face flushed with color. “Why didn’t you just say so? I could help you with that.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groaned, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

“I’m serious.” He said, following you. “It’s better than fucking some random asshole.”

This type of conversation was a recurring thing in your friendship. Jungkook loved to tease you, and with a relationship that had grown as close as yours had, he had plenty of opportunities.

Your friends often joked that the two of you should just date already with the way you acted with each other, often toeing the line between what was typically considered okay for ‘just friends’. You’d slept in the same bed more times than you could count(a fact that had made Taehyung nearly choke on his drink when he’d found out), you’d even kissed at his friend's New Years Eve party after a few too many drinks and a similar conversation to the one you were currently having, lamenting about not having someone to kiss at midnight.

You didn’t know what had possessed you to do it, all you could remember was hearing the countdown and leaning in, connecting your lips with his for the briefest moment, only for him to quickly chase after yours when you had started to pull away.

Neither of you had brought it up afterwards, but the memory of it was permanently seared into your mind; the feel of his lips moving against yours, the way his hands had gently gripped your waist-

You shook your head, redirecting your attention back to the current moment, trying to ignore Jungkook as he leaned against the counter next to you.

“Look, if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I’m just offering a possible solution to your problem,” He said, shrugging as he grinned at you. “You know, if you’re really desperate.”

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. When's the last time you even went on a date again?”

Your words had the desired effect on him, turning his expression sour.

“That’s different, I’ve been… busy.” He said grudgingly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” You grinned triumphantly.

“I mean it though,” He said. “If that’s really all you’re after, I’d be glad to help.”

You blinked at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “I mean, like you said, it’s not like I've got anything going either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, just two friends helping each other out.”

“That is, if you think you can handle me.” He added with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, letting out an irritated laugh. “Please, I could handle you.”

“Are you confident?” He asked, quirking a brow at you.

“Yes.” You answered immediately, catching both him and yourself off guard as you stared him down.

Your words weren’t entirely true, you weren’t all that confident when it came to things like this, but Jungkook had a way of triggering your stubborn streak, whether it was with that cocky smile he always threw your way or the domineering tone he like to tease you with, something about him made you suddenly brave and willing to challenge anything he said.

Normally, that was part of what made your friendship fun, the two of you constantly bickering and at odds with each other, but this was much different than arguing over where to get dinner or what to watch on tv.

You were chest to chest now, able to feel his heart pounding surprisingly fast as he stared down at you.

“Prove it.” He said, his tone having lost its teasing edge as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your mouth.

That was all it took to make you break.

You closed the gap between the two of you, pushing him back against the wall as your lips clashed.

This wasn’t at all like the first time you’d kissed, there was no hesitancy or tender playfulness, it was hot and rushed and needy, full of tongue and teeth.

You were aware of a voice in the back of your head frantically screaming at you, something about how this was terrible idea and could ruin things between you and Jungkook completely, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care as his warm hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue fought with yours for dominance. He tasted sharp and sweet like the wine you had brought, his skin hot under your fingertips as your hands slipped from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands and earning a low grunt from him.

His grip on your hips tightened before sliding down to grope your ass, grinding you against the growing bulge in his pants.

A surprised squeak left you, making him chuckle against your lips as you mentally cursed yourself. You were not about to let him have the upper hand, not this quickly.

You slipped a hand down between you to palm him over his pants, squeezing just enough to cause what sounded very much like a moan to you to release from his throat, though you knew he’d tried to deny it.

Just as suddenly as you’d begun, you pulled away, making his eyes snap open in confusion.

“What are you-?” He panted, stopping in shock as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“I’m helping you out.” You said simply, undoing his belt as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Is that okay?”

He nodded, breathing unsteadily.

“I need words, Sweetie.” You said, making him flush at the petname as you fiddled with his zipper. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“I want it,” He quickly blurted, giving up control with surprising ease as he stared down at you, eyes black with need. “I-I want your mouth, please.”

“Good boy.” You tugged his jeans down, revealing the prominent tent in his boxers, a small wet patch on the material showing just how eager he was.

“These are cute.” You commented, toying with the waistband before letting it snap back against his skin, making him jump slightly. “Purple looks good on you.”

“Noona, please.” He whined in frustration, his head falling back against the wall as his hips twitched forward involuntarily.

“Fine, since you’re asking so politely.” You pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, hanging heavy in front of your face.

He was slightly bigger than you expected, the tip flushed deep red and leaking precum as you took him in your hand, making him shudder.

“Mm, should’ve known, even your cock’s pretty.” You mused, leaning in to give it a cursory lick, sucking the tip into your mouth for a moment before pulling back, leaving a few kisses along the underside of his length as you glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

He was staring down at you slack-jawed, his breaths coming out in uneven pants as you pumped him with your hand.

He already looked slightly fucked out and you’d barely done anything to him yet, giving you a massive surge of confidence as you held eye contact with him, gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth before letting it dribble down over his twitching length.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, squiming slightly.

Still holding his gaze, you took him fully into your mouth, sinking down as far as you could go.

“Fuck!” He gasped, his head falling back against the wall with a thump as you pulled back, swirling your tongue around him teasingly before sinking down again, letting him hit the back of your throat and holding him there for a moment before pulling off.

You quickly found your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down on him and using your hands on what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He let out a low whine, fists clenched so tight against his thighs his knuckles had gone white.

Noticing this, you used your free hand to guide his to your head, letting him tangle his fingers in your hair and giving him something to ground himself with.

All too soon, you felt him beginning to tense, his grip on your head tightening as his thighs started to shake.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” He whimpered. “Where do you want me to-?”

You only answer to him taking him and deeper and swallowing around him, making him cry out as his hip bucked forward, fucking your face as he chased his release.

“Shit, Y/n, I-” His words were choked off with a groan as he came, cumming down your throat in hot spurts.

He slumped back against the wall, breathing hard as you slowly pulled off of him, making a point to meet his eyes again as you swallowed.

“Shit, Y/n,” He said weakly as you stood back up. “That was-”

You cut him off with another kiss, feeling him twitch against your leg as he tasted himself on your tongue.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @ldysmfrst

[harmonicakai]

Like Real People Do

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader

Summary: You find yourself falling for the cute boy whose writing assignments you proofread, and discover that your lives have been intertwined for longer than you thought.

Tropes: tutor!reader, basketball player!gyuvin, writers, soulmates, college AU, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: literally none it’s so cute

A/N: This is a formal apology for my Beomgyu angst <3

“And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?” —Invisible String, Taylor Swift

Gyuvin certainly doesn’t need any help with English, but it gives him a good excuse to spend time in between classes and basketball practice staring at you.

If anything, your talents would be better suited to helping one of his classmates understand all the old poems or crazy novels that they get assigned, but he’s the one who lucked out when your former professor suggested you read her most promising student’s work.

From the first draft, you were hooked, and had somehow started a writer’s circle where just the two of you meet weekly to share your works in progress. 

In no time, you’ve helped Gyuvin become one of the top students in Writing 101, and he’s worried you’ll notice that he’d be just fine if you stopped helping him. Still, the A’s keep rolling in and you keep meeting up with him anyway.

When Gyuvin’s latest short story gets nominated for a departmental prize, you’re over the moon for him.

“You are so amazing,” you smile up at him. “We should celebrate! That’s a really big deal. I was nominated last year, but didn’t come close to winning.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he points out, looking down at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck. “Really, Y/N. If I win, it would be just as much your prize as it would be mine.”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, packing up the rest of your lunch. You usually only see him in the library at your designated meeting time, but today, he sought you out in the courtyard to make sure you were the first person he told. “I’m just the editor. All of the ideas came from you. Plus, I’m only good at English because I grew up speaking it. It’s much more impressive for you to have learned it recently and write at the level that you do.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Y/N,” he replies, helping you up off your picnic blanket. Before you can do it yourself, he’s already reaching down to fold it, his long arms handling the fabric with ease. “You’d write circles around me any day.”

“I don’t want to get into another compliment war,” you giggle, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. Recently, it’s been filled with way too many books, and your classes are so jam-packed that you never have time to run back to your room in between them.

“Here, Y/N, let me,” he says, taking your backpack from you. He’s already got his own on, but he wears yours over his front, barely even flinching at the extra weight. “Where are you headed next? I’m done with my classes for the day, so I can walk you.”

He’s always been desperate to ask you to hang out outside of your brainstorming sessions, but every time he thinks he’s worked up the courage, you’ll laugh or smile or even just glance at him and his brain short circuits.

“I have a music class across campus in thirty minutes,” you reply. “Don’t you live the other way, though? You really don’t have to walk me. It’s pretty far.”

“I want to,” Gyuvin reassures you. He offers his hand. “Here. I walk pretty fast, so let’s make sure I don’t leave you behind.”

You hesitate for a moment before taking it. You’ve had a crush on Gyuvin ever since the two of you first crossed paths—he’s the literal embodiment of sunshine trapped inside a cute boy—but things have only ever been friendly between the two of you.

His hand is big, wrapping itself around yours almost entirely. The walk is silent, although you swear you can hear your heart about to beat out of your chest as you pull him along your usual route. Gyuvin makes sure to always let you lead.

“You know,” you start, still not looking back at him. “We’re kind of like Orpheus and Eurydice right now.”

Gyuvin lights up at the reference, with mythology being one of the first things you two really bonded over. “If you looked back at me, the only thing I’d probably die of is how cute you are, Y/N.”

You’re glad you’re turned away so he can’t see the bright blush that’s spread across your cheeks. His words get you so flustered that you don’t even notice you’ve stopped walking.

“Did I say something wrong?” Gyuvin asks, his voice laced with concern. He moves to face you, your height difference causing him to crane his neck down. Meanwhile, your gaze is locked on your shoes.

“Gyuvin,” you say, still refusing to meet his eye. You pull him over to a nearby bench. “Remember when I said I liked the love story you wrote the other day?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he confirms. “You complimented me on how realistic it was and I told you it was only because I based it off of real life.”

“Was it…” your words catch in your throat, unable to face the embarrassment of if you’re wrong. “Was it about us?”

“Yes,” he admits almost immediately. You finally turn to face him, greeted by a nervous look. “Listen, Y/N. I only wrote it because I knew you’d read it, and I thought maybe if you saw how good characters that were a lot like us could be together, you’d give me a chance in real life. But you didn’t really notice, or maybe you just wanted to ignore it, so I kind of abandoned all hope of us ever being together.”

You blink back at him. How could you be so oblivious? Your entire major was based on analyzing words, and you couldn’t even see that he wanted to be with you so badly that he had to write it into existence.

Words always come easy to you, except at this very moment.

“You abandoned all hope?” is all you can manage to get out. You try to pull your hand away, but he only grips it tighter.

“I tried,” Gyuvin says, his voice soft. “But you’re all I ever think about. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be capable of writing someone who even comes close to how wonderful I think you are, Y/N. There just aren’t words to describe all the ways in which you’re special to me.”

You laugh, his words making tears well up in your eyes. “You know, I used to go to basketball games a lot before we even met, just so I wouldn’t have to feel so lonely all the time. And I remember liking your smile and the way you always encouraged your teammates. I would go home and wish I had someone like you in my life.”

“You’re kidding,” he says, taking out his wallet. You knit your brows in confusion, watching as he pulls out a small piece of paper and unfolds it. “Here.”

He hands it to you and your eyes widen at the words printed out. It’s the poem that you had published in the school’s literary magazine last spring about wanting to romanticize your life. Talking about your feelings makes you anxious, but nobody reads those publications. Except for Gyuvin, apparently.

“I liked you before we even met, too,” Gyuvin confesses. “Your poem is actually the reason I got into writing in the first place. I used to read it before all of my games, but I know all the words by heart now, so I just keep it in my wallet for good luck.”

This all feels too good to be true, but his touch keeps you grounded in reality.

“Maybe I should start coming to basketball games again, then,” you think out loud. “I stopped going because I felt awkward not knowing anybody.”

“Well, now you’d know me, and I’ll make sure the whole team gets to know you, too, okay?” The way he smiles at you, his eyes so full of light, takes your breath away.

“Really?” you ask, looking at him in disbelief. The thought of meeting so many new people at the same time scares you, but if Gyuvin likes them, you’re sure you will too.

“On one condition,” he says, closing the gap between the two of you. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand settling on your cheek. “I get to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

“Deal,” you grin, inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. You’re nervous that he’ll somehow figure out that you’ve only ever read about kissing in books, but the way he melts into you tells you that he doesn’t mind.

“You’re going to be late for class,” Gyuvin reminds you, pulling away. He desperately wants to keep going, but not at the expense of your grades.

“Class can wait,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. Your fingers lace themselves through his soft, messy hair. “I said we’d celebrate your nomination, so let’s celebrate.”

[starlostseungmin]

stray kids ─── as one direction songs.

✰ pairing : non-idol!skz x afab!reader

✰ genre : fluff, angst, maybe suggestive?

✰ warnings : subtle mentions of sex and drugs, kissing, mentions of food and profanity. lmk if i missed smth.

✰ notes : uhm i really don't know what i wrote. this has been sitting on my drafts since november and thank god anon reminded me about it (i actually went on hiatus after minho's birthday last year so yeah) the songs i associated with skz members are just strongly my opinion mehehe i hope you guys like it, idk if you agree with me in regards with the songs but DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after it! thank you so much <33

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly

masterlist | taglist.

chan ─── perfect

honorable mention: little things

you already know how fucked up your life is but ever since he came, those days became different. it is always the small gestures that one fails to notice in the blink of an eye. you are just going to be surprised by the time it is done or how you managed to get out of a small inconvenience. he loves you so much that he would put you first before anything else. 

chan is different from everyone else. maybe because he is labeled to be kind and so above average of doing the bare minimum which people seek from their partners. he’s perfect but he doesn’t think of it the same way. 

you tried to convince him a hundred times but all you got in response is him being a blushing mess and his giggle that makes your heart warm every time you hear it. a smile would tug on your lips that would make him stare at you, he’d bounce back on the things you said to him and you think about what did you do in your past life to deserve someone as perfect as him. 

“baby, you’re perfect,” you said for the nth time, “no, i’m not, but i’m perfect for you,” he winked. “that was smooth, chan,”

lee know ─── night changes

he might be the type to not show his feelings immediately but he’s the one who subtly shows them. it started slowly, he reassured you that everything would fall into place once you both could figure out what was going on with this relationship. 

but as long as you’re together, the love you and him shared will never change. although the process of this love story has made things go in different directions, the thought of having to stick together is essential. 

your parents didn’t like him at first, they had someone in mind and that wasn’t him and yet, you didn’t care even if your first date was a disaster and the next one after that, but that didn’t stop you. it took a while for your parents to finally accept him after tons of convincing them that he’s a great guy, but it succeeded later on. 

you had a place on your own and welcomed his cats to live with you when some of them were wild, that’s what you think. minho was a mess when you met him, but thanks to you, it’s not that bad anymore. 

changbin ─── temporary fix

honorable mention: i want to write you a song

changbin is the type to offer himself as someone you can lean on but it’s not always because of this friendship you have, but as a lover who wanted to make you feel better and forget about shit. 

temporary fix is not always meant to be a cover-up of something you’d open up again to allow another train of bullshits in your life. it felt like he was being sent from the heavens to look out for you, an angel whose sole mission is to make you happy, the same feeling like something that keeps you high. 

there’s this thing on changbin’s vibe that you don’t want to share with anybody else and he makes you feel things when you’re with him. even though this relationship sounds like a fling and a guy who sneaks into your dorm late at night to make out with you, well, it used to be. but you know changbin is so much more than that after a while. 

the phrase, “you can call me when you need me, you know?” whenever he sleeps with you is now in the trashbin the moment you settle to be someone to each other.

hyunjin ─── last first kiss 

remember the time when he said that he chose to be the last love instead of the first? exactly. being the last person to love is basically spending the rest of your life with him, even if he’s not your first kiss, not your first love, not your first in everything, it’s fine as long as he’ll be the one you’ll remember as your eternal love. 

hyunjin being fitted into this song is like a message that he wanted to convey to his love, a sentiment that would indicate how much he’d spend time and effort to stay by your side until the end of time. indeed, a hopeless romantic man he is. 

last first kiss is the very first song that reminds you of him, it is part of those memories you made with him. it was that time when he decided to take this relationship to the next level, yes, he did mention that he wanted to be your last, and by what he meant, an everlasting love. 

“let me be your last,” and when you heard him say that, you knew he was the man who fits perfectly into your broken puzzle that would mend the wound forever.

han ─── rock me

honorable mention: midnight memories

rock me suits him as well as midnight memories. but midnight memories have their effects on han, giving him the vibes of being a musician specializing in the rock genre. and as someone who loves to listen to almost every genre in the world, you fell in love with him after watching him busking by the streets. 

you were amazed by how talented he is. his fingers strummed that guitar well, and his voice? like an angel. one could say that he is a free-spirited human being who does whatever he wants and writes songs about some things that piqued his interest. 

then there’s you, a broken melody who longed for him to come back, the same goes for him who let you go. both of you thought that you were too young to be in love and jisung was better off alone but his songs were dedicated to your break up. you rocked his world when you came and left broken notes when it ended.

but he always believed that what you had back then, was real and that you’d always remember the love you had. 

felix ─── why don’t we go there 

honorable mention: kiss you

felix is someone who gets hyped easily whenever you’re with him. his bright smile, his funny reactions, and the unidentified sounds that came out of his mouth made him a fun guy to be with. it started with a fling that turned out to be something you didn’t want to rush but it is slowly beginning to have a label. 

having a relationship with him offered different dynamics. it is the way he grabs your hand when you both start to get caught by the waves crashing by the shore or how he felt when you kissed him for the first time. he is someone who can get dragged with you to whatever your plan is, a great ball of sunshine to your rainy days, someone that you don’t want to be the one that got away. 

he does think the same, especially the fact that he treasures you so much and it became an opportunity to love you more when you spend that one night together somewhere, alone. it was an invitation actually and it made you realize a lot of things. 

it is the way he looked at those stars with those dazzling eyes of his. the constellation plastered on his cheeks glowed along with them, it is what they call freckles, you love them as much as how felix felt for you. having him as a getaway made you don’t want to come back, ever again.

seungmin ─── no control

night changes was the first choice but then no control became the one for him, no control, because he is, a menace. he believed that being in love was something that gullible people would do and get hurt, maybe a few of them proved it to be valid and worth it, yet he isn’t convinced because it is just a waste of time. 

and yet, you came out of nowhere. it is the way he looks at you with those dazzling puppy eyes, the way he obeys the things you wanted him to do, and it gets worse when you share intimate affections. from a gentle puppy to a wild wolf. there’s something about you that drives him crazy every time. 

nothing matters to him when you’re around and he never felt this way before. he’d kiss you out of nowhere when you reached home with your back against the wall as your hands played with his hair. he gets weak and powerless, but gets hyped and rough which you get caught off guard every time. 

and he is very loyal, he always makes sure that no other will ever meet his interest. you don’t want to share, anyway and you got him down bad.

jeongin ─── summer love

honorable mention: fool's gold.

loving jeongin is like a breath of fresh air, the freedom that he finally held in his hands, and the time he can make up for himself to be with you. it was a reckless summer that you spent in your grandma’s place, away from the bustling city and this boy showed up on your doorsteps. 

it didn’t take a while that you immediately had this puppy love type of interest in each other. you started sneaking out in the middle of the night when your grandma was in her deep sleep, swimming together by the river across the small town on a random afternoon, sharing a kiss under an oak tree that tasted like your grandma’s apple pie, it was great. you didn’t want it to end. 

and just like any other summer, it did. you didn’t know if you would still have this continuous conversation when the school year starts since jeongin is miles away from where you live. 

you saw him sitting on one of those branches of the oak tree where you kissed for the first time, and there you promised not to lose each other even if the summer ended. you couldn’t believe that what you did for less than two months was this serious. it was hard to say goodbye, yet you hoped nothing would change after the last summer’s sunset.

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[44st4rs]

❝WHERE HIS WORDS END❞

・❥・pairings: Author!Choso Kamo x Assistant!Fem reader

・❥・cw: soft!choso, body worship, fingering, nipple play, use of petnames, squirting, implied aftercare

・❥・from chris: my heart <33 we all deserve a choso in our lives

Out of all twelve months in the year, it’s the month Choso hates most of all.

Deadline month.

Stress and fatigue ravish his body like no other. He knows it’s harmful, the effects to strike him when least expected. But his reason for such travesties remains in the hearts of his beloved fans, all waiting in anticipation.

He’s even caught wind to the rumors—none of his doing and all were made of pure speculation. All his fans sit with high expectations for the release, the latest erotic novel rumored to top his previous works.

Perfection, that’s what Choso drove himself ragged for. If he expected nothing less than that from others, then who was he to deliver less than perfect results.

Choso’s all too aware of what awaits him in the coming weeks to follow, but it’s ill-willed to plan ahead without conquering what laid before him now. Manuscripts, drafts, references, all of it drenched the grand mahogany top of Choso’s desk, his mind overrun with knowledge.

In his honest opinion, the novel’s been complete—all except the final scene. Now, it wasn’t what Choso had in mind that stumped him, it was the “how”.

How could he best articulate such a crucial moment without falling into the cast of lackluster? He knew what he wished to write, but the words were far from his reach.

Such a case of writer’s block forced his hand in many of ways. All his sources, readings, even the primed fruits of his imagination couldn’t provide Choso with the confidence to continue any farther. What he needed was a visual, something he could hold in his hands and describe from his own eyes, adding all the twists and input needed.

And who else suited for the task than his pretty assistant?

Prying his head from the clouds of despair, Choso gathered himself together before calling out to you, though you were never too far from his reach.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Choso sir?”

At the sounds of your closing steps, he cleaned up what could be salvaged from his ruined appearance. Digits sent on a combing frenzy, eyes wiped of exhaust but obscured by darkened rings. Even if Choso managed to hide all his evidence of over-exhaustion, he knew your caring tendencies would get the better of him.

The guilt, disappointment, and sorrow that crossed your visage always seemed to dot his own. The least he could do was ease your mind with a faux smile and warming words as the door creaked open gently.

There you stood before him, a sight for sore eyes indeed. The tips of your fingers lingered around the door’s knob as you slipped inside the room, the softened glow of the sun’s rays granting the room light. Tugging at the hem of your emerald camisole, a slight curve spread itself thin across your lips with the ponders to follow.

“Are you hungry? Or need me to-”

“Actually, Y/N…I need your help with this last part. It’s been killing me these past few days.”

A single nod suited his inquiry, Choso adjusting himself into the leather chair. He watched as you came to stand by his side, arms politely folded at your back’s curve.

His eyes washed over you, breathing in all you offered his feeble mind. He always found himself with a boost of energy when you were around, just having your presence near was more than enough motivation for him.

All the early morning brainstorms to the late night rambles, he had you at every step of the way to bear all facets of his person. That’s why he couldn’t help but take pity on you, a beauty like you resorted to answering his beck and call.

He knew you weren’t the happiest, no matter how well you hid it from him. But it was the cruel selfishness within Choso that kept a firm hold on you, swearing that you alone kept him sane.

Only time could tell what was held for you both and right now…time was Choso’s biggest enemy.

His head leaned along the curved edge of his seat, cold hues meeting your own. “I know you’re probably missing your own home right now, but I appreciate it when you come over. As you can see…I honor work before all else–even myself at times.”

Choso’s failed attempt to make a joke brought a tender grin to your features, your hand falling from its folded hold. Resting along the supple crook of his neck, your words filled his ears with the sweetest coos of assurance.

“That old place? Please, I like supplying the company. But what can I possibly do to help you?”

At the immediate realization of his question, Choso only froze with the cold shrills of sweat to sweep over his body. It was from casual topics, even crossing the lines of perversion should he give it any more thought. But with the apples of your cheeks polished from your welcoming smile, he couldn’t find it in him to end it all. Swallowing the hefty lump in his throat, Choso allowed the words to roll from his thoughts into the air.

“How does it feel when you have an…y’know…orgasm?”

“O-oh…well,” you stumbled over, sharing in the fury of embarrassment with Choso. “It feels…good, I guess.”

He shook his head, the vast palm of his hand covering what shame swelled beneath his face. “No, that’s not good enough, sadly. I need…more. If I could just experience it, then the book would’ve been completed a week ago. Nothing, not a damn book on this desk helped me, thousands of dollars reduced to shit.”

You bit your lip anxiously, the thoughts pummeling through your brain. Choso’s request was nothing like before, not a cup of tea, his favorite snacks, not even bringing him the best blanket in the house during one of his infamous all-nighters.

Out of all of Choso’s inquires he brought upon you, in your yield with him, one was never this salacious. A genuine question indeed, deserving all the attention that could be offered.

Yet, it still couldn’t dispel the idea from mind, the vindictive thorns of curiosity prickling at your sense of intrigue. There were the underlying laces of thrill within what he asked from you. It carried the wonderings of what could be, enticing you with every heavy second to pass. Your thighs pressed into one another unconsciously, your once charted breaths growing heavy.

Of course, what kind of assistant would you be without offering your all to the job? To Choso?

“Experience it you say? Like watching it happen in front of you, Choso?”

A low hum rang from his chest, Choso gradually turning away from you. He’d embarrassed himself with such a question, one posed to you nonetheless. He deserved all that was coming to him, anything that you merited necessary. But what Choso didn’t expect was your hinge on the long forgotten interest, his blazoned ears piqued to the mumbles of your voice.

“Mhm, if you don’t mind…I think I could help you out with that.”

Bewilderment dressed his tired hues, the heavy lids freed from the woes. The stilled blood of Choso’s veins surged with fervor, the excitement rushing to the surface of his skin. He wasn’t able to hide it, the rising flairs of heat resting at his cheeks. He never did expect you–his timid aid to burst with the vibrancy of thrill. The sudden turn throw Choso for a loop, his tongue caught in a stammering struggle.

“A-Are you sure? That’s asking a lot of you, Y/N. You’ve done so much for me already and–”

“Or you could make me cum yourself, Choso. That’s as firsthand as you could get, in my opinion. Either way, the book has to get done. This is the easiest way and well…we both gain from it, don’t we?” Taken aback by the brash nature, Choso was faced with the effects of his own creation.

“Fine. Sit here…o-on my lap.”

You made no mistake to settle onto the clothed curves of his thighs, your spine fitting against Choso’s bulging chest. His arm laced around your hips, holding you as close as he needed. Was it all real? Something this blissful wasn’t welcomed in his life, only reserved for the bounds of his dreams. Not a fiber in his body could believe he had you sitting pretty on his lap like this.

It wasn’t enough to touch you, keep you near, even the warmth of your body wasn’t enough for Choso. He’d managed to sum it all to be a vivid fever dream, a conviction with short-lived conclusions.

Was it all real? Something this blissful wasn’t welcomed in his life, only reserved for the bounds of his dreams. But the moment you shifted to better your position, the fragile strands of his mind shattered with the conclusion.

To distract himself, Choso’s nose was caught by the scent of your perfume, the rich imbues of lavender and honey flooding his senses. He wanted to compliment you, tell you all the thoughts he was forced to store away at that very moment. He wanted to worship every inch of you, his worked hands stained with lust destined to cherish you at last.

His lips graced the shell of your ear, the heated huffs tingling the roused nerves. “ ‘M gonna start, just tell me when you wanna stop, okay?”

Choso had no utter sense of self. He had no clue where to begin with you. His mind was shot, hands trembling and a salivating mouth ready to indulge in you. The tips of his fingers trailed along the curve of your shoulder, tugging at the thin straps of your top. His eyes were pinned to the lazy sight, the silky material slipping down your arms.

“So fucking beautiful, Angel. You’re doing such a good job.”

Finding way to your chest, Choso cupped his hands at the shell of your bra, the pulsing squeezes traveling through your body. His ears perked at the suspended sobs muffled behind your lips, presenting the shy display of your arousal before Choso.

Even Choso fell victim to your hymns, his face flush with awe. He couldn’t begin to believe just how soft, how warm, just how perfect you were. He wanted more, to explore more, to hear more of your voice in its peak of bliss.

To chase his goal, Choso softly yanked at the curved edge of your bra, guiding the supple mounds of your breasts to spill over the shaped cups. His hands were swift to return to their compressing grasp, careful to never lose the steady pace.

When he deemed it worthy, he turned his attention to the perked buds of your nipples, rolling the hardened peaks between his digits. It only drew the pitiful of whimpers from your throat, your head resting atop the broad of his shoulders.

“Even your moans sound beautiful, Y/N. I’ve got such a good girl on my hands, don’t I?”

To your unknowing, Choso took note of everything. The way you threw your arm around his neck for support, the harsh arch seizing your spine whole. The shuddering lags of breaths escaping your hollowed lungs, down to the threatening rolls of your eyes.

The desire he held for you was deep, coaxing a single hand to trace down the valley of your chest. He was met with your rolling hips, the black skirt barely hanging onto you.

Choso gently hooked his fingers around the waistband of the skirt and the panties beneath, guiding the silky cloth down your legs and off into the discarded pile of clothing.

Taking in a deepening pull of confidence through his nose, Choso prepared what self was left. The plush curve of his digits drifted along the puffy lips of your cunt, just barely touching the skin.

“Tell me how you feel, Gorgeous.”

“It feels really–”

“No, Y/N. Not how “it” feels, tell me everything in that’s going through that mind of yours right now.”

Choso was met with the widening stare of your teary eyes, dewed lashes batting for a sliver of sympathy. But you gave into his demand out of the desperate search for relief.

“I-I feel so…hot. My head’s spinning a little, my body’s on fire and my heart’s never raced so fast before. Even my legs are a twitching mess and you haven’t even touched me yet.”

Pleased with your words, he pressed a rewarding kiss onto your lips, the weightful push leaving an impression in his wake.

“Good, that’s what I wanna hear. I’ll make you feel even better, angel.”

Pulling from your lips, Choso laid his cheek onto your chest. His mouth latched onto the stiffened bud, sealing the fragile mounds between his lips. Gentle flicks of his tongue strummed along your nipple, easing the swell with tender swirls.

In the midst of his worked mouth, Choso allowed for his fingers to sink past the fat of your cunt’s lips. welcomed by the gummy warmth of your folds. A, tracing the clenching curve of your entrance to surfacing at the hood of your clit. To entertain himself, he smothered the glistening bulb beneath his fingers, falling into a series of loose circles.

Each pass of his fingers brought along a spew of fueled mewls from your lips. Choso could feel it all, the stirring. The blood swarming at your clit. Even to his fingers, you grew hotter by the minute. He wasn’t sure just how much more you could take, the overwhelming urge to guide your body to its earned high hounding his mind.

“How ‘bout now, still feels “just” good?” he mocked smugly, the strands of spit thinning from his puffy lips.

You delivered a spool of drunken nods to Choso, swallowing down the pools of drool threatening to spill from your lips. “I-I can feel it, it’s s’ heavy in my tummy but this one feels so different. Fuck, please Choso, ‘m just so close!”

“Shhh, pretty girls don’t beg. Better make it a good one fr’ me, ‘kay?”

Choso’s digits descended from the perked bulb, the essence slicked pads nudging at your slit.

The mere pecks panged at your core as you relaxed in his hold, allowing from the thick of Choso’s fingers to bask in the viscid clasp of your walls. A hefty gasp rang from his chest, spurred from nothing but pure shock.

He hadn’t expected for you to be so tight, leaving his digits to bully your walls for even lick of dominance. He knew you were nothing short of close, from the whites of your eyes now displayed for him and the uncontrollable tremors lining at your legs.

Choso made way to your sweet spot, his fingers placing the wet kisses onto the gummy pad. Unbeknownst to him, the knots within the pits of your tummy unraveled at incomprehensible speeds.

The sudden gush of your essence spilled over his thigh, paired with an empty shrill ripped from your throat. A warm chuckle rang from Choso, bearing witness to your undoing.

“That’s my girl! You look so pretty when you cum!” he cooed, reeling his from between you. Your thigh came into a slamming shut, the wayward quivers licking through your body. Choso pulled you into his chest, large arms crowding about your body. Nuzzling into his care, you buried your face into his navy sweater, the wafting warmth sweeping over you.

You peered at him with a dazed glare. “But Choso, I…I can’t even describe it. It’s like a sudden rush of energy, blood, adrenaline mixed into one. And once it’s there, it takes everything out of you.”

“So in other words–it’s beyond words,” he surmised, granting a giddy smile to curl across his lips. “It’s nothing I could have ever explained, to begin with. You’ve helped me so much, Beautiful. Saying thank you wasn’t cutting it anymore. I’ll put you to bed soon, alright?”

Before officially nodding off into a world of sleep, Choso took to your ear once more to endow you with a final word.

“I’ll be sure to call on you more often.”

thanks for reading ♥︎!

[goodfish-bowl]

Check Your Sources

DP Side Hoes Week 2024 Master Post

Day 2: Jazz Fenton - university times

Summary: Jazz has a misunderstanding with a professor over her selected topic for her paper.

Word Count: 1271

AO3 Link

Jazz Fenton had remembered turning in her psychology paper on ecto-psychology, particularly the role of obsessions in the mental state of Ecto-entities, with utmost confidence. She had meant it as a draft for the final paper she intended to published after the completion of her degree. She had already sent in her paper on Ghost Envy for her application to the college, and it was currently in the process of being peer-reviewed, so she needed something new for her current psychology paper. She had compiled the information for it during her last trip to Amity Park, and organized it into this assignment, including multiple citations both within the ecto-science fields and otherwise, to make sure her paper was well-rounded. She had quadruple-checked everything, from her grammar, to her formatting, to the way she cited each of her sources. 

For these reasons, Jazz was absolutely confounded by the red ink and stark zero written at the top of her returned paper. There was a sticky note attached, telling her to talk to the professor after class.

Jazz glanced between her paper, and the professor in horror. During the course of the term, Jazz had developed a deep respect for Dr. Kaplan, and her work on the psychology of people with PTSD. She must have a good reason for giving her such a poor grade, but the fact she received it at all filled her with mortification. She had never gotten a grade so low in her entire education. Jazz needed to know why, but she couldn’t even figure out what she had done wrong in the first place. In the corner of her mind, she had a sinking suspicion, but hoped with everything she was wrong. 

Jazz spent the entire class in a tizzy. Constantly flipping back and forth between the day’s class-work and her paper. Outside of the first page, the rest of the paper was completely unmarked. Frustration began to simmer underneath Jazz’s skin. How was she supposed to fix this if the professor never even told her what she did wrong?! But it would be fine… she was meeting with the teacher after class anyways. 

From that point forward, class moved forward at a crawl. Jazz still couldn’t pay much attention, and found her notes were much less organized than she would prefer. But when the professor dismissed them, Jazz practically darted to Dr. Kaplan’s podium. 

The professor was a thin, wiry woman, dressed professionally, and looked down upon Jazz from behind equally wiry glasses. She gave Jazz a hard-look, almost one of disdain, and it was only the years of facing the nightmares of Amity Park that kept her from physically recoiling. She removed her eyes from Jazz and gazed around the still-emptying classroom. 

“It might be better to have this conversation in my office,” Dr. Kaplan stated, leaving the room, with Jazz practically at her heels. 

Dr. Kaplan’s office was a fair reflection of the woman herself. Neutral colors, her degree on display, and psychology books lining her singular bookshelf. Her desk was dark wood, and chairs cushions a beige leather. The plant sitting by the window was fake. It was all very professional, and at the same time very impersonal and lifeless. Despite the light colors and the sunlight streaming in through the window blinds, the atmosphere was near stifling. 

The professor took her seat behind the desk, and Jazz hesitated, waiting until Dr. Kaplan gestured for her to take a seat. The seats were more stylish than they were comfortable. She gingerly set her paper on the edge of the desk, sitting board-straight in the chair. 

“Ms. Fenton,” Dr. Kaplan practically sighed, “is there a reason you’re not taking my class seriously?”

The question came completely unexpected. “What are you talking about, Dr. Kaplan? I’ve been giving this class my best efforts,” Jazz pleaded. 

Dr. Kaplan frowned, tapping her carefully manicured, neutrally colored nails against her paper. “This assignment says otherwise.”

Jazz frowned, mentally skimming over the paper. “I… I don’t understand. I’ve followed the assignment criteria almost exactly, I’ve even collected first-hand observations.”

Dr. Kaplan looked like she had sucked a lemon. “Ah, yes,” she said flatly. “Ms. Fenton, while you’ve followed the semblance of the rubric for this assignment to a near exceptional degree, a paper on the theoretical psychology of fictional beings is hardly an acceptable paper topic.” 

 Ah, there it was. Jazz had suspected as much, but it still didn’t calm the simmering frustration, boiling into anger under her skin. 

“Honestly,” Dr. Kaplan continued, “for such a brilliant girl, I can only see the submission of a paper like this as a lack of care, and simply unprofessional to boot. To go as far as to make up sources, as properly cited as they are, is simply-”

It was taking everything within Jazz not to blow up in her professor’s face. Her nails were starting to bite into her palms, and her teeth felt sharp in her mouth as she grit them. Had Dr. Kaplan stopped at the whole ‘ghosts aren’t real’ bit, it wouldn’t have been anything she hadn’t heard before. But to accuse her of lying, and making up sources, that was getting a bit too close to unforgivable. She was losing any respect she had for this professor with every word out of her mouth. 

“Those are real sources and I have recordings of the data I collected myself,” Jazz had to keep herself from hissing. “You’re welcome to check my sources. Of course, due to the analog nature of the recordings, they will require a tape player to view. As for the other second and third hand sources, they are all from qualified journals.” 

“I admire the lengths you’ve gone to make your work of fiction as realistic as possible however-”

“Have you heard of Amity Park before?” Jazz could not stop herself from growling out the question, shooting to her feet, unable to take this sitting down any longer. “Have you done any research to support your claim over mine?”

Dr. Kaplan had a deer-in-headlights expression as Jazz towered over her desk, while also simultaneously adding the only color to her entire office through the reddening of her face. “Are you delusional? Ghosts aren’t real.”

Jazz felt what little ectoplasm that lived under her skin hum in tune with her rage as she slammed a hand down onto the desk, crinkling her paper underneath her wrath. This wasn’t about the grade anymore.

 “Ecto-science is a pseudo-science at worst. It is young and mostly unexplored, but it is hardly fictional. Psychology used to occupy the very same space not too long ago. If you had done any research to check your biases, you would have found this out.” 

Something was burning. 

Jazz quickly snatched her paper back into her hands, gritting her teeth, and reigning in her anger as fast as she could. She cleared her throat hard enough for it to sound like a snarl. 

“It appears your classroom will no longer be a conductive learning environment for me,” Jazz spoke evenly, tone carefully measured. “It would do you well to actually look into the topics your students write about.”

Jazz collected her things, already mentally filing out the required paperwork and emails to the Registar’s Office to have her transferred to a different class. She moved to the doorway and gave her professor a polite nod, ignoring the gobsmacked look on Dr. Kalplan’s face. 

“Have a nice afternoon, Professor.”

Jazz fled the room, dead set in ignoring the hand-shaped burn she had left on her professor’s desk and the smoldering paper in her hands.

[yesimwriting]

Elle!! You should post more best friend!Felix I’m so obsessed with it❤️❤️

hi babe <3 i have sm best friend!felix in the works/drafts,, i've just been busy with midterm,, but i'm finally recovering from a violent case of frat flu so i finally have some energy

and i love you all and best friend!felix very much so have a drabble

----

Felix presses a nail against the wrapper's edge. The waxy paper bends upwards, giving him the leverage needed to tear it off the hard candy. He parts his lips, pressing the lollipop against his tongue.

Cherry. An entire pack of just cherry.

He came close to purchasing his usual variety pack at the corner store while picking up cigarettes, but at the last second, he saw them there. Next to the cashier.

It had been an impulse to trade out the candies. Felix read the word cherry in cartoonish cursive and was immediately reminded of you, of your soft laughter breaking up tipsy kisses. The taste that lingers on cigarettes when you're both drunk enough to convince him to let you try a few puffs of one. It forced him to feel the phantom residue of your lipgloss, to taste it as his lips pressed together.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, you finally look up from the notes in front of you. He can feel a smile tugging itself into place and the warmth that's beginning to tinge his skin. "What?"

You tilt your head slightly, like something about the question's surprised you. Not unusual, sometimes if you study for too long you get a little spacey. He makes a mental note to suggest getting something to eat soon.

You lift your pencil, using it to vaguely gesture in the direction of the wrapper that's still pinched between his fingers. "Those things will rot your teeth."

He pulls the lollipop away from his mouth. "Oh, not for years."

"And by then they'll have invented something better than dentures." The comment is mumbled, your attention already shifting back to your notes.

Felix frowns. He knows that you're the kind of person that takes an invitation to study at the library with someone literally, and he's fine with that. You wouldn't be you if you didn't get caught up in homework every once in awhile, but you still need to come up for air.

He brings the lollipop back to his lips. "Exactly."

You glance again, the corner of your mouth angling itself upwards. It's a look Felix has learned to interpret as a smile you wish you could will away. The lack of intention in the look has him beaming.

There's never any double meaning in your actions. You're never trying to convince him of anything, you're just you. So genuine and warm Felix has to work at not melting in your presence.

"I like your smile." Your voice feels far off in a way that adds an absentminded quality to your voice. Felix can feel an uneasy warmth burning its way up his neck. You don't seem to notice, instead you focus on propping your head up one elbow. "I'd miss it if you got dentures."

Felix folds the candy wrapper between his two thumb and pointer finger. "Good thing you don't have to worry about that." He shifts in his seat, relaxing his back against hard wood. "You'd love me just the same though, right?"

You press your lips together, brow furrowing as you pretend to think about it. Felix rolls his eyes at the extended silence. He extends his leg, tapping his foot against yours beneath the table. You relax your arm, straightening your shoulders as you glare at him.

You hold your ground, pushing the side of your shoe against his. "Fine, I admit it, I'd love you the same."

"Admit it?"

"Well, I think it should go without saying that our bond is deeper than that."

He taps his foot against yours again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, adjusting your hold on your pencil. For a second, he thinks he might be losing you to homework again, but then you say, "Even if you're rotting your teeth."

Felix counters your smug smile with an unimpressed look. "It's cherry flavored."

Your eyes fall back to your notebook. "Then I take back everything I just said."

Without thinking about it, he pulls the lollipop away from his lips. "Wanna try?"

You look up at him, eyebrows pinching together skeptically. "This is how people get colds."

He can't remember you ever worrying about anything like that before. You two have shared drinks, straws, food. This isn't that weird, is it? "We're around each other all the time." You blink, not grasping the connection. "We have to have the same germs at this point."

Your lips briefly part before pressing together. Your gaze shifts from Felix's face to the hand holding out the candy. "...Good point."

He leans forward, extending his arm further. You take the lollipop, popping it into your mouth. "You're why people think we're weird."

Felix scoffs, an attempt at a soft dismissal. He knows what you're referencing. There are comments every now and then, mostly lighthearted, usually mumbled by a girl attempting to make any hint of jealousy seem like anything else.

You two are just...so close. A favorite of theirs, always with a silent are you sure it's not too close tacked onto the end of their sentence. Some of them like to pretend that they're the opposite of bothered by the permanence of your place in his life. It's sweet that your best friend's a girl, most guys would never; or, I love that you guys are good friends, most guys are only friends with girls they want to sleep with. That one tends to make him feel a pinprick of guilt.

"Who thinks we're weird?" The question's lighthearted enough, but he means it. He doesn't like the thought of people making too many of those kind of jokes around you. You're prone to overthinking, and you don't need to start dissecting your friendship with him beneath that lens.

You shrug your shoulders once. "We gross out Farleigh."

The response is easing. Farleigh's opinions aren't much of a threat. You laugh them off or dismiss them with an eyeroll, even when he's not joking. "What isn't he grossed out by?"

"Nothing that falls within the spectrum of human emotion."

He taps his fingers against the table's surface. "And you're all emotion."

You frown, seeming to briefly forget the lollipop in your mouth and its ability to soften even the most withering stares. You must sense his amusement, because your fingers find the lollipop's stick, pulling it away from your face. "All emotion?"

Felix presses his lips together in an attempt to tamp down a smile. You don't fall apart at the slightest inconvenience, but it's not like you're exactly heart of stone. "Compared to Farleigh."

"Sure."

He extends a hand, stealing the lollipop from your fingers. You don't protest, but you do let your lips part in a mock gasp. "Stop. Y'know how I meant it." Felix sets the lollipop back into his mouth, more out of the desire to have something to divide his focus than anything else. "You're just trying to start an argument."

You sit up a little straighter, fingers curling around your pencil. "Am not."

"I think you're starting to feel a little moody." You throw him a dirty look, lips already parting, ready to protest. "Think we need a break."

"What has this been?"

His hand reaches forward, fingers brushing against the back of your palm. "C'mon, let's take a walk, get something to eat."

Your eyebrows pull together in contemplation. You tap your pencil against the side of your notebook. Felix can feel your resolve melting. "Okay..." You agree slowly, shutting the notebook and books in front of you. "We have been here awhile."

"Awhile," he repeats with an affirmative nod.

Before you can finish stacking your school supplies, Felix is standing. He pulls his backpack onto one shoulder before walking around the table. Felix picks up your books before you're fully standing.

"You don't have to carry my stuff."

Felix shakes his head. "It's not heavy, and we'll drop it off in my room before going."

You're a few steps behind him. Felix's gait is naturally longer than yours, and he had an unfair head start. "Then you should let me carry it."

Felix adjusts his hold on your things. "Focus on catching up first."

Even though you're now fully behind him, he can feel your irritated shock. "Lex."

With his back to you, he grins openly. "Way of the world, Lovie."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[the-way-of-words]

Flustered//Nick Folio prompt fic

Nick Folio x Female Reader

Content warnings: casual drug use, unprotected P in V sex, semi public sex, mentions of oral sex, mentions of using emergency contraception (this is a pro choice blog)

contains sexual situations with a fictionalized version of a real person. this is rpf. none of this is real. but if its not your jam, keep scrolling.

So apparently if you have an answered ask scheduled and then you try to move it to drafts, tumblr will just delete the whole thing. But, hey. Hi, anon. Here I am with your prompt fic (smut prompts found here)... about six months later.

If you'd like to request something and are up for possibly waiting, my inbox is back op

Thanks to Illy for being an awesome beta and catching my mistakes 💚

tagging: @throwingmetothelions @agravemisstake @ladyveronikawrites @jxstthisonce @cncohshit @kingdomof-omens

If you'd like to be tagged in any of my works just ask.

Master list can be found here

~~~~~~~

It’s been years since you’ve seen him, since you’ve both been back in town at the same time, and yet here you both are, sitting in your backyard in the hottest part of summer. The heat was miserable, but that wasn’t going to stop your parents from throwing their annual barbeque, especially not with you and your brother home at the same time. 

It didn’t take long for him to show up, and you don’t know if he was home for a visit, or if he came just because your brother called. But you can’t help the way your heart stutters when you walk into the backyard and see him sitting there, engrossed in conversation with your brother, your cheeks coloring when he finally glances over at you. You clear your throat, quickly trying to shake the way your heart skips a beat when he does a double take, because even behind those sunglasses you can see the way his eyes rove your body; taking in every change since he saw you last.

~~

There aren’t a lot of things your brother doesn’t know about you; it's hard to keep secrets from the person you came into the world with, but with Nick Folio, you have more than enough.

Your brother still doesn't know about that time right before graduation when his best friend snuck up to your room where you were waiting for him. Doesn't know that his best friend buried his head between his sister's thighs, using his tongue and fingers to bring her off before using her slick to ease the way as he jerked himself off. He definitely doesn’t know that you took pictures of your cum covered tits to send to Nick sporadically over the next month or so. 

It was never more than that, a few flirty texts here, a conversation or two that skirted the boundaries there. All culminating in that one moment of need, and then he was gone, sequestering himself with his new band. But that's okay, he wasn’t the only one off to bigger and better things, anyway.

But a year later, you found yourselves in the same city for the night; the cheap hotel sheets scratching against your knees as you rose and fell above him. his hands burning like a firebrand on your waist, urging you on until you both found your release. He left early the next morning, with nothing but the bruises on your skin and the red lines from your nails on his as proof that anything ever happened. 

~~

Your dress sticks to your thighs when you sit down and you can feel the heat of his gaze even as he and your brother talk about the last time they went fishing, his eyes stuck on your inked skin as you try to keep your composure. It used to be a favorite pastime of his, to see how quick he could get you to blush. I love making you flustered, he’d say whenever he’d get your cheeks to turn pink; it’s cute. But you like to think you’ve grown up in the years since then, and you’re determined to not let Nick Folio get to you. 

You’re proud of how long you stick it out, putting up with his wandering eyes as the three of you catch up, and it’s nice. The years have made it easy to forget how much you missed having him around. But just when you begin to think you’re in the clear, he corners you in the back of the shed after you slip away once the sun starts getting low on the horizon and people start saying their goodbyes. His voice sounds loud in the quiet space as he interrupts you lighting up a joint. 

“Figured I’d find you here.” For the first time this afternoon, he looks unsure of himself, the usual swagger missing as he stands in front of you, hands buried in the pockets of his black jeans.

Your eyes roll skyward as you inhale, pulling the smoke deep into your lungs before you turn to look at him. “Busted.” A smirk pulls onto your face and you shrug, tilting your face back to avoid blowing the smoke into his face.

Maybe you should have picked a different place for a smoke, but your feet took you to the only place you knew you would be undisturbed. However, it also just so happened to be where you, your brother, and Nick would kick back in high school. Old habits die hard, you guess. 

“Did you follow me here to stare some more?” 

It seems to startle him out of whatever nerves were holding him back, and he huffs, a smile pulling at his mouth. He rolls his shoulders, standing up a little straighter. “I don’t know what you're talking about,” he says, even though his eyes track down to where the joint sits between your lips as you take another hit.

You scoff, a biting retort sitting on the tip of your tongue, but before you can get it out, he steps into your space, electricity sparking at your fingertips when he pulls the joint from you to bring to his own mouth. His intense gaze burns against your skin as you step back, leaning against the old workbench your dad stopped using ages ago. You look around the small space, trying to ignore the way his arm brushes against yours when he settles next to you. Your parents moved out the old couch you and brother found free in front of the neighbors a year after you left for college, boxes now filling the space once occupied by the milk crates the three of you used as a makeshift coffee table. 

But being here with him at your side quietly reminiscing as you pass a joint back and forth almost makes you feel like you’ve been transported back in time.

“You ever think about that night in St. Louis?” 

The peaceful moment shatters just as you inhale a mouth full of smoke, choking on it as it makes its way down your throat. You cough, trying to cover it up before you take a deep breath and scoff as you hand the blunt back to him. “What? As if you do?” 

Out of the corner of your eye, he shrugs, takes another hit, “Sometimes.” Your eyes are drawn to his mouth as he blows the smoke out, and for a moment, you remember just how soft his lips were compared to the scrape of his teeth. The smoke curls between you and you try to think of something, anything else, to avoid the heat growing between your legs as you reach for the joint. But instead of passing it over, he holds it back. 

“Are you really withholding my own shit from me?”

“Answer the question and you just might get it back.” He straightens his arm when you go for it again, holding the blunt out just beyond your reach. You know he has no intention of doing what you ask until he gets his answer, and contrary to popular belief, Nick Folio has the patience of a saint if it’s going to get him what he wants.

A frustrated sigh leaves your lips and your eyes roll as you cross your arms. You level him with a look and throw his own response back at him. “Sometimes.” 

He smirks. “Only sometimes?”

As much as you forgot how much you enjoyed his company, you also seemed to have forgotten what an absolute annoying shit he could be. Because he knows how to push; knows exactly how to dig to get under your skin. However you’ve been here before, played this same song and dance with him over the years, and this time, you refuse to give in. You can tell the minute he realizes he won’t get any more out of you.

He sighs, squinting your direction as he tilts his head. “You know, you used to be a hell of a lot easier to crack.” 

Your head tilts and you shrug. “People change.” 

“You certainly have.” He snorts, exaggerating the way his eyes move over you, just like they have all day. “You didn’t have any of these the last time I saw you,” your breath hitches when one of his fingers traces the shape of the snake on your right thigh, almost hoping he’ll follow the lines of ink up under your skirt. Disappointment curls in your stomach when the warmth of his hand slips away and he must notice because his mouth is curled into a smirk when your gazes meet, his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek, “and you blush nowhere near as easily as you used to.” 

Like prey caught in a predator’s sights, you freeze, holding your breath as he studies your face, only feeling free to exhale when he takes a step back. You gesture to the dying joint in his hand refusing to focus on the butterflies swirling in your belly. “Okay, I answered your question, can you give me my shit back and let me finish it out in--”

You pause mid sentence as you watch him take a hit, anger flaring in your chest as you watch him finish it off. “Are you fucking kidding me??” 

You scoff when he crooks his finger, but all he does is tilt his head, raising an eyebrow and it’s almost as if you can hear him goad you. C’mon. You know you want to.  

And perhaps you shouldn't. You've indulged this for too long, despite your better judgment, you do. “Fine,” you mutter, pushing off the workbench and into his space. He cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing against yours as he blows the smoke into your open mouth. You’re not sure if it's the marijuana or his closeness, but you feel dizzy as you inhale, hands gripping his wrists to steady yourself. 

You’re very aware of the fact that he moves first, walking you back against the workbench, but you meet him halfway; slotting your mouths together and slipping your tongue between his parted lips. He groans, fitting his body against yours as he nudges his thigh in between yours and heat sparks anew in your belly when he presses the thick muscle against your core. 

You pull away from his mouth to hoist yourself up, spreading your thighs as soon as you’re settled and pulling him back against you.

Your hands move on autopilot, tugging open his pants and shoving his underwear down as he pulls you to the edge of the tabletop. He hooks two fingers in the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side and slips the head of his cock inside you. Your mouth falls open with a quiet gasp at the stretch, head falling back as he sinks himself deeper and deeper until you’re flush together. 

Nick curses and cups the back of your head to pull you into a kiss as he grinds into you before breaking away.

“Shit,” his fingers drum against your thigh, “do—do you think there’s still some condoms in here?” 

You snort. “Probably? But I don’t know how good they’d be. Last time any of us were in here was--”

“Senior year.” He finishes for you with an exasperated laugh. Nick sighs, squeezing your waist one last time before he moves to back away. But you don’t let him. Your feet lock behind his back and your thighs hold him close. Your name sounds like a benediction when it leaves his lips.

“You just said…” 

“I know, but I still want to.” You say, rushing to add, “If you still want to.” 

“Yeah?” There’s a blush on his cheeks as his dick kicks inside you and you can’t help yourself.

You skim a finger across the flushed skin. “I love making you flustered… It’s cute.”

“When did you get so damn mouthy?” He asks with a roll of his eyes, groaning quietly when you clench around him for a beat. 

A self-satisfied smirk pulls on your mouth. “I’ve always been this mouthy. You’re just not used to it anymore.” You slide your fingers through the short hair on the back of his head as he huffs and pulls his hips back. “But if you cum in me, you’re buying me a Plan B.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He replies right before he thrusts back into you sharply. 

While you’re aware how stupid this is, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he wraps an arm around your back to hold you close as the table beneath you shudders and shifts with every thrust of his hips. Pleasure lights across your nerves as the new angle has his cock grazing along that one spot inside you that always works you closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck.” You curse. “I’m gonna--”

“Yeah? You gonna cum?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as you nod. “C’mon, then, cum for me. C’mon,” he taunts quietly into your ear and you hate how it’s that easy, how you seem to do it on his command. 

Your pussy clamps down on his shaft as your inner muscles work him and you bury your face in his neck to smother the noise you can’t hold back. His arm tightens around you and his rhythm slips, muttering a litany of curses until he suddenly stills, warmth flooding your cunt as he releases into you. 

His forehead comes to rest against yours, your breath mingling as the two of you come down. It almost feels tender, this moment in the afterglow, and it's easy to get lost, to let the rest of the world fall away where the only things that matter are him and you here together. But the world comes rushing back when you hear your brother's voice right outside the shed, sending the two of you scrambling away from each other.

You hold your breath as you pull your dress back down, straightening it out while Nick rushes to pull his pants up. He gets his belt buckled just in time for your brother to round the boxes blocking you from view. 

“Heyyy,” you try to keep your voice steady and aim for a casual air, but it’s no use. Not for the first time, you find yourself cursing the twin intuition as he crosses his arms and levels the both of you with a look.

“Really dude? My sister??” 

Your and Nick’s voices mix together as you both try to spout off some excuse, but your brother just holds his hand up, waiting for you to fall silent before he sighs. “Have you guys been hooking up this whole time since St. Louis?”

“What?! No. Absolutely not!”

“How do you know about that?!”

You speak at the same time again and you swear you watch your brother age at least five years, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I honestly don’t know which option I dislike more… Did you really think Janey wouldn’t tell me—fuck.” He cuts off, eyes wide. “I owe her twenty bucks.”

“Did you and your wife really bet on us?” Nick asks incredulously.

“You,” Your brother’s finger points at Nick, “just fucked my sister. You don’t get to be offended.” He sighs again. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but, you hurt her, I will come after you, clear?”

“Uh… yes?” 

“Good.” Your brother nods and turns to go, pausing to turn back and face you. “Actually, mom told me to tell you to stop smoking weed in the shed.”

You have the courtesy to at least wait until the door shuts behind him before you let the hysterical laughter burst forth, falling into Nick as it takes over and he joins you. The air feels charged when it finally subsides and your eyes meet. He regards you with a soft look, and it pulls at your insides. It almost feels like he’s going to kiss you again, but then he sighs. 

“Come on.” He takes your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. “Pretty sure I owe you a trip to CVS.”

~fin.

[tossawary]

Someone responded, "Howl would do chores for Sophie! He loves her so much!" to that Prince Turniphead house-boyfriend post about the "Howl's Moving Castle" movie where I said that Howl wouldn't reliably help around the house. And... no. No, I said RELIABLY, that's a really important word here, but also no.

Nothing about his home setup (the mess of the kitchen in the beginning, the RAINBOW BATHROOM, his cluttered bedroom) suggests that he's in the habit of picking up after himself. I don't think he's purposefully a slob, but I do think he's too distractible and thoughtless to do the required regular cleaning. I think he's a "I'll put this down here for now and deal with it later *proceeds to walk around this object every day for the next three years while doing more interesting / immediate things*" person at best. Being in love does not suddenly change all your habits as a person or your personal interests! I think Howl would definitely try (important word here) to do better for Sophie, but I think it would take a lot of work and he's kind of lazy about these things!

I do think he cooks. Movie Howl IS shown cooking with Calcifer and I think he and his fire demon could have fun with that task, very cute, and leave a mountain of dishes behind them in the process.

Also, (trying to limit referencing the books for those who haven't read them, but I can't resist here) Book Sophie is... kind of controlling and loves to complain? And can also do magic herself? When I said that Howl can't be trusted to RELIABLY do chores, it's partly because I don't think he'd be doing them to 1) Sophie's exacting standards and 2) in the EXACT way that Sophie wants it done. I think Sophie would in many cases decide that it's easier just to train Howl to better stay out of her way, honestly.

Especially because HOWL IS A WIZARD!!! You can't fucking trust those assholes with a simple chore! It doesn't occupy their brains enough and they're ALWAYS going to think, "I bet I could invent a spell to do this for me," and that's how you get floating dishes or animated broomsticks or a fucking water spirit in your house. It's the hubris! Can't smack it out of wizards with a stick!

Howl swallowed a star and made a deal with a fire demon! He built a giant walking castle that was holding together JUST using magic (it completely fell apart at the end of the movie) and wandered freely around the country! He was pretending to be two different people to run businesses and then abandoned the buildings when the government caught up to him! I'm pretty sure he used a magic spell to SQUAT in Sophie's family's former hat shop! He impersonated the king! He dodged the draft literally afterwards in an airship battle! He nearly irreversibly turned himself into a bird monster and fought bombing airships by HIMSELF - and there's no way that Sophie wasn't confusedly picking black feathers off the floor. He summoned the spirits of darkness and started turning into ooze because his hair dye came out the wrong color!

Howl would TRY for Sophie, I believe that. I just also think that he'd rather use magic to completely renovate the entire house than actually scrub floors. I think he would invent an incredibly ugly magical vacuum cleaner for her and Sophie would love it so much that she would choose to overlook the fact that it tries to eat the carpet and curtains and the dog sometimes. I think that if Book Sophie was told she could melt wizards with a bucket of soapy water with a little bit of lemon juice (like the Enchanted Forest Chronicles), she COULD DO IT by choosing to believe it, and Howl hides from her and that bucket because he loves her but she's TERRIFYING.

If Sophie's sister Lettie was visiting and Sophie was panicking because she hadn't had the time to dust on top of the guest room wardrobe... whatever the magical equivalent of shoving all of your stuff into a closet at the last minute to make the place LOOK clean is, THAT's how Howl would help.

[theunbearableweightofpedropascal]

Angel

Summary: Coming home from college without a degree has you scrambling to find your place in the world. Charlie just might be your savior.

A/N: I was thinking this would be set around eclipse. This was in the drafts for a while.

Warnings: Besides an age gap (reader in her 20s Charlie in his 40s) there is none.

Word Count: 3.1K

You didn’t expect your life to turn out the way it did, and neither did the people of Forks. If the confused looks you would get on the way into town were anything to go by. You had been a stellar student, assignments were early if not on time, and teachers never had a bad thing to say about you. You graduated and moved on to college like everyone would expect, but college was harder. It wasn’t even the work, it was you. 

For once you had no set path, everyone else just seemed to know what they wanted to do. After 2 years you realized how far behind you felt you decided to take a break. If you didn’t know what you wanted to do you were just wasting time and money. The loneliness set in soon after too. Although you have friends they’re all off doing their things, making their place in the world. 

Your dad helped if only by sending cringe Facebook posts captioned “It’s never too late.” His efforts were much appreciated but it’s not a good feeling when you feel like you are in last place for a race you didn’t even know you were running. Staying holed up in your room won’t help but at least you won’t have to run into anyone you know. You hate feeling like such a disappointment even though your parents assured you that would never be the case.

After a few weeks of licking your wounds, you started looking for jobs. You reach downtown and begin combing through your options. All of which would require you to run into people who would ask too many questions that you do not want to answer. Forks was already limited in what they had and if you wanted to avoid working for the Newton family your choices were much more slim. But you do take note of it just in case. Syphering through your selections you almost want to give up.

Turning the corner you bump smack into another person, you brace yourself for a fall that doesn’t come. Peeking through one eye you make out a badge and ‘C. Swan’. You immediately straighten yourself up after realizing you just bumped into Chief Swan. 

“You alright-”

“I’m so sorry-”

The both of you speak at the same time, a loud silence fills the air as you both stare at each other. Your wide eyes and his furrowed brow. You snap out of it first and bend down to pick up your fallen pamphlets, The Chief crouches down to help you. 

“You don’t have to do that Chief Swan.” He ignores you in favor of picking up the rest, stealing a glance at them before handing them back to you. 

“Charlie’s fine.” He scratches his head before telling you, “Since you’re looking we could use another receptionist down at the station.” Charlie took pity on you, Although he isn’t one for gossip everyone’s been talking about how you came back from university without finishing. He knows what it feels like to be lost especially in a town like Forks. 

“Really?” The prospect of working at the station was much better than any option sitting in your hands. “Is there anything for me to fill out?”

“No just stop by on Monday and I’ll have Helen walk you through everything.” His mouth forms into what you think is a half-smile, and you return it tenfold.

The conversation with Charlie was so refreshing you’re unsure why out of all the people in Forks he was the one to make you feel normal. You realize it’s because he’s the first person to not question or probe why you’re back here. Working at the station doing administration would be perfect. On your way home you mentally comb through your closet for appropriate clothes you can wear to the station for work. The combination list isn’t huge but you could make it work.

……..

Monday morning you awake at 6:00 am to begin getting ready, he never mentioned a time but you imagine how bad you would look strolling in there at 1:00 pm. You decide on black stretchy office pants, a chocolate sweater, and white sneakers that are comfortable enough to do sustainable walking. Grabbing your backpack you pack your essentials and bid your father goodbye before heading off.

On the way in you have enough time to stop for some coffee so you order for yourself and Charlie as a thank you. You make sure to get his black with no sugar, though you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover you can’t imagine he enjoys cremer. The last stretch of your walk toward the station has your heart pounding. You're not even sure what you are nervous about it shouldn’t be that hard since it’s Forks.

The station smells like stale coffee and mothballs, the atmosphere is mostly static but that’s given. Upon walking up to the front desk you see an older redhead who you assume is Helen. You smile as you approach her and she returns one.

“Excuse me, Chief Swan said to come up here for you to train me on administration stuff.” You hope Charlie actually talked to her.

“Of course, he told me about you yesterday dear follow me.” You set down your coffee before being given the grand tour. After a minute you’re back at the front being directed on your daily duties. Most of which is pretending to look busy, Helen prefers solitaire on her computer to get her through the day. On the other hand, you brought a book that remains hidden behind the ancient monitor in front of you. 

You thought about bringing Charlie his coffee but his office lights are off and his doors are locked so he must be out patrolling already. Within 45 minutes you’re given your first task of making more coffee, while the water pours out you see Charlie step into the break room. His eyes look surprised to see you but his face doesn't change, he peers around you toward the coffee maker before he can ask you to tell him. 

“I bought you coffee on the way in, it is at the front desk.” You quickly leave the break room to get it before he can react. On your way back you inform him, “Black, no sugar, no cream.”

“Thank you.” As he takes the cup your hands brush his, and he can feel the increased beating of his heart. It’s the most contact he’s had with a woman. He likes it. Your bright smile gives him that butterfly feeling he hears Bella talk about with her friend.

“No thank you, Sher- Charlie I appreciate the opportunity.” He waves off your thanks as if he does stuff like this all the time. 

“You adjusting OK?” He finds he wants to keep conversation with you despite his nature. You may be surprised but you don’t show it, enjoying this interaction.

“Yes, Helen is nice and I get to just pretend to work all day.” You bump your hip against him before you can think better of it.

Charlie surprises you with a deep chuckle, It’s not a full-blown laugh but it’s more than enough. It’s no secret that Charlie is one of the more attractive men in Forks, but you didn’t think of him like that until now. Not many men could pull off the 70s pornstache, or his grumpy attitude without being a complete ass. Your thoughts are interrupted by Charlie leaning down to speak quietly to you.

“Well let me know if you need more books to keep you busy Bella’s got tons of those romance ones.” He rolls his eyes playfully and nods his head before heading to his office. 

In the wake of his leave, you revel in the way his deep voice felt so close to your ear. However, you don’t dwell on his actions too much because there is no way he was flirting with you. Making your way back to the front desk you see Helen packing up to leave, she informs you she’s taking lunch. 

Charlie lets out an exasperated sigh at the stack of paperwork waiting for him when he unlocks his office. The coffee you brought him goes straight down like a shot, he appreciates the fact that you knew he wouldn’t like the extra bullshit. Throughout his shift, he sneaks peeks at you. He pauses when he sees you talking on the phone, telling himself he’s only checking to make sure you don’t need help. But the way your lips move has him in a trance, he snaps out of it before you can catch him. 

Even though he spent a fair amount of time staring at you he managed to complete over half of his paperwork. He’s overdue for a break and he knows you could use one since you never took a lunch.  

You have been manning the phones even after Helen came back, you know you should’ve taken your 1-hour lunch but you were in a groove. At least until Charlie strolled up beside you to see what you were doing. You could smell Irish Spring wafting off of him with a hint of laundry detergent. 

“You busy?” It was a loaded question on his part but he didn't want to just command you to come with him. 

“Not for the Chief.” You turn your body towards him to prove your words, and in return the corner of his mouth lifts almost like a smile.

“Lunch on me then?” He asks you with his hands balled in his pockets.

“I’ll never turn down a free lunch.” You turn to Helen to check that she’ll be okay, and she gives you a wink nodding her head toward the chief telling you to ‘have fun’. You raise our eyebrows at the implication.

On the way out Charlie gets the door, and his veiny forearm peeks out from his uniform. You wouldn’t say you have a thing for hairy guys but yet again Charlie somehow makes it work. Luckily you could blame the frigid breeze for your flustered expression. You follow his lead to the cruiser and he opens your door for you again. Your bashful expression after thanking him goes straight to his lower stomach, it’s been a while since a woman looked at him so fervently. 

Once he’s in the cruiser a comfortable silence fills the air, and you think of all the things you could bring up with him later in the diner. So far all you’ve come up with are sports and books but honestly, that should be more than enough for Charlie. Orange leaves take up most of the ground, a warning for the upcoming months. The diner is the same as always when you pull up, you open the door before Charlie can hustle his way to where you are. The stern look he gives you only makes your sudden attraction to him worse. 

The bell above the door alerts Cora to your presence. Charlie saddles up right behind you urging you forward with his hand on your middle back. Walking past the patrons, you can feel the questioning stares. But you’re sure Charlie won’t pay them any mind so neither do you. At the booth, Charlie gestures for you to slide in first.

Cora turns to you for your order since she already knows Charlie’s by heart.

“I’ll do a burger and fries with a sprite please.” You smile at Cora as she takes down your order. 

“So,” You turn to Charlie, “What’s been going on in the sports world?” 

Charlie’s side glance is enough to make you laugh. “Steelers are cleaning up, they have a path to the Super Bowl.” He didn’t mean to look at you crazy but it was the first time in a while someone was genuinely interested in his interests. The flutters in his stomach make another appearance. 

“My dad’s a cowboy fan so it’s the same thing every year.” Charlie snorts at that. 

The sound of plates landing in front of you ends your and Charlie’s moment. Looking up your eyes meet Cora’s and you thank her before she leaves again. You and Charlie waste no time digging into your food. With all of your fries and most of your burger gone you throw in the towel, leaning back against the booth.

“You gonna eat that?” Charlie eyes the rest of your burger.

“No, you can have it.” After your acceptance, he finishes it in one quick bite. You wish you didn't find that attractive.

……….

After your first lunch together many were shared, Charlie would always schedule his break around yours to make sure you ate. He also wanted to spend time with you when the opportunity would lend itself. The feeling was mutual, you put in more effort with your work outfits and make-up. Every morning you would stop to get Charlie coffee on the way in, and Helen would always give you sly smiles. You figured she picked up on the undertones of your and Charlie’s interactions, but unlike most people, she kept it to herself.

That didn’t stop others from probing you about your “Diner Dates” with the Chief. When you were collecting produce a few older women came up to you under the guise of concern. They told you getting with a man that age wouldn’t be good for any girl your age, while it was good advice you know it wasn’t given with good intentions. Instead, you pretend to not know what they are talking about effectively outing their ill-informed gossip. Charlie also hadn’t shown any initiative to ask you out on an actual date so you’re unsure where the fuel is coming from. 

The next day at work you decide to pull back seeing as the entire town somehow thinks you both are dating. You took your lunch before Helen, the words of the older ladies on replay in your head. Sure it was the wrong messenger but it was the right message you don’t know what you were thinking. 

It didn’t last a day, Charlie came by the desk deliberately when Helen took her lunch. 

“Hey there’s some discrepancies with the evidence log of Riley’s stuff, can you help me sort through it.” Though he posed it as a question he began to walk toward his office immediately. 

Once you’re in the office he shuts the door behind you before he moves to stand in front of his desk.

“I just uh wanted to check that everything was alright,” He clears his throat before continuing, “That you feel comfortable or if there’s something I’ve done.” After he finishes your face morphs to shock.

“No of course not, I just know there’s been some gossip around town about us dating and figured I’d have lunch by myself.” Charlie’s eyebrows furrow at your admission.

“I haven’t heard anything did someone say something to you?” His voice drops at the thought of anyone badgering you about this. 

“It’s not a big deal, and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfo-” He cuts you off with a deadpan stare. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable with people thinking a woman out of my league is dating me?” His definitive words leave you stunned. “It is a big deal, do you remember who it was?”

“No it’s fine Charlie really,” You try to convince him.

“It’s not if means you don’t go to lunch with me.” He gripes.

“I didn’t realize you enjoyed my company that much.” You stare at him until he returns your gaze.

“Well I do.” He assures you.

The both of you stand in front of each other in silence, the smile grows bigger on your face at Charlie’s confession. 

“Does this mean you want to go on a date with me?” You inch your way closer to him, gently tugging his tie. 

“Of course I do, I was working my way up to it.” He swallows hard when he feels you get even closer to him. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes never stray from his as your smile widens. Charlie’s eyes fall to your lips just as quickly as he looks away. You grab his hands placing them on your waist before bringing your lips to his ear. “How about now?” 

Charlie’s hands firmly grip your waist when he feels your warm breath tickle his ear. His pants grow tighter when your perfume invades his nostrils. When you reer back to look at him he wastes no time planting his lips on yours. His mustache tickles underneath your nose but you respond back with the same fervor. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, Charlie groans at your eagerness. 

Your hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck to play with the hair on the back of his neck. When his tongue licks your bottom lip you eagerly open your mouth to him, pressing your chest against his. Charlie lets his hands dip to cup your ass through the jeans you’re wearing, earning himself a pretty moan from you. The way his tongue licks into your mouth gives you ideas of what else he would be good at. 

But all good things come to an end, and a knock at the door sends you two flying apart. You immediately focus on fixing yourself so it doesn’t look like you were in a make-out session with your boss. A folder catches your eye and you pick it up hoping to look busy. Helen peeks her head in to let Charlie know Bella is getting dropped off by Edward. Charlie’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the mention of his daughter’s boyfriend, you can’t stop the giggle that pours out of you. 

Helen slips back out and Charlie walks over to the far corner you’ve placed yourself in. “It’s a little backward now but would you let me take you out on a proper date?” 

“I’ll have to check my schedule.” You smile up at him knowing he knows you’re joking.

“How does Saturday at 7 sound?” He bends down to your ear before continuing, “I know a nice Italian place in Port Angeles.” When he pulls back he is glad to see the bashful expression on your face. He’s still got it. 

“It sounds great Charlie.” You get on your tip toes to peck him on the cheek before exiting his office. 

On the way to your desk, you see Edward and Bella sitting in the waiting chairs talking. As you sit down you see Bella’s head snap in your direction, her and Edward's conversation halting. You pretend to do work as usual until Charlie comes out to greet Bella and grunt in Ed’s direction. 

[arcielee]

It's Not Tonight

Summary: Tom Bennett slips in through your window. Paring: Tom Bennett x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: Tom is a scoundrel, angst from a one night stand, masturbating, a smidge of voyeurism, kissing, grinding, sexual memories recalled fondly but also bitterly, overstimulation kinda? Author's Note: It has been one year since I last wrote for Tom fucking Bennett and what better way to commemorate that than something short and smutty? This takes place end of episode 1 and beginning of episode 2, for season 1 WoF. Thank you so much my beloved @helaelaemond for being my muse, for your help with this piece! Without you, it would have just been sitting in my drafts. 💜 Dividers are by @saradika-graphics 💜

It had been two weeks since Tom slipped through your bedroom window, his features pink from the night’s cold air and a boyish grin curled on his lips. You squeaked your surprise, your eyes wide as he pressed close to kiss, the contrast of his cold nose and hot mouth making your skin rise, tasting the pint he must’ve finished before he came tapping on your window pane. 

“Be quiet, pretty girl,” he had said, a murmur against your lips, and you sighed sweetly, his tongue pushing past your lips for another deep kiss. “We don’t want to wake no one.” 

This was true, as your father would often vocalize on how much he loathed, “that damn Bennett.” You quietly pulled him towards your bed. 

The next morning, your sheets held the tangy sweet scent of the euphoria he had pulled from you–several times–mixing with the cigarette smoke and a musk that was so distinctly his own. As you pulled them off to wash, you noticed his navy blue overcoat he had tossed onto your chair. You grabbed it as well, smiling with the thought it would be clean for when he came back.

But he did not come back that night, or the next one. 

It was now fourteen fucking days since that night together. Though your agitation with Tom Bennett was not as adamant on your every expression, something pointed out by your mother, it still thrummed beneath in such a way that rattled your bones. His coat was now clean and folded across the armrest, a mockery of that short-lived bliss.

You were on your bed and reliving the warmth of his voice that had tickled the shell of your ear, how his fingers so carefully peeled away your nightgown and the undergarments you had worn, the gentle nip of his mouth that trailed towards your core…

You burned with this memory, same as you had that night, rutting your nightgown to your hips, your fingers touching and trailing back up the damp fold of your underwear that was shaped to your lips before you dipped below the waistband. Your arousal was slick between your folds, a slow circular motion, just as Tom had done. 

When he did, he had asked you, “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” 

That arrogant bastard–but your scoff came out as a soft moan, followed with his name spilling from your lips, breathless and still wanting, “Tom…”

“Yes, love?”

The voice struck cold against your spine, your hand pulling back and your eyes snapping open to see his lean figure pulling through your window. You struggled to find your voice. “I…” you were now burning from how Tom looked over you, aglow, aware, with his damn cheeky, boyish grin splayed across his perfect mouth, “...where the hell have you been?”

Tom only hummed in response, still smirking as he peeled off his shirt, his pale chest stained pink, and climbing onto your bed. You parted your legs to let him rest into the cradle of your hips, the nip of his skin against your plush thighs making your skin rise. 

When you tried to move the offending hand, he was quick to catch your wrist, the crystalline blue of his eyes boring into you, and you stared at him a moment, watching as he brought your hand closer, pressing your middle and ring fingers to his tongue, his hot mouth closing and suckling them clean. 

Your mouth opened with a soft gasp, squirming under his weight, from the sensation of his tongue licking your fingertips. He pulled your hand back with a lewd pop and let it fall back to your side, his grin still cheeky and now almost smug. 

“They had me on remand for two weeks,” his voice was low, the blue in his eyes bright, “I came here to celebrate, but I see you started already…” 

You should have pushed him off and then back out the window he crawled in from, but your body betrayed you with a warmth pooling between. Instead, you pushed to your elbows, one hand reaching to cup the back of his neck to pull him closer for a kiss, tasting the remnants of yourself, your tongue curling against the roof of his mouth. 

Tom groaned, low, returning the passion until your breath was a heated exchange. He shifted his slender hips with a slow grind against your clothed cunt and you moaned softly, nails biting into his shoulders. He reached between, his fingertips almost tickling with his touch. 

“So wet,” and he was still smug, “and it’s all for me.” 

Your eyes were glazed already, your skin warming as you processed what he said, but before a smart comment could pass your kiss-swollen lips, his hot mouth moved to reclaim yours again. He was hard already and you could feel him, pressing against the seams of his pants, pressing against you until your heart rate could now be felt in your cunt. 

“Tom,” you moaned again, your hips lifting for the friction, “I need you.”

He pulled to lay onto his back, unfastening his buttons while you slipped your panties off. You moved to straddle him, his slender frame caught between your plush thighs and his cock hard and flushed and pressed upwards, nearly touching his belly button, slotted between your soft lips. Black now almost swallowed the brilliant blue of his eyes when they focused on your nipples that were peeking beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown; you could feel him pulse beneath you. 

Tom pushed up for another kiss, fumbling to help remove your final layer, your bare chest flushed against his as he pulled you close, and his chest hair tickled. His mouth moved towards the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest, the glisten of his spit with every intimate kiss placed.

Your back arched in response, rolling your hips against him. You reached to line him with your entrance, slowly sinking onto his length; you are wet, but there was a stretch still, a fullness that Tom fucking Bennett possessed, and it was delicious. 

“Stop clenching,” he gritted once he was fully sheathed within. Your hands moved to his chest, pushing him to lay back against the pillows; it was your turn to wear the smug smirk. 

His eyes fluttered as you slowly rocked against him, so deep you swore you saw sparks when he bottomed out. His grip dimpled with the hold he had on your hips, lifting his own in response to your motion. You gasped, soft in the quiet of the bedroom, and he repeated the movement. 

“Fucking hell,” he rasped, setting a pace that sent a tingling sensation to the ends of your appendages, returning to claw at your lower core. “You feel fucking perfect.” 

You are without words, your fingertips digging red crescents onto his pale chest for balance, chasing after your pleasure. The flutter of your walls around him had Tom groaning. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, and one of your hands lifted to touch his bottom lip and, again, his mouth closed around, his tongue coating them with his spit. You pulled back and slipped them between your blossom above where his in-and-out pace continued, a milky white ring forming around his base. 

The touch was the tipping point, spilling your climax with a clenching response to the shuddering euphoria that rippled through you. You struggled to stay quiet and Tom was quick to roll you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress. 

His large hand pressed over your mouth to muffle you, sliding back in and returning to his same brutal pace. You whimpered against his palm, still very sensitive with the final waves of your last release that was trilling your spine. 

“One more for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, and your tears were already pearling, your walls clenching with your second peak–not as intense as the first, but a prolonged pleasure with the stuttering of his hips. 

Tom pulled back, still hunched over you with his tension present in his shoulders and neck, his brow focused in a furrow as he pumped his fist, his pearly spend spilling from his flushed cockhead and across your stomach. He paused, leaning close to touch his forehead to yours, a sticky sheen from his peak, before his jaw tilted up to press a messy kiss to your hairline. 

“Alright then.” 

You blinked and he was gone, already standing and tucking himself back into his slacks before reaching to toss your nightgown to your grasp. You could already feel the heat of your returned anger spilling into your bloodstream, replacing the sweetness you felt only moments before. “You taking off to disappear another two weeks then?” Your voice was tight with the question. 

His crooked grin flashed as he crawled back onto the mattress, his mouth hot and consuming, his kiss slow and searching until it drew a small noise from you. Then Tom pulled back again, grabbing his shirt. “I have somewhere to be tomorrow.”

“Court date?” You were flushed from the kiss, but your bitter tone remained.  

“They only let me out cause I said I’d join up, but I had a change of heart on the way over,” he finished the last buttons before tucking it into the waist of his slacks, his perpetual smirk playing on his lips, “I’m a conscientious objector.” 

His Mancunian drawl emphasized the final two words. “You’re a scoundrel is what you are, Tom.”

Tom only hummed, grabbing his coat and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “You would not have me any other way,” and he moved to steal another kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue that stirred your blood again. 

But before your fingers could move to comb through his sandy locks, he pulled away, disappearing out through your window and into the night. 

You fell back onto your sheets with their tangy sweet scent of the intimacy shared, of cigarette smoke and the musk that was so distinctly Tom fucking Bennett’s. 

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl

arcie's ewanverse masterlist

[chuuyanakaharalegalwife]

Negotiation (Dazai x Reader)

Pushing the chubby Dazai agenda, he's so cute! Look at his little belly, im gonna cry it's so cute!! Missing him terribly.

In which we bribe him with affection and feed him

Read my other dazai oneshots here & here This has been in my draft for soo long, but I got a job and forgot about it. Happy late Diwali!

Bye now - Mars ♡

Out of everything you saw yourself doing this year, dating an overdramatic enigmatic manchild who whines like a baby was not one of them.

How did you get here? You started officially dating Dazai a few months ago, you two were exclusive. Before that you probably fooled around for a year, flirting here and there, and going on dates, random hook ups but somewhere along the way, you fell for each other. Hard.

It did have a trial and error period and you did have to set some firm boundaries, because as much as fooling around with him was fun, you craved the security of knowing this wasn’t some meaningless fling to him.

Fast forward to being exclusive with Dazai, he’s an amazing partner. His genius brain is quick to pick up on even the smallest changes and he reads you like an open book. He’s affectionate and he always finds money, granted never his own, to spend on you. He’s great in bed and he’s sweet with words. The list goes on. He’s almost perfect.

However, he’s not the best at opening up, he can talk your ear off without revealing a single thing about his mind. His heart. He also tends to neglect himself very much, at first you thought it was just temporary work stress but even when he’s away from work he does it.

At first you noticed how he only puts in efforts when you’re around, and the longer your relationship went on, the less effort he made. The biggest issue you have is how he so carelessly skips meals. It makes you angry but after some thoughts and rants to your cat, you’ve decided to bribe him.

You wanted to be subtle about it but honestly, he probably already picked up on it. You’re convinced he just allows you to do what you want.

You started off small and your plan was to gradually build him up to regular meals.

The first time you did it, it was as simple as feeding him a bite from your snack. A simple yogurt bowl with fruits and a “Mm, try this, it’s good” and stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of yogurt and berries.

That became a regular habit you did, giving him small bites of your snacks whether that be protein bars, cookies, chocolates. This then transferred into your meals, purposefully adding more to your plate so you can whine about not finishing it and offering the rest to him so he can.

That didn’t last long, he quickly caught on your little act and urge you to feed it to your cat instead.

Then the brilliant idea of bribing him with kisses and affection to eat came about. It started with an argument and then you two not speaking for two days. Angry as you were, you decided to deny him of your hugs and you two slept with you backs to each other, you slept at least. Dazai stayed up and drank his feelings. The second night he didn’t even come home, God knows where he were.

The third day you two resolved your little conflict and with some probing, sweet words, kissing and negotiation you got Dazai to eat at least one full meal a day.

You both agreed on that. Baby steps, one meal a day, it’s better than drinking alcohol and eating tinned crab almost every day.

Right now, you were both on the couch, you on his lap with his arms lazily slung around you. You had a small bowl of rice and stir-fried vegetables along with some eggs.

You held the chopsticks up to his lips and looks at him in his eyes, “Please” you looked down at his lips, “For me” you watched as he hesitantly opened his mouth and took the food and chewed and swallowed.

Placing a kiss on his forehead you praised him for his first bite.

Then you repeated that until the bowl of food was almost finished, feeding him, kissing him, praising him.

After he managed to finish, you placed the bowl down and caress his cheeks, “You did so good, m’proud” you mumbled and kisses him. Your hands cupped his face, lips brushing against his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the crease of his brows, his temple, his jawline. Just anywhere your lips found, you placed sweet kisses.

He smiled and you felt like you’d melt away and fall off the couch if it weren’t for his arms around you. “Thank you, Bella” He mumbles quietly, and you can’t help but capture his lips in another sweet kiss. You feel his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer to him as he desperately returns your kiss.

He pulls away from you, his brows furrowed, and he belched and it catches you off guard. Dazai looks at you, awaiting your reaction and when he saw your smile and heard a little giggle, it triggered his own smile.

“I really am proud of you, Osamu”

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Ruin My Life

————————————————————————-

summary: Joe falls for someone he probably shouldn’t fall for.

warnings: none

pairing: joe burrow x reader

————————————————————————-

(joe’s pov)

she was beautiful.

y/n Brown, the granddaughter of Mike Brown.

I watched her from afar, knowing I could never act on the crush I’d gained on her over the years just because her grandpa owned the team.

it started my rookie year. I noticed this extremely attractive girl, who looked to be around the same age as me, sitting in a golf cart next to Mike one day at practice. she was sitting on her phone and not even paying attention to the practice. I was too nervous to approach her after being told she was the owner's granddaughter so I stayed watching her from three fields over, taking longing glances during water breaks, looking over at her after I made a good play just to see if she had seen it too.

it was stupid of me to think she’d ever talk to me, the only time she did was after my knee injury. still yet, her just asking “Hey, you doing better?” or “how’s your knee today?” in the hallway of the facility only made my crush worse.

all the guys noticed. Ja’marr and Sam teased me about it, finding the fact that I’d still had the crush a year later.

when we won the AFC Championship in 2022, we were celebrating in the locker room when y/n came striding up to me wearing a grin on her face and a championship hat matching mine.

“hey, champ! you did great out there, and I’m proud of how far you’ve come this season. I know last year was hard for you but you’ve come back better than ever. I look up to you, Joe.” - you smiled

“thank you, y/n. it means a lot to hear you say that.” - Joe

she moved to hug me but I stopped her.

“I’m like really sweaty, I probably stink.” - Joe

“I don’t care!” - you hugged him

when she pulled away from me, her arms were still around my waist as mine were around hers.

“Do you really hug all your grandpa's players like this?” - Joe

“not really. just my favorites.” - you grinned

“I’m a favorite?” - Joe laughed

“you are my favorite.” - you

“why’s that?” - joe

“mm, you’re the sweetest player, most genuine, cocky in only good ways, you’ve got the most heartwarming smile, and not to mention the fact you’re extremely cute.” - you

“you know we can’t do this y/n…” - joe

“why not? I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since you were drafted here. I like you too, and I really want to get to know you better. I want to see you outside of these walls, I can’t settle for you just being my hallway crush.” - you

“I don’t want to just be your hallway crush either, and I don’t want you to just be mine.. but you’re grandpa..” - Joe

“who cares what he thinks! he raves about you and how you’re the center of this team, if he changes that just because of me then that’s poor judgment on his part. I trust the fact he wants this team to succeed, and they need you to do that.” - you

“you have a way with words..” - Joe

“there’s more where that came from. maybe if we get to know each other better, you can find that out for yourself.” - you smiled

“I plan on it, y/n.” - Joe

y/n looked around to examine the room, the rest of the locker room was celebrating farther away from my corner of and they weren’t paying attention to us. She turned back to me and got on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.

“congrats on the win, Joey.” - you

“thank you.” - Joe

I was gonna reciprocate the kiss on the cheek before a familiar voice called y/n’s name.

“y/n!” - Mike

“shit, that’s my grandpa. he’s probably looking for me so I gotta go. before I do though, here’s my number. text me okay?” - you

“i will.” - joe

you guys didn’t know, but mike had watched the whole intereaction. he wasn’t mad at all, he was more upset that you both felt the need to hide the fact that you guys liked each other from him. Mike thought Joe was a good person and an even better leader. he had the perfect traits to be a good boyfriend, and he trusted you to do what made your heart happy.

you had found your grandpa just outside the locker room on the golf cart to take you back to your car.

“you okay, pumpkin? you seem flustered.” - Mike

“I’m good, better than I have been in a while actually.” - you

“I’m glad. it’s because of Burrow right?” - Mike

you opened your mouth ready to defend yourself as your eyes went wide, but before you could squeak an excuse out your grandpa stopped you.

“I’m not mad, y/n. Joe’s a good kid, and if he makes you happy then I’m happy. you know what I always tell you...” - Mike

“follow your heart.” - you

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authors note: this is part 1 to a little tumblr mini series im gonna do!! 😁😁

hope you enjoyed! ❤️