#I know you’re busy and I’m not saying you have to drop everything to talk to me all day long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

intoxicated-chan · 1 year

Note

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #angst #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spider man x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spiderman x reader

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daydreamersdomain · 1 year

Text

So my mom gets offended when I joke about her toe when she was talking shit about my body not even 15 minutes ago???

#“I’m so glad I’m not insecure about it”#but you don’t say that when my sister makes the exact same jokes??? And you don’t bother to think about how I feel when YOU talk shit???#And then the other day she had this whole conversation with me saying that she hates fussing at me and shit.#”Do you know how bad that looks? It makes it seem like I’m picking at you when in reality your sister doesn’t do stupid shit to get herself #in trouble”#YES THE FUCK SHE DOES YOU JUST DONT CARE. AND WHENEVER IT COMES OUT THAT SHES DONE SOMETHING WRONG SHE ONLY GETS A SLAP ON THE WRIST #how is it that everything I do gets me into trouble and fussed out but nothing happens to my sister #“I’m scared that one day you’re going to think I don’t like you when that’s not the case”#You’ve made it very clear almost every other day that “I’m not going to like you today”#She also mentioned that she can love me from a distance and affect how people see me like my grandma did to her. In this case #everything she says will be true. SHE LITERALLY JUST ADMITTED THAT IF I DECIDE TO HAVE NO RELATIONSHIP WITH HER OR SHE CUTS ME OFF #(because she’s made it very clear that she can cut me off) SHE CAN DROP ALL OF MY BUSINESS AND MY MISTAKES TO OTHER PEOPLE TO CHANGE HOW #THEY SEE ME #But I make up stories huh?! I MAKE UP FUCKING STORIES

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luveline · 2 months

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Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.”

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.”

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.”

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself.

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag.

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?”

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.”

“Did you call them?”

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden.

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull.

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks.

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top.

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ?

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly.

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.”

“We really don’t have time to waste.”

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!”

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.”

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed.

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.”

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.”

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?”

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask.

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.”

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick.

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth.

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut.

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?”

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.”

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?”

“No,” you say apologetically.

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.”

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?”

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.”

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.”

“When was the last time you were below seventy?”

“Don’t know,” you mumble.

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?”

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke.

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard.

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her.

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.”

“I understand.”

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.”

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble.

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.”

“What do I get in return?”

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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freedomfireflies · 4 months

Text

Insufferable You*

Summary: The third part to Infinite You*

The one where Harry is still in an open relationship with your best friend, so maybe it's time to remind him what he's missing.

Word Count: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, edging, spanking, brief exhibitionism, sir kink, masturbation, brief choking

“Kitten…what are you doing?”

Your whimpers are airy. Light. A string of breathless pleas woven between the soft sounds of your fingers fucking into your cunt. And you can’t answer his question. Can’t find the strength to pull yourself away from the pleasure between your thighs.

“Kitten,” he asks again and it’s firm. “Talk to me.”

He’s panting through his request and the sound—the image in your head of the way he must look, fucking his fist to the melody of your voice almost hurts you.

“I’m…I’m playing with my clit,” you answer. He groans. “Just like you do.”

“Just like me, hm?” He curses on his end of the phone and your legs shake. “How?”

“M’pinching it,” you tell him. “And pulling it. The way you like.”

His noises are louder. Needier. He must like the image in his head, too. “God, I’d give anything to see it, baby. Give fucking anything to watch you touch yourself for me.”

Anything. Anything. You shiver. “Yeah? You’d watch me?”

“Mhm.” He’s getting closer and you don’t want this to end. “Sit there on my knees and take every drop in my mouth when you’re done.”

Your hips buck up and your fingers sink deeper. He ruins you even when he’s not here. “I know,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut. “And I’d let you.”

He makes a sound that might be a laugh but could be a strained moan. You aren’t sure. But you don’t really care because it’s beautiful, no matter what it is. “Kitten,” he exhales and your insides twist. “I need you to cum for me, okay? I need to hear you. God, I need to fucking hear you, baby, let me. Come on—”

There’s something in the way he speaks. Like he’s just woken up. Rough and low and thick. He sounds like sex and you miss hearing it in person. But you were desperate—you had to call him. You had to hear him talk you through this moment and you’re so glad you did.

When you cum, it’s everything. Perhaps not as satisfying as when it’s with him, but still euphoric. And your whimpers of pleasure are what send him over the edge.

The phone fills with the sounds of your ecstasy and you wish you could record the way he moans your name. You wish you could bottle this feeling and get drunk on the way he adores you.

Instead, you indulge in the few moments you have with him. Because you know they won’t last much longer.

“That was good,” you tell him breathlessly and he chuckles. “How are you so good at that? Even over the phone?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Now I’ve got a sticky hand and nobody to clean it up.”

You pout. “Stop, don’t tell me that. It’s not fair.”

He laughs again. “Sorry, Kitten. Couldn’t help it. You all right? You feel better?”

“I do. Thank you for letting me call you.”

“Always.”

Your heart skips. “So…what are you up to today?”

There’s a pause. A long pause and you know what he’s going to say even before he says it. “Rebecca and I are running some errands.”

“Oh.” Oh. Your throat goes dry. “Right…sorry, I’m…you probably need to go, don’t you?”

Another pause. “In a bit,” he says. “After I make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say far too quickly. And far too obviously forced. “Yeah, no, I’m…duh. Obviously I’m okay now. After…yeah. Okay, sorry. You can…I’ll talk to you later—"

“Kitten.”

You stop. “What? I’m…I’m letting you go—”

“Don’t. I want to talk to you a little longer.”

“But you’re busy—”

“It can wait.”

Swallowing, you whisper, “Harry, I’m…I’m just saying—”

“So am I.” He’s firm again. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away because of her. We can talk. I promise.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. You force the tears back. Why does orgasming make you so emotional? “I know, I just…she’s there, isn’t she?”

Another beat. “Not in the room.”

“But she’s there. In the apartment. Near you.”

“Yes.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “See, that’s…that’s why I’m letting you go. So you can be with her. Okay? I’ll talk to you later—”

“Kitten.”

“Harry.” You huff if only to make yourself sound stronger than you feel. “I’m okay. You can go.”

“You’re not okay. You’re sad.”

“I’m…no, I’m not sad, I’m just…I’m tired. I came really hard.”

“I know you.”

“Well…you don’t know me that well. Cause I’m fine.”

“Baby—”

“Just go,” you insist. “I promise I’m okay as long as you are. I shouldn’t have called so early anyway, that was…I’m sorry. That was my mistake—”

“You can call when she’s here, you know that—”

“But I don’t want to.”

Another long pause that feels like an eternity. “Okay,” he finally murmurs and you pull the phone away to take in a shaky breath. “But I want your honesty. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you really okay?”

Truthfully, you don’t know. “Yeah, I’m fine. Swear. Thanks for helping me. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You will,” he agrees. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Rebecca’s dinner.”

Fuck. You forgot. “Oh…right—”

“You’ll be there. Right?”

It doesn’t really feel like you have a choice. “I…I don’t know yet, I might be busy—”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that. I could have plans.”

“You do. With us.”

Us. Your nose scrunches. “I mean other plans—”

“You don’t.”

“I might—”

“You don’t. If you did, I’d know.”

“Well, that’s presumptuous.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. Because you talk to me. When I ask you a question, you answer honestly. You’re a good girl. I know you.”

Your chest feels tight again. “Well, I don’t tell you everything.”

“You should.”

“You don’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t ask.”

He’s right. You never ask him anything personal because honestly, you’re afraid of what he’ll say.

“Fine,” you agree. “I’ll be there. Are we done?”

He waits a moment before saying, “We’re not done. We’ll discuss this later. But for right now, yes.”

And even if he sounds a bit strict, you can’t help smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mm. That’s my girl. Take it easy today, all right?”

“I will.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, Kitten.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

He chuckles and you hang up and even despite everything else…you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, my god. He does. Every time. He’s got such a weird thing with feet.”

You laugh. “It wasn’t so bad at first. But then he got a little too comfortable—”

“No, he does that. He really does.” Rebecca smirks as she throws the freshly chopped carrots into her pot. “And it started out cute, but now…”

You both glance into the living room where Harry is relaxing on the sofa. He’s smiling as he watches the two of you work on the food and even if he can’t hear you, he must know you’re talking about him.

“It’s still cute,” you argue in his defense. “Gross…but cute.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess he can be cute when he wants to be.”

You grin together and this feels good. You’ve missed your friend. You’ve missed having someone to laugh with, gossip with. And maybe it was strange at first, to come into their apartment and talk to your best friend about sleeping with her boyfriend.

But after a minute or two, you settled right back into the familiar rhythm of your friendship. And it almost felt…normal.

“Has he done the thing where his left leg starts to shake when he gets overstimulated?” she asks and you nearly snort.

“Oh, my god. Yes. The other day. I thought he was having a heart attack.”

“It’s the funniest thing. It just started, too. Couple years ago. He swears it doesn’t but like…I can see it.”

“It’s quite the tell,” you agree and you can’t help the way your eyes drift back to where he’s lounging on the sofa.

He notices and smirks at you.

“What?” you call.

He shrugs. “Nothing. You girls are cute, that’s all.”

“Bite me,” Rebecca says and he chuckles. “We’re not cute. We’re hot.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. He leans forward. “Let me guess. You’re telling her about the leg thing?”

“Yup. And I was right,” she says smugly. “She sees it, too.”

His eyes roll but he smiles at you. “It’s not that bad—”

“No, it is,” she argues. “You look like a dog. A very cute dog, but still.”

He laughs a little louder and you’re almost jealous of their dynamic. A dynamic you’ve been witness to for almost five years. And it’s never made you jealous before.

But now…

She puts the soup on simmer and grabs your hand to lead you to the living room. “I told you we were gonna gossip about you,” she reminds him. “All good things, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles at you both as you take a seat on the sofa. She flops down right beside him while you cautiously sit on the other end. Exactly where you’d been that first day you agreed to this arrangement. “This is nice,” he says.

She hums. “Yeah, it feels like old times.” She glances toward you. “And it’s not weird…is it? I mean, you feel okay?”

Feeling a little hot under the spotlight, you swallow and force a quick shake of your head. “No, this is…it’s good. This is fun.”

However, she knows you better than anyone and her brows pull together as she studies you. “Do you have any questions? Or anything we can clear up?”

“Uh…I don’t know.” Truthfully, you don’t want to ask. “Is it…is it weird for you guys?”

They both shake their heads, almost as if in sync, and you resist the urge to scrunch your nose.

“Do you…have any regrets?”

“No,” she says and Harry agrees. “None. Do you?”

“No,” you echo. “No, I just…I don’t know. This still kind of feels like cheating.”

They exchange a glance and your heart skips. You’re even jealous of the way they look at each other.

“Rebecca and I have always agreed that whatever the other decides to do is their business,” Harry says. “As long as we communicate, there's freedom there. No judgment, no expectations, no regret.”

“And no jealousy,” she adds, offering you a soft smile. “Or shame. Or anything like that.”

You nod and pick at a loose string on your jeans. “And are you two…I mean do you still…”

“No,” she assures you and you’re thankful she figured out what you meant. “No, we haven’t in a few weeks.”

“Oh…because of me?”

She shakes her head while Harry says, “Not entirely. Most of it is for safety reasons. Keeping things clean and respectful. But it’s also one of our rules.”

“Rules?”

“We have a few rules we like to follow,” she explains. “It just makes it easier. Sometimes it can be tricky and this helps keep us on the same page.”

“And no sex is one of them?”

“Kind of. We don’t sleep together if one of us is seeing someone else. Well, no penetration, anyway.”

You hate the way your stomach sinks. “Oh. And…do you date other people…a lot?”

He looks over at her and she thinks. “Not…really?” she says. “I don’t think, anyway.”

“Jack was the last guy you were with, right?” Harry asks and she snaps her fingers.

“Jack. Right. Yeah. He was cute. And then yours was…Angie? I think?”

He nods. “Last year.”

“She was nice.”

“She was…sure. Yeah. She was nice.”

Rebecca laughs and he grins proudly, happy to have made her laugh. Your nose scrunches.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Rebecca argues. “She was just put in a weird position.”

“Literally and figuratively.”

She smacks his arm playfully and he pinches her thigh. You want to look away.

“Either way,” she finally says, “we don’t very often. And I don’t think of it as cheating. Especially not with you. Because I know he’s a good partner and I know that you deserve someone as kind as he is.”

He gives her a grateful grin before returning his attention to you. “We can stop if you want. Because I agree with Bex. I wouldn’t want to lose you as my friend and if you feel pressured or unsure—”

“I don’t,” you nearly rush to argue. “No, I don’t, I…I’m just really struggling with the dynamics of it. I guess.”

“Trust me, I get it,” she says gently. “It was a bit of a learning curve for us, too. Harry can get incredibly jealous.”

You’re tempted to tell her that you already know but you watch his reaction instead.

His eyes roll but then his stare returns to you and he winks, as though he’s recalling the same memory you are.

It makes your skin feel warm.

“Oop, hold on. I gotta check the soup,” Rebecca suddenly exclaims before jumping off the sofa to rush back to the kitchen.

And now left alone together, your attention is drawn back to the tall, handsome man you can already feel staring at you.

“Any more questions?” he asks softly. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and somehow, even that makes you feel safer.

“Just one,” you murmur and he nods. “Does this mean you and I are…dating? Or are we just fucking until I can find somebody else?”

There’s a slight edge in your voice that you hadn’t meant to be there, but he picks up on it instantly.

“Are you looking for somebody else?” he asks.

“Not really. But this whole thing started because you both felt bad for me,” you remind him. “And it’s been a lot of fun. Honestly. But you are kind of on loan. I just…I’m not sure what this makes our situation. If we’re just fucking…or more.”

He takes a moment to think about his answer, eyes flicking between yours almost as though studying you. “Would you like there to be more?”

You bite back huff. He’s very good at redirecting. “I don’t know. Would you?”

“I think more can get complicated.”

Your feel your expression fall. “Right.”

“And I don’t want to lose you from my life for good,” he continues. “You know that. Neither of us want to lose you—”

“Right, yeah. It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

He’s frowning now. “Kitten, don’t do that—”

“No, really,” you argue. “It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s just keep it like this until I can find somebody else.”

The frown turns into a glare. “Kitten—”

“Okay, soup is almost done,” Rebecca announces as she returns. This time she sits next to you and throws an arm around your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

The tension is palpable. You speak first. “I was just telling Harry that I might not need his services much longer.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows raise while Harry’s scowl deepens.

“Oh?” she asks.

You nod. “Well, seeing as we don’t want to do anything to ruin the friendship…I thought I’d give Ethan a call.”

It’s mean and perhaps a bit cruel, but you can’t help yourself. You aren’t trying to hurt him. Because he is right. And don’t want to lose him for good, either, and all this evening has truly done is prove how close he and Rebecca actually are.

You’ll never be able to compete with five years of love and affection. And maybe you don’t want to.

Maybe it’s time to move on.

“Ethan?” Harry repeats while Rebecca perks up.

“Yes,” she squeals excitedly. “Oh, I was hoping you would. He’s so nice, I think you guys would be perfect together.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a pointed look at Harry. “I think so, too.”

He knows what you’re doing. You can tell. And he’s oddly calm as he leans against the cushions and tosses his arms over the back of the couch. “And who the fuck is this Ethan?”

“Guy from my work,” you answer, equally as calm. “Nice. He’s been asking me out for a while.”

“A while.”

“Yeah, a while.”

His brows furrow. “So why do you want to go out with him now?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “He was never really my type before but we’ve gotten closer recently. I think it’s only fair I give him a real chance.”

“Really?” He’s curious. Maybe skeptical. “Now?”

You nod. “That way the three of us can preserve our friendship. Since that is the most important thing.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Rebecca tells you and hugs you to her side. “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.”

You grin and it’s all teeth. “I will.”

Dinner is nice. Tense but nice. You and Harry spend a majority of the meal exchanging icy glances and keeping to yourselves, leaving Rebecca to do most of the conversing.

And she doesn’t seem to notice. That or she merely pretends not to. She catches you up on some drama at work. Teases Harry about his sleep talking. Says she’s planning to visit her parents in a few weeks and then gives you the recipe for the soup.

And you and Harry nod politely, despite the unspoken rage from your ends of the table.

When dinner is finished, Harry offers to clean up and do the dishes. She kisses him on the cheek gratefully and says she’s gonna go take a quick shower since she’s got an early day tomorrow. She tells you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like and then she hugs you tightly and whispers, “I’m so glad we’re still friends.”

You hug her back and agree.

The moment she’s gone, Harry sets down his sponge and turns to you. “Come here.”

You hesitate by the front door, itching to escape. But he’s firm as he watches you from the sink, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched, leaving you no choice but to listen.

“Kitten,” he repeats. Lower. Sterner. “Come. Here.”

You take a tentative step toward him. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Kitten.”

You huff and throw your purse back down. “I really don’t think we need to—”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m telling you that we’re gonna have a chat and you’re gonna come in here like a good fucking girl and talk to me.”

This is how he gets you. This is how he pulls your strings and turns you around until you obediently join him in the kitchen. Like a good fucking girl.

Satisfied, he leans back against the counter. “Now. What’s this Ethan shit you pulled?”

“It’s not shit, it’s real,” you huff. “He really did ask me out and I really am going to say yes.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He wasn’t my type—”

“No, I want the real answer.”

You frown. “That is the real answer—”

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not. And you know it.”

You cross your arms and look down at your shoes. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He wasn’t my type but now he is.”

The argument lulls and the small kitchen falls silent. You hear him sigh and it almost hurts to hear how heavy his disappointment hangs.

But a moment later, he’s slipping his fingers beneath your chin and raising your eyes to his. They’re soft. Serene. Filled with everything he can’t seem to find the words to say and you hate how quickly your body begins to crave him.

“You aren’t being honest with me, baby,” he murmurs. Your lashes flutter. “You aren’t communicating with me. And I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say and he sighs like he knows this is a lie. “Really, I just…I know myself. If I don’t put a bit of distance between us…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe on my own.”

This makes him sad and it hurts you to know you’ve made him sad. “Kitten,” he whispers. He steps closer until his chest is brushing against yours. “If I’m doing something wrong—”

“You’re not. That’s the problem.” You swallow and he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “You’re doing everything right and I’m worried I’m gonna want you in ways that I shouldn’t.”

“Do you not want to want me?”

“Not…like that,” you admit. “Not when you’re still hers.”

He frowns. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about anyone else—”

“But I do. Because at the end of the day, you’re still her Harry. You’re on loan to me until one of you decides you shouldn’t be anymore—”

“Kitten—”

“And I can’t be with you in any way but physically. You said so yourself. More would get complicated and even if you wanted to be with me…I don’t think I could share you.”

He considers this. A long moment passes. “So you’re punishing me,” he says. “You’re going out with this Ethan guy to prove that you don’t need me.”

“What? No.” You lean back but he doesn’t let go of your chin. “I mean…okay, maybe I wanted to piss you off a little but I really do think I need to be with someone else in order to truly move on. I’m not punishing you. I’m…obeying you. If anything.”

He scoffs. “If you really wanted to obey me, you would have talked to me about what you were feeling.”

“I tried. You said more would get complicated.”

“It could. There’s always that risk. But I never said it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So…what? You’d date me?”

“Of course.”

The answer is quick and it surprises you but it doesn’t seem to surprise him.

You blink. “You…really? You would date me? Like…officially?”

“I would.”

“And…what about Rebecca?”

“What about her?”

“You’d…you’d still be with her? Right? Even if we were together?”

He seems to know what you’re implying and sighs quietly. “Yes. I would.”

“And even if you weren’t…I’m assuming you would still want to be in an open relationship with me?”

Another pause. “Probably,” he admits, and even if you knew it was coming, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. “That’s just the agreement I’ve always felt most comfortable with—”

“And that’s fine. I get it,” you assure him. You sniffle and he seems to wilt. “Really. I just…like I said, I don’t do well with sharing and if…if all we’re doing is fucking, I might as well just find somebody else, right? So that way the three of us can stay friends. And it doesn’t have to get weird.”

“I understand,” he says and you know he does. “I do, Kitten. And I would never keep you in a relationship you’re not comfortable in.” A beat. “But I can’t say that I like the idea of you going out with this guy.”

You smile. Gently. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He looks down at you and takes your cheek in his hand. “You’re my girl,” he says. “No matter what. If you’re with me or not with me. You’re my fucking girl. And he doesn’t deserve even a second of your time.”

You fight a large grin and cling to his shirt. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because.” You play with his buttons. “You don’t get to be jealous when you’re still with her.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like seeing you with someone else.”

You pout. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“I know.” He brings his lips to yours. They hover—close—but never make contact. “I can’t help it. Can’t ever seem to help it when it comes to you.”

You want to push up and take his kiss, but he teases you just a little longer. “Harry—”

“Do you know that, Kitten?” His hands drop to your waist and he squeezes. Even though Rebecca is only two rooms away. Even though you can hear her humming in the bath. Even though he can never be yours. “Do you know how much I think about you?”

You swallow. Thick.

“How I think about the way you asked me to take care of you…” He ghosts his mouth down your neck. “The way you begged me to be rough….to spank you. Choke you. Degrade you.”

His voice is a sin and your eyes fall shut.

“Do you want me to degrade you, baby?” His fingers slip beneath your shirt. “Do you want me to pull you on my lap and spank you until you’re crying?”

The image in your head is somehow even better than his taunting. Your knees about buckle. “Harry…”

“You can find somebody else if you want to,” he whispers. “But do you really think they’ll be able to care of you the way I do? The way you want? The way you deserve?”

His kisses find your chest while his knee slots between your thighs.

“I know how naughty you really are, baby girl,” he says and it’s over. “He will never know.”

You grab his hair and he grabs your hips and you’re on the counter before you can even whisper his name. He pushes the hem of your dress up and guides your legs apart. He makes a home there, finger curling around the crotch of your panties in order to get a taste and it’s magic. Always.

And he does this to you only a few hundred feet away from where his girlfriend is innocently taking a shower. He does this, knowing she could walk out and see. He does this and you let him do this because there is no world in which you stop him.

“Harry,” you say—whimper—and he hums. His tongue licks up your cunt and your head drops back. “Har—wait—”

He doesn’t. He holds your thighs beside his cheeks and he sucks on your clit until you begin to squirm. “You promised to stay for dessert,” he says. “This is my dessert.”

The sounds are loud and beautiful and his curls feel good in your hands. You feel good in his.

Things fall to the ground. Bowls, pots, containers. He grins. He likes this, the danger. And he knows you like it, too. Because if you really wanted him to stop, he would.

But you don’t. And you yank him closer to your pussy as though this will be the last time he ever gets a taste.

And deep down, you wonder if it is.

Either way, you enjoy his tongue and his lips and the tip of his nose that nudges your clit so expertly. You wonder how it’s possible to be so addicted to a man you’re not even with. A man that only recently started fucking you and a man that you’ve only ever considered a friend.

Part of you wants to get caught. Part of you wants things to implode. To believe that he’s doing this because he wants her to find out. Because what would happen if she saw? What would happen if he realized he wanted to end things? Would he be yours? Would he decide that your time and your heart and your pussy were infinitely more important than his sexual prowess?

You scrunch your nose. These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn’t work like that. He never has and you can’t expect something from him that he won’t ever give you.

You return your focus to him. To the way his large hands are curling around your thighs and hoisting them up on the counter. You love his hands. You think they might be your favorite hands in the world.

They’re so gentle but strong. Practiced. You know they’d look good anywhere on your body. Your thighs, your chest, your throat…

You whimper at the thought and he glances up. He’s proud again. Drenched in your arousal and the evidence of your lust for him.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg and nips. He leaves marks and memories along the soft skin and you can’t wait to stare at them whenever he’s not around. The way he makes you his in the only way he can.

And you’re so close. You aren’t even sure how he got you here so quickly but he always seems to. And you don’t mind. Instead, you fist his hair and you buck against his tongue and he’s going to make you cum all over his girlfriend’s kitchen counter.

And then he stops.

He stops, he lets you go, and he pulls away.

Your heart drops to your toes as the orgasm fizzles down to nothing. “What…what are you—"

“Get down,” he says curtly. He slaps your outer thigh. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going. And you don’t ask. Instead, you watch as he wipes his mouth and disappears from the kitchen to wait by the front door.

After straightening your dress and readjusting your underwear, you scurry to his side with a fretful glance toward the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you tell her you’re going?”

He smiles. “She’ll figure it out.”

With that, you leave their apartment so he can take you back to your place and he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole drive. You wonder if he merely wants to keep some sort of claim on you or if it’s habit.

Either way, his thumb rubs circles into your skin, right over the dark spots made by his lips and you smile. You want to lace your fingers with his. Want to hold his hand and pretend like the two of you are on your way home from a date. To pretend like this is normal—an everyday occurrence.

But you lose your nerve and soon, he’s pulling into the parking lot.

“I want you upstairs,” he says and gives you a pointed look. “On the bed. Naked. And waiting for me by the time I come up.”

You nod quickly. “Okay. Are…am I in trouble—”

“That depends on if you obey.” He unlocks the door. “So let’s hope you do.”

Swallowing a giddy grin, you scurry from the vehicle and into your building. You don’t bother with tidying up or adjusting your appearance. You run straight into your bedroom, rip off your clothes, and spread out into a starfish position on the bed.

You hear him follow not much later. Slow, deliberate steps. Meant to taunt you, tease you. Make your stomach flip. And it works.

When you see his tall, muscular figure in the doorway, your pulse skips.

Smiling, you call, “Hi, Sir—”

“No speaking,” he says shortly. “Unless I say otherwise. Is that understood?”

“Yes—no—sorry, I’m…” You stop. Nod.

He frowns but you know it’s only to hide a smirk. “Don’t test me, Kitten. You’ve already done that enough this evening, have you not?”

Another nod.

“And you knew better, didn’t you?” He walks into the room and begins to unzip his jeans. “Knew better than to dangle fucking Ethan in my face.”

You nod again but your eyes are trained on his hands. On the fingers that pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

“And you fucking knew…that if I got a taste of such a sweet pussy…I’d never stop,” he murmurs. He crawls onto the bed, wearing nothing more than his briefs. “That I’d forgive you. And let you off the hook.”

You don’t nod this time. You can’t. You’re too far gone in the lust in his eyes. The gentle green that’s now dangerous and luring you in.

“Well,” he whispers and then he smiles. “You thought wrong.”

He grabs your thighs and flips you over. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, head spinning, while a large palm comes down in a sharp smack to your ass.

You jolt. Shriek.

“Easy,” he says and he’s kinder now. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good little whore, aren’t you?”

Now you understand. You see. And you settle onto the bed as he smooths the stinging print with the soft of his hand.

You nod.

“Good.” He spanks you again. “I think we should do one for every time you lied to me. For every time I asked for the truth…and you refused to give it to me.”

Your lashes flutter. You suppose that’s only fair, although in your defense, the truth would have only hurt him.

“Let’s see…we’ll start with five,” he says and you exhale a sigh of relief. “Because I know you don’t mean to be a bad girl, do you?”

You whimper.

“You want to be good. Want to behave for me.” He spanks you. Number three. “You want a lot of things from me, don’t you? And maybe I’m bad, too. For not being able to give them to you.”

The air in the room shifts and you attempt to glance back.

However, he lays another firm smack to your ass before you can and then squeezes your hip. “Come on, you’re almost done,” he coos. A beat passes. “Do you remember me mentioning the traffic light system?”

You nod.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for good, keep going?”

Nod.

“Good. Then I want you to use your words and tell me what color you are right now. Honestly.”

“Green,” you whisper, then clear your throat and speak louder. “I’m green. Honestly.”

He hums. “And you’re gonna take your last strike, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna thank me for being so generous to such a selfish fucking whore?”

Your cheeks flush. Oh, he’s very good. “Yes, Sir.”

You still can’t see him but you can imagine his grin.

The last spank of his hand lands against your tender skin and somehow…it feels good. There’s something delicious about his pain. About the way he inflicts it. The way your body responds to it.

You groan—moan—and finally manage, “Thank you, Sir.”

He purrs something devious as he strokes the spot and begins to kiss his way up your spine. “Good fucking girl,” he breathes. The exhale of his praise dances across your back and you shiver. “Took your punishment so well. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Bet you even fucking liked, dirty thing. Didn’t you?”

You nod again and feel his knee begin to nudge its way back between your thighs.

“Let’s check, shall we?” His fingers move now for the mess you already know is there. And when he feels it, he curses. “Fucking shit, Kitten, you’re soaked.”

You are. You are soaked and you’re making a mess of your duvet and his knee and he still hasn’t let you cum yet and you think you might die if he waits any longer.

“Harry,” you nearly cry. “Please…please…”

He brings his kisses to the back of your neck. To the place below your ear that makes your stomach flip. He kisses. Sucks. Nips and violates the skin with his teeth.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, but only because I know you need it.”

You nod again and begin to turn over. He goes to stop you—he wants to try from behind—but you insist.

“I want to see your face,” you say. “Please, I just…I need that tonight.”

The softness in his eyes and the fall of his expression almost hurts you. You don’t want to cause him pain or confusion. Ever.

But he’s not confused. He understands. And he agrees because maybe he needs it, too.

You pull him out of his briefs and he hikes your leg around his hip. Until the heel of your foot is digging into his ass and pulling him forward.

When he first pushes in, you both take a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of your bodies connecting.

Harry was once your best friend and now he’s something else entirely. A completely different entity and you never imagined you’d see his cock disappearing into your cunt but now you don’t want to imagine his cock anywhere else.

When he’s about halfway in, he pulls back out and begins a steady pace. He’s large and he knows you need a moment or two to find the pleasure before he picks up a faster rhythm. So, he puts the focus on you. On your clit, on your thighs, on the way his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you—soft, sweet. Gentle. And then he kisses your neck. Your chest. Plays with your tits and whispers about how good they feel in his hand.

Then, he buries himself to the hilt as his hips find yours.

You arch and he catches you. There are more kisses, more soft murmurings. And there’s an intimacy here that doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like making love, a term you once scoffed at but now indulge in. Because maybe he does love you, in the only way he knows how. Maybe he does choose your body over hers. Maybe this was the best thing that ever could have happened to you.

You grab his hand and bring it to your throat. Pointed enough that he knows what you want and after a quick glance for consent…he squeezes.

Your lashes flutter and you press on his knuckles. Harder. He obeys.

And you were right. His hand does look good on your body. A necklace to wear proudly and he whispers your name before tightening his grip and allowing the sides of your sanity to go fuzzy before loosening his fingers.

You breathe. Deep. The air tastes like him and you love it.

He smiles. “You okay?”

“More than okay. That was…shit, I really like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably cause you’re doing it.”

He uses this hold to kiss you and it’s a mess of tongues and spit and loud sucking. It makes you giggle.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” he suddenly whispers.

“Well, I prefer you hard.”

He smirks, but this is not what he means. “I want this to work.”

“I know. I do, too.”

He surges forward—a sharp thrust. “It can’t work if Ethan’s in the picture.”

Oh. “Why? Because you need room for Rebecca?”

He sighs and you hate how sad it sounds. “I know I’m not being fair—”

“You’re not.”

“I can’t help it—”

“Well, neither can I.”

He stops for a moment and looks at you. “You have every right to go out with him. I know that. But I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you do.” He continues to roll his body against yours and you want to purr. “So I want to make a deal.”

“Okay…”

“If you go out with Ethan, you go out with me,” he says. “If you date him, you date me. And I’ll play nice. I’ll share. But only until you realize he’s a waste of time.

You run your fingers along his shoulders. Along his back. Along the curve of his ass. You think about his proposition. It sounds good, it does. A way to keep him while also keeping your options open.

Because maybe this way, it won’t hurt so much when he still goes home to her.

“Can I think about it?” you ask.

He kisses you. “Of course. Always.”

You resume the languid but fervent pace he previously set. He squeezes your neck whenever he wants to hear you whimper and you scratch your nails down his spine whenever you want him to groan.

And it’s perfect. Truly. Because while you’re on this date with Ethan, he’ll be able to see the marks Harry left on your throat.

And when Harry goes back to Rebecca, she’ll see the scratches down his back made by your hands.

You can’t help but feel satisfied with the idea and it brings you that much closer as Harry presses your hips to the bed and begins to fuck into you harder.

He readjusts his stance above you, knees deep into the mattress and hands clutching the sheets beside your waist. And every thrust is purposeful. Hard. Beautiful. The sounds are symphonic and when you look down to see, you nearly mewl. The way his cock is absolutely fucking covered in you, slipping in and out of your cunt with ease and determination.

He’s beautiful when he’s focused. When he’s about to cum. You just want to kiss him and hold him and love him and be his.

And you fucking hate it.

“Need you to cum, baby,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “Can you do that?”

“Yes….yes, Sir,” you stammer, already feeling the overwhelming power creep up your thighs. “I’m…I—”

“I know. I know, come on—”

You do. Just like that. Unravel like a spool of thread and dissolve into nothing but pleasure beneath him.

But you don’t feel him follow. In fact, he continues fucking you through your high until he suddenly pulls out and comes all over your swollen pussy.

It’s the most mesmerizing thing you think you’ve ever seen. The sticky substance paints your cunt in masterful strokes. Glistening from your body, your clit, your thighs like stars.

And you want to be disappointed that he didn’t finish inside but soon you understand why.

He takes your hand. Moves it closer and presses your fingers into the mess.

“Touch it,” he whispers. “Fuck it back in.”

Your eyes widen. He smiles but the look in his eye is mischievous and deranged.

“Go on, Kitten,” he says. “I wanna watch.”

Your arms are shaking. In fact, every part of you is still shaking from your orgasm but you obey. You slowly—very slowly—begin to circle your touch around your clit. Feeling the way it nearly throbs as you stimulate it. As you force it into more pleasure.

Harry’s attention is glued to the show before him as he swallows thickly and you swear you can almost see his heart beating against his chest like a cartoon.

You move down. Collect as many drops of him as you can and slowly begin to ease two fingers into your fluttering hole.

When you reach the knuckle, you gasp and he exhales.

It’s perfect.

He scoots back until he can lay on his stomach and place his cheek against your thigh. Close. Close enough that you can feel his breath fan across your hand.

And he watches. Happy. A lazy smile on those beautiful, pink lips. Lashes fluttering every time you whimper or whine.

“I…I can’t,” you whisper. The sensations are too strong. You’ve already cum once, you can’t possibly cum again so soon.

He hums. “Yes, you can. Let me see, baby. Let me watch.”

And you almost want to be embarrassed but something else seems to take over your mind entirely and you can’t help but go faster.

You pinch and curl and flex. You push his offering as far into you as you can reach and then you push in a little more. And it’s easier this time, even if it almost hurts. But you cum. You do, right in front of his very eyes until he’s quickly grabbing hold of you as though he’s desperate to be closer.

You’re more than a puddle this time. You’re practically limp but you’re also so incredibly happy. And he smiles brightly as he pulls your fingers away and puts them in his mouth.

You don’t even have the energy to make a noise this time. You merely watch him—content—until he starts kissing down your palm, along your arm, and to your chest.

Then, he pulls you into his embrace and you both indulge in a moment of peace.

You’re both quiet for a while. Even after your heartbeat has steadied. Even after the sweat on your skin has dried and the room no longer feels so warm.

You run your fingers down his torso. Along the dips and curves of his muscles that seem more defined every time you see him.

“You’re insufferable,” you finally say and he laughs. The sound bounces between the walls of your room—joyous and unencumbered—and it makes you giddy. He doesn’t laugh like this for her. “What? You are.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Another beat. Longer.

Then, you whisper, “Okay.”

He looks down. “Okay?”

“I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Really?” He’s grinning again. Big.

“Mhm. As long as I get to keep you in some way…maybe it’ll be worth it.”

He seems to sadden at the use of the word maybe, but he brushes it off before you can comment on it. Instead, he pulls you closer and kisses you hard. Forever.

And maybe…this won’t be so bad.

Previous Part:

~ Insatiable You* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry styles request #harry styles concept #smut #concept #friend!harry #harry and kitten #open relationship!harry #soft dom!harry

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loaksbitch · 1 year

Text

blame tumblr for deleting my draft and make me rework this with rush— now girlies, imagine jealous neteyam pull you to his side, claiming you as his yes? this is the long awaited update (pt 3) of the i trusted you series.

warnings - hard angst, vulgar language, jealous neteyam i repeat, JEALOUSY NETEYAM! ugh, cussing, neteyam is tired of hurting and trying, kiri is best girl for boosting up neteyam to make a step kinda? that’s it for now!

likes and reblogs are appreciated for the final part! i love each and every one of you babies mwah!! — 3.2k wc and poor-ish grammar

“i want to trust you.” — neteyam sully (★,꩜)

here’s part (one) – (two) — (four) of this series

neteyam’s state wasn’t good when he went back home.

you’re leaving the clan because of him, you’re leaving your home, your childhood, your everything because of him.

you’re leaving him because of him.

still not accepting the words you’ve said to him, he hadn’t noticed his younger sister waiting for him right when he got back to the village, hunting long forgotten.

kiri on other hand had enough, she’s tired of seeing her brother suffer for what he was trying to make right, especially after that night. the night she saw her perfect brother kneel in front of a female na’vi begging you not to go.

“neteyam,” his name being called, pulls him out from his thoughts and his tired eyes land on his sister who has her arms crossed against her chest. “what part of leave me alone don’t they understand?” neteyam silently says under his breath

“you know i can hear you right?” kiri scoffs

“what part of i want to be alone don’t you all understand?” this time he says it clearly and louder. neteyam doesn’t give her time before walking past her and if only if it wasn't for her next words? he wouldn’t have frozen at his spot.

“if you love her, go for her.”

there she goes again, now he needs to tell her he doesn’t want to hear anything about that future mate of his, that female na’vi he doesn’t even want.

“kiri.” he starts to turn and face her, his amber eyes swollen and puffy it makes her sad. “i’ll say this for the last time, i don’t want anyone to bring äy—“

“i’m not talking about äyea and you know it.”

his heart dropped, amber eyes slightly widening like he was caught. neteyam searches for more explanation from his sister, kiri softly smiles and he definitely knows who she’s talking about

“y/n, neteyam, i’m talking about y/n.” his skin itches at your name being called and he walks fast to his sister before grabbing her by her arms. nobody has to know, not like this and he won't risk to lose you like this

“look, you can’t tell no one, okay?” he’s shaking his sister so hard that her shoulders are hurting. “i can't lose her, if the clan knows they’ll take her away from me.” his body is trembling, neteyam’s mind was too occupied with the worst scenarios that would happen if they find out about you just like this.

kiri closes her eyes and calms herself before trying to do the same for her brother. “nete, calm down” she places her small hands on his cheek. “you’ve to calm down, for her?” she knew you’re his weakness and he would do anything with your name

“i won’t tell anyone.” kiri watches neteyam’s eyes blink, confused and processing her words, “but you must tell them, everyone, tell everyone neteyam.”

he’s slowly sliding his hands down her arms and letting her go, what is she saying?

“i saw everything, the night she knew about it and how you were.” kiri didn’t want to look like she sneaked into someone's business. “i’ve never seen you so weak like this brother, you’re giving up something that makes you happy.”

where is this going? why is she not yelling at him that he failed to be perfect?

“i know you’re soon to be mated but why when you’re not happy? not wanting it, not in love.” neteyam takes every word of hers carefully. “if this is the future you want with her then make a progress.”

“i’m tired of hearing you cry yourself to sleep, starve yourself and worry mom and dad.” he felt like a child. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs and kiri sighs, “you don’t have to apologize for everything.”

neteyam was feeling his heartbeats quickening at his younger sister's words but it’s also painful when he remembers he can’t do that cause you’re gonna be gone, soon… very soon.

“she’s le-leaving,” his words are cut when his voice quivers, kiri gasps at the news. “she said she feels like she doesn’t belong here.” he’s now looking down to avoid kiri’s eyes or he’ll cry

“she’s leaving me, kiri” his sister only pulls him close to hug him and he drops his body on her, head on her shoulder. “i love her and she’s leaving, i’m losing her.” he wants the pain to end, he’s tired of hurting

“oh brother.” kiri pats his head, even though neteyam was the smartest and perfect to hide his emotions, this was too much. he’s literally crumbling down. “it’ll be okay, everything will be okay.”

“it will be okay, everything will be okay.” your mother pats your hair when you lean on her shoulders and cry. all you do is cry, you feel bad.

you’re debating on leaving everything behind and running to your neteyam but then again there’s his future mate being a wall to your love. “it’ll be over soon when we leave.”

if not soulmates why bound to fall in love and hurt?

eywa was not fair, she’s not fair with her doings and you don’t want it. you want him, you want your man, you want neteyam, you miss him so bad.

the ritual is in two days and you’re not ready to watch them or give them your blessing as a part of a clan. once the ceremony is done you know they’ll go home, you don’t even want to think what they’ll do after that.

they’ll have a fruit of love, a baby in the future… what about you? supposed to move on? no, you can’t do that.

“we’ve got to get ready, my sweet child,” your mother says as she eyes the hammock that sheltered you for years. everything is packed, ready and done.

while you’re struggling to make the pain hurt less, neteyam is struggling to make his heart beat less.

it’s now an eclipse and everyone is ready for dinner, “mom! what’s for dinner?” tuk whines when netyiri brings the bowls and trays at the wooden table. “you’ll see baby” she kneels down to finally join her family.

it doesn’t fail to catch her by surprise when her first born is sat across the right side of the table. “neteyam?” her eyes start to whelm when her son smiles at her, oh how she missed having him around the table to eat with them.

“he’s here just like you want him.” jake says and neteyam nods.

neytiri only lets soft laugh out and places a bowl for him. “eat this, it’ll help you get strength for your training.” she motions him to take his food.

kiri silently watches everyone, a smile painting her lips as she sips on her soup.

“tastes good?” neteyam nervously nods, the only thing he’s thinking is a way to bring up his love topic to them. it wasn’t much late before he’s opening his mouth to speak and lo’ak suddenly interrupted

“dad, mom i ne–…”

“tuk stop doing that, you’ll choke.” lo’ak scolds at his sister and neteyam shuts his lips quick. maybe it’s the right thing not to say anything right now.

“tuk, listen to your brother honey” jake says and turns to neteyam, “what were you saying son?”

neteyam shakes his head, “never mind i’ll talk to you guys later.” he doesn’t ignore how kiri lightly groans when he backs out. “i’ll head inside now.” he rubs his sweaty hands on his thighs and gets back to his feet

“you didn’t even touch your food.” now that’s a lie, he actually scooped two times and ate.

“i ate mom, it’s delicious t-thanks.” he hates when the last word breaks. on eywa he’s so nervous.

kiri was quick to follow his steps when he left and luckily her parents didn't question. she was fast to catch up with her brother and yanks his arms to make him face her, “what was that?” she raises her eyebrows

“what was what?”

“don’t play dumb with me right now.” kiri warns and neteyam clears his throat

“i’m scared okay!” he hissed, “i’m so fucking nervous my skin is crawling to leave my bones.” his sister only rolls her eye, “seriously— we’ve talked about this! not being a little scared ass to be telling them.”

“what happened to that?” she crosses her arms.

“kiri,” he sighs and drops his head down, shoulders easing. “you don’t understand how dangerous this is, what if–“

“what if they hurt her?”

neteyam was awfully silent and that answers her question. “you know mom and dad, they don’t do anything about what you care and love…” kiri slowly stops when neteyam shakes his head

“not them,” it’s not them he’s scared of, it’s äyea’s parents he’s scared of, he knows they would do anything to make their little perfect daughter that matches with him, or whatever they say.

kiri presses her lips to a straight line before clicking her tongue.

this is gonna be a bad idea or the best idea she has ever made and decided to tell him aways. neteyam’s eyes widen when his sister pulls him away from their family, what she’s gonna tell him is the only chance to get you back and win your trust and she’s sure neteyam will do it,

do anything for you.

೫ time skip — mating ritual ceremony

your new outfit makes your curves more defined, way more defined than your usual loin clothes that you wear.

your skin shining smoothly, the leaves barely covering your breast, you looked ethereal with your hair not braided and freely displayed all over your shoulders

“honey, are you ready?”

your mother’s words make you gulp and suck a deep breath. “we must be there early to leave early!” she tells while being in the other room.

you finally check yourself and talk back, “yeah, i’m ready.” you whisper morley to yourself? swallowing the lump on your throat.

“yeah, i’m ready.” neteyam closes his eyes and breaths trying to focus on not messing up everything, he’s not even sure if you’ll show up and some part of him wishes you do show up

extra loincloths and decorations on his body makes him uncomfortable with its weight crushing him down.

netyiri proudly looks at her son’s figure while the kids are outside, “mother.” the sudden call of her name, netyiri answers quickly. “what is it? nervous?”

neteyam gulps down his fear and walks to her, “i love you” netyiri feels her eyes tear up and smile at him, “your mom loves you too, baby.” neteyam envelopes her with a hug and netyiri cries to his shoulder telling him how he’s grown up

“now don’t mess my face up with tears! let’s get you ready there.” it’s time to face reality and wait for his soon to be mate come

when he’s out of his hammock, he’s greeted with his family smiling at him and jake’s proud smile. even half of the clan was standing at his hammock.

“neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan” everyone chants and neteyam feels his inside clench in discomfort. he doesn’t want this if it’s not with you, everything makes him sick. “c’mon son, let’s get you to the trees of voice, your mate is waiting.”

what the fuck, that was what neteyam said inside his head. what does his father mean when he’s gonna meet his mate under the trees of voice? it was all about you and him, neteyam would never mate with some random girl he is set up with in a place with memories filled with yours

neteyam turns to his sister and kiri has the same expression because what is this bullshit?

“nete’ she’s waiting for you.” his mother placed her hand on his back. no, no, no— his own feet are betraying him when he realize he’s walking and the clan opens way for him straight long line created till where he’s supposed to see äyea

you on other hand stand in line with the people and pray under your breath for eywa to give you a strength not to cry or make a scene, especially when they will be bound where you thought you and neteyam would have been

it doesn’t take long when starts to cheer as the future Olo'eyktan starts to get closer and closer.

lo’ak was the first one you saw from the sully families while he’s holding tuk close to him so she won’t get lost in the crowed. “Aeyaeyaeyaeyaye!” the clan yells

neteyam’s eyes keep searching for specific someone which is you, eyes desperately looking for you and feeling more scared and anxious when he can’t figure out your face from the crowd he takes a deep breath

you finally take his figure to your sight and god he was so beautiful.

your breath hitches at his appearance, the dangling material on his forehead making him look more attractive than he already is, you realize it’s so hard to let go of him.

you suck a deep breath when his eyes lands at yours and neteyam halts his pace, confusing everyone for a second. your tears are fast to blur your vision and you blink before looking away from him

his heart cracks when you do look away, you don’t want to see him and he understands

once neteyam passed you, the crowd surrounds him and cheers when he stepped close to where äyea is found.

you hate how your mother looks at you sympathetically while her hands grip yours tighter, “it’ll be over soon” she whispers to you but you shrug her off, only watching things unfold in front of you as your heart breaks

“it will be over soon.” neteyam says to himself

it’s sickening how everyone can’t notice this is not supposedly to happen, kiri’s plan better work or he’ll seriously fuck this ritual up and run away with you.

“son.” äyea’s father greets him and neteyam, bringing his hand to his forehead. “ty’mar, i see you.” he then turns to his soon to be mate’s mother and repeat his actions.

the way äyea was smiling makes your throat hurt from desperately wanting to cry.

‘no, don’t tell her you see her neteyam. please. please.’

äyea softly giggles when neteyam stands in front of her and blush, “neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan” the way she tries to voice out his name makes neteyam feel sick.

“i see you.” she says but neteyam doesn’t bother to say it back making her smile slightly fall.

netyiri also notices how neteyam is acting, what would possibly be bothering him? definitely not everything.

after everyone was introduced to each other, the ceremony began. drinks were served, everyone clapping and dancing to the songs the na’vi’s are singing.

you’re a little far away from the crowd to breath clear air and dry your tears that constantly burn your eyes. your eyes are on neteyam who isn’t enjoy one bit of the ceremony while his soon to be mate squirms and waves her hands up

both of them are sitting on a throne-like wooden chair, both of their parents beside them just say like them.

this is so depressing how awkward and uncomfortable it looks and actually is. you think, brining the drink to your mouth

you didn’t notice the na’vi male sneaking behind you that actually has been staring at you since you joined the crowd in line. “enjoying the party from far doesn’t seem too boring after all.”

you’re now jumping in fear when a breath hits the back of your ear.

“mother eyaw! who the fu–” you scream and stumble in panic, but before you’re falling you feel strong arms hold you on your ground. “shit, I should've announced i came, i’m sorry.”

you’re about to tell him it’s okay and leave when he’s offering his hand for a shake.

“i’m no’xus, by the way.” great, now you’re stuck talking with someone.

“y/n.” you say and turn over to place your drink on the talk flat table looking object, it’s obvious you’re ignoring him and uninterested but he keeps talking

“why’re you not dancing?” the tall na’vi asks and you face him before speaking, “because i don’t want to?” you just want this over and privacy, how hard can it get to understand!?

“mhm,” the male hums, “wanna dance with me?” at his offer, you scoff mentally and realize you’re not getting him away from you soon– before you reject him, a strong glare radiating from far makes your body tingle

it was neteyam, sending glares to the male who was next to you while sitting far away.

you didn’t bother it at first but the way neteyam’s face twists makes your brow raise. why is he bothered? jealous? if no’xus had not cleared his throat, you would’ve forgotten about what he just said.

“look notoxo, i really don’t feel like…” you watch him awkwardly chuckle and correct you.

“it’s no’xus not notoxo.”

“you know what? fuck it, let’s dance.” you’re pulling him to the crowd, maybe it’s the drink or maybe it’s him, it’s neteyam making you do this.

your mother was long gone to where you don’t know, no’xus was just a bonus to get your frustration out and you’re now dancing with him. too occupied to bother, you haven’t noticed how neteyam’s nose are flaring in anger

neteyam watches how you’re dancing and it’s very obvious it’s targeted to get him out of his mind

he is not even listening to äeya and brought himself up from his throne-like seat. rage and anger is in him, this needs to fucking stop or he’ll rip the male’s hand that’s holding you by your waist and moving you sides to side

all of his fear gone when the na’vi’s eyes are on him when he’s stepping down from his seat and walking straight to you

neteyam ignores his father’s call, sight on you and you only. you didn’t notice how he’s dangerously close until no’xus stopped his moving. “what is it?” you’re annoyed when your distracted self is brought back to reality

“put your hands off of her.” it was an order and no’xus looked at him manically. “i’m not fucking repeating myself.” all the na’vi’s are confused, even his parents and äeya’s family.

your body is jerked away from the stranger you just met and you hiss when neteyam tugs you close to him. what is he thinking? in front of everyone? his last words makes the whole omatikaya village gasp and whisper.

“fucking let go of what’s mine and find your own mate.” neteyam scowl’s dangerously.

how’re we feeling, sweets? are we feeling anxious? excited? invested? spill in the comments cause i love reading your thoughts sjsjsj

also do you guys want a toe curling smut at the end or no? since neteyam is aged up!20 years old in this series, lmk in the comments if you want smut — tag list in the comments <3

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lust4lore · 6 months

Note

(finnick + cockwarming pretty please i’ll give you my firstborn child)

anon, i’m in love with you. take all of the forehead kisses. all of them. (btw, call me when that child is born!)

A/N: originally, this was gonna be something where reader and finnick are at a party and it’s kind of public, he’s a little meaner, but i think voyeurism as well as denying his girl anything she wants is a little ooc for him so i chose this instead. i still have the outline of the og, though, so if you’d be interested in reading that and are willing to excuse it lmk!

CW: cockwarming— mind you, fluffy cockwarming, because it’s finn!

MDNI, not proofread i cba 😔🫶

finnick odair would do anything for you. shit, he’s braved hell and back twice just for the chance to catch a glimpse of you again. you’re his world, the love of his life, and the last thing he wants is to see you upset.

which is why, when you entered your shared bedroom with a quivering bottom lip and glistening eyes, he dropped everything immediately.

“hey, hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he had asked gently, brows pinching together as concern started seeping in. he beckoned you over to where he sat with open arms, and you gladly went. he pulled you onto his lap, warm hands cupping your face as he searched your eyes for any indication of what the problem could be. “talk to me,” he murmured, anxiety forming a pit in his stomach when you didn’t give him an immediate response.

it had been a long day. all the noise, all the people, all the feelings had gotten to you, and you just needed finnick. needed to turn off your brain in the way only he could. “jus’ had a busy day, too much going on and-” you sniffed, looking up into those sea green eyes and feeling a distant pang of guilt at the panic that was rising in them. “i need you, finn,”

realization flickered across his features and his lips parted before he pressed them together again, his gaze shifting from worried to conflicted. finnick never found it easy to deny you anything— and this wasn’t even something he wanted to say no to— but he had deadlines to fulfill, things that he couldn’t put off any longer. you knew that, you did, but you really were aching for whatever piece of him you could get.

and so, you end up here, still sat in his lap as he slowly presses into you, a quiet whine falling from your lips at the stretch. your face buries itself into his neck, hands bracing his shoulders. “finn,” your voice comes out strained and desperate, just above a whisper as you sink down onto him. “m’right here, sugar, i got you,” his hands rest on your hips, lightly squeezing them in encouragement. you continue to whimper as you take the rest of him, adjusting to the size. “i know, honey, i know,” he soothes, one of his hands coming up from your hips to rub your back.

a few minutes in, you’re a bit more mollified. your thoughts come to a slow, sticky pace, and suddenly, nothing seems so loud anymore. all that’s left in your head is finnick finnick finnick and the comfortable weight of him inside of you. “this what you needed, pretty girl? feel better?” his voice is low against your ear and you give a small nod, because yes, it’s exactly what you needed, but your words are kind of failing you at the moment.

you stay like that for god knows how long, his arm wrapped around your waist as he continues to work, your forehead resting on his shoulder. eventually, though, you shift a little, and it’s just enough to cause his cock to graze that sweet spot inside of you. his muscles tense underneath you as you tighten around him and he makes a sound in between a sigh and a groan, picking you up as though you weigh nothing. “what’re you doing?” you ask, your voice soft and dazed as he sets you down on the bed, hands slipping underneath your shirt and roaming further up as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. “taking care of my girl,” he tells you, and, well,

you’ll have to start having bad days more often.

#𓇼 indigo writes!#𓇼 blurburburb #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games #finnick odair headcanons #finnick odair smut #finnick imagine #thg finnick

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mistiell · 9 months

Note

If you’re doing requests and it’s not too much trouble what about Astarion and getting patched up and taken care of by mc

Here you go babes <33 (Also, if he's a little out of character, I apoligize, I really did try my best lol) WC: 1k

---

“Ow! Gods, could you at least try to be gentle?” Astarion hisses at the sting of the salve you’ve concocted, startling you into jerking the cloth you’re using away.

You huff and drop your hands into your lap, brows furrowed in very clear annoyance, “I am trying. If you’d stop squirming, it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“Well, if it didn’t hurt so much, I wouldn’t be squirming, would I?” He quips. You roll your eyes.

Taking his wrist ever so gently, you turn it so you can see the gash on his forearm, fingers deft and kind even despite his whining. He’s being difficult; unreasonable. You’d be justified in being cruel with him.

You’re careful not to press so hard as you swipe the cloth over the jagged edge of his wound, blood seeping into the fabric and staining the off-white linen a dark crimson. Mouth quirked down, your face is drawn tight with a frustration he’s never seen on you before.

He hates it.

The fabric catches with a jolt of pain and he flinches more than he would normally, startling you away again.

You tut at him, stern, “Astarion.”

Sighing, he returns his arm to you wordlessly and glances away with a small, “Sorry.”

“You should have been more careful.” You chastise as you press the cloth against his wound; firm, but not harsh. Never harsh.

He scoffs, rolls his eyes, “So you're saying this is my fault.”

He wasn’t being serious, but it seems you take it as such. Your nose scrunches, and for a split second, you look properly upset with him. He’s expecting you to snap at him, maybe shout and finally leave him to tend to his wounds alone as he usually would.

You don’t. Instead, you take a breath and sigh, looking rather disappointed.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Contrary to what you may believe, I do actually care about you and your wellbeing.” Your voice is void of any sort of humour as you look back at his arm. Swapping the soiled cloth for a smaller, cleaner one, you fold it in half and press it to his arm, not sparing him a glance as you instruct him, “Hold this.”

He does as you’ve asked, and a stifling silence engulfs his tent. As you rifle through some healing supplies, he tries to come up with a way to get you talking again.

“Why-,” His voice doesn’t come out right and he clears his throat to fix it. It comes out wrong anyway, “Why are you helping me? This wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve dressed a wound on my own, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to.” You reply as you begin securing the cloth to his arm with bandages, “No one deserves to suffer alone.”

The sentiment makes his stomach twist. “No one?” He huffs a wry puff of laughter, “Not even someone like Cazador?”

Your face contorts in abhorrence, “I meant good people don’t deserve to suffer alone. That bastard deserves every bit of suffering he has coming to him.”

He barely even registers the second part of what you’ve said, too busy reeling from the first.

Good people don’t deserve to suffer alone.

Good people.

“You... think I’m good?” He asks far too softly.

Finally looking back up at him, you look utterly confused as you nod, “Of course I do.”

He opens his mouth only to find he’s seemingly lost his voice. His gaze flits over just about every inch of your face, searching for any sign that you’re lying; a glance away, a twitch of your mouth. Anything.

He doesn’t find one. His heart sinks and sings simultaneously and suddenly, he can barely breathe.

“Why?” He murmurs. Part of him thinks he’s not equipped to cope with your answer.

There’s a moment where you just... look at him. He’d say staring, but he doesn’t think that’s quite what this is. What you’re doing would be better described as seeing him; all of him. His heart, his soul. Everything.

“Good people can do bad things and still be good, Astarion. And being good doesn’t always mean being a saint.” Your voice is kind; tender. Maybe a little joking towards the end. He guesses you’ve seen the apprehension on his face when your hands slide down his arm to cradle his own. Dipping to catch his gaze, your own is suddenly serious; unwavering, “What happened to you, the things you did. None of that was your fault. You told me what Cazador did to you when you disobeyed him. I’d be just as terrible to deem you a monster for going along with it knowing what would have happened to you if you didn’t.”

Your words strike him like a hard blow to the chest. Perhaps he’s not all that concerned with being a good person, but he’s never truly wanted to be evil, either.

Eyes stinging, he lets out a shaky breath through his nose as he cups the nape of your neck to guide your forehead to his lips. He lingers there for a moment before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight, mumbling against your hairline, “Thank you.”

Snaking your arms around his waist, you squeeze him just as fiercely, “Of course, my love.”

The laugh that escapes him comes out too watery for his liking, but he finds he doesn’t mind quite as much when its only you around to hear, “‘My love’? Isn’t that my line?”

You snort, and he feels you smile against his collar, “Perhaps.” “You do know that reusing material that isn’t yours is in poor taste, don’t you, darling?”

“Hush.” You pull back smiling, shaking your head as you ask in faux exasperation, “Now, will you please let me finish bandaging this?”

He follows your gaze to his arm and huffs dramatically, “I suppose.” “Oh, you suppose, do you?” You sass as you take hold of his wrist again, careful not to wrap the bandages too tight, “Do you also suppose you’ll sit still for me this time?”

“I do.” He grins.

And he does.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x mc #hurt/comfort

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churipu · 5 months

Note

I love you so so much omg ur posts, ur content, un vibe everything. you’re so so nice and yet you have me crying over every single post because of how good this is. Like yesterday i had a whole debate talking to myself abt how good of a person you were and how the likes were not doing you justice.. usually I never send requests mostly because i’m scared they take a look at it and be like “you cannot be srs”. Idk if it makes sense but oh well😭😭

can i request u make a scenario where the reader is insecure and worried their partner is going to leave them for someone prettier but they dont say anything and just start to distance themselves from them from how big of a toll it was taking on the reader? thank you sm😭🫶🏽

YOU BEING INSECURE + JJK MEN

featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen x reader

warning. cursing

note. ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET OMG BRB SOBBING HAVE ABIG FAT KISS, and i love this request so much, you don't have to worry <33 thank you for requesting my love, sorry it took so long :')

GOJO SATORU. even if gojo didn't seem like the type to be aware of his surroundings — he is very much aware. behind those blindfolds and dark glasses, his eyes darts everywhere, making sure everything is fine. even if one small thing is different to his eyes, he'll notice.

so when you began distancing yourself from him, he notices off the bat. but decided to say nothing just to make sure of it, gojo did not want to jump into conclusions. it started off as you telling him that you're busy to go on dates, or even declining his offers when he wanted to come over to your place.

he didn't think much of it until it visibly worsened, you looked miserable. when he sees you, it was like the shine in your eyes have gone away — gojo didn't know what happened, but he automatically assumed that he was behind the disappearance of it. when he asks you if you were okay, you brushed him off with a forced out smile, and he was dying to push you to just tell him everything.

but he didn't. he was afraid that if he'd push you, it would spiral an argument. for a while, he was walking on eggshells around you, you were like a ticking time bomb ready to blow up at any minute.

it was gnawing internally in gojo's mind, what did he do? what happened to you? what happened to y/n?

his y/n.

so when shoko drops the bomb on him, asking if he had broken up with you. gojo was mortified, is that what it looks like to other people? him and you calling it off? he was terrified, scared, nervous. the strongest sorcerer. yeah — he was scared.

and so he felt like it was a now or never situation.

"y/n, can we talk?"

you grimaced at his soft voice, wondering if this is the part where he's had enough and decided he'd leave you. but you nodded your head, your mind was ready, you were ready to hear it, those words: "i want to break up with you."

"please talk to me. i can't do this whole...you avoiding me, tell me what's bothering you...please." the desperation in his voice was visible, almost as if he was in the verge of tears.

his cerulean eyes were filled with such hopelessness, one you've never seen even when he was fighting a curse. you widened your eyes and inhaled sharply, "i...i'm sorry, satoru."

that was all you managed to muster up and gojo was clueless, he needed more answers, he needed answers to why you were like this, "baby, i don't... is it me? did i do anything wrong to you? please tell me, don't run away.. let me make it up to you."

it pained you to see that he thinks it was him, when it was you behind this. you shook your head, "'s not you 'ts me."

and that made gojo even more terrified than he already is, a lot of questions spiraling in his mind, did you find someone else? did you get bored of him? were you finally breaking up with him because of his constant bothering? so many questions.

"i just...there're so many more people prettier than i am. i just can't stop thinking about it. you leaving and all. 'm sorry i distanced myself from you." when you said that, gojo felt like half of his questions were all useless and he felt a bit relieved to finally get an answer to his speculations.

gojo wasted no time pulling you into his embrace, he needed it, you needed it. both of you needed it just as much, you felt so small in his embrace, head buried into his chest. gojo didn't move a bit, fearing if he moved at all — you'd break, you looked so fragile and so dainty, it scares him.

"i..love you so much." was all he could say,

"'ts you, 'ts you that i love. it hurts me to hear you talk like that." you felt like shit, you really do — so you said nothing back, you kept your face hidden in his chest.

and gojo didn't pry you away, he just needed to be close to you, "sorry."

that was when he pulled away, "you don't have to be sorry, but please talk to me, 'ts not fair if we're happy together and you have to be sad alone.." you hated crying in front of people, especially gojo, and he knew that about you.

so when you cried in that moment, gojo knew this wasn't something light — he didn't need any more explaining from you, he was just there by your side the whole night. and the next day. the next week. month. year. both of you never spoke of it again.

he's in love with you and nobody could change that, he thinks you're the prettiest anyways.

NANAMI KENTO. nanami's eyes are always on you. nobody else. and everyone knows that.

everyone except for you, unfortunately.

usually he comes home and you were always there to greet him, with a hug and kiss. it was an inseparable combo he made a routine, but for the past couple of days — he hasn't been getting that.

instead, he was greeted with silence. and just from the second time, he knew that something was definitely wrong with you. he'll find you curled up in bed, under the covers like it was the only thing that mattered in the world; but he tries to see it as a sign of exhaustion.

nanami watches your every move, for the past couple of days. you have been out of it. to the point where it was plain obvious and nanami tries asking about it, but you tell him it was just because of the stress. a sweetheart he is, he tries telling you to get some rest from work — he'd even excuse you if it's needed, but you tell him that wasn't needed and that you were fine.

obviously lying. he could see it, smell it, hear it.

it was suffocating. everything was suffocating to you, it's like everything was slowly masticating on every fiber in your body. you wanted to just, drop down and cry but whenever you try to, you just end up sitting on the floor blankly staring at nothing.

it scares yourself sometimes how empty your eyes look.

you wouldn't be surprised if nanami didn't come back home one day because he's so fed up — that's what you've been planting in you. that nanami would leave you for prettier people, for people who don't overthink, people who are generally better than you.

"y/n?"

oh. you didn't even hear him come home, you sat on the bedroom floor trying to push yourself up. and you couldn't even do that, so when nanami opens the bedroom door, seeing you on the floor — he said nothing, not even a hello.

nanami just scoops you into his arms and lays you down on the bed mutely, his slender fingers brushing your hair, "i love you," he murmurs quietly.

that was enough to make tears dwell up at the corner of your eyes, and he said nothing, grazing your tears away, "'m sorry. 'm so sorry, kento."

nanami didn't understand why you were apologizing, he hushed you, cradling you in his embrace as you let your tears free fall, "why are you sorry?"

that's when it struck you, why were you apologizing?

nanami didn't question you any further but he held you close, pressing chaste kisses onto your forehead, "is something in your mind?" you nodded slowly, "do you want to tell me about it?"

you nodded, inhaling sharply, "i just don't feel pretty enough...i feel like you deserve better than me, ken."

nanami laced your fingers with his, kissing your knuckles, "why do you say such things?" you didn't answer him, and it just breaks his heart even more, "you're perfect for me."

his words fall into deaf ears, but you didn't continue saying your worries, you just feel like nanami gets a gist of it. nanami didn't leave your side, cradling you in his arms like you're the most fragile being, "i love you," he kissed your forehead, "so much," and he kisses your lips.

nanami makes sure to spend every second telling you how much he loves you, telling you how beautiful you are, and how you're the most perfect for him.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. he hates it when you ignore him without any explanations, he's told you before, "if you have anything to say, say it to my face, don't ignore me."

but this feels like something you couldn't tell him, how you feel. it's obvious that you were distancing yourself from him, when he calls you, you sometimes pretend like you didn't hear him — and when he confronts you later, you tell him that you just didn't hear his calls.

"you're ignoring me, hm?"

"what? no— i just didn't hear you calling out to me."

don't even try to lie to him because he will always confront you about it, he sees right through you and your lies. the second time you try to run away from him when he calls out to you, he wastes no time holding you in place; confronting you right at that moment.

"why're you running away, brat?"

"i...oh, i didn't realize you were here, ryo." sukuna clicks his tongue in mere annoyance — what a bad actor you are, it's so ridiculous sukuna wanted to just burst out into laughter.

"bullshit. why're you avoiding me?"

that was it. you were cornered just like that. sighing, there isn't any way out unless you tell him — sukuna just won't let you go unless you tell him everything behind your recent behaviors.

"just don't feel pretty enough for you," you mutter out, avoiding his sharp gaze, "i feel like you can do much better than me. you deserve better than me."

sukuna gave you nothing but a mere smirk, pushing his lips onto yours. god, he didn't want to admit it — but he hates the way you talk shit about yourself, if he could tell you everything that he loves about you, he would. but he didn't because he's a jackass (and he's too shy to tell you that).

"that's it?" that's it? that's it?

you were about to push him away when he gives you that glare of his, "which person has been making you think like that?"

"no one. me."

he flicks your forehead, "then stop."

if only it was that easy, you grumbled at his response, and said nothing else so you could just leave. but sukuna, despite his ignorant answers always makes sure that you never run away from him anymore, he's a lot more touchy than usual — and he (tries) to compliment you and your appearance.

keyword: tries

he fails at it though. but you gave him kudos for trying, that's all that matters, really. that he makes you feel loved.

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strawberrysturniolo · 6 months

Note

SMUT WITH DEALER!CHRIS!!! YUHHH

hot and bothered // dealer!chris

veryyyyyy smutty summary: smoking with your dealer, chris, which turns into car sex

“Three grams should be fine.”

I don’t know shit about weed, yet here I am trying to negotiate the only cash I have with a random guy my friend knows. If I could look ahead of time and see myself standing here with my hands tucked in my sweatshirt pockets, kicking my feet around nervously as I wait for the dealer’s response, I would jump through the time warp and punch myself in the face.

“We’ve never met,” he notices, and I nod. “Do you smoke, or are you trying to start?”

I rub my lips together, trying to think. I never smoked before this. Well, a few times, but it was never something I did regularly. I didn’t have a reason not to, I just didn’t really care about it. My reason for starting now is pathetic. Even I know that.

Chris raises his eyebrows at me, eliciting a response to the question I never answered.

“You’re supposed to say deal and take my money. I’m keeping your business alive. Why do you care what I need the weed for?”

I realize the snippy tone I had shoved in his face, and I take a small step back, accepting defeat. This is getting ridiculous. I just want some fucking weed.

Chris scoffs, shifting the bag of weed from one hand to his other. “I was asking because I don’t want to fucking sell some lightweight girl weed that’s gonna make her spiral, so forgive me for asking. I don’t have to give you anything, you know? I have no problem turning down a deal.”

I watch as he shoves his hands with what I thought were going to be my belongings back into his pocket. My eyes widen, and I shake my head, trying to stop him.

“I’m just stressed out,” I confess, part of the truth. “I don’t like drinking, and I wanted to see if smoking would help.”

Chris pulls his hands back from his pockets, taking my cash and tucking it in his pants. “Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head, my eyes following his hands, wondering if he just scammed me. He never hands me my purchase, he just watches me.

“You sure?”

A sigh leaves my throat, and before I even realize, my lips are moving and I’m spilling details about myself to him.

“I’m just dealing with a lot of stuff and–”

“It’s an extra 20 bucks for therapy.”

I roll my eyes. “Fuck off and give me my weed.”

He steps back before I can snatch anything from him. “I will gladly give your money back if I decide I shouldn’t give you anything because of why you want drugs. I’m only keeping the cash and the weed while we talk because you’re so desperate to spark up that I’m sure I could throw the bag and you’d run after it like a dog playing fetch.” He pats his hands on his thighs and widens his eyes at me, using a sort of baby voice as he says, “Who’s a good girl?” like I’m a fucking puppy.

“My boyfriend dumped me and I’m fucking depressed. My friend said weed would help take the edge off so I’m not a mess all the time, not that it’s any of your business.” The words start spewing out of my mouth. “Also, it’s weed, not heroin.”

He nods slowly, bringing his hand out of his pocket with a ziploc bag of weed. “Here.” I take the bag before he can retract his arm. “If you wanna talk at all, you can. Maybe I’ll lower my therapy price for you.”

I roll my eyes and start walking back to my car before turning around and calling out, “I never asked why you deal, so why do you care what I do with weed?”

He grins before he spins around on his feet and heads in the opposite direction. “Touche!”

–

I’ve been buying from Chris for weeks now. We meet up every so often, and when I run out of money, he suggests we smoke together so I can get the high I’m chasing without spending money.

The last few hours have been spent aimlessly scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself from everything. I had completely forgotten about my plans for tonight until a message dropped from the top of my screen.

Hot dealer: Outside

“Shit,” I mutter to myself, pulling on a sweatshirt and shoes as I stumble out the door. I like his message as I make my way down so he knows I’m coming, and I nod my head to my roommate, silently saying goodbye while she watches a movie.

It’s not too cold in California tonight, but the shift of staying in my room all day under my covers sends chills down my layered body when I step outside. Even though Chris can see me, he tosses his hands up and lays his hand on the horn a few times.

“I’m right here, dickhead!”

He reaches over the center console and shoves my door open. “Well, I’m fucking hungry! Hurry the fuck up.”

I sit in the passenger seat and kick my shoes off immediately, and I watch Chris shake his head in disapproval as he throws the car into drive and peels off my street.

“Why do you do that shit?” he asks in an annoyed tone. I turn to him to argue back, but he beats me to it. “You get your smelly ass feet in here and lift them on the dash and the air blows right on them and then it fucking smells.”

“You’re dramatic as fuck. That’s not even true.”

He ignores me. “What do you want to eat?”

“Taco Bell.”

He nods. “Who’s buying?”

What a gentleman.

“I am,” I tell him. He grins. “I’m buying if it means you let me smoke your weed.”

He looks over his shoulder as he jerks the wheel to the left. “You’re just using me.”

“We use each other,” I remind him. “We do drugs and then we fuck. I get high, and you get laid. Everyone wins.”

This has been a fair trade since the start. I ran out of money and Chris made a move on me, one that I couldn’t turn down. I wanted him bad. I needed him. I can’t explain what we have. Maybe it’s friends with benefits. We don’t even feel like friends. It’s more of a business transaction.

Sometimes I wonder what my feelings for Chris really are. He’s a really good looking guy. I’ve never denied that. The last thing I want right now is a relationship. The very last thing would be to be with someone who isn’t my ex. Me and Chris will only ever fuck. I have no interest in having my heart broken, and he has no interest in committing to one girl.

My mind is everywhere else when he orders us food. I don’t even realize we’ve left Taco Bell until the sound of the bag hitting my lap snaps me out of my trance.

“Come on, eat,” he says like an instruction. “I know you haven’t left that bed, and if I ask you if you’ve eaten in the past day, I’m scared for the answer.”

I take a bite of a taco to shut him up.

He smiles and pushes the hair out of my face. “Atta girl.”

Once I finish my first taco, while he watches to make sure I don’t spit it out, he hands me a rolled joint like it’s a dessert.

I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, waiting for me to put the joint in my mouth before he leans over and lights it for me. “Don’t think you’re smoking that by yourself. I want it back when it’s halfway. You shouldn’t smoke all that by yourself.”

I’m tired of him fucking me and then trying to give me instructions like he’s my guardian. One second I’m bent over the car with his dick leaving an imprint on my insides, and the next he’s telling me I need to be eating three meals a day and drinking water.

The first thought in my head when the burning sensation hits my throat is how pleased I am with this feeling. Everything is washing away. Everything feels right again.

“Why did you start dealing?”

Chris looks at me with furrowed brows, muffling a, “huh?” against the taco in his mouth. The question caught him completely off guard. He chews, swallows, then says, “Um, I needed the money, and I liked smoking. It’s literally as simple as that.”

There’s a point to all of this that I never really thought of or cared about until now.

“Why did you try to stop me from buying from you when I said I was sad and wanted an escape.”

He finishes his taco off, then looks straight ahead, avoiding me while he answers my burning question.

“I guess I was just dealing with a lot when I tried weed, and yeah it’s not a hard drug but, I couldn’t get the escape that I was looking for, so I just started trying all kinds of shit until it fucked me over,” he confesses. “You just looked so shy and scared and vulnerable, and I didn’t want to do the same thing to you just for a few extra dollars.”

“So you care about people?”

He grimaces and lets out a displeased groan. “God don’t put it like that.”

“Admit it!” I push a little further, removing the joint from between my lips and holding it with my pointer finger and my thumb. “You cared about me.”

He yanks the joint from me and lays it between his own lips. “I still do, dipshit.”

There’s a weird feeling of warmth that takes over my body. I definitely care about Chris. I just wouldn’t go as far as saying we’re anything more than acquaintances who smoke a lot and engage in other activities together while we’re high. We’ve never hooked up sober. We both know it’s a stupid idea. We only want each other when there are other elements involved, and we plan to keep it that way because it’s the only way that we make sense.

Even though I know all of this, I can’t help but stare at him like he’s the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.

“What are you thinking about?” he presses. I shake my head, embarrassed to think that there is any possibility I could have any sort of interest in Chris above what we have right now. “Tell me, baby.”

The nickname sends chills down my arms. I remember the first time he said that. He gave me an edible to try, and when I downed three, he said, “Okayyyyyy baby,” in a worried tone, then followed it with, “You’re staying here tonight. No way am I letting you drive home after you just dogged that shit.”

His eyes meet mine, and he chuckles. “Fuck, I love being high.” His free hand reaches for my chin, holding it between two of his fingers. “It’s like everything else just poof… vanishes. Nothing matters anymore.”

I nod, finding myself distracted with the pounding of my heart against my ribcage as his thumb strokes my cheek.

“What’s crazy is,” he continues. “Even when I’m not high, I am because I’m with you. You know?”

And I’m back.

“What?”

He doesn’t say anything else. He places the softest kiss to my lips, then takes another hit of the joint before he lets it out, turning his head back around and kissing me harder with both hands on my face.

My mind is racing, but my hands are desperately trying to hold onto him in any way. They find the back of his neck, toying with the curls at the base of his neck. He groans against my mouth, letting me know over and over again that he loves where I am. He grows needier with his mouth, fighting his tongue against mine until our teeth are clashing. He sucks on my bottom lip, sliding the driver's seat backwards before lifting me over the center console and resting me in his lap.

I gasp at the impact of his hard dick pressing my throbbing clit when I sit down on him. Without missing a beat, he yanks my sweatshirt off and presses his mouth on my neck, sliding the straps of my tank top down so he can kiss my collarbone with as much freedom as he desires.

“How is every part of you so perfect?” he asks in a whisper as if I could answer that question. I would do anything to see myself in his eyes.

“It’s not–”

“Hush.”

I can’t keep myself from rocking my hips lazily on his. Everything is so messy and done without any care other than us getting each other off. Chris’ head tips back when I slow down over his tip, finding it with ease even though we’re both clothed.

“Ohhhh god baby,” he purrs, his eyes feathering shut as he drops his head back into my neck, nipping at my collarbone. His hands slide up my tank top, pinching my nipples.

“Fuck, Chris,” I whine. Between his hands on me and his dick rubbing against my pussy, I’ll be a goner soon.

“Yeah? What do you want?” he teases, gripping my hips tighter and rocking me with more force.

At this point, I only grind on him harder. The friction gives me so much, yet not enough at the same time.

When I don’t answer him, he grips my jaw. “Answer me.”

I stop moving, breathing heavier as I try to catch up with myself. “Just like this. Want you to fuck me.”

Chris' smile grows like this is all he’s waited for, but it quickly falls to a pout as he rubs his hand over my cheek. I take the chance when his thumb is poking at my lip to suck it into my mouth, letting my tongue twirl around it.

“You know you don’t make the rules,” he reminds me. “If I fuck you in here, it’s in the backseat.”

I nod, agreeing to anything he wants if it means his dick is stretching me out. “That’s fine, just please.”

His hand gives my ass a tap in agreement as he lightly bucks his hips up into mine. “Get in the back.” I obey, stepping out of the car and opening the back door. “Ass up,” he adds.

As soon as I’m on my hands and knees with my butt up, I hear the other back door close, and Chris’ hands on my waist follow immediately after. “Yeahhhh good girl.” He yanks my sweatpants down, leaving them around my knees. He presses wet kisses on my ass cheek before slapping over the same spot. “You’re so good for me baby, listening so well, hmm?”

“Uh huh,” I moan out as his hand strikes the spot again.

He peels off my underwear at a painfully slow rate. I hear Chris gasp behind me, a cocky smirk so obviously on his face even though I can’t see him. His thumb rubs over my slit, spreading my arousal around. “Fuckkk, you little slut.”

“Chris, please,” I plead desperately. His thumb continues to rub over me until he pushes it inside, moving it in circular motions and waiting to hear my moans of approval. “More.”

“So greedy, aren’t you?”

I can’t stop my hips from following the motion of his hand. Every time he slides his thumb out, my ass is trying to make sure his finger doesn’t have the chance to leave my pussy.

He replaces his thumb with two fingers, making my body go still as I get used to the feeling. A whimper leaves my lips as he starts pumping slowly, and I become a complete mess when his tongue is added.

“Chris,” I pant his name. Any and all vocabulary has been stripped from me. I’m unable to form full sentences.

His tongue flattens over my pussy before he curls the tip of it, slipping between me. He uses one hand to finger me and the other to hold my legs apart and keep them from clenching together when it becomes too much.

“You can take it baby, I know you can,” he assures me, sounding so sweet until he adds, “If you can’t take my fingers, how are you going to take my cock in your tight pussy?”

We stay in that position for a few minutes. My knees buckle over time as the pleasure becomes too much, a ball of fire growing in my stomach.

My hand reaches behind me and grips his wrist. “Chris–”

“Don’t you dare fucking cum,” he warns. I fall silent, hearing only the sound of the fabric covering his lower half being pushed down. I look over my shoulder, watching him stroke his hard cock. His chin is pressed to his chest, his eyes flickering between my pussy and his dick. “You’re gonna sit there and take it like a fucking good girl and wait for me, right?”

“Uh huh,” I nod breathlessly, forcing myself to keep it together despite noticing the feeling of me dripping down my own legs already.

Seconds later, his tip is teasing my entrance, and he gives me no warning before pushing himself in. I don’t need time to adjust anymore. His body fits perfectly with mine, and before he starts thrusting at a steady pace, he leans over and rests his chest on my back, moving my hair out of the way before gently kissing the back of my neck.

“You look so good, baby.”

I hum in response, struggling to speak when his dick buries itself deeper. He takes that sound as a sign to start thrusting into me, holding his hands at my hips and pulling me back into him, meeting him halfway.

“Fuck, that’s it. Take my cock like that,” he mutters. There’s nothing shy about Chris, especially during sex. He’s the most out there kind of guy, always suggesting something new to keep things fun, introducing me to more things than drugs.

I struggle to make any sound other than staggered moans and broken cries of pleasure. I need him in every way. I crave him more than any drug I’ve tried.

I lift my ass higher as I drop my head into the seat. His hand slaps my ass, thrusting harder afterwards.

Everything about this moment is perfect. The high I had been chasing, this with Chris, the way his dick fills me perfectly like it was made for me.

A gasp leaves my mouth before I even realize I’m making a sound. “I’m gonna cum.”

He doesn’t respond. He picks up the pace and fills me deeper, and I grip onto the door for support. My moans are uncontrollable at this point.

“Gonna cum in your pussy,” he mumbles. “Watch it all pour out of you.” He groans as I clench around him, my orgasm flying out of me and leading him to his. He groans as his pace slows, his thrusts becoming messier and desperate. He fills me in seconds, pulling out and jerking off so the rest lays on my ass. He moans at the sight of his cum dripping out of my pussy before he uses his tongue to clean up the mess we made. “You okay?”

I nod. He dresses himself and gets a napkin to clean the rest of our cum with. After placing one kiss to my ass cheek, he pulls my sweatpants back up.

“I’ll buy you plan B before I drop you off,” he assures me. I’ve heard this sentence far too many times from him. He notices my silence and asks. “You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Just need to smoke some more.”

He laughs a bit then leans to the front of the car to fish out another joint.

I know exactly what the issue is.

I’m falling for my dealer.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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jamespotterismydaddy · 3 months

Text

Picnic on the Beach

virgin!luke x reader

A/N: feel free to chat with me in the asks about characters even if requests are closed!

WARNINGS: SMUT!!, cockwarming, sub luke... until he's not

WORD COUNT: 816 words

Luke is a virgin and he so desperately doesn’t want you to know it. You’re so experienced and confident, while he’s confident in everything he does, except for talking to you. At least he can comfort himself with the fact that you have every guy at camp drooling over you but still chose him.

“You’re liking it then?” He asks as you take a bite of a chocolate covered strawberry, the drip of juice running down your chin making him gulp.

“Of course I do! What girl doesn’t like a picnic by the beach?” You ask him back with a giggle. It isn’t at all unnoticed by you how secluded this part of the beach is. You think that he must have chosen intentionally… you have been dating for a while now.

“I just wanted to make sure it was the perfect day.” He says, wiping the drip of juice from your chin with his thumb. It’s now your turn to be flustered.

“Are you trying to get lucky, Castellan?” Your wording makes him frown.

“A girl like you isn’t just for ‘getting lucky’. I want to give all my love to you.”

He leans in with renewed courage and you feel his lips press against your neck. He may be a virgin but he’s perceptive. He knows what his girl likes.

“Mmm that feels nice.” You whine out, one hand moving slowly up his thigh. He inhales sharply when he feels you start to palm him through his jeans. “Is that okay?” You ask due to the way he tenses up.

“Y-Yeah… sorry. I’m just uh focusing.” He attempts to explain, trying not to cum instantly when he notices you biting your lip at the sight of the rising tent in his trousers.

“Don’t be sorry.” You say sweetly, taking your time to give him a lingering kiss on the lips.

“You’re just so beautiful. I’d never want to disappoint you.” Your brows furrow when he says it.

“I know it’s your first time but you could never disappoint me.” You say tenderly.

“First time?” His face drops a little. “I didn’t think you knew.” He says with flushed cheeks.

“You did run off with very urgent ‘business’ to attend to halfway through our first makeout sesh.”

He cringes. “I thought it was a bit more believable than that.”

“I’m afraid not.” You peck one of his red cheeks. “I’m glad you want it to be with me though.”

“I’m glad it gets to be with you.”

You smile and pull him in for another sweet kiss as you unzip his jeans. He’s completely rock hard from only a few gentle touches. To make him more comfortable, you take off your shirt, making yourself equally as undressed. He’s seen you shirtless before but his eyes still light up with pleasure anyhow.

“Are you ready?” You ask, quickly receiving an eager nod from him.

“Yeah.”

You peck his lips once more and situate yourself in his lap, pushing your panties to the side so you can sink down on his long cock.

“Oh gods.” He murmurs as he feels your wet heat around him. Nothing can compare.

“You like that, Lukey?” You tease as you start to rise up and down on him.

“Mhm…” Is all he can get out as his eyes roll back a bit, his hands gripping so firmly to your waist.

You take your time riding him, going excruciatingly slow so that he has to watch each inch of his dick getting pulled in and out of you.

“You’re being mean.” He whines, needing so desperately for you to move faster.

“Aww poor baby.” You tease with a mocking pout before stopping your movement entirely so that you cockwarm him.

He juts his hips up and tries to move you as he holds your waist but you slap his hands off. That very much changes his perspective on things because before you know it, Luke is flipping you onto your back and pounding himself into you. He is no longer patient.

“Oh fuck, Luke!” You moan out, very surprised by the change of events as his hips slam against yours.

“Such a little tease.” He murmurs, thrusting in and out of you harder and harder as he starts to rub your clit.

“Mmm i’m sorry…” You mewl, squirming under him.

“Who’s the whiny baby now?” He teases, rubbing your clit harder, inching you closer and closer to your peak.

His hips start to stutter and his pace slows as you finally start squeezing around him. All he can do is groan and sheath himself fully as he creams inside of you. He could never have lasted a second more with your pussy fluttering and trapping his cock.

He collapses on top of you, feeling fully spent as he rests his head on your chest.

“And someone thought he was going to disappoint.”

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread @kissingyourgrl @vikimontethegirlblogger @maryann2013 @stark-head @remussbitch @ever8ea @batmandabest @jennapancake @junos-web @tanifsblog @stupidtween @10ava01

#luke castellan fluff #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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neopuppy · 7 months

Note

I don't know if your hard hours are still open but the pic you posted for it is def giving like emo hot skater boy massive c!ck energy and idk maybe like a kinda cocky reader who doesn't believe skater boy jeno is hung and he has to show the reader (who might be acting like a brat) what they're missing 🫣 could be interesting I don’t know

warnings. unprotected public penetration, dubcon, Jaemin’s here for a show—and to film

————————————————

“He thinks he’s so cool.”

“That’s ‘cause he is.” Your friend drawls on dreamily, chin perched between her knees where you sit together along the skate bowl. “He’s in a band, he has tattoos, and he has a huge cock.”

With a loud sarcastic scoff you roll your eyes dramatically, piping up to talk down to her. “Oh yeah? Because you’ve seen it firsthand?!”

“No,” she says annoyed. “Not yet, but everyone knows Jeno’s packing! He talks about it all the time!”

“Exactly.” You bark, poking at her arm. “He talks about it all of the time, but that’s it. He’s nothing but talk, and if a guy really had all that going on, he wouldn’t need to brag like that loser does.”

“That’s not true, he has like— a reputation!” She fusses, sitting up to hang her legs along the inside of the pool. “Girls always gossip about how he leaves them feeling stretched for days. You’re just a hater.”

“He’s full of shit.” You continue to accuse, glaring at Jeno across the way flexing his arms and showing off his now completed sleeve with a cocky grin that’s growing larger by the second. “He’s so annoying, tiny dick bitch.”

“What’d you just say?!?”

Shit. Jaemin.

“Huh?” Playing dumb, you shoo him off, swiping your phone open to quickly change the topic.

Jaemin snatches the device from your grip, holding it over the bowl with threat to drop it to the concrete from a high point. “Hey! What the hell!” You shoot up, jumping to smack his arm and reach for your phone. “You asshole!”

“Who is a tiny dick bitch?” He grins, playfully pushing you away with a palm against your chest. “Hey Jeno!” He whistles, breaking apart the conversation his best friends’ been entertaining for the last 40 minutes.

“What?! Can’t you see that I’m busy!”

“You need to hear this!” Jaemin calls out, motioning for him to come close. Jeno grunts loudly, holding up a finger toward the swarm of girls drooling around him.

“One sec.” He trudges over annoyed, finally glancing at you, fast enough to miss before he shoots a glare at Jaemin. “What the fuck? I was about to leave and fuck—“

“With your tiny dick?” Jaemin laughs, winking at you. “Can you believe this brat’s going around telling everyone you got a little baby cock?”

“What?!?” Jeno’s face instantly hardens, flushing red up to his ears with anger before averting his attention to you. “What the fuck are you on about?!”

Jaemin clears his throat, pocketing your phone to grab his and pull open a video he just finished recording behind your back, proving everything you’d just said.

“Oh, I’m all talk?!” Jeno stalk’s forward, forcing your legs to move back and flicker your gaze away quickly for a fast escape. “Tiny dick bitch?!”

“Yeah! Shriveled up little pinky dick!” You shriek, breaking off into a run with Jeno and Jaemin fast to chase after you.

“Shitshitshit!” The only advantage you have is lack of weight on your back, having left your bag back at the skatepark hoping that your friend will have the decency to pick it up for you.

A bus pulls up just in time to jump on through the open back doors, hunched over too short of breath to notice Jeno and Jaemin pushing through the crowd from the front to find you hidden in the back corner. “God damnit.”

Jaemin’s tongue clicks, drawing your phone out between two fingers. “You don’t want this back?” He pouts, blinking tauntingly as Jeno rounds behind your back and presses up too close, leaving you with no choice but to be stuck sandwiched between them. “Damn you don’t even have a passcode on this.”

His eyes turn bright, unlocking your phone, working fast to open your photos and scroll through. “What the fuck.” He snorts, turning the screen toward Jeno. “Look at this shit, a whole album dedicated to you.”

“Jaemin, no!” You squeak, bubbling with embarrassment as Jeno reaches past you, slinking his other arm around your waist to keep you in place before he scrolls through the hundreds of screenshots from his socials.

“Aw, you’re really just mad you haven’t gotten to take my cock, huh?” Jeno leans in to whisper, chuckling against your ear. “You know it’s big.”

“You’re full of shit.” You snap, glaring from the corner of your eye at his flawless profile and sharp gaze scanning your face full of intrigue.

“Wanna find out for yourself?” The palm laid flat on your stomach strays to snatch your wrist and pull your arm behind your back, jerked forward as you resist only to collide with Jaemin’s broad chest. He smirks, wiggling eyebrows at you and opening up your phone’s camera, panning to your shocked face as Jeno places your hand against his heavy groin. “Your fucking hand can’t even cover my cock and you wanna call me small?”

“I said tiny.” You croak, doing your best to keep your fingers elongated and not squeeze around the bulge squished against your palm.

Jaemin laughs under his breath, directing the phone lower to film his fingers toying with the end of your skirt. “Come on Jeno.” He stands up straight, parting his legs open to barricade the space in front of you. “Slip it in real quick and let her find out just how tiny you are.”

Air gets caught in your throat, listening to Jeno hum in thought against your ear, drawing a long breath between his teeth. “That’s not a bad idea.” The sound of his zipper lowers, shoving your hand inside to rest along his thick girth, no boxers, nothing to separate your palm from hot smooth flesh lifted in different areas by what you can assume can only be large pulsing veins.

Large veins just like the ones lining Jeno’s sleek physique, rippling through his biceps even under the different shades and gradations of inked art running up and down his arm. He reaches forward to grip your chin and turn your face to the side, dark gaze locked on yours. “A lot of zoomed in shots in that album.”

He means the collection of his bulge and what you swore was a hard-on scattered within the album of his selfies and outfit shots, even the douchey shirtless gym mirror photos(because other than the lump between his thighs, those are your favorites).

“Think you can take it?” He slides over your hand, wrapping his long digits around to encase your palm around the base of his length, ripping a shocked(and elated) gasp from your lips. “Bet you can’t, you’d probably scream and cry to take it out before I even get 5 inches in.”

“Yeah.” Jaemin pipes in, holding your phone by your hips to get a shot of your hand lost inside his best friend's pants. “Talked a lot of shit back there, look at this mess.” He whistles again, tsk tsk tsking as he pushes your skirt up to film the shiny streaks trickling down your inner thighs. “If you’re this wet already, that only means one thing.”

“Cock slut.” Jeno bites, teeth clicking together as he gathers the back of your skirt up and fists your panties to one side harshly, popping the seams under his roughness.

“I can take your little cock.” You finally manage to speak, having to coat your throat with multiple gulps to make sure you don’t sound as pathetic as you feel. “Probably won’t even feel that shit.”

Jaemin’s mouth parts open shocked, panning to Jeno’s intense gaze, the veins along his throat quivering. “Just for that, I’ll make sure you take every inch.”

The bulbous tip of his length probes at your entrance, sliding past your slick wet hole between your folds to really make you feel just how wide he is. The fear and excitement of finally feeling Jeno’s cock firsthand and not vicariously through eavesdropping has your toes curling inside of your shoes, reaching to wrap your hands around his forearm tucked under your ribcage, digging your nails into the different colorful tattoos.

He presses in closer, forehead rolling against yours as he leads the tip back to your entrance and pokes in, rubbing the slit against your tense muscle. “Fuck, how am I supposed to fit inside this tight pussy?”

Jaemin swallows, turning the camera to selfie mode, holding it between your thighs to watch the close up view of his best friend's massive size forcing way past your tight hole. “Don’t think she can.” He says mostly to himself, enjoying the voyeuristic sensation more than he’d expected, cock twitching the longer he watches Jeno tease at your entrance.

“Put it in.” You mumble, near the brink of tears. “Put your stupid useless little cock inside of me already.”

Jeno’s entire expression turns furious, gripping the middle of his girth firmly to force the head of his length in despite the snapping resistance he’s met with. “Fuck.”

Kissing the backs of his teeth, he pauses to feel your muscle suck around him, pulsating rapidly as tears silently pass down your cheeks and your lips tighten shut to keep in a broken mewl. “Now, imagine that..” he struggles to say calmly, panting heavily against your ear. “But 9 more inches, buried all the way in. Nice and deep.”

Jaemin groans in agreement, tapping under your navel. “Right here.”

Jeno kneads under one of your breasts to quell the need to thrust further in, twitching as he counts each tear drop flowing down past your chin. “Imagine it.” He says, pulling the tip out with an obscene pop that garners the attention of a few bystanders who turn to look for less than a second.

He pats your exposed buttcheek, snapping your underwear back into place. “Because you’re never going to get it now sweetheart.”

#asks #nct hard hours #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #nct dream smut #jeno hard hours

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erwinsvow · 3 months

Text

“rafe, i want a soda,” you tell your boyfriend from your comfortable seat, settled under your blanket waiting for the movie to start. rafe’s talking to kelce and topper about something quietly, adjusting his backwards cap and staring straight ahead—at people you recognize as the pogues he’s been terrorizing as of late. you rise from your position, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. kelce and topper stop talking, getting into their chairs when rafe turns to talk to you.

“yes, princess? what now?”

you should be good—rafe always tell you to keep your nose out of his business stuff, especially when he’s making his rounds at a party trying to sell coke. you usually always comply anyways, not asking questions since the first time and not caring either, as long he swears he’s safe and not doing as much of the stuff as he used to—but this isn’t about his business. you can tell there’s something going on with those pogues and he’s planning something that you want to make him stop.

“movie’s starting. and i want a soda.”

“kelce, give her your soda,” rafe says, turning back around to finish his conversation, when you interrupt. you shake your head at kelce, who holds the pepsi can in his hand, stopping right as he was about to toss it to you.

“it’s not diet, rafe,” you comment with a sweet smile, hoping you can distract him from whatever he’s trying to talk about with his boys.

“really kid? i think you’ll be fine-”

“please, rafe?” you interrupt again, pouting. he shouldn’t have given up so easily—but your pout is one of those things he can’t resist.

“pain in my ass, kid, really.” you smile at rafe, thanking him while he grumbles. “you better sit tight and watch this stupid movie after this-”

“popcorn too! do you guys want anything?” you turn, asking kelce and topper.

“all good, thanks princess.” you crinkle your nose and turn back, not really liking it when anyone but rafe addresses you like that—it feels like a joke when they say it.

rafe comes back with your stuff, handing it to you with a roll of his eyes, but you notice he’s smiling when you thank him. you curl up next to him on the same chair, head on his chest trying to watch the movie. you notice he’ll turn to look at kelce and topper, and then the pogues sitting ahead of you.

each time he starts looking, you try to distract him, bringing your straw or a piece of popcorn up to his mouth, and then he looks down at you instead, with a sweet smile and a kiss to the top of your head.

you should have guessed it would only work for so long—the two pogue boys get up and the three boys with you rise instantly too. in a desperate attempt to keep him with you, you drop the soda onto the grass and call to your boyfriend before he gets too far.

“rafe, uhm, this spilled so i need a new one-”

“one minute, princess, i’ll be right back-”

“no, rafe, wait-” but he’s gone before you can say or do anything else.

you sit in the lawn chair, too distracted to focus on the movie, worried about what rafe is gonna do to them. it’s only a few minutes later that you hear screaming, and look up to see the entire projector screen aflame. you get up immediately, panicking at the horde of people trying to get away, when you take a step backwards and bump into something hard. you yelp, but familiar hands hold you hard and guide you out back to the parking lot, hands that can only belong to your boyfriend.

you don’t get a clear look at rafe until he parks at tannyhill—a pink and red lesion on his cheek that wasn’t there before.

“rafe, your face-”

“kid, why d’you think i’m trying to take care of business with these pogues? huh?” you’re silent, not able to compose any kind of answer that would make sense.

“i-i don’t-”

“exactly. you don’t know. these, these pogues? they’re fuckin’ crazy. they held a gun to top’s head. they set that fire, not carin’ who would get hurt.” he watches you stare at him with big eyes and parted lips, taking in everything he’s saying. he knows it’s a little manipulative, not giving you any context or telling you he caved in pope’s face with a nine-iron. you’re listening, and paying attention, finally. “let you get away with a lot of stuff, kid. don’t make me regret it.”

like he doesn’t know why you make him go buy soda or try to distract him with a kiss at the beach or at the club. he brushes it aside because he likes to let you think you’re getting away with it.

“have you learned your lesson about interferin’?” you nod eagerly. “good girl. now c’mon.” he takes you upstairs to his bedroom and lets you apologize down on your knees.

“good fuckin’ girl-” is what comes out of rafe’s mouth when you settle infront of him, on your knees, hands unbuckling his belt. he repeats it, but it comes out as a grunt when you take him into your mouth, big, watery eyes staring up at him while you impale your throat with his thick cock. he wipes the tears away with his free hand, the other one gripping your hair while he slides your mouth up and down with his motions.

“that’s right, nothin’ to say now, huh? good girl, don’t worry, i’ll forgive you. you gonna meddle again? hm?” he pulls you off, your mouth letting go with a little pop sound.

“no, no, never again-”

“good girl,” and he brings your mouth right back.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #reposting since it was so dead earlier!

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in-my-feels-probably · 6 days

Note

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone.

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway.

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet.

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled.

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life.

None of them mattered.

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile.

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence.

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels.

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way.

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars.

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye.

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score.

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop.

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips.

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard.

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you.

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail.

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like.

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better.

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen.

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door.

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting.

The feeling was mutual.

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child.

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest.

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

#challengers x reader #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #taylor swift #so high school #ttpd #the tortured poets department #the anthology

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luveline · 2 months

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would you be in the mood to write something for peter parker x reader?? it’s been a while since i’ve read anything new for him and i’m missing my boy :( maybe something about things getting heated while making out with peter but he knows reader isn’t ready to go any farther so he has to stop them, and then maybe reader feels guilty for not being ready bc they feel like they’re stringing him along? a good mix of (semi)smut & fluff & angst haha. thank u angel i love u <3

ty for requesting, love u <3 fem!reader, 1k

cw suggestive content

“Is that okay?” he whispers.

You’re nearly too busy trying to kiss him to whisper back. “Yeah, Peter, just–” Fully too busy.

Peter enjoys being on top of you for two reasons; the first, the most imperative in the moment, is because it flicks a switch in your mind that has you all flustered and breathless under his touch, your chest heaving something sorry and your hands a frenetic back-and-forth between roaming and limp on his back; and the second, his guilty pleasure, is that he’s in an optimal position to slide his knee between your thighs and listen for your breathless sigh.

He says your name between kisses to catch your attention, finds he can’t quite get it as your mouth closes up on his and your spit wets his lips. Your hand wanders under his shirt.

Peter has been worse than shirtless around you, a consequence of his strange after-classes hobby, but he’s not so sure you’re ready to peel him out of it. Your fingers ride up his spine.

He fishes your hand from behind him to hold it above your head.

“Hey,” he says, pulling back, your eyes lit and aligned with one another, the brightest light in the room. It feels wrong to speak into the dark like this, disrupting your whispers and your quick breathing. “You don’t wanna do that.”

“I do,” you say. He’s no genius, but he sees the wobble of your lashes for what it is, sudden regret.

“It’s okay, bub. We got too heavy too fast,” he laughs.

You bite the inside of your lip as he sits up. It’s his fault, he shouldn’t have kissed you like that, definitely shouldn’t have let his leg slide up against you, what was he thinking? He’s kissed you so hard your lips are swollen.

You use the flats of your palms to clamber up against the headboard. Your heart is a thudding he can’t ignore, triply loud, and his own pulse is rocketing too.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“No, that’s okay,” —he reaches for the hem of your sweatpants to tug them back over your hip and stomach— “I was bearing down on you, I shouldn’t have– I–” Peter Parker levels of stuttering occur, to which he can’t subject himself, hiding his face in his hands.

There’s a small silence. Peter attempts to calm down. Your heart rate slowly drops.

“I really am sorry, Pete.”

His neck cricks as he lifts his head. “What?” He lets his legs fall to the side of the bed and shuffles up to the top to see you clearly, squishing the back of your thigh where your legs are up to his hip. “Come on, what do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m leading you on and stuff. Not cool.”

“What? What are you talking about? I started it.”

“I was giving it just as good as I was getting it,” you say with a regretful smile. “You’re just such a great kisser–”

“Don’t try and distract me, it’s working,” he teases. More seriously, he puts his hand on your knee, thumb pressing to the soft crease underneath it.

“I shouldn’t kiss you like that if I’m not ready for it.”

“Why not? You can kiss me whatever way you like, it doesn’t have to lead to anything.”

“I’m winding you up. Boys don’t like that.”

“I love it,” he says, dropping his chin to his hand to speak to you from just below your eye line. “I love everything you do, I love kissing you, it doesn’t mean you have to be ready for something else.”

You don’t accept his reassurances as quickly as he’d like, leaning back, the rising valley of your chest and tummy two pretty not to look at even as something serious transpires. He adores you, your every hill and curve and rigid line, all of it, and he’d love to fuck you but there’s no rush. What do you need to rush for? Peter’s sure it’ll be just as much fun a few months down the line as it would’ve been tonight, but it’ll be perfect then, because you’ll be ready then.

“Who cares what boys like anyways?” he mumbles, kissing your kneecap appreciatively.

“I just don’t wanna mess it up, Pete. I really like you.”

“You can’t mess it up, it’s not like that, we’re not like that. You mean a whole lot more to me than that,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze. You meet his eyes with less shyness now, the beginnings of a smile like twitches at the corners of your mouth. “I like you more than you like me, anyways. You can string me along. String me up, if you want.”

“String you up where?” you ask with a laugh.

“From that statue on ESU?”

“What? How would I do that?”

“Get Spider-Man to help you.”

You pull the leg he isn’t leaning on up toward your stomach, knee rubbing along the inside of your opposite thigh, the last trace of regret. “You’re sure you don’t care?”

“Don’t care, don’t mind, just want you to be happy.” He kisses your knee. “I thought you’d know that by now.”

You brace your face in both hands, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I know when you do that thing to me. How about you keep your legs away from my legs for a little while?”

Peter smiles like an idiot, hiding his eyes in your knee and his mouth behind your calf. He doesn’t mind being honest, but you’re making him nervous flirting like that and he isn’t allowed to kiss you again tonight. “I– I can do that. No leg stuff.” He leans away from you suddenly. “God, no leg stuff. You’re beautiful, I wish you didn’t worry about me.”

“I’ll try not to, Pete.”

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luvtak · 27 days

Text

mr. sandman, bring me a dream

✧ pairing 7 dream x reader

✧ genre/tw fluff fluffy fluff fluff, what i think dating them would be like <3 an embarrassing amount of run-on sentences i'm sure.... the dreamies being the most perfect boyfriends to exist, mostly unedited

✧ w/c 2293 (about 300 words each!!)

✧ a/n back to my roots writing for nct... also,,, not the dreamies being my ult group but my last group to do these headcanons for :/ i have so much fun writing these little ideas and dreams about them let me know if you want more!

MARK truly the definition of wrapped around your finger… tells everyone about you every day of his life. Smiles at everything you say and calls you the cutest names. Makes sure everyone knows that you’re taken for life–no ifs about it. Tells you about his whole day, down to the most unimportant details. Kisses you all around your face and gets red seeing you so flustered. Constantly saying the worst pickup lines. Always always makes time for you even with his busy schedule. Talks to your family on the phone and becomes best friends with your siblings. Lets you win during video games and pretends that you’re just so much better than him. Never comes empty-handed–if you invite him over he’s bringing some sort of present he can’t help it. Wraps you up in at least three layers when it looks a little cold outside. Starts bringing up ideas for a Halloween couple’s costume in January. Celebrates your birthdays and accomplishments like his own. Holds you close to him in any moment of rest, the members are around? He’s only bringing you in closer. I’m sorry to say this, but he is definitely one of those people who refer to you as a “we”... “we watched that movie last week!” or “sorry, we can’t come, we have plans.” Would never even think about fighting with you and when it can’t be avoided, he is always the first to apologize. Walks around draped over you, his neck falling onto your shoulder and clumsily shuffling you along. Steals your phone to take silly pictures of himself, and you end up having 500 selfies of Mark making the same five kissy faces. Fixes your clothes/jewelry/hair as the day takes its toll. Kisses your wrist whenever you hold hands. Lovely and forever committed to giving you the sweetest existence possible.

RENJUN My angel boy<3 would be the most loving boyfriend if you’re able to get past him giving you sm attitude. Lovingly scolds you 24/7 365. Pouts if you don’t say you love him back or forget to kiss him before you leave. Steals your sweaters and jewelry. Makes you laugh so hard you cry, then kisses the tears away. Has the worst case of cute aggression when he see’s you like he can’t help but take a bite out of you. Whenever you ask him to do something he’ll roll his eyes and scoff but still gets up to do it anyway. Says your name so sweetly and with so much love it could be a term of endearment. Sings to you when you’re sad. Holds you so tight when you sleep, like he could absorb you into his own skin. Carries a picture of you in his wallet everywhere he goes. Gets genuinely annoyed when other people know something about you that he didn’t–wants to know everything, especially the embarrassing stuff. Acts of service king, does things for you and expects nothing but a kiss in return. Gives you the first bite of his food. Forehead kisses 100% of the time. Extremely tenderhearted, wants to be loved and love in return with nothing holding him back. Knows your schedule down to a T. Shakes his head at every joke you tell, but still grants you a laugh. Kisses you slowly and earnestly even if theres people around. Drops the most earth-shattering confessions of love at random moments and just expects you to move on. Matching accessories are a must!! And he will be ready to break up if your forget it one day (we have seen how he is with the dreamies friendship rings). Wraps himself completely around you when no one is around, and stays that way until one of you has to get up. Loves completely and wholeheartedly and is a perfect perfect boy.

JENO Shy and perpetually flustered, cannot believe he got you fr. Alternates between the cockiest boy you’ve ever met and the most oblivious creature around. Is so in awe of you, cannot get over you choosing him. A big baby of a boyfriend. Body slouched over yours at all times. Tells everyone it isn’t obvious how unbelievably whipped he is for you than giggles when you call him a pet name. Loves when you fawn over him lol, would feel so good about himself when you laugh at his jokes or wear an outfit because he said you looked pretty in it. Definitely the kind of boy who gets you a necklace with his initials on it. Is somehow even more smiley when you’re around. His love language is 100% acts of service–helping you with chores and making dinner, he desperately wants to wash your hair and help take your makeup off. Always takes you home himself and makes you call him before you go to bed. Kisses you all over when you’re sad and squeezes you so tight you can’t breathe. Puts his lips right over your ear and whispers so you can hear him in loud places, sometimes telling terrible jokes to see you laugh. Constantly on the phone with you–will get yelled at by his members and staff to focus on his schedule. Takes you on long drives and lets you have the aux the whole time, smiles even when he hates the song. Snuggles up to you and has you in an iron grip all night; wakes up periodically to tell you to stop wiggling. Literally a broken record of “oh my s/o would like this!” and “you would never believe what my s/o told me…” Tucks you into his sweater when you’re cold and always carries extra clothes because he knows you’ll forget. Could never hide his feelings for you, it’s written all over–hairbands and your favorite snacks in his cabinets. Is so so so in love with you, and would never even think about being embarrassed of it. <3

HAECHAN Sweet as cherry pie. Silly and charming and the kindest boy you know. Lives his life attached to you, hands on your hips and kisses pressed everywhere he can reach. Never goes a day without telling you he loves you in the most sickeningly sweet ways possible. Listens to every word you say, goes as far as telling other people to be quiet so he can hear you better. Serenades you with the most obnoxious renditions of love songs and coos when you make faces at him. Teases you endlessly–tickles and jokes and ridiculous nicknames, but would never let anyone else make a joke at your expense. Sleeps fully on top of you, head pressed under your chin and hands slipped under your sleep shirt. Celebrates you and your relationship with all of him, always the loudest voice singing happy birthday and the prettiest flowers congratulating you for an achievement at work or school. Speaks to you so softly and with so much compassion you almost get whiplash when you see him around the dreamies. Brings home sweet treats and little keepsakes from his day out. Will watch a movie or listen to a new song and note all the parts you’d like so he can play it for you later and speak to you about it. Unbelievably protective, not in a toxic way, but he wants so much to be able to take care of you and keep you safe–hand pressed on your back while you walk through crowds, and his hand protecting you from hitting your head as you get in the car. Has lists of important days in his notes app, cataloging gifts he could get you and your order at all your favorite restaurants. The perfect silly boyfriend, caring and lovely and everything you need

JAEMIN Marry this man. Has been committed and steadfast in his dedication to you since you met. Extremely serious when it comes to your heart and your feelings. The first to say I love you or to apologize after a fight–would never raise his voice at you or say things he didn’t mean. Is always feeding you, either a complete meal that took him an hour to make or the most perfect bowl of ramyeon you’ve ever had. Constantly sending you pictures of the cats. LOVES pda–kisses you in front of everyone and laughs when they groan, cuddles with you on the practice room couch, and rolls his eyes when the dreamies gag. Always kisses you with soft hands on your cheeks and the prettiest smile. Buys you a keepsake from everywhere they go on tour and gives it to you in a huge suitcase and will not feel ashamed in the slightest. Somehow finds out how to bring you up in every conversation, “oh they really like this song” or “thats actually their favorite movie you know…” you would truly never have to worry about anything with this man, he’s gonna take care of everything, a future airport dad if i’ve ever seen one. Sends tiktoks of cute animals and pouts if you don’t like them right away. Buys you silly sweatshirts and phonecases and demands you wear them proudly as a symbol of his everlasting love. Out of all of the boys, I feel like he is the most likely to give you a promise ring, and in my heart, I know he would have his name engraved on the inside–a quiet confession only the two of you know about. Sleeps directly on top of you, I just know it… holds onto you in every crowd. So many conversations between little kisses and I love yous. Always carries your things, whether it be a bag or shoes that got too uncomfortable his hands are open and ready whenever you need them. The most perfect boy in the world, and whose surprised?

CHENLE truly your best friend in the entire world, f2l in its entirety… would roast you every minute of every day but if anyone else even dared he is shutting that shit down right away. His arm has a permanent residence on your waist. Giggles at you when you’re annoyed at him but apologizes anyway. Makes you watch him play basketball at 11 pm and laughs when you say you're cold and sleepy, but takes you home right away. Will kiss you in front of anyone–loves it when you get all shy and flustered. Always trying to give you expensive presents and rolling his eyes when you tell him to reign it in. dog dates with Daegal!!! Talks about you so causally that the dreamies didn’t realize you were his girlfriend until he kissed you goodbye, and they were all so dumbfounded. Will watch anything if you like it and will tell you it sucked with a smile on his face before kissing you as an apology. Huge bouquets for any anniversary or birthday. Wraps his arms around you and rocks you around, whispering sweet words that he’d deny if you told anyone about. Stares at you 24/7 and gives you his 100-watt smile. Goes out of his way to help you–buys your groceries, helps wash your hair, picks you up, and takes you wherever you need to go–but always denies it. Begs you to wear his clothes, bonus points if it’s something that has his name on it, or some nct merch. Has an iron grip on your hand at any given point and giggles when you try to get free. Will listen to literally anything you tell him. Smiles into kisses and sighs when you pull away. Is so domestic and lovely in everything he does, even if sometimes he is the biggest menace.

JISUNG so so so shy, truly does not know how to have a s/o in public lmao. When you’re alone he’s the cutest most confident boy in the world but as soon as there is another person around he does not know you. He makes it obvious that it's just because he’s awkward, but sometimes you definitely do have to tell him to stop being a weirdo and to hold your hand. Constantly makes fun of people with you and is always ready to hear some hot goss. Is always listening to you–even if everyone in the room is talking over you, he will be looking at you with his full attention and urging you to go on. Laughs at everything you say even if it's not funny. Kisses your cheek every morning first thing, and thinks you look so cute cuddled up into the covers. Piggy-backs you everywhere: you drank a little too much or it's too early… up you go! You being comfortable and happy is his priority in any situation, and if anyone including himself is disrupting that he is dealing with it immediately. Whether that means complaining to one of hyungs to help him or going straight to the source of the issue, he’s going to try and help you, even if it’s not like him to speak up for himself–you’re the most important thing to him. Tries to teach you nct dances and gets unbearable secondhand embarrassment when he sees you mess up. Almost exposes your relationship once a month. Is wrapped around you every single moment you’re alone, even if it’s just for a second–someone leaves the room? Jisung is suddenly fully enveloping you. Thinks pda is so embarrassing but would try so hard to be more openly affectionate with you. Blushes to his roots when you sweet talk him no matter how long you’ve been together. Kisses your hands when it’s cold outside and wouldn’t even think about giving you anything of his if you needed it. The sweetest, shyest boy, and so wonderful–loving him and being loved in return would be the loveliest gift.

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