#I'm 100% sure this is going to flop
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The first time Tsukishima sees you is through his camera’s lens. You’re perched on a park bench, wrapped snugly in a chunky wool knit scarf, sipping on a cup of coffee as you leaf through an art book on your lap. From his camera, time seems suspended, with you at the centre of the photograph, the rest of the park goers blurring together until they blend into a swath of muted colours and nothing more. As his fingers hover over the button to capture this singular moment, of what he deems is perfection, your eyes find his lens and the shutter flashes.
📸 📸 📸
The second time Tsukishima photographs you, his photography class is on a walking tour around campus with the goal of capturing beauty in mundane activities. His camera finds you first, your figure centred, once again, perfectly in the middle of his display. A strong gust of wind awakens the fallen leaves scattered on the cobblestone path you’re both walking on. In a whirlwind of autumn, the foliage dances around you, and you throw your head back laughing, looking up at the sky with a look of wonder and bliss. Without thinking twice, he takes the picture. The LCD screen doesn’t do the moment justice, he thinks, but as he zooms in on your face, a shaky sigh leaves his lips as he notices the minor details that make you so captivating. While his peers are focused on their walk, he falls to the back of the crowd and fastens the cap on top of his lens. He doesn’t need his camera for the rest of the class; he already has the perfect photo. As you walk past him, brushing the remaining leaves out of your hair, his eyes can’t help but follow your figure till you’re far out of sight. And for the second time in his life, he finds himself thinking maybe he’s found a hobby worth pursuing.
📸 📸 📸
The third time Tsukishima runs into you, he gets your number. He’s sitting in a cafe, uploading and editing the photos he’s taken this month for his class’ monthly update. He adjusts his headphones so that they only fully cover one ear before he leans back in his chair, closing his eyes as he rolls out his stiff neck.
“Holy shit, is that me?”. Immediately his eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and he’s greeted by the sight of you leaning over his shoulder as you try to get a better look at his computer screen.
“So what if it is?” he replies, coming off a little harsher than he intended, but you don’t seem to notice as you move closer into his space. Your face is close, too close, to his as you press against his shoulder. The smell of your strawberry perfume floods his senses, and, suddenly, he’s nervous. Suddenly his heart is hammering harder in his chest. Suddenly he can’t think of any snide or sarcastic remarks.
“I look beautiful” you whisper, your fingers reaching out, hovering over his screen.
“Everyone does when there are filters”. He wants to kick himself for being so rude, but a part of him hopes that you can keep up with his snide remarks. You do look beautiful, he’d be the first to admit, gorgeous even, and that’s why he’s been stuck editing this photo of you.
“Yeah, I guess, but you haven’t put any on”, you smirk as you point to the title of the image, campus_muse_original_image (duplicate before editing).psd. You pull a napkin from the dispenser before fishing in your jacket pocket for a pen. Uncapping it with your teeth, you write down ten digits before signing off as ‘campus muse’.
“When you’re done editing the photo, I’d love to have a copy of it”. Your speech is muffled as you try to put the cap back on your pen.
You’re nothing like he expected you to be; you’re everything he’s told himself he’d never like, too touchy, too loud, too excited, too… beautiful. But as you settle into a nearby table and start to work on your laptop, he can’t help but look up at you once in a while. Maybe if you were more like him it would work out, he thinks to himself as he stares at the napkin before crumpling it up.
Three days later, he finds himself punching your phone number as he attaches the photo of you to his text. His phone buzzes immediately after sending the message before buzzing a few minutes later.
Campus Muse: Thank You!!!
Campus Muse: I must be perfect in your eyes, or you must be the world's worst photo editor because you didn’t change anything.
Campus Muse: Also, until you tell me your name, you’re going to be called Campus Creeper on my phone.
Tsukishima can’t help but scoff at the last message before replying with his name. You’ll text back and forth for a week, at most, he figures, before you both forget about each other, but for the moment, he lets himself enjoy this, enjoy you.
📸 📸 📸
The first photo of the two of you as friends is actually a strip of four black and white photos taken in a cramped photo booth. He was wrong about you only texting for a week, you were insistent and he, well, he was entertained. And within those conversations, he began to realize that you had a lot in common and a few mutuals, specifically two loud family friends, whom he was well acquainted with from a summer training camp a few years back. Soon those texts evolved into lunches, which evolved into dinners, which evolved into late-night phone calls, and after a month, he feels like he knows everything about you and is addicted to knowing more. Which is why, he’s not as prickly when you drag him into a photo booth at the campus carnival with Kuroo and Bokuto. Tsukishima watches the three of you situate yourself in the small space, yelling out different suggestions of poses to strike before each flash goes off. It’s chaotic and reminiscent of his ‘adventures’ in high school but he can’t help but smirk at how much fun you’re having. As he looks over the freshly printed photo strip, he realizes two things immediately. First, he needs to teach Kuroo and Bokuto how to pose as their bodies are blurry in all four photos. Second, and more importantly, he needs to be better at hiding his expressions around you, because the way he looks at you, he learns, is not how friends look at one another.
📸 📸 📸
There’s only one picture to mark your first anniversary as a couple, and it’s a picture of you. The date of your one-year together lands on the day of a highly anticipated volleyball match, and instead of letting him call in sick, you insist that the two of you celebrate after his victory. Which is why he finds you, sitting on his bed with a makeup brush in one hand and a hand mirror in the other as he emerges from his bathroom in his competition jersey. He watches silently as you puff your cheeks, painting a little green frog on the right and the number 17 on the left. And while he hates the tacky green and yellow hue of his team’s colours, they don’t look so bad on you. The letters of his last name seem to fit perfectly on your back, he muses for a second, before shaking the thought from his head. Those are ones he can indulge in later in the night, in private, after the game; your presence is already going to be a big enough distraction and he doesn’t want to lose. Not today, not in front of you.
“Take a picture” you tease as you catch him staring from the corner of the mirror “it will last longer”.
He can’t help but roll his eyes at your comment, but he pulls out his phone and takes the photo, flicking your forehead lightly, after he gets his shot.
“If you get paint on my jersey, you better wash it”.
That night, as you sleep soundly next to him on his bed, he traces his name across the width of your shoulders. He was right, he thinks as he pulls up the photo he took earlier, setting it as his phone’s home screen, it does fit perfectly.
📸 📸 📸
Tsukishima’s 10,367th photo of you is the one that convinces him to put in the effort of figuring out the steps of setting up a gallery show. It’s a close-up photo of your face from when he took you to watch the fireworks from the roof of your shared apartment building. The photo perfectly captures your childlike wonder, your eyes sparking as they mirror the kaleidoscopic designs in the sky. It’s a stunning photo. One of his bests he’d argue, as he looks at the image projected on the mini screen. But for him, this image is an awakening. No, it’s a confirmation. It is at this moment he realizes he wants to spend his whole life showing you how he sees you. Instead of enjoying the night with his head tilted up towards the sky, watching the symphony of colours like everyone else on the roof, his gaze is on you as he mentally begins to sort through the shots of you he wants to feature in his gallery.
📸 📸 📸
The most recent photo, and the last-minute addition to the exhibition, is one he took this morning. It’s arguably his most daring one yet. For once, you’re not the focal point in it, but it ties the exhibit nicely and he hopes he’s making the right choice of adding it in. Straightening the frame one last time, he heads back to the entrance where you’re waiting for him, glancing one last time at this picture, at the end of the long corridor of photos. Even though it's technically not of you, his heart can’t help but flutter a little as he walks away from it.
📸 📸 📸
If you were to ask Tsukishima how he was feeling about his upcoming photography exhibit his workplace is featuring, he’d say he’s feeling indifferent at best. To be completely honest, he’s scared shitless and everyone, except you, knows this. But he made a promise to you when you started dating, that if he were to contribute to an exhibit, in any capacity, he’d give you a private tour of it the night before it opened. He made that comment in passing, tangled in sheets as you were drifting off to bed, never thinking you’d hold him to it. Then again, he never thought you’d stick around after all these years. To him, you were his muse. But what was he to you expect for the tall, grumpy boyfriend who could get things off of tall shelves? You’re here with him, he reassures himself, as you clutch his left arm and he leads you to the first photo of the exhibit. You’re with him, you have been for six years and you love him; he repeats this mantra twice over and his mind settles. His right-hand palms the small box he’s kept in his pocket for luck despite everyone insisting he won’t need it.
📸 📸 📸
You meander through the quiet gallery with your boyfriend in tow, giggling and laughing at the hundreds of memories frozen in time for you to reminisce on. Most of the photos are ones that you’ve seen before or ones that you remember him taking, and Tsukishima’s heart swells seeing you so happy, seeing you so happy because of him. His pace slows as you walk ahead, to the end of the gallery, and your eyes catch a glimpse of a photo you’ve never seen before. Knowing what captures your attention, Tsukishima hangs back, giving you your own space, and watches you analyze the photo. It’s one that has consumed his entire being since taking it yesterday; it's one that can change everything. He blinks and the image is still ingrained in his mind. You’re in the background of the photo, back facing his camera as you’re washing the leftover dishes in the kitchen sink. In the center of the frame, in razor-sharp clarity, are his index finger and thumb holding up a dainty diamond ring.
📸 📸 📸
“So, what do you think?” he asks, weaving his arm around the shape of you as he comes up from behind.
“About the gallery? Not bad, but you could have picked a better subject.” Half-heartedly, you elbow his side but he barely budges, scoffing at your weak attempt at humour and show of strength as you both appreciate the art in front of you.
“And what about this photo?” he urges, his voice tinged with annoyance, as he nods to the frame.
“What about it?”
“What about it” he imitates, his voice octaves higher than your own.
“You know I’m not good with words, are you going to make me ask?” he grumbles, reaching into his right pocket. The velvet box feels heavy in his hand and he wants to know that you’ll say yes. He’s had this box for almost six months and each time he believes he’s ready, he backs out last minute. Tonight, despite the voice in his head that says to prepare for the worst, he feels ready- well, as ready as he’s ever been. As he opens his mouth, the box halfway out of his pocket, you interrupt him.
“Well, if you’re not going to, I will”. Your fingers grip the film canister that has found a home in your purse for the last six months. Taking his large left hand in yours, you drop the small container into his open palm, the cylidrical box rattling softly before it settles in his grasp. A second later, a small black box is shoved lightly against your chest. As your fingers wrap around it, your boyfriend looks away, his lips slightly pursed and his brows knotted as a pink flush blooms on his cheeks.
“I’ve, I’ve had this for a while, but I think it would look better on your finger” he stammers, as he opens the canister, shaking out the band you had picked out for him with Tadashi, admiring it for a few moments before sliding it onto his left hand.
“Ar…ar…aren’t you gonna put yours on?”.
You haven’t moved, the black box still unopened in your firmly clasped hands. Tears are welling in your eyes, as your gaze shifts between the empty film canister and his left hand. I’ve messed up, he worries, pulse racing as his fingers begin to nervously thumb the new gold band that feels so right on his finger. This isn’t how you wanted him to propose, it’s too cheesy, too flashy, too unromantic, too harsh, too…
“Kei” you whisper, cupping his cheek before smoothening your thumb over his wrinkled brows, “it’s perfect, you’re perfect. I just want you to put it on me”.
And he does, in between kisses and whispers of your name, against the backdrop of all his memories of you.
A/N: First of all I don't usually ever think about Tsukki but I couldn't shake this idea out of my head. In my mind, University Tsukki is still snarky and cold, but it's muted in comparison to who he was at the beginning of high school. I do think he still has a lot of moments of self-doubt and these doubts extend past the volleyball court. Maybe I've got him all wrong and maybe this isn't how you see him but nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed this. Second of all, I'm so tired of reading this over and I know I missed a few editing things but please just ignore them. It's hard to edit your own work especially when you've read the same few pages over and over again.
psssst. @kagejima (as you requested, here's your tag)
#Nanami is quaking in his grave because I wrote something for Tsuki before writing something for him#I literally was questioning a friend's taste when she said Tsuki was her second favourite and now here we are#look how the turn tables#I'm like 90% happy with this and that's fine#Not all fics can be winners#I'm 100% sure this is going to flop#But that's alright because I had fun writing this#Time to go back to who I'm familiar with (best boy Osamu).#tsukishima#tsukishima kei#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima x y/n#tsukishima x you#tsukishima haikyuu#tsukishima fic#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#wendy writes
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it's always exhausting when non fans put in their thoughts about groups they know nothing about, but nothing makes me rage like when non unis do it. it happened in 2018 (and after, even now people still talk about it saying it ruined pentagon despite the fact that in all areas other than views every single comeback since shine did way better) and it's happening now. like, if you don't know the facts about a group just don't speak. we don't want your wrong opinions, we don't want you to report back the lies you were made to believe in. we've been here longer than you have and we know what is true... so why are you speaking over us?
#pentagon#rant#i'm not saying we know 100% of what happened#but people saying pentagon were flopping until bp is exhausting because it's factually not true#i'm not sure what happened for hui to go on that show#i'm not sure if what he said was true or if it was edited by mnet#or if it's cube manipulating him to think that he had to go there#i don't know#but you can't possibly ignore the fact that in:vite u was one of their best comebacks in all areas pretty much#and their next comeback would have been the best even if hui didn't go on bp and they had a cb straight away#so saying that the only reason ptg were flopping and now they're somehow saved only thanks to him hhhhh it's not true#also he's not the only member who has been bringing new fans lately
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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, lots of parallels, reader is a lil down on herself but don't worry, eddie is down bad for her.
Warnings: swearing, mentions of weed and smoking, smut!! 18+, minors DNI.
AN: do i write 90% of my fics based on what pops into my head when i hear a certain song? yeah. also this is only half edited bc life. enjoy bbs <3
“Okay, okay,” You laughed. “One more hit then I’m tapped out, Eds.”
Eddie grinned, speaking through a half-held breath. “Oh no, Sweetheart. New stuff hittin’ a little too hard?”
You inhaled deeply, passing back to him what was left of the joint. It went straight to your head, and you flopped back, laying comfortably on Eddie’s bed.
Eddie inhaled, following suit, making your body bounce as he hit the mattress.
“Shit,” he mumbled. “Feel like I’m fuckin’ flying.” He grips your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t let me float away, okay?”
You smile at him, taking in how fucking beautiful he looks under the dim lights in his bedroom.
“Never. You’re stuck with me, Eds.”
He looks down at you, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. He took you in like he'd done 100 times before. Eyes trailing from your nose, to your eyes, landing at your mouth.
So fucking beautiful.
“Good," he breathes, pulling you in closer. "Just the way I like it.”
Eddie let go of you hand, only to wrap his arm around you and pull you into his chest. He placed a kiss to the crown of your head, "This okay?"
It's all I want. You think.
"Or do we have to get up and go watch that cheesy chick-flick I promised we'd watch.
You sighed, fiddling with the hem of your denim skirt. "I'd stay here all night if you let me."
That's all I want. He thinks.
Eddie leans back a bit, looking down at you. He's not sure if it's the weed making his so emotional, but he swears he could cry just looking into your eyes. "What am I gonna do if one of these dates you keep going on works out? What if someone takes you from me?"
He tries to sound relaxed, but the truth is, the thought keeps him up at night. There’s gonna be a guy that steals you away from him one of these days. Someone who can give you everything he can’t, someone brave enough to open their mouth and tell you just how much they love you.
and it'll crush him.
The laugh that escapes you is a cynical one, "Eddie, I've been on three dates with three different men, and I've gone home alone each time."
"So?" He asks.
"So," You scoff. "It means no one is interested in doing anything with me."
It’s true—to you at least. The guys you’d gone out with were either not looking to be tied down, or ran once they met you. The last guy thought you’d be easy because ‘the freak’s best friend has to be a freak herself right?’
The dates were a distraction for you. As your heart pined over the one guy you could have it all with, it was breaking too. Eddie hadn’t made a move on you—ever, and you weren’t brave enough too.
So the two of you sat in limbo, completely unaware that the other person was right there with you.
Eddie sits back, releasing you from his arms. "Why do you do that?"
"Do what?" You ask, sitting back as well.
"That. Act like you're the problem, and not these shitty fucking dudes you keep going out with.” Eddie tried to control his tone, but his temper got the better of him. He cursed at himself for it.
Jesus H. Christ, Munson, get it together.
You push back from him fully now, "Eddie, the common denominator is me. I-I'm fucking broken or something."
“Stop that.” He seethed.
It’s a command—a tone you've heard him use with Steve, or Dustin, but not you.
Never with you.
Eddie stood as you sat up, hanging your legs off the edge of the bed.
"What--"
He turned back and got to his knees right in front of you.
“Stop talking about yourself like that. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
He was close to you, and with him on his knees, his gaze was just at your eye level. “You’re not broken. There's nothing wrong with you, you’re—you’re fucking perfect.”
“Eddie…”
“No, no, just…just shush for a second.” Eddie moved his hand to your cheek, his thumb sweeping across it gently. “You think all this shit about yourself and it’s just not fucking true. I wish, for a second, you could see yourself how I see you. I fucking adore you.”
You feel the warmth of his breath on your nose. His large hand on your cheek warms you, and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes.
Everything is Eddie in this moment. He’s invading every sense you had.
It’s overwhelming.
You can feel your eyes brim with tears. “You don’t have to say that, Eds. I’m okay. I’m just…I’m lonely, that’s all.”
Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. He watched you, he saw the tears hidden beneath your lashes. How could you not see it? See how you were…everything to him?
His mind stopped for a moment, deciding whether or not to take the leap, to risk it all and not run for once.
Fuck it.
“I’m right here, Princess. I’ve been right here.” He leans his forehead on yours.
You exhale his name, “Eddie,”
“What,” he’s quick to ask. “What is it, Sweetheart?”
Your on fire with how close he is to you. But he doesn’t mean it, not in the way you hoped he would…does he?
Your eyes open, seeing his beautiful brown ones searching your face for some kind of clue as to what you’re feeling. You clasp your hand on top of his. “Please,” you beg. “Please don’t say things you don’t mean just to make me feel better. My heart can’t take it.”
He laughs softly, bringing his other hand up. He’s cradling your face gently, “Oh, Honey. You have no idea just how much I mean it.”
Eddie is overwhelmed with you. You’re everywhere, and he can’t fucking think straight. Probably a good thing right about now, because he’s about to do something he never thought he’d be lucky enough to do.
“Can,” he clears his throat. “Can I kiss you, Baby?”
With zero hesitation, you nod, earning a chuckle from Eddie.
“Gotta use your words, sweet thing.”
“Yes,” it comes out as a plea. “Kiss me...please.”
Warm warm warm.
It’s all you feel when he leans in. Then his soft lips are on yours, all the while he’s holding you as if you’d be the one to float away.
Eddie kisses you like he’s done it a thousand times. Like he knows your lips and the pattern that drives them crazy. He’s trying to tell you everything he’s been too afraid to say since the moment he met you.
There’s no one but you.
You’re everything.
I love you, please, let me love you.
Regrettably, you pull away. Breathless from the kiss, but also how surreal this moment is.
“I-I,” you sigh, touching your forehead to his. “I’ve wanted to do that for forever.” It comes out as whisper. As if you’d scare him away if you said it too loud.
Eddie smiles, a relieved laugh passing his lips. “Yeah?”
You nod, “Yeah.”
It’s quiet for a beat, Eddie is looking at you so softly and with such care.
“You’re so beautiful.” He says with all of the conviction in the world. “My pretty girl.”
“Am I?” You ask. “Am I yours?”
He nods, "If you want to be." He moves his hands, resting one on each thigh. He rubs them absentmindedly, likes he's trying to flatten the goosebumps that had prickled across your skin. “...and I’m yours. You've got me, Honey.”
Eddie's grin was still a shy one. You brush your hand across his face, pushing back any stray hairs. "Eds?"
He grips your wrist gently, placing small, tender kisses along the inside of it. The gesture is so simple, but it sends a heat through you like you've never experienced before.
"What is it, pretty girl? Whatever you want, whatever you need...it's yours."
You intertwine your fingers with his smoothly, "You, Eddie. Need you. Wanna make you feel good, Eds."
Now it was his turn to get goosebumps.
"Fuck, Angel. You can't just say that to me." He breathes.
Your bedroom eyes blink twice, "Please?"
A strangled moan vibrates from his chest, "Who am I to deny the fair maiden what she asks for?" Eddie stands, holding out a hand for you.
You're pulled to your feet by him, and he's looking at you through a brand new set of eyes. "One problem with that though, Princess. You come first."
You gasp as his hands take purchase of your ass, pulling you into him. "If anything, and I mean anything is too much, or too weird, you tell me, okay?"
You're nodding again, and he tuts at you. "Uh-uh. Words, baby."
Your arms fall around his neck and you press your body against his. "Yes, sir."
"Ho-ly-shit." He moans. "Yeah, I'm gonna kiss you now. Cool? Cool."
He's hungrier this time, kissing with teeth and tongue as his roaming hands explore your body.
"Eddie, Eddie..." You breath through swollen lips. "Too many clothes."
"You a mind reader or something?" He jokes, ripping the t-shirt from his body. His body was a work of art in more ways than one, and seeing it now, like this, made you crave it all the more.
You watch as Eddie falls to his knees, "Can I?" He asks, pulling at your skirt.
"God, yes."
He unbuttons the fastener, pulling the distressed denim down until it's pooling at your ankles. Eddie then came face to face with your black-lace covered heat.
"I-I'm dead right? I've died and now I'm at the pearly gates."
Your hands cover your face, "Eddie! Stop!"
He stands quickly, "No, baby, no. God, please don't hide from me." He pulls your hands away gently.
Your shirt is next to go, and so is the matching bra. Eddie pulls his pants down, leaving his boxers on.
"Lay down for me, Princess. Wanna take care of you.”
The timber of his voice makes you tremble. Once your comfortable on the bed, Eddie climbs on too.
“Now, I know this is all new, and we’re figuring things out as we go, but…” Eddie pauses, laying on his stomach between your legs.
He starts kissing his way up your legs. “I’ve been dreaming of eating this pussy for a long, kiss, long, kiss, long time.”
You’re so turned on you can barely speak, but you manage to get out a quiet. “Well what are you waiting for?”
Your thong is thrown into parts unknown, and Eddie starts to feast like a man starved.
“Eddie, fuck—“ his tongue explores your heat. His hands hold onto your hips as you grind down onto his mouth.
“Uh-uh, don’t hold back. Wanna hear you, Princess.” He dives back in, lips sucking on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He slips in one, the two fingers. Pumping and curling them slowly until he finds the spot that makes you see stars.
The fire in your belly is growing and you feel your legs start to shake. “Holy fuck, Eds—Eds I’m gonna cum!” Your hands take purchase in his hair, giving it a sharp tug as you feel the heat engulf you.
Eddie eats your pussy, drinking you in as you cum.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” You release your grip on his hair as you come down from your high.
Eddie crawls up your body, kissing you. You taste yourself all over his tongue. “Don’t be sorry, Baby. Let’s me know you’re enjoying yourself,” he kisses you once more. “Plus, I kinda like it.”
You’re both breathing heavy.
Now it’s his turn.
Your hands touch his shoulder, pushing him gently. “What’re you doing, pretty girl?” He asks softly.
When Eddie’s leaned back against the headboard, you pull his boxers off. Pink, uncut cock springing from it's confines.
God damn...he's fucking huge.
"Gonna ride you, Eds. Let you feel what you did to me." You climbed on top of him, "Can I do that? Can I make you feel good?"
Eddie's nodding, not sure what part of you he wants to look at more.
"Uh-uh," you tease. "Use your words, Handsome."
"Fuck," He breathes. He palms your bare chest, moving the pads of his thumbs over your nipples. "Do whatever you want to me, use me, I'm yours." He leans forward, hot mouth latching to your other breast.
You sit up, allowing Eddie's hard length to slip inside your aching cunt. The sheer stretch and size is enough to snatch the breath from your lungs.
"Eds...Eds, shit. S'big." You moan.
His eyes close as he bottoms out inside of you, "So tight. Fuckin' pussy was made for me, she wants my cock. Won't let it go. She greedy, baby?"
You adjust to his size filling the void inside you. Eddie hold your hips as you begin to ride him, helping you to keep a steady rhythm.
"Look at you, Princess. Cock-drunk already, hm?" He teases.
Eddie is whispering praises as he fucks up into you.
Such a good girl.
Taking me so well.
My pretty girl.
Mine.
Eddie's pace quickens, and you feel the tremble return to your legs.
"Eddie, fuck, I--"
"I know, Honey. I can feel it, feel you squeezin' me. Let go, Angel. Go on, cum for me."
His words are like a spell.
You cum harder than you did on his mouth, and this time, it's his cock that's drenched in your essence.
"Gonna cum, Sweetheart. Where--"
You're entirely lost in everything Eddie. "Inside me, Eds. Fuck, please cum inside me."
"Shit, shit, shit." Eddie's moves become erratic. Sloppy thrusts chasing his release, and when he does, he all but growls in your ear.
He's breathless and spent, but his arms wrap around you. Eddie holds you, softening inside you. He kisses the center of your chest, the trail making its way across your shoulder, up your jaw, and to your lips.
"Hi." He says quietly.
You giggle softly, "Hi."
"So uh, not sure if this is a good time or not..."
You kiss his nose, "Hmm?"
"I-I...I love you. I don't know, just felt like someone should tell you, might as well be me." Eddie's big brown eyes search your face for any sign of regret or discomfort.
Nothing.
You kiss him deeply, "I'm glad you told me, otherwise I'd be sitting over here, in love with you, looking all silly by myself."
Eddie holds you tighter. "You, you love me?"
You giggle, "Edward Munson. I love you."
He pulls you closer, "You love me." It's a statement now.
Eddie lays his head against your bare chest. "I'm gonna get you cleaned up in a second, Sweetheart. Just wanna hold you for a little."
Rubbing small circles on his back, you kissed the top of his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Handsome."
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coloring books
hey guys this story is based off the coloring pages on their fridge. this story is based off my own experience with anxiety but almost twisted into the perspective of someone with autism. i hope you enjoy reading and please leave requests!!
me and matt have been dating for a few months. he knows about my sensory issues with loud noises but right now his knowledge wasn’t really kicking in.
matt and his brothers are currently recording in the kitchen and im lying on the couch.
as i stand up to go to the bathroom the noise of the triplets bickering at each other escalates 100 times.
i squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears walking into the bathroom, i do my business and stand up in the bathroom. i pull my AirPods out of my pocket and put them in my ears. i turn them on noise cancelling, i play some taylor swift, and exit the room.
i go over and grab my coloring book and markers out of the tv stand, i decide to stay upstairs to be closer to matt so i sit at the table.
i look over at matt and he smiles sadly “sorry” he mouths “its okay, i love you” i mouth back.
i turn back to my coloring book and start coloring. after a couple of minutes, i feel a tap on my shoulder. i take out one of my airpods and turn to matt. “hey we’re taking a bathroom break, i'm really sorry i'm trying to tell them to be quiet but they ar-“ “baby, its okay i have my airpods in. do you like my coloring?” i respond “yes baby i love it, can i hang it on the fridge when you're done?” i blush “sure” “okay i love you i’ll be back in like 15 minutes” he says with a parting kiss on the cheek, “i love you more"
i finish one page and start another before i feel matt sit next to me. he takes the airpod closest to him and puts it in his ear before lying on my lap. i use my non-dominant hand and put it in his hair while i finish this page.
once i finish my page i look down at matt to find him asleep. i tap him on the ear “matty?” “mm-baby” he slurs “c’mon lets go to bed” “m’kay”
he grabs my coloring pages and hangs them on the fridge using 4 pieces of scotch tape. i smile and place a kiss on his lips. he hums into the kiss grabbing the back of my neck. he pulls back and places a kiss on my nose. he grabs my hand walking us down to his room. once he makes it in his room he pulls off his shirt and changes into his sweatpants and flops in bed.
i take off my shirt and bra putting on his shirt.
i climb into his bed as he rolls over and lays his head on my chest with his arms tightly around me. “i love you so much baby. ‘m sorry we were being s’ loud” “it's okay matty, thank you for noticing and quieting down. love ya’” i say placing a kiss in his hair. “mhm” he sighs.
#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo triplets imagines#sturniolo triplets imagine#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo imagines#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo imagines#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut
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Thirteen Rounds
Pairing: Boxer!Jungkook x f!reader
Genre: smut smut smut smut smut! sex ban smut lmao; established relationship
Summary: JK's boxing coach tells him he can't come for four weeks before his title fight. Ah, four weeks isn't that long, right? ... Right?
Word count: 13.2k
Content: oral sex (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation (f.), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, sex toys, uh implied come eating? (It's not mentioned but he comes in her then eats her out sooooo it's happening 😂), cutesy nicknames that honestly even make me cringe these days lmaooo
A/N: as I said in a post earlier today, this hit 6k notes on the old blog and I know crowing about notes is tacky and no one cares (and even I don't care! That's not why I'm here!), but I never really got to celebrate this fic when I posted it and it took the fuck off. So here's to another 6k 🤪🤪🤪
FOUR WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook walks slowly, very slowly, down the corridor to the door of your apartment. He does not want to go through it. He really doesn’t want to have to tell you what he’s about to.
Four weeks no sex.
That’s what Coach said. No sex, no masturbation, orgasms 100% completely verboten. He knows this is not going to go down well with you. From the very start of your relationship, you have never gone that long without sex. Jungkook isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it; he’s not sure if you will be either. A tiny part of him worries what it might do to your relationship – you’re stronger than that, aren’t you? This won’t hurt your relationship, will it? You’ve been together for years now, four weeks without sex can’t change anything… Right? Jungkook knows in his heart of hearts that it’s right but the thought of four weeks without you is so unutterably awful that he also can’t believe it won’t change things.
He flops face-first onto the sofa next to you and squirms immediately as you rake a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Absolutely none of that from now on.
“You ok?” you ask and he can’t answer because the answer is no and he’s not going to be for another four weeks, another 29 days in fact. He mumbles nothing into the sofa.
“Just tired? Training hard today?”
Training wasn’t hard, especially. This conversation we’re about to have is hard, Jungkook thinks. Keeping his face shoved into the sofa cushion, he breaks the news.
“Jungkook,” slight impatience in your voice now. “I cannot understand you when you talk into the sofa; what’s going on?”
He lifts his head slightly but can’t bring himself to look at you.
“Coach says we can’t have sex until the fight.”
“WHAT?”
“We can’t have sex until the fight,” he repeats, quietly, miserably.
He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, still not daring to look at you.
“But that’s four weeks away! Four weeks!”
“I know!”
He takes your hand and kisses it, leaning up on his elbows. He rests his head on your thigh, bumping it gently as if he were hitting it against a brick wall. He mumbles under his breath, as close as he ever got to invective against his Coach (whom he nevertheless trusts and respects deeply). You’re being quieter than he expected you to be and it makes him nervous. He expected outraged protestations, reasoned arguments, begging and pleading. But you’re sitting and thinking.
“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”
“He says it’ll improve my focus, power, and aggression if I don’t come between now and then…”
You hum in response and he risks a peek at your face. You’re smirking and something about it makes his stomach drop.
“So… You can’t come, but I can do whatever I want, hm?”
He hadn’t considered that. Of course, that makes sense; you’re not wrong, but Jungkook realises this with absolute horror. Not being able to fuck you for four weeks was going to be bad enough as it is, but four weeks of getting you off without a single second of relief for him? He feels sick.
“Noooo! Baby, please. Please, you have to do this with me.”
It’s not his usual role, but he is not above begging. You shake your head.
“No way; four weeks is a long time and I’m not fighting anyone.”
“I know it’s a long time! That’s why we have to do it together!”
“On the contrary, my sweet, little biscuit, the whole point is that we don’t do it together, isn’t it?”
You lean down and kiss his nose but it is of no comfort. He’s pouting now, both furious and devastated at this turn of events. When you start running your hands through his hair again and his dick twitches, he groans; this will kill him, he thinks. Stone cold dead, this is going to kill him. He holds your hand tight and looks at you, finally, dead in the eye, eyes wide and pleading, his absolute best puppy dog.
“Please,” he begs. “Please.”
“Why don’t we have one last night?” you suggest and Jungkook groans because he knows that tone. “You can start tomorrow. One night won’t make a difference, surely?”
You slide down the sofa until your faces are almost level and Jungkook is about to rest his head where your thigh was, but discovers your breast in its place. He holds still. This is his first test and, while you might have a point, he’s got rules to follow and he can’t break now, not at the very first hurdle. He’s got better self-control than that, hasn’t he?
“Hm?” you continue. “Start tomorrow… Come on, Kookie, please.”
He wants to say yes, of course he does, but if he’s going to last four weeks, he’s going to have to practise saying no.
You slide off the sofa onto your knees on the floor and he eyes you carefully. You’re dangerous and you know it. When you trail your fingers down his spine and kiss the back of his neck, he shivers.
“I want you so badly,” you whisper in his ear and he groans. You slip your hand underneath his T-shirt and he’s sticky with sweat. “I didn’t have you yesterday and now we have to go four weeks? Kookie, I can’t take it… Be good to me, Jungkook, please.”
He loves it when you beg. Hearing his name in your mouth all high and whiny, tremulous with need and desire. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Goosebumps follow your hand on his back and he shivers, groaning into the sofa, fists clenched again.
“My love, stop it, please. We can’t.” His voice is weak and he can’t believe how weak he’s feeling; if you persist might longer, he genuinely feels he might snap and he’s ashamed that his self-control is apparently all but non-existent. He must do better.
“But I’m so wet already.”
Fuck. He snaps. He kneels up and looks at you, your innocent, little face, a devil in disguise. If you’re just playing with him, just teasing, you’re going to be in big trouble.
“Get up,” he commands, slapping the sofa. You obey without hesitation and he grabs you by the legs, pulling so you’re falling onto your back. He tells him yourself you were lying, of course you won’t be wet; you’re just teasing him and he’ll tell you off and ask you to take this seriously and it’ll all be fine. Then he yanks down your trousers and your underwear.
“FUCK.”
He brings his hands to his face and rubs.
“Fuck, I thought you were lying just to tease me, but fuck, you really are.”
You are. Looking at you is almost painful; he’s desperate to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, legs spread, and all he has to do is touch you. But he can’t. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He shuffles back away from you slightly, hands moving to reach you and then pulling back. He swears again.
When you spread your legs wider and shuffle yourself down closer to him, he has to stand. He has to do something with his hands: clenching at his sides, on his hips, on his head, over his face. He’s pacing, too, unable to look at you once again. It would be all too easy to take his own trousers off, let his dick out of its cloth prison and fuck you into the sofa. He has to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself doing just that.
“Kookie,” you coo. “Aren’t you going to touch me? I need you… No one touches me like you do.”
Jungkook is open-mouthed and he has to turn away. He growls, deep in his throat, and gently places his fists on the kitchen counter, when what he really wants to do is smash straight through it. His whole body is tense, fighting itself in an agony of indecision. He needs you to stop; he’s sure you won’t. Not when you’re having this effect on him. He should’ve seen it coming. He knew you wouldn’t take the news well; for some reason, he didn’t expect you to immediately be so defiant. You were always so pliant and obedient for him. But then, this isn’t really his rule and you and his coach didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.
He freezes when he hears the unmistakeable squelch of you plunging your fingers in your wet heat. Then you moan. Then you whimper.
“Jungkook, please.”
He can barely control his breathing as he stands, still with his back to you, unable to block the sound of you from his ears. He should be the one drawing those moans from you; he should be the reason your breathing is hitched.
He decides quickly that you have a point. He can’t come but that doesn’t mean he can’t do anything he likes. He crosses the space to the sofa in three large steps and forces your hand away from you. He doesn’t see the expression on your face as you look up; he’s too busy staring at his next meal. He squeezes your thighs hard and lowers his mouth to you.
“Fuck, yes,” you breathe and it goes straight to his dick.
He moans loudly as he licks from your core to your clit, drinking you in. He licks through your folds, not wanting to miss a drop. He swirls his tongue around your clit before sealing his lips and sucking hard; you grab at his hair and he flicks his eyes to you but your head is tipped back, your back arching off the sofa. He pulls your thighs, bringing you even closer, smothering him, burying him but if he can’t breathe, he doesn’t notice. He notices the pitch of your whines tilt; he notices your breath come quicker; he notices your thighs twitching under his hands; he notices you tugging harder and harder at his hair. He watches you as he works, alternately swirling his tongue across your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking, until you’re screaming, your body writhing, shuddering under the waves of your orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears repeatedly, almost sure he hears you saying the same, but he can’t move his mouth from your lips; all that fresh arousal dripping from you has his name on it.
You squirm and bring your legs together, your feet pushing against his shoulders and he relents, shifting backwards but still gripping your thighs tight.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you but fuck, I fucking love your cunt.”
His hands move higher, his thumbs spreading your lips, running up and down, the slick noises they make like music to his ears. He whines as he drops his head to your thigh with a heavy sigh. He squeezes his eyes tight shut for a moment, trying not to lose all control even as his cock aches in his pants, desperate for you.
While he’s trying to keep it together, you extricate yourself from his grip and sink onto the floor. While he’s off-guard, you spread his legs and slot yourself between them. It’s only when his dick jumps as you slide your hands up his thighs that he realises what is happening. He leaps up and away from you in one, quick, fluid motion.
“No, no, no,” he mutters, hands tangling in his hair, twisting his T-shirt, gripping the kitchen counter, anything to stop them wandering to the bulge in his trousers. He’s painfully hard now, twitching with almost no provocation; his restraint is hanging by a thread.
“Jungkook,” you call for him, still kneeling on the floor. “Kookie, come here, let me help you.”
He growls and takes a deep breath. If he even looks at you right now, he knows he’ll snap.
“I’m going to shower.”
He has to get out, get away from you, anywhere will do.
“You better not wank in there!” you call after him. “Or I’m going to be really upset!”
He chuckles bitterly; as if he would ever choose his hand over your sweet mouth. He strips quickly and steps into the shower, turning the temperature as low as it’ll go and the power on full blast. He gasps as a strong stream of icy water hits him; he shudders and shivers and forces himself to stand still. He’s panting and his skin turns red under the blast but he can’t move, not until he’s flaccid, not until he’s stopped thinking about your beautiful pussy and your soft, hot mouth and no-! Enough of this. He calls to mind all his least favourite things, conjuring up the worst images he can, disgusting, horrible, anything. He just has to stop thinking about you.
When he’s finally showered and clean and soft, he leaves the bathroom. It’s not late, but you’re already sitting up in bed, naked as you always are, and he groans, trying to avoid looking at you.
“Hey now, that’s not fair,” you tell him, sulking with an exaggerated pout as he takes the towel from his waist and rubs it over his hair.
He almost chokes on his indignation.
“Not fair? Me not being fair? And what do you call that, out there? Is that fair, huh? And this?” He gestures to you, chest on display, arms just slightly squeezing your breasts together, as if you think he won’t be able to tell. “Is this fair?”
Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he sits next to you on the bed; he simply will not survive the next four weeks if he can’t get you on-side. He has to stop you reaching out to touch his cheek; he’s only just been able to lose his erection, he’s not sure he can manage another.
“I’m serious, y/n, I cannot do this.”
He’s not sure he can look at you anymore. The thought of spending a whole night next to your naked form, your soft skin pressed against him… He can’t. He can’t even think it without feeling a stir in his groin.
“I can’t do this. I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”
Never in his life has he been more grateful to have one. He’d sleep on the sofa or the floor if he had to, but, if he’s doing all this to improve his fighting, he needs to keep his sleep up, too.
“Jungkook! Don’t leave me!”
When he risks a look at you, you’re wide-eyed and open-mouthed, dismayed. He doesn’t ever want to be the cause of that face; his heart aches. Maybe this would affect your relationship after all. He returns to sit on the edge of the bed and takes your hand. He kisses your palm.
“I can’t- I… I can’t even look at you, right now, without wanting to jump you.” He says quietly, sadly. “I just-“
“I can put some clothes on?”
Your hopeful face squeezes his heart and he wishes that would be enough.
“No, baby, thank you but we both know that isn’t going to help. I know what’s under there.”
“So, we’re not even going to be able to sleep together for the next four weeks?”
“No, we will, I promise. I just… Right now, I just need to get away from you.”
He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, but fails. He misses you already.
“Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”
Jungkook isn’t sure. He’s not sure the one thread of sanity he’s clinging to will last, but he has to give you something.
“Of course, you can,” he answers, with only a little hesitation. “But please… Be nice…”
You take his face in his hands and he shivers. You kiss him once, firmly, and then again, softly, sighing against his mouth. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss you again, wants to melt into your mouth and roll your tongue with his. Then he feels temptation in his groin and has to pull away.
“Night night, my little custard cream.”
“Night night, my love.”
He leaves, and shuts himself in the spare room, wondering just how on earth either of you will make it through the next 29 days.
THREE WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook isn’t home so you’re taking the opportunity for a little Me Time (courtesy of your favourite rabbit). It’s been a week since the last time you came (courtesy of Jungkook) and you’re on edge. You feel a little guilty for the way you behaved, but you’ve been good this week in penance, even though you’re already missing him terribly.
At night, when he wraps himself around you, his hard chest against your back, his strong arms holding you tight, you feel a steady pulse in your core. You want desperately to shift, just push your hips back a little, bring his hand to cup your breast, do something to address your need of him. It’s worse than usual because, of course, you always want most what you can’t have. Isn’t that a universal truth? Last night, you even wished he would go and sleep in the spare room again; having him so close to you, knowing that you can’t touch him like you wanted to was beginning to get unbearable.
Hence, Me Time.
Jungkook is out and not due back soon so you have plenty of time to take things slow. Or at least, that’s what you intend. You take a nice, long, hot bath; apply your favourite body lotion: a rich, thick, cocoa butter that makes you feel expensive; you potter around the apartment for a while in your sexiest lingerie – there’s no one to see you, but it makes you feel sexy anyway. You think about Jungkook. You think about his hair, too short for your preference at the moment; you like it a little longer, a little wavier, giving you plenty to grab onto at the nape of his neck just as at the crown; you like it when it flops into his face and he pushes it back; you like when he lets you plait it and style it, just for the two of you, just for fun.
You think about his beautiful, brown eyes: huge and wide, bright and shining, so open and innocent. You think about the way he looks at you sometimes, like you’re his entire world, like he’s looking at the most beautiful, peaceful sight he’s ever seen. You think about the way he looks at you at other times: like you’re prey; like he’s calculating exactly the right way to destroy you; his eyes dark, black, piercing; eyes that silently command and will be obeyed.
You think about his mouth: his soft, pink lips and two straight rows of perfect white teeth; you think about his mouth on yours, the unyielding pressure of his lip ring, the hard bite of his teeth on your bottom lip, his soft, wet tongue rolling against yours; his soft, wet tongue swirling around your nipple; his soft, wet tongue licking through your folds, flicking across your clit, his lips tight around you as he sucks. You think about his long fingers, their reach; his strong hands and how they direct and control you, pinning you down and lifting you up.
You think about his cock, the prettiest you’d ever seen (though you weren’t surprised, given the rest of him); in perfect proportion, neither too long nor too thick, a slight, gentle curve, smooth but for one thick vein running the length of it. It makes your mouth water just to think of it; your pussy throbs, missing it and you settle on the bed. You can feel the crotch of your underwear is already sticky and your heart is already thumping but you’re still telling yourself that you’re going to take this slowly, because you have plenty of time.
You discard your bra, teasing your nipples beneath it, twisting at the barbells that run through each of them, remembering the way Jungkook had reacted the first time he saw them, as if it were Christmas morning and they were a brand-new puppy and a skateboard. You slip a hand down behind the waistline of your knickers and exhale sharply as you spread your juices across your clit. You’re aching now, with desire, with frustration but you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You let your fingers work slowly, gently, dipping down between your lips to your entrance, exploring your folds, teasing and tapping your clit. It was almost like stepping into a bath: enveloped in warmth as blood rushed to the surface of your skin, cocooned in pleasure as it radiates outwards from your core to the tips of your toes. Goosebumps spread as a shiver rushes down your spine.
Then you get out your rabbit and the lube and shuffle out of your underwear. You coat the toy with lube, wipe your hand against yourself and turn it on, letting it rest against you for a moment, cycling through the settings until you reach your favourite. You think, not for the first time, as you slip it inside you, smoothly, easily, how much you wish you had one of these moulded from Jungkook’s cock. He thought you were joking the first time you said it, but you weren’t then and aren’t now. You want to be able to have him inside you even when he wasn’t around – or at times like this when he is around but isn’t allowed inside you. Nothing compares to him and while this toy might get the job done, it will never be the same.
The little rabbit ears press intently against your clit as you angle it inside you and start to rock your hips, working out a long, soft moan. You tip your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the coiling pressure in your abdomen. You cycle to another setting – higher, faster, more insistent now – and whimper with every breath as your climax comes closer.
“God, I’ve missed that noise.”
You sit up with a jolt to see Jungkook at the bedroom door, eyes roving hungrily over your naked body.
“Jungkook,” you gasp. “What are you doing here? I thought you had plans.”
He shrugs.
“Changed ’em... Though I might be sorry I did.”
“I thought you were going to be out... But since you’re here...”
You beckon him to the bed as you switch off the toy. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sigh as he approaches you on the bed. You’re surprised; you thought he would refuse, hold back, protest even a little. Maybe this would be easier than you thought.
He looks at the rabbit, appraising.
“How does it compare, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a smirk just ghosting over his lips.
“It doesn’t, Kookie.” You flop backwards onto the mattress again. “Nothing compares to you.”
“Let me help you.”
You sigh with relief, waiting to hear his trousers unzip or the shuffle of cloth as he undresses but it doesn’t come. Instead, you hear the quiet whirring of vibration as Jungkook turns the rabbit back on. He chooses a different setting – short, intense pulses – and slips the toy back inside you, pushing the ears hard into your clit, forcing a choked moan from your throat.
“Jungkook... Kookie, no. I want you.”
The look on his face is fierce but softens when he looks into your eyes. He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear.
“You know you can’t have me now, baby. Stop playing dirty.”
He takes a hand and pushes low on your stomach as he rocks the toy inside you and changes the setting: insistent, hard vibration that almost sets your teeth chattering.
“Fuck,” you whisper as your walls start to clench and all your muscles tighten and you’re whimpering, mewling, seconds from climax, your breath catching in your throat. You’re a band stretched to its limits and just as you’re about to snap, Jungkook pulls the toy from you and sits back on the bed, not touching you.
“Wh-.. I...”
You look at him, dazed and confused, as he stands up and takes the toy with him out of the room.
“Where are you going?” you call after him, your voice weak and strangled.
You’re itching with frustration and impatience and when he returns, only a minute later, you turn to him, outraged. He’s empty-handed and he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and tucks your hair behind your ear sweetly.
“What are you doing?” you ask, still breathless, heart still pounding in your chest.
He leans closer to you, resting on his forearm on your chest, lightly crushing you beneath his weight as he takes your hand in his and directs it to his crotch, where you can feel his dick, semi-hard under his trousers.
“I’m showing you how hard this is,” he whispers menacingly in your ear. “You’re still not playing fair, little miss.”
He stands and walks out of the room, looking back over his shoulder at you.
“If I don’t get to come, you don’t get to come!” he calls.
You give a little, angry shriek and throw a pillow at him, which misses by miles, and you storm out after him.
“I did not sign up for that!” you shout, giving him a shove.
He grins at you and raises his eyebrows.
“What’s mine is yours, baby.”
“No way! No way! You know the second you leave, I can just make myself come.”
“That’s true,” he admits as he checks his watch, “but I’m not leaving again tonight.”
Furious now, you move closer to him, your hands on his hips. You lick your lips and move a hand between you, palming his erection. His eyes flutter closed.
“Two can play at this game, Jeon,” you hiss, sliding your hand between his trousers and his boxers, running your finger up his turgid length.
“Don’t call me Jeon.”
“Isn’t it your name?”
He tips his head back and bites his lip as you finally breach his boxers, wrapping your fingers around him, squeezing lightly.
“You only call me Jeon when you’re pissed,” he chokes out.
“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed.”
His head tips forward again and he looks at you as you sink to your knees, pulling his clothes down with him. You see him swallow hard.
“Not sure you thought this through, did you?” you ask, swiping your tongue across his head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum. “Here you are, all hard and ready for me...”
You take a hand through your lips, sweeping up your arousal and spreading it on the head of his dick.
“And me all ready for you...”
You wrap your lips around him and take him until he hits your throat, looking up at him through your lashes, then you come up and pause, just holding him in your mouth, your tongue running back and forth across the underside. Jungkook grunts and his eyelids flutter closed. You can see his fists clenching on either of him.
“Y/n...” he groans, quiet and strangled.
“Mm?” you hum, not taking him from your mouth, and you notice the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenches. “You started this,” you remind him, as you trail sloppy, wet kisses down the length of his hot, smooth cock. “I was going to be nice to you, but you had to go and spoil it.” You run your tongue flat across his balls as your hand continues to pump his shaft and he moans.
“Fuck, I miss you,” he whines, his voice high and tight as you run your tongue back to his head, enveloping him in your mouth once again. “God, fuck.”
You hollow your cheeks and suck, your hand and mouth moving as one. Jungkook’s fist moves to your hair, gripping tight, not directing you, just to have something to hold on to. As you push lower, tipping your head to take him into your throat, he jerks.
“No, no, no, stop! Stop.”
He pushes you back by the shoulders and stands, his breathing ragged, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard. You let him stand there, recovering; you stay kneeling at his feet.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, each more aggressive than the last. He pulls his boxers and his trousers back on and looks at you, eyes wild. “No.”
“Kookie... Please.”
You pout up at him, put your hands on his thighs, and shuffle just an inch closer.
“No. Fuck, no, I can’t. I can’t.” He looks at you, alternately desperate and resolved and then shakes his head. “Baby, god, I want to. You know I want to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
His hand is in your hair again, gently pulling you upwards, pulling you closer. He kisses your cheek and your lips, each little peck lasting a little longer than the last, until he just barely parts his mouth and you grab his bottom lip in your teeth. He moans and pulls away.
“No, no, no, no,” he whispers. “I can’t.” He swallows hard and looks skyward again, praying for strength. Then he repeats his no before stalking off into the spare room, cursing under his breath.
You sigh, more frustrated than ever, and, having spotted your stolen sex toy on the bathroom counter, you go back to finish what you started.
TWO WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook is sleeping in the spare room again. He says it’s because you’re not to be trusted, but what he means is that he isn’t to be trusted. He could barely trust himself around you before, but two weeks into the ban, he can’t risk taking any chances. Especially not with the way you’ve been behaving.
Apparently, so you tell him, there’s very little evidence to suggest that sex before a sporting event has as negative effect on performance.
“I even read,” you say, not for the first time, “that not having sex for a while lowers your testosterone so it’s not just that having sex isn’t bad, it might even be good! Don’t you want that?”
He’s trying to block you out. You’ve already told him this and he’s already told you that he’s doing as he’s told. He focuses on the TV, trying to get invested in the storyline, trying to care about the characters while you pester him relentlessly. He has to grit his teeth together and breathe carefully.
“Don’t ignore me, my little hobnob.”
You always pull out that biscuit when you think he needs to lighten up. He tries not to grin, not very successfully, because it’s such a ridiculous name – who calls a biscuit that, really? Then you slip your hands around his waist and rest your chin on his shoulder.
“I miss you,” you say, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back.
He sighs, dropping his head, carefully trying to revel in your touch without giving in too far.
“I miss you too, love. Just two more weeks.”
You sigh, aggravated, and sit back.
“Yeah, two more weeks; we’re only halfway through. We have to do all of this all over again. Is that really what you want?”
“No, of course it’s not!”
Of course, he doesn’t want it. What he wants is to pin you down and eat you out ’til you’re screaming and then he wants to fuck you like his life depends on it, spend himself on you so hard he literally can’t move. What he wants is the opposite of this. Why can’t you understand that?
He turns to you, shifting his body around and reaches for your hands.
“Of course, it’s not what I want. I want you all the time. Why do you think I’m sleeping in the spare room again? I can barely stand sitting with you like this; every part of me is screaming at me to just take yo-“
“Then do it! Do it! I’m telling you, the science is on our side!”
He has to take a deep breath; he knows you may well be right. And he doesn’t like the thought of doing all this for no reason, for, if the article you read is right, the possibility that he’s actually less strong, less powerful in the ring, but he’s on a path and he has to stick to it.
“I’m doing what Coach says,” he tells you, sounding more resolved than he is. “I hired him for a reason and he’s already said he can notice a difference. This fight is so important and I have to follow him to the letter. I am sorry. I am…”
He is what?
He puffs out his cheeks and sighs. He doesn’t know what to say. There aren’t words for this or, if there are, he doesn’t know them. He leans forward and grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. He knows he shouldn’t, knows how dangerous this is, but he misses you so much and he’s so upset and you’re so upset and he has to do something.
You scoot forward and sit yourself in his lap. His heart hammers in his chest, anxiety or desire or a heady mix of both, he’s not sure but his mind is slipping away from him and he’s not sure he cares anymore. He wraps his arms around you as his tongue finds yours. You’ve hardly had this much of each other over the last week and he’s ravenous. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue and he feels a stirring in his crotch. He can feel you, just above him, and he wants to push you down, roll your hips over his, but he daren’t; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself if you do.
He's breathless with the need of you and it catches in his throat as you grind into him. He moans and bites hard at your bottom lip; you keep going, kissing him hard so that he can’t speak.
Jungkook gathers up his strength and pulls back, holding you tight in place so you can’t chase after him. He’s breathing heavily and his hand trembles as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear.
“Y/n…” He doesn’t know if it’s a plea or a warning; he doesn’t have any more words to follow. There isn’t anything he can say or do that will make this situation anything other than torture. Nothing will make you feel better than being fucked by him, fucked hard, nothing more and nothing less. He knows because he feels the same. He’s almost dizzy with desire; he’s giddy but clinging with desperation to the last remnants of his self-control. There’s a tiny voice at the back of his head proud of him for having come this far, but he can’t listen to it because we all know what comes before a fall and he can’t afford a fall like this.
It's the title. It’ll be his first title. This win will put him on the map. This win will establish him as a real, professional boxer, one to beat; this will be, he hopes, the first of many belts, many titles. His coach has real faith in him, he believes he can make it to world champion if he works hard enough. And Jungkook wants it. He wants to work; he wants to win. And now, he has to win. Losing is not an option. And once he has won, once this is over – in two, long, painful weeks – it’ll have all been worth it and he’ll be able to have you six ways from Sunday, every day of the week.
“Please don’t stop,” you whimper and the open, desperate pleading of your glistening eyes goes straight to his dick. “Please, please.”
He’s had to resist your pleading before; he’s even enjoyed resisting your cries and pleas, but that’s when he’s been in control; that’s when he’s been ramping up to wrecking you once, twice, three times, as many times as you can take. This is ramping up to nothing and your pleading only makes him feel broken.
You bring your face to his again and he can’t back away. You kiss him with urgency, running your hands over his body beneath his T-shirt, teasing his nipples until he’s fully hard, straining against his boxers, pressing against your crotch. You strip off your own top and Jungkook’s resolve crumbles. He dips his head, lifting you slightly from his lap to kiss your breasts, to flick his tongue over your nipples and swirl them in his mouth, one at a time, until they’re tight and hard. He bites hungrily and you mewl above him, whining his name. It’s like heaven to him and he can’t believe he hasn’t had this for two weeks; the two weeks stretching out in front of you are paling, forgotten in some faraway corner of his mind.
He's kidding himself that he can last a little longer with you lifted up like this, your hips no longer grinding your core into him. He keeps his mouth occupied at your chest and squeezes your glutes in his hands, then slipping them into the wide legs of your shorts. When he pulls your underwear to the side with one hand, and slips the fingers of his other hand into your warm, waiting slip, he sighs with satisfaction. You’re tight and soft and so, so wet.
You take his face in your hands and pull him back to your mouth. The kiss is all tongue and heavy breathing, messy and far from pretty but you’re each so desperate for the other that nothing else matters. You kiss his cheek and his jaw and bite down on his earlobe, whining breathily as he presses insistently against your front wall, each curl of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge. He slips his other hand behind your underwear and spreads your slick over your clit, rubbing insistently, knowing you’re getting close. He can tell by the sounds you’re making, sounds he’d work out of you every day of his life if he could.
“God, Kookie, baby, yes.”
You plant your lips on his neck, muffling your whines and whimpers as the heat builds inside you. Jungkook groans, shivering as you suck on his neck, as your cunt clenches his fingers tight, as your legs shake on either side of him. He doesn’t stop, can’t stop even when you’re tugging his hair, even when you’re squirming, even when you’re screaming his name. He’s far away now, lost in the bliss of your velvet heat. He’s insistent and you’re so sensitive that he pulls another orgasm from you with a cry and a shudder that takes your whole body. He’s so focused on you as a way of distracting himself from his own intense, aching desire. He’s painfully hard; he can feel the spreading circle of pre-cum on his boxers; he’s not entirely sure he won’t come even if you don’t touch him.
Then you flop against him, spent, and your hand grazes his crotch and he jerks violently.
“Fuck!” he gasps and tears prick in his eyes. He can’t look at you; he stares far away, out of the window, trying to stop his dick throbbing, trying to slow his heartrate, trying without success to calm himself.
“Kookie,” you whimper, your voice shaky. “Let me-“
“No,” he whispers, no strength in his voice, no strength anywhere in his body except his stiff, swollen cock. He closes his eyes and he can feel a tear trickle down his cheek, followed by your lips as you kiss it away. He flinches at the contact and whimpers when you stroke his hair.
“I can help you,” you whisper but he doesn’t hear you.
He’s lost, his mind strangled with desperate desire. His brain is whirring, swimming, floating away from him; his fingers tingle and shake and his heart thumps erratically in his chest. He’s never been this excruciatingly turned on before and knowing that he can’t see it through is heart-breaking.
You move your hand towards the waistband of his trousers and he grabs your wrist. He’s gripping so tightly, he’s sure it’ll hurt, but he can’t be gentle now.
“Don’t-,” he starts but his words are swallowed by a sob.
You press your forehead against his and he can’t stop the whimper as you kiss him, so light, so soft. He holds your face in his hands, barely even really touching, trying not to tangle them in your hair and pull you closer. You stay like that, just looking at each other for a minute or more, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows he needs to calm down, knows he should be calming down now that you’re still but his breathing doesn’t settle and he can hear the thump of his heart and the roar of his blood in his ears.
“Baby,” he says eventually, his voice croaky and hoarse. He has to do something and it has to be something drastic. He needs a shock to the system, a full reset. “I need-… I need you to get something for me.” And he needs you to get it because he’s not sure he can walk, not sure he can move at all.
“Anything.”
“Ice. And water.”
“Huh?”
“Ice and water; I need a big, big glass- a jug of iced water please.” His voice wobbles at the end and he’s trying so hard to regulate his breathing, trying so hard not to feel the pulsing in his underwear.
“Ok…”
You shift on his lap but he can’t let you go. His fingers twine in your hair and you have to pry them out to allow you to get up.
With the relief of you off him, the air around him clears and he jumps up, taking off his T-shirt and pushing his trousers to the floor. Once again needing to do something with his hands while he waits for you, he holds them out to the side, not daring to let them anywhere near his erection, fists clenching and unclenching. He feels like he might really be on the edge of a heart attack or an aneurysm. He feels abnormal, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He could keel over.
He can hear you, the ice clinking in the glass and he taps his feet, impatient. When you hand it over, he takes it with both hands and up-ends it all over himself.
“Jungkook!” you cry, as water splashes all over the floor and the sofa and the coffee table, but it sounds distant, the shock of the water temporarily sending him far away. He’s gasping and shivering and blinking hard, then screwing his eyes tight.
“I need you to go,” he tell you, still unable to look at you.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere, baby, literally anywhere,” his voice is still wobbling, his teeth chattering. “If we’re still in the same room in five seconds, I think I’m going to die. Come or die, either way, I don’t know but please, please just go.”
“Ok, I’m going, I’m going.”
He can barely hear you; he scrubs his hands over his face, swearing over and over and over again, begging the universe to let him calm down, to make these next two weeks go as quickly as they possibly can.
ONE WEEK TO GO
Jungkook hasn’t taken any more risks since that night. And he has also told you, almost every day since, to behave yourself, to stop doing that; he’s asked if you’re trying to kill him and the truth is: yes. You’re sick of it now; it takes almost nothing to get you hot: just the thought of him, randomly popping into your head as you’re trying to send emails at work, and you’re getting wet. You can’t sleep anymore. He’s still in the spare room but you lie in your bed, thinking about him lying in the other bed, and you can’t help yourself. You make yourself come again and again but it’s never enough. You can’t believe that he’s not only managed to ruin all other men for you but also your own damn self. You know how to push all your buttons but it’s not the same when it’s you doing it, it's not the same without Jungkook between your thighs.
You know there’s only a week to go, but it’s too long and you’re too frustrated and you’re reaching your boiling point. So, you do what any other sane person would do: naked protest. You stop wearing clothes in the house entirely, getting dressed only to go out and stripping as soon as the front door shuts behind you. When you first walk into the kitchen as Jungkook is eating breakfast, he chokes on his cereal and you have to slap him on the back; you feel his eyes following you as you make yourself a cup of tea and some porridge.
Now he’s just ignoring you. He’s doing his best to stay out of any room you are in, but that’s fine. It’s a small apartment and you’ve hidden his noise-cancelling headphones, so you know he can hear you when you moan and whine, wanton and gratuitous, as you do your best to fix your frustration.
He still hasn’t broken. You’re impressed, honestly. You didn’t think that he would be able to hold out this long and, as aggravated as you are, as deeply, unutterably frustrated as you are, you can’t help but admire his self-control. Unable to be in the same room as you, he texts you and tells you that his trainer is impressed with his performance and is confident about the fight; he believes he can win. He had fucking better win is what you think, but you text back something a little more supportive.
Six days before the fight and Jungkook is in the shower. You’re at a loose end, so you decide to join him. You thank the lord that he didn’t lock the door; he’s got his back to you and doesn’t notice you there until your hands are on his waist. He cries out in surprise and goes to turn around but you hold him still, kissing his shoulder and his back and the nape of his neck. You run your hands up his abs, grab his fulsome pecs, and peeking around his shoulder, you’re delighted to see he’s already hard.
“Were you about to masturbate in this shower?” you ask him, only half-serious.
“No,” he groans. “This is how badly I want you, y/n. Why are you making this so hard?”
You giggle at his choice of words and he growls deep in his throat. He turns around and cages you in against the screen with his hands either side of you.
“In six days,” he tells you, his voice low, face serious, eyes pinning you to the spot. “In six days, I am going to fucking destroy you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight for a week; I’m going to fill you up so completely, my cum never stops dripping out of you; I’m going to make you scream so loud, our neighbours want to call the police; I’m going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you again, then I’m going to fuck you some more and I’m still not going to be done. I’m going to take this cock,” he says, grabbing it at the base and hissing hard through his teeth as he does, “and I’m going to wreck your pretty little throat and your pretty little pussy, is that what you want?”
You can only nod, mute with desire, as you can feel arousal drip down your legs and you shiver, despite the warm, steamy atmosphere. Jungkook nudges his nose against yours, eyes still black as pitch, and he whispers in your ear.
“In six days.”
Then he leans back and stands back under the stream of water.
“Now get the fuck out.”
You’re so overwhelmed, you just do as he says and he follows behind you, shutting the door – and locking it – as soon as you’ve crossed the threshold. You blink hard and, as you come to your senses, you feel too many things at once: hot, frustrated, desperate, livid, heartbroken, a little bit intimidated, a lot excited, and over and above everything else, impatient.
Jungkook stands in the shower, turning the water icy again. He’s shaking, trembling all over, and before he can get himself under control, he’s sobbing. Hands against the tiles, shivering with cold and shuddering through ragged breaths, he drops his head and cries. Cries because he’s so frustrated, because he misses you so much, because he’s so tired, because he hates disappointing you, because he’s anxious, because he’s not sleeping well at night without you, because a tiny, paranoid thought niggles at him that this is going to make you leave him, because he can’t live without you and if he didn’t know it before, he knows it now.
He cries under the cold water for so long that it stops feeling cold against his skin and when he finally steps out of the shower, his skin is livid red and icy to the touch.
He goes to stay at a friend’s house that night.
“Look, I love you so much and I miss you so much that I can’t be around you,” reads his text. “Just thinking about you makes me want to die a seriously Little Death. The fight will be over soon; just six more days and I promise, I’ll give you everything you want and more. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, please, please wait for me.”
“I love you, too, my little Bourbon,” you reply. “But I might never forgive you for this.”
“I promise, I’ll make you forgive AND forget, just wait ’til Saturday.”
He stares at his phone, wishing the messages said something different. He knows you’re joking, thinks you’re joking, hopes you’re joking, at least a little bit.
He sends a string of different kiss emojis and you toss your phone down beside you. Considering your small arsenal of sex toys without hope, you pick one at random, knowing even before you’ve started that it’s not even going to touch the sides of your desire. Your need for Jungkook has become a yawning chasm that stretches further than the eye can see; and it is a need for Jungkook specifically. For one mad moment a few days ago, you had considered the possibility of going out and getting fucked by someone else, but the second you thought it, it repulsed you: you don’t need a dick, you need his dick; you need his mouth; you need his hands. You need him, no one and nothing else. Accept no imitations. Which is really rather a pain right now.
You try to focus on your body, on the pleasure building there, the pleasant thrum in your core as you work with the vibrator in your folds and against your clit. You try to think about nothing, removing Jungkook from the equation, just emptying your mind and focusing on the physical sensations of your body.
It doesn’t work and you get so frustrated that you throw the vibrator in the bin and then, that not being enough, scoop up the others and chuck them in there, too. What’s the point of them, you think to yourself bitterly.
These had better be the fastest six days of your life or you aren’t sure you’ll survive.
FIGHT NIGHT
It was finally here. Jungkook had been working towards this for months, years, for his whole life in a way. It was both the pinnacle of his career and the first step of what he hoped would be a very long journey to the top. The final fight in his bid to be The Ring’s Super Middleweight champion: his opponent, Saul ‘Canelo’ Alvarez. Jungkook has him on reach and height, and he’s also lighter, which he thinks will be to his advantage. Canelo might be a slugger, but that’s where Jungkook excels. People think that his lightness is a disadvantage, that he doesn’t have the strength to throw hard enough punches, that he’s weak, that he’s Amir Khan. But he’s better than that. He’s agile and yes, slighter than other super middleweights, but he’s also strong and he’s also powerful and there’s nothing like seeing the surprise in his opponent’s face when he got his first punch in and they realised that for themselves. Of course, now he’s getting better known, he’s losing that element of surprise but it’s hardly the only thing he’s got in his keep.
But he’s not thinking about that. Today, just like all the other days this week, he’s thinking about you. His coach keeps telling him that he’s strong, that he seems focused, that he seems strong, but Jungkook isn’t entirely convinced. All he can think about is you; his mind is already beyond the fight and he’s anxious that this is going to be his undoing, that he’s going to have survived these past four weeks only to be so keyed up and desperate in the ring that he loses.
He wishes he could see you, just for five minutes, but you’ve been banned from his presence on fight days. You’re also banned from the gym on training days. Jungkook agrees with Coach that that’s probably for the best but it doesn’t mean he likes it. You are a distraction, there’s no denying it, but today, he really feels like he needs it. He needs you. Even an ounce, even a drop of you will do.
He pulls out his phone and dials your number.
“Kookie! Are you ok?” You sound concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”
“We never speak on fight days; I thought something might be wrong.”
Jungkook sighs and leans his head back against the wall.
“Something is wrong: I miss you.”
“Jungkook! Don’t scare me like that!”
He laughs and knows he was right to call you; just hearing your voice is like a balm to his fraying nerves. He already feels more relaxed.
“I’m sorry, love,” he replies. “I just wanted to hear your voice; we haven’t spoken this week.”
“I know and whose fault is that?”
“I know, I know, it’s mine, but I can’t wait to see you. Even if I lose this fight, as long as I’ve got you, I’m good, I’m a winner.”
“Hey now, you’re not going to lose, my little oat and raisin cook-”
“You don’t like that flavour cookie, do you?”
“Well, I don’t, no, but I thought I’d go with the least sexy flavour, in respect of how easy it is to get a ‘rise’ out of you at the moment.”
He snorts, appreciative of the weird, little effort.
“I think you’re right: raisins are not sexy but cookies are sexy biscuits, aren’t they? By default? Sexier than normal biscuits, right?”
“So you’re saying we need a raisin biscuit that isn’t a cookie.”
“Yeah.
“Garibaldi?”
Jungkook laughs.
“I don’t even know what that is, love, but sure, it doesn’t sound sexy.”
“Ok, then, I know you’re not going to lose, my little garibaldi.”
He laughs again and tells you that his coach has said the same thing (“… not in the same words”). He wishes he could stay on the phone with you longer; having barely spoken to you this week, he misses your voice, your presence, your conversation, just as much if not more than he misses your body. He sees his coach crossing the room, approaching him and he rings off reluctantly, but relieved he got even a minute with you before tonight.
He’s pacing in the dressing room; it’s almost time. He considered asking you not to come to this one; he’s not sure that he’ll be able to focus knowing you’re so much as in the room. The usual rule is that you’re allowed to attend but you have to sit somewhere in the back, somewhere he won’t be able to see you; he’s not sure if that’ll be enough tonight. Coach is talking to him, trying to hype him up, but he can’t hear a word. He just knows he needs to end this fight as soon as he possibly can and that means not going out there all guns blazing like a reckless thug in a bar fight; it means taking a step back (and he physically does it, takes one step back), taking a deep breath, and remembering the strategy, remembering the training. He’s ready for this (“You’re ready for this, JK,” Coach cries); he’s going to destroy Canelo (“You’re going to smash it, mate; you’re going to destroy him!”); and then he’s going to destroy you and himself in that order.
Canelo seems thrown off by Jungkook at the start: his size, maybe, his strength, his Southpaw stance despite being right-handed, Jungkook can’t be sure, but he wins the first round decisively and it’s exactly how he needs it to go: he likes to be the underdog but he likes an early lead. Spite and competitiveness can get you surprisingly far in life. He was right that Canelo is heavy and Jungkook is able to run rings around him; he thinks he might genuinely be able to get this wrapped up early, if he can just manage to hit him hard enough.
That turns out to be an ambitious goal and, halfway through, he’s slightly down on points. He’s frustrated; he can’t quite work out why his punches aren’t landing. Are they really not connecting? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Are the judges just not seeing them? He’s not sure what he can do about that. He spits out the water Coach squirted in his mouth and he’s nodding at his advice. As he stands to get ready for the seventh round, his eyes roam the crowd, not looking for anything, just looking. Then his stomach flips. He sees you.
You’re sitting in your seat, anxious and uncomfortable. It always makes you anxious to see him fight, even though you know he’s trained for this and he’s as safe as anyone else would be in the same situation, but you flinch every time Canelo lands a punch. Jungkook hasn’t lost a fight all year and you’re surprised to see him losing – even if not by many points. You hadn’t really considered the possibility of him losing, because he doesn’t. He’s Jungkook. He’s the Baby Assassin of Busan. He doesn’t lose.
But things go from bad to worse. The next rounds see Jungkook falter, making uncharacteristic mistakes and misjudgements that cost him points. As the bell rings at the end of the tenth round, you can see the frustration in Jungkook’s face from here. Your stomach twists; you know how much this fight means to him and how upset he’ll be if he loses. You try to rouse yourself; it’s not over ’til it’s over. There are two rounds to go and he’s not so far behind he can’t make it up. There’s still a chance.
When Jungkook stands for the eleventh round, you see him scanning the crowd in your direction. You panic, should you hide? Duck? Cover your face? Too late; his eyes find yours and the second stretches into eternity, just you and him, before he’s tapped by the ref and he turns away. You shouldn’t have come. You’re a distraction. You’re going to make it worse.
Jungkook is going to lose.
The bell rings and Jungkook feels sprightly, buoyed, suddenly less tired than he had done in the last round. He dances energetically around the ring, keeping Canelo moving, keeping him throwing punches and missing, throwing more punches and missing again and again. You’re on the edge of your seat; this is the Jungkook you know. All at once, he lands three punches on Canelo and leaps back out of his retaliatory reach. Then he settles in a bit closer and lets Canelo land a couple on him; this… isn’t the Jungkook you know. You can’t work out what he’s doing; you’ve not seen him do this before. You turn to the clock, watching the seconds of the round tick by. Thirty seconds left. You check the points. Jungkook still behind.
This is more like it, Jungkook thinks. He can end it. He knows he can. He just has to let Canelo let his guard down a little more, tire him out a little further. Jungkook is not letting this get to twelve rounds. It won’t happen. Not on his watch.
You’re so focused on the screen: the points, the time, that you miss what causes the crowd to suddenly surge and scream. Canelo is standing with the referee in front of him, looking a little dazed. The ref lets them continue and the round commences again. Before Canelo has even blinked, Jungkook has hit him with a left hook that you know he put all his weight into. Canelo falls to the mat and doesn’t get back up. The ref starts counting. The crowd count with him.
“8… 9… 10!”
The ref waves a wide cross in front of him; the commentator declares it a knockout; and the crowd is screaming. Jungkook’s arms are in the air, his coach lumbering into the ring to envelope him in a hug, along with everyone else, it seems, the ring suddenly full of people. You lose sight of Jungkook. You’re on your feet, straining to see over the heads of the people in front of you, who are doing the very same thing. Tiny red fists emerge from the mêlée and it’s him; you exhale a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You’re desperate to get to him. It’s over. The fight’s finally over. And he won. By knockout after a hard fight. This is absolutely the best outcome, better even than you’d hoped for. You bet he’s on cloud nine and you can’t wait to join him there.
Jungkook is buzzing. He’s done it. It’s finally over. And that means there’s only one thing on his mind. He can’t focus, is barely there as they hand him his belt, as he lifts it above his head to show the screaming crowd. People are congratulating him, slapping his back, rubbing his hair; at some point, someone takes his hands and rips off his gloves – he’s not sure where they end up. The fight was televised and a man with a microphone approaches him. He tries hard to focus on the questions, answering as quickly as he can and then the presenter asks just what he’s going to do now he’s won his first Super Middleweight title.
“Well,” he answers, “I haven’t come in four weeks so I’m going to go find my girl and fuck her in the dressing room ’til neither of us can walk straight!”
He points right at you, flicks a peace sign to the crowd and jogs back the way he entered 45 long minutes ago.
He keeps jogging all the way to the dressing room, stopping for precisely nobody. Coach tries to grab his attention, tries to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs him off. Wild horses can’t keep him from you now.
He swings open the dressing room, for a moment disappointed that you’re not there before him, but, of course you wouldn’t be. He’ll have to wait; it’s been four weeks, he can cope with another four minutes. Probably. He paces back and forth, back and forth; he chugs half a bottle of water; he almost wipes the sweat off his body, dries his hair, but then he remembers how much you like him dirty like this. Just the thought of you has got him hard already. He palms himself through his shorts and immediately has to stop himself; to come before you’ve even got in the door is unthinkable, unforgivable.
The door opens and there you are.
“Fucking finally.”
Jungkook slams his hands either side of your head, leaning down over you, sweat still dripping from his hair. He lowers one hand slowly to lock the door, his dark eyes never leaving yours, and then returns it next to your head.
“Did you have to wear fucking jeans?” he asks, laughing lightly. Of course, she’d wear jeans, he thinks, fucking tease. “Couldn’t find a dress? A skirt?”
“Sorry,” you answer, and you’re already breathless.
Jungkook kisses you, pressing his whole body against you and you sigh; god how you’ve missed this. He turns you around with one knock of his hand on your hip and he unbuttons your jeans impatiently. He shoves them roughly down your legs and you step out of them and your shoes at the same time.
“Oh baby, I don’t care. All I care about is finally getting to fuck you like you deserve. Please tell me you’re wet already. I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”
He’s usually more considerate; he would usually take his time. But this is not a usual situation. You laugh.
“Kookie, I’ve been wet for weeks, just hurry the fuck up, would you?”
He doesn’t need telling twice. He strips off his shorts and boxers and as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance, and it twitches, he gasps.
“Shit.”
He takes a few breaths, tries to steady himself. He kisses your neck, buying himself some time. He’s on a hair trigger and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t blow his load in one thrust.
“Just so you know,” he tells you, figuring there’s nothing else for it. “I’m going to last about ten seconds right now, but I promise, I’ll be ready to go again. I swear this won’t be it.”
“Just fuck me, please, Kookie. I’ll take ten seconds over none.”
Your whole body shudders as he presses into you for the first time in four weeks. You both moan low and Jungkook pauses at the bottom. You can feel him breathing heavily against your skin and he takes your trapezius in his teeth, taking a generous bite and not letting go as he drags himself backwards before thrusting in again. Your walls are spasming already; you’re so tight and he’s stretching you just right, filling you up like you’ve not been filled for 29 long days.
Ten seconds, as it happens, was an over-estimation. The way you grip him, the way he can feel your walls fluttering against him; you’re so hot and wet and tight and it’s been so long and he’s so sensitive. He lasts for all of a handful of thrusts before he’s groaning and shooting hot, white ropes of cum into you.
“Fuck, shit, sorry, baby, fuck!”
You can’t help but laugh as you turn around, keeping your legs tight together. He grins sheepishly at you and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.
“I’m sorry, love, I did tell you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His hands meet across your lower back and he pulls you close for a kiss.
“I’ve missed you, too, Kookie,” you mumble against his lips, half your words eaten up by Jungkook’s mouth. You feel his tongue against your lower lip and you open up for him, sliding your tongue over his as he licks into your mouth. God, even this you’ve missed. You’ve barely even seen him in the last week, let alone got close to him, let alone touched him, let alone kissed him, even chastely. It’s overwhelming now to have him so close to you, all over you. You never want him any further away.
He moves his hands lower and lifts you up under your bum, carrying you to the sofa, where he strips you of your top and bralet – the black, lacy one you know he likes. You almost pout that he takes no notice of it but he catches you eye and grins.
“I notice, I know, I love you, thank you, but god, I don’t want a stitch on you right now. Nothing is better than you like this.” He stretches his hands out over your naked body and climbs over you. He ducks again, swallowing your next moan as he pinches at your nipple.
His mouth is everywhere, burning wherever it touches. You’re sweating and breathless and you think you won’t last much longer than ten seconds either when he finally touches you. Your cunt is quivering in anticipation, your clit throbbing a hard pulse, its echoes shuddering through you. Your back arches as Jungkook moves lower, his mouth on one nipple and then the next and then lower and lower still. He crawls off the sofa onto his knees and pulls you around, legs dangling from the edge. He spreads your thighs wide and takes a moment, looking down at your soaking wet pussy through half-lidded eyes. He licks his lips and clicks his neck from one side to the next before fixing you with a mischievous grin.
“If you even think about teasing me,” you gasp out. “I will fucking murder you.”
He laughs and kisses your inner thigh.
“You over-estimate my self-control, my love. I’m at my fucking limit.”
He is. He isn’t even close to finished with you. His cock is already stirring again as he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from core to clit and moaning lasciviously as he does. You’re already so sensitive, whining and whimpering as he sucks and slurps at you, his face buried so far into the crux of your thighs, you don’t know if he can breathe. Almost immediately, you’re cresting, arching off the sofa, thighs clamping together on Jungkook’s head as a streak of hot pleasure surges through you and fresh arousal gushes over his face.
He brings his hands to your thighs and forces them apart without breaking contact with your cunt. He doesn’t stop, no matter how you squirm; you can’t catch your breath to tell him you’re over-stimulated, to beg him to stop, to give you a second’s break. A scream breaks in your throat as he pushes three fingers inside you and you’re seeing stars. He finally takes his mouth from you and breathes heavily against you, his breath sending sprinkles of goosebumps across your skin. He curls his fingers inside you and then tips your hips just slightly, suddenly hitting the perfect spot. You’re incoherent, animal, as you moan and whimper, stuttering to another orgasm under his ministrations.
You don’t have to find a way to ask him to remove his fingers as the waves of your orgasm roll through you but just as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, his mouth is back on you. He’s gentle this time, more patient. He kisses your lips, licks through your folds slowly, moaning, his brows knitting together because it’s been so long since he’s tasted you and there’s nothing he’d ever rather eat. He buries his tongue in your hole, bumping your clit with his nose; if it were anyone else, it might be accidental, but you know Jungkook knows your body perfectly and knows exactly what he's doing. You’re raw, over-wrought, dehydrated. Your vision swims and your voice gets stuck in your throat, able only to gasp and stutter, not even able to scream his name out loud as you scream it in your head. Your hands tremble, one pushing back the hair on your head, the other finding its way to Jungkook’s hair, tangling there as if you could even dream of giving him direction right now.
His eyes flick to yours and they’re black, pupils dilated, lids fluttering quickly to a close again as he moans, vibrating lips sealing around your screamingly sensitive clit. Your hand pulls sharply at his hair, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You feel like every atom in your body has been electrified, every touch, every movement – yours or his – sending sparks straight to your core, where they’re churned up into a tight ball. Like the death of a star, your body collapses in on itself, contracting and tightening as you are reduced to little more than a silent scream, and then explodes, a supernova of ecstasy exploding within you, scattering bits of you all over the room.
When you open your eyes, you can see stars wherever you look, which isn’t far because you can’t find it within you to move a single muscle.
“You ok, my love?”
Jungkook’s face swims into view, a dopey grin on his sticky, wet face. He looks drunk or high or both. He pushes the hair off your face, your flushed cheeks, fucked-out, dilated pupils staring straight at him; he thinks you look high or drunk or both. He kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips and you’re suddenly hungry again.
“Kookie.” Your voice is hoarse and low, still strangled with need.
Jungkook hums against your mouth as he lifts you up, pressing your back into the back of the sofa.
“Kookie.”
You manage to grab his face between your palms and hold him still, giving you a chance to focus on him, see him properly.
“Tell me what you need,” he says, as eager to please and energetic as a new puppy and you have no idea how. He should be tired; he knows he’s going to crash hard, but right now, there’s adrenaline surging through him like there’s no tomorrow. He’s wired; he’s excited; he feels almost manic with love and lust and he’s so high, he can’t see the ground. He feels like he could go all night and he’s certainly going to try.
“I need you inside me, right now, right this second. Please, please, please.”
You aren’t exactly unaccustomed to begging but nothing will stop the stream of ‘please’s tumbling from your mouth. Nothing, that is, except the head of Jungkook’s perfect cock in your folds, waiting, teasing at your entrance.
He’s lifted you again, setting you on the arm of the sofa, him kneeling on the cushions; with nothing to rest against, you cling to him tight as your breath catches in your throat. He watches closely as he pushes into the tight, wet slip of your cunt, watching himself disappear into you. You want to make a joke about lasting another ten seconds but you don’t have the energy, the capacity, the mental agility to make it; you just about manage to cry his name as starts to thrust, smooth and slow at first, but soon, quicker, harder, accompanied by quiet growls and grunts as he grips you tight. You really do feel drunk, giddy, hysterical as he’s finally, finally back where he belongs. You feel tears prick in your eyes at the relief of it, the pressure, the pleasure.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Shit, I can’t wait to fill you up, stuff you fucking full. Can you take it, baby?”
He’s relieved he hasn’t come again already, though he knows he could. He’s holding back because he’s still so close to the edge. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to lose it again.
“I can take it,” you reply, voice high and tight. “Give it to me, Kookie- fuck.”
He grabs the hair at the back of your head and pulls it back, exposing your neck so he can kiss you, lick you, bite you there, moaning against your skin as you whimper and stutter.
“Kookie, shit, please. I need you to fuck me forever. God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he grunts. “Shit, won’t stop. I’m yours, baby.”
“Only mine.”
“Only yours.”
You press your lips to his clavicle, then lick a bead of sweat travelling down his throat. Jungkook moves faster still, his grip on you painfully tight as he threatens your cervix with every thrust. You’re so sensitive, you’re at an almost constant spasm around him; your limbs still heavy and weak, tingling like they’re both going numb and coming back to life. You simultaneously want this to last forever and feel like you’ll die if a single extra ounce of pleasure is put on you. Then Jungkook sucks at that one spot on your neck that makes you melt and you swear, voice wavering and breaking.
“Give me one more, baby,” he demands, so low you almost don’t hear it.
“I don’t have it,” you whimper.
“Yes, you do, c’mon, y/n.”
And he slips a hand between you, never letting his pace falter.
“Jesus, fuck!”
He touches you gently, but it’s enough to have reality slipping from view, your vision burning white, your blood roaring, screaming in your ears as you cum again. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his back, your teeth hard on the delicate flesh of his neck. It rolls through you, knocking your breath from your lungs, and once it’s passed, you’re trembling, shaking.
Jungkook is holding his breath, straining to last to fuck you through your orgasm; you’re so tight around him it’s like his brain loses signal, just a siren wailing an emergency. No thoughts, no words, when you collapse against him, he exhales, and releases into you with a long, high-pitched sigh.
He lies back onto the sofa, taking you with him.
“That was more than ten seconds, right?” he asks, breathless.
You laugh and pat his shoulder.
“Well done, little jammy dodger; I’m proud of you.”
“For lasting more than ten seconds or winning the title?”
“What title?”
The question leaves your lips before your brain has engaged and Jungkook laughs, first a little and then a lot, so much that you can’t help but laugh with him, can’t help but laugh until you’re crying, your abs hurting, you’re silent in your mirth, breathless and voiceless and hysterical.
When you finally stop, you bring your face level to his. He still has tears of laughter in his eyes and streaking his cheeks. You wipe them away with your thumb and he turns his head to kiss your palm.
“Both, I guess?” you answer.
He grins and shakes his head.
“I almost lost. I thought I was going to fucking lose,” he tells you. “That second half, I-…”
“What happened?”
“I saw you. I saw you in the crowd and I almost fucking came right then and there.” He laughs, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I couldn’t concentrate on the fight; all I could think about was trying not to get a fucking boner. Shit what a stupid fucking idea it was not having sex for four we-”
“I fucking told you!”
“I know, I know. I will never not listen to you ever again for the rest of my life, I swear. God.”
“No more sex bans?”
“No more sex bans. I am never, ever not having sex with you again.”
“Good.”
You lift yourself onto your elbows on his chest and kiss him first on the lips, then the jaw and neck and anywhere within reach.
“Speaking of never not having sex… Are you ready to go again?”
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Oh boy, VaM is kind of a trial and error experience LOL I couldn't really show you how to use the interface and stuff without a whole video or something, but it's not THAT difficult to get a hang of if you just give yourself a day or two to play around, not to mention the number of tutorials you find out there. Luckily, if you only want to use it as a reference software that makes the process far easier (to this day I have no idea how to animate on that thing, since that's not what I use it for)
As for how I use it, it's pretty self explanatory - if there's a complicated pose I want to draw but I'm either having trouble with it, or just want to double-check angles/anatomy, I will use it as a resource! I use for most of my "proper" pieces (y'know, the nicer looking ones) and every once in a while for my silly comics if I'm having trouble with a pose.
Lets use this drawing for example (the character on top of DU drow belongs to @namespara )
I don't draw a lot of mud-wrestling (shocking, I know) but I had an idea of the kind of pose I wanted them to be in. So the very first thing I did was make a rough sketch of what I was envisioning:
I often do a rough sketch first, even If I know I'm going to be pulling the program up because A) It's less tedious than adjusting the models over and over again until I pick a pose and B) because sometimes I'll decide I don't need the reference, after all, and so that's 30 minutes I'll have spared myself of playing around on the software.
Now, this is a pretty complicated pose! It's in a weird angle and the bodies are making contact in ways I'm not used to depicting, so I did choose to whip out VaM for this one. I went into the program and after some messing around, I flopped my little dolls together like this:
Now something really cool about VaM is that you can completely customize your models, and if you have the patience, I would definitely encourage you to do so! Obviously, you don't have to make picture perfect replicas of every single character you have, but as you can see here I have made a DU drow "decoy" to help me better understand some of his features when I draw him: he has a strong brow, a short nose, a square jawline - these are all going to look a very specific way from certain angles, and I might not always be sure of how to draw it right! So it's useful to have models that bear SOME semblance to the character so you can better understand how different viewpoints will affect their bone structure and mass.
Also thank fucking god for the elf-ear slider. Figuring out how to draw those shits from certain angles was a huge pain in the ass when I started drawing DnD races.
So, with the reference in hand, I go over the sketch again:
Now you may notice that I don't stick to the reference 100%. There's three reasons for this:
posing on VaM is tedious as hell. You can get something incredibly natural looking and picture-perfect to reference from if you wish, but it's going to take you hours to do. So, for the most part I just slap guys together until the results are "close enough" and use that.
In my opinion, you should always aim to ENHANCE your reference material, not replicate it exactly!
While VaM is a PRETTY DANG GOOD source of anatomical reference, it isn't perfect, I often supplement it with further reference from real life resources or make tweaks based on my own knowledge where I catch it falling short (and, antithetical to what I just said, I sometimes fuck the anatomy up further on purpose if I think it looks better that way LOL it's all jazz baby).
Then lines, color, yada yada. I don't have a tutorial on that and I don't think I could make one, because my process is chaotic as hell, but I do at times use Virt-a-mate as loose reference for lighting too when coloring - waaaaayyyy less so however, because that process is even more tedious and I feel like I often get better results by just winging it. It is a feature of the program though, and I'm sure it would be helpful for someone who has a difficult time visualizing lights and shadows. I only started using this program a few months ago, so I happened to already have a pretty good understanding of that kind of thing and just don't personally feel like I get much out of that particular mechanic.
Here's a few other examples of pieces that I made reference for (WARNING: Suggestive)
Now, for the question many of you may want to ask:
"Can I trace this junk?"
And to that, I say: Buddy, you can do whatever the hell you want with the reference material you created.
However,
If your goal is to learn and improve your art, and to recreate realistic proportions and anatomy from memory, tracing won't help you.
Developing your own style, your muscle memory, and personal technique will all be hindered by choosing to trace instead of drawing from observation, so I would encourage against it. Hell - even when tracing is employed as a technique, it's usually by high-skill realism & concept artists who are looking to either cut some corners, save time, or just double-check their own proportions in order to improve further - if you try tracing as a beginner, you will most definitely find the result to still look stiff and "off".
So trust me, there is so much more to be gained from drawing from observation. Make note of tangents, compare proportions, use all the elements of the picture to dictate where and how things should go - it will be a far more rewarding experience.
Hopefully this has been helpful! VaM is a really cheap program (you get it on the guys' patreon for I think 8 dollars, just google it!) and it's definitely been worth my money as an artist since I found it. Learning to use it can be a little intimidating at first glance, but as I said above you only really need a day plus one or two tutorials to get a hang of the interface.
A fair warning though, IT IS A SOFTWARE MADE FOR VIRTUAL SEX/ADULT ANIMATION So when looking it up expect to see a some spicy content.
#Funfact THIS is the post that got me flagged last time so i'm really tempting fate right now LOL#ask#art#tutorial#resource
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY R- what the hell do you mean I’m two days late
[ID: A Mob Psycho 100 comic set post-canon. Mob, depicted with chin-length hair and wearing a skirt, says to Ritsu, "I just haven't been able to think of a gift he'd actually like. And I want it to be special, cause this time he'll expect the party."
She looks down with a frown. "Especially since Teru accidentally added him to the group chat." Ritsu laughs with a "Hah!" and says, "I do have an idea, if you want to hear it." Mob smiles tiredly and says, "Please." Ritsu says, "Okay, but it's a pretty big gift so we should check in with everyone."
Teru, shown with hair past his shoulders, exclaims happily, "Yes!! I think he would love that!" Tome grins and says, "Oh my gosh, yess! Maybe we'll actually see him cry this time, hah!" Shou looks interested and says, "Oh for sure! I actually know a place we can find one!" Serizawa smiles, "I'm pretty sure his new lease allows pets!" Dimple squints and says, "… How do you know that," and Serizawa says, "How about we stop talking for a little while."
Next, marked "a few days later:", we see Reigen opening the door to Spirits and Such. The door creaks open, and he screams with terror when people loudly go, "Happy birthday!" We see scenes of the party: Reigen sweating and grimacing as Tome offers a cake with Ritsu laughing in the background, Serizawa and Reigen smiling fondly at each other with a heart floating between them, and Reigen looking dead-eyed as everyone photographs him and his cake-covered face.
Reigen, now cleaned of cake, flops on the couch and smiles, "Wow! All that's missing now is a present!" He sweatdrops. "… I can feel you all staring. Then he exclaims "Oh!" at the sight of all the kids looking happy and excited. Mob is in the center, smiling with anticipation and holding a box about the size of a large shoebox.
Reigen takes it with a fond smile, saying, "Aw, kids… I was joking but this is really--" He breaks off with a shocked sound as something shifts within the box. He holds the box away from himself and says flatly, "Is this a prank--" but is cut off by a laughing Tome shouting, "Just open it already!!!"
Reigen, frowning, exclaims, "No way! I'm not falling--" As he speaks, a canine nose pokes out from the boxes lid, and his expression turns to shock. "-- for that?"
We see a small puppy excitedly wagging its tail from within the box. The kids all talk. Teru: "Surprise!!~" Shou: "It should be a Shiba but since it's a rescue it's probably not pure bred." Mob, nervous: "… Do you like it?" Tome: "Who cares!! It's adorable!!"
Reigen stares down with silent shock. Making a hiccuping noise, he looks at everyone with an overwhelmed expression that moves to tears as he picks up the dog, making wordless wavering noises as he does.
The puppy licks Reigen's cheeks, and Reigen scrunches up his face as he tries not to cry. The kids exclaim: Ritsu, grinning: "Oh my god." Teru: "Awww." Tome, surprised: "Holy shit, he's speechless!" Mob, happy: "So you like it?"
Reigen sniffs loudly and says, "You guys…" Everyone looks at him eagerly. Once again crying, Reigen says, "Get out of my office." The kids looks surprised, and Serizawa sweats and wryly raises his hands, saying "Reigen--" Reigen cuts him off by shouting so hard he motion blurs. "I said-- get out." His shout is also blurred, and it's bold and in large font.
The final page shows Reigen lying down and blubbering while holding the puppy, who keeps wagging its tail. Narration says, "After everyone left, Reigen proceeded to weep in the privacy of the Spirits and Such office." Ritsu is shown facing away fromt he camera, arms crossed behind his back as he mutters, "Man." Narration says, "Ritsu was blamed for the whole ordeal even though for once he was trying to do something genuinely kind for Reigen, even if it was just for Mobs sake." End ID]
ID by @princess-of-purple-prose thank you so much!
#mob psycho 100#mp100#reigen arataka#shigeo kageyama#ritsu kageyama#teruki hanazawa#serizawa katsuya#tome kurata#mp dimple#happy birthday reigen#and rest in pieces ritsu. amen.#yes that is girlmob wahoo#\
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brazilian air | as12
hi, i am in my classic f1 era rn and i am currently obsessed with mr Senna god he was so fine and since it's his bday today i thought that im gonna upload this one bc why not
also im like 100% sure that this one will flop but i wanted to upload this anyway, so if you'll find it worth a shot, enjoy then!
happy bday king, 64 today but 34 forever, you'll always be missed
summary: during a month break from racing, ayrton thought that inviting y/n into his family sides will get them along even more. to the surprise to both of them, they got along even better than expected
warnings: sexual content, fingering, female orgasm
pairing: fem!mclarendriver x ayrton senna
After the Sao Paulo Grand Prix, there came a monthly break, even though it was only the second race of the season.
The end of march was very warm, but the weather in Brazil had its own rules. Just as in London there was probably a downpour and the temperature barely above ten degrees, the other side of the globe had almost holiday-like weather.
The 1990 season was the second year when Y/N took Alain Prost's seat at McLaren, thus becoming Ayrton Senna's teammate. While many did not look favorably upon Ron Dennis's decision for various reasons—because Y/N was the first woman in history to have the opportunity to race at the top level of motorsport, her debut in Formula 1, her young age, and the fact of what kind of past Senna had with his previous teammates—with each passing month the doubts started to going away.
The girl handled herself on the track incredibly well, and since McLaren did not disappoint with their cars, she practically returned from every race with points, effectively shutting the mouths of all those who spoke unfavorably about her.
Even Ayrton himself, who was initially the most unconvinced about the boss's decision, also didn't need much to change his mind about her. At first, he approached her with distance, fearing that her joining the team might cause even more damage than when they had Prost in reserve. As it turned out, the girl was not his enemy; often, he himself silenced all those who attacked her and questioned her abilities.
Senna saw that she looked up at him as her authority. She never explicitly told him, but it was evident how she listened carefully to his advice, asked when she had doubts, and consulted almost everything only with him, although she had a whole crowd of people around her.
Ron breathed a sigh of relief seeing that they tolerated each other and there were no forecasts for them to repeat the Senna-Prost scenario. However, tolerating each other was an understatement, because Ayrton would never invite someone to his family's sides whom he merely tolerated. The Brazilian didn't admit it out loud, but he liked the girl. Sometimes he even caught himself thinking about her when she wasn't around, and when she was, he smiled a lot more in her company, whereas McLaren's garage used to be a place of nerves and tense atmosphere for him.
Yes, if someone asked him about Y/N, Ayrton would say she was his friend. Someone he never had after leaving Brazil.
"How do I say in Portugese that I can't eat anymore?"
The girl asked, lying on her towel stretched out on the hull of the motorboat belonging to the Senna family.
Y/N shielded the sun with her hand and glanced at Ayrton, who laughed at her question, sitting next to her and smoking a cigarette.
"It's not funny, your mom wants to fatten me up so that I'm heavier and slower than you on the track."
"Não aguento mais, tô chei", but even if you say it in Portugese, my mom won't listen to you anyway."
"I've never eaten such delicious food, but when we get back, I probably won't fit into my clothes anymore."
He released smoke from his lungs and involuntarily glanced at her when she turned onto her stomach and closed her eyes. Her hair, still wet from bathing in the lake, stuck to her shoulders, and her skin, once pale, slowly began to take on a blush from the sun.
"You look good, so don't worry."
"I didn't say I would look bad, just that I won't fit into my pants anymore."
"As long as you can fit into the car, you'll be fine."
The girl snorted, "Well, in that case, I have quite a reserve."
Y/N gathered her hair behind her shoulder and settled more comfortably, exposing herself to the pleasantly warming rays of the sun. Ayrton glanced down her body and only when the heat from his cigarette burned his fingers a little, he snap out of it. Did he really like the girl, or was it just that he spent so much time with her that he got used to her? He didn't know the answer to that question, but he knew that sometimes he found himself staring at her for a bit too long. Despite being a few years younger than him, she had feminine charms. He also objectively thought that the girl was attractive.
She didn't have much of a different opinion about him either because in her eyes, Ayrton was indeed a handsome man. He was tall, athletic, had beautiful brown eyes and hair of the same color, which often fell in curls onto his forehead. She liked his smile and the way he wrinkled his nose, which, like most of his body, was covered in freckles. But Ayrton appealed to her only as an older teammate, someone who was completely out of her reach, and for whom she was probably just an insignificant kid. At least that's what she thought.
They spent time at the lake until late afternoon, as for dinner, besides Ayrton's parents, his sister with Bruno, his nephew, was also supposed to appear. Upon returning to the Senna family's home, the girl took only a quick shower and threw on a thin, white dress because even though the day was slowly coming to an end, the temperature was still high. They spent the evening on the terrace, and time passed in a very pleasant atmosphere. Mrs. Senna made sure that only delicious dishes appeared on the table, while Mr. da Silva entertained the company with stories and jokes. Although Y/N didn't speak anything in Portugese except for the short phrases Ayrton had taught her, there were no communication problems for a moment. At one point, little Bruno grabbed the radio and turned up the volume, pulling the girl by the hand and inviting her to dance. The girl, already somewhat tipsy from wine, agreed without hesitation and followed the six-year-old, dancing with him barefoot on the still warm concrete. Ayrton's mother and sister sang along with the song, his father clapped his hands, and Ayrton himself looked at the scene with tenderness, laughing and sipping his beer. She took the boy in her arms and spun with him, dancing, to which Bruno laughed out loud. Although Ayrton's family had only met Y/N a few days ago, he was convinced, seeing with his own eyes, how much they liked her. It meant a lot to him.
"Tio, agora tio Ayrton!"
Bruno shouted and pointed at the man when a new song started playing. Ayrton laughed and shook his head, to which his sister started pulling his arm and, to the sounds of approval from the family, he stood up and approached the girl, who put the boy down on the ground.
"Querida senhora," he extended his hand towards her, slightly bowing, "may I?"
Y/N chuckled and nodded, extending her hand, which was met with numerous shouts and whistles.
"I can't dance, I can't dance at all."
She said through laughter when he pulled her closer and placed his hand on her waist.
"Everyone can dance to Brazilian rhythms, trust me."
Ayrton replied with an assuring smile and spinned her around, catching her again after a moment. They danced, understanding each other without words, laughing only when one of them accidentally bumped into someone or stepped on someone's foot.
The girl didn't know if her cheeks were burning from the sun, the alcohol, or the fact that she felt embarrassed by being so close to him. But she felt light and happy enough not to dwell on it. She wanted this evening to last as long as possible.
However, at some point, Bruno fell asleep on the chair, and Viviane took him in her arms, announcing that she would put him to bed and she will also take a rest, wishing everyone a good night. Ayrton's mother, seeing that his dad had had enough beer, took him by the arm and, amid numerous protests, escorted him inside. The girl helped carry the dishes to the kitchen, and when she brought in the last batch of plates, Ayrton's mother hugged her tightly.
Y/N returned her embrace with a smile, wishing her a good night before returning to the terrace.
Seeing the expression on her face, Ayrton smiled too.
"They liked you, but I'm sure you noticed that yourself."
"They are very kind," the girl replied, closing the terrace doors, "you have a truly wonderful family."
Y/N approached the table and took a chair to sit on it, but Ayrton straightened up and patted his knees, indicating that she should sit on them. The girl accepted the invitation without protest and sat on them sideways, embracing him around the neck.
"I'm glad you agreed to come here with me," he said, looking into her eyes, to which she smiled.
"I'm glad you invited me."
For a moment, they looked at each other in silence, she on his lap, with her hand on his bare shoulders, he with one hand on her waist and the other caressing her exposed thigh. He raised his hand and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, touching her flushed cheek. The girl smiled at his gesture and closed her eyes.
"You're important to me, you know?"
"I am?"
She asked, looking at him again.
Ayrton nodded, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Y/N threaded her fingers into the hair resting at the base of his neck, stroking it lightly. At one point, without thinking or saying a word, he leaned towards her and kissed her. She kissed him back, touching his cheek with her other hand. Ayrton didn't break the kiss, he just hugged her tighter, pressing their bodies together. Y/N was returning each of his kisses and after a while their tongues started their love dance, rubbing against each other. Even though they were both a bit drunk, Ayrton wasn't sure how much he could afford. However, when she slightly opened her legs, giving him a silent invitation, he squeezed her thigh to which she sighed. He smiled against her lips, continuing to kiss her. He stroked her leg, moving higher and higher with each movement. When he felt the fabric of her underwear with his fingertips, he pulled away slightly, wanting to look at her face and see her reaction, but she pulled him closer again, connecting their lips in a kiss.
"Do not stop"
Ayrton smiled against her lips and deepened the kiss in response. He ran his fingers over her pussy and she purred softly. He began to slowly massage her through the fabric of her panties, but when they began to get in the way after some time, he pulled them off her with a quick movement.
His lips soon moved to her neck, marking it with kisses. She tilted her head, giving him better access to her. Ayrton accidentally slipped the strap of her dress, but neither of them cared. The girl noticed it only when he sucked on her nipple, which made her moan involuntarily.
"You have to be quiet, can you do that?"
He asked quietly, glancing at her ecstatic face. She just licked her lips and quickly nodded. He ran his tongue over her nipple again, his hand still massaging her pussy. When he felt how wet she was, he slowly inserted his finger into her, but carefully watched her face, continuing to caress her breasts with his mouth. He looked at her, wanting to make sure they were both on the same page. However, his actions were perceived with enthusiasm, as the girl tilted her head back, letting out a muffled moans from her pursed lips. Ayrton smiled to himself, still peppering her breasts with kisses. He inserted his finger all the way and started moving it, expertly nudging her inner, sensitive spot. Y/N had a hard time staying quiet, especially when he added a second finger and his movements inside her started getting more precise and decisive. The girl covered her mouth with one hand and grabbed his wrist with the other and pushed him harder into herself, feeling that she was only seconds away from orgasm.
"Ayrton, I- oh my god…"
Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again and dug her nails into his bare shoulder.
"Kiss me, quick"
He said quietly, his breathing also quickening. She complied with his command and kissed him, making him muffle her moans with his mouth. Y/N came on his hand soon after, squeezing her eyes shut and tilting her head back. After a few moments, the girl sat up straight again, trying to calm her breathing. As she slowly began to realize what had actually happened, the blush on her cheeks intensified even more. She looked at him uncertainly, he laughed seeing her reaction and kissed her on the cheek.
"Don't look so innocent, you're quite a good one."
The girl felt ashamed and closed her eyes, cuddling into him, and he hugged her tightly.
"Promise me that no one in your family will sit in this chair for breakfast."
Ayrton chuckled and rubbed his hand on her back.
"I promise, don't worry about it," he rested his cheek on her head, "We can go somewhere else if you want."
The girl raised her head and looked at him.
"I won't be able to keep quiet, Ayrton. Your parents-" "Don't worry," he interrupted her, taking her panties thrown on the chair next to them and handing them to her hand, "I'll make sure you keep your mouth busy."
#f1 imagines#f1#f1 one shot#formula 1#f1 oneshots#f1 imagine#as12#ayrton senna#ayrton senna x reader#classic f1
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Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader P4
Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid.
Credit to countingstars-17 for the GIF
You woke up the next morning on the Monday a little later than expected. You were so exhausted from your first race in F1 and then all the social interaction that followed.
You had got Charles back to his hotel room with the help of Lorenzo his older brother who you'd found in the lift. You went straight back to your room, showering of the smell of alcohol and smoke that made you cringe before flopping onto the comfy hotel bed that was calling your name.
You stayed in the bed for a while before you realized it was getting closer to the checkout time of the hotel and that you should probably check on your fellow drivers. You and Alex would be on the plane back to Germany for debrief before he flew to the UK to see his family as there was a larger break between Bahrain and South Korea which had been added back onto the list of races this year.
"Alex?" you asked knocking on his door. In seconds he came out a smile on his face.
"Hello Y/N ready for the flight?" he asks smiling towards you.
"Yes, I'm all packed and my stuff has been sent to the airport, I just wanted to check on Charles before i left. He was pretty wasted last night" you exclaim smiling hoping he's come with you.
"Oh, he's already gone. I saw him down at breakfast this morning!" Alex smiled at you before taking your hand and dragging you towards the lift.
"He left? With who?" you asked him confused.
"Erm, Carlos i think. Guessing they're flying back to Maranello" he smiles pushing the ground button on the lift.
And that was that, you didn't hear from Charles. You flew to Germany where the Audi HQ was located before you went back to see your family for a week in the UK. On the Monday you and Alex went to South Korea together Lily joining the both of you on the flight. You liked Lily a lot, she had become a good friend of yours now that you were Alex's team-mate and you were basically there adopted child now.
Thursday came around so quickly and more people were filling up the paddock, it was insane how the race weekend was such an intense build up.
"Hey Y/N can we steal you for an interview" Martin said smiling walking over to you.
"Yeah of course" You smile fixing your hair under your Audi cap.
"So, you had an amazing first race last weekend in Bahrain, you are an exceptional driver P6 on your first race in F1!" he exclaims making you laugh and blush a little at the praise.
"Yeah, i think i made a few mistakes that the car 100% made up for. Audi are clearly going to be a great competitor this year and I cant wait for Alex and I to climb the ranks together!" you nod.
"Yes, what is that like, do you have have more of a friendship or a professional relationship of are things tense there like some grid members"
"Alex is an amazing team mate. He has really helped me settle into the grid and into racing in F1. I cant thank him and Lily enough, and for that I would consider him a friend. I hope to be team mates with him for a few more years"
"That's really good to hear that you have that kind of support there as it must be hard coming onto the grid as the only female! How are you relationships with the other drivers?"
"Yeah I'd say after getting to introduce myself in Bahrain everyone has really welcomed me into the sport and i cant be more thankful for that! You know some of the people on the grid have been my idols since I first got into a kart so its amazing to be here racing with them and have the support of incredible ex drivers!"
"Well good luck for the weekend I'm sure we will see amazing things from you on this old track in South Korea that the FIA have decided to reinstate this year!" he smiles before waving her off and she walks back towards the Audi garage.
She had media for the rest of the day, her and Alex trying Korean food and drinks for their TikTok page before they went to discuss the weekend.
You needed a drink desperately but were only just entering the paddock. You were hot and dehydrated and people could see just how pale you were.
You'd managed to get past Haas, Mercedes and Williams but by the time you got to Alpha Romeo and Ferrari, people started to notice the slight wobble in your step.
"Hey Y/N lets get you a seat. You look faint" Will Buxton says running over to you, he guides you to the nearest seats which happen to be outside the Ferrari Hospitality running in to grab you a bottle of water.
"Y/N?" Charles asks seeing your pale face and sweat lining under your eyes and across the brows that were currently shaded off by your hat.
"Charles, erm hi" you say, feeling a little dizzy.
"Are you okay, what are you doing here?" he asks looking around to see if you were with anyone that would explain why you were sat on a Ferrari table.
"Erm Will pulled me here because I haven't drank today and i feel dizzy" you tried to explain to the best of your ability but it was slower and you could tell how tired you were after this Saturday Quali.
"P5 is amazing today. Most of us haven't done South Korea so it was a new track for all of us but the dinosaurs" he jokes, it was a stolen joke of course. One he had heard Lando and Daniel talking about. which made a few people around them laugh so he thought he'd test the waters with you.
"That's true, it would be Lewis, Valtteri and Sergio right?" you say thinking about the current drivers on the grid and who would have been racing in 2013.
"Yeah"
You both sat in silence neither knowing what to say to each other.
"You didn't talk to me after Bahrain, did i do something wrong?" you ask now feeling better that you'd sat down.
"No, if i'm being honest I was rather embarrassed after my brother told me how you had to support me the whole way back to my room" he admitted sheepishly knowing he should have reached out, even if it was just to thank her as she had been a great help.
"Oh" you say quietly.
"Did I upset you?" he asks softly.
"A little, when I told Alex i was going to find you, he told me he'd already seen you down at breakfast and that you'd left already. Then you didn't say anything" you explain, you'd spent two weeks wondering if you'd just messed up a friendship.
"Y/N you must understand that it wasn't my intention!" he says leaning forward and encasing your hand in his with a genuine smile on your face.
"Fine, but you owe me dinner after tomorrow's race. Before the party!" you suggest.
"Done!" he exclaims, he hops up and walks into the hospitality as Will Buxton walks out.
"Here you go" he smiles handing you the bottle he'd managed to haggle from Ferrari.
"Thank you so much!" you says opening it and chugging it down.
"I'll walk you back to Audi, just to make sure!" he exclaims and with he does exactly as he said he would.
"And where had our P5 Queen gone" Lily exclaims in outrage that her friend didn't come to see her after the race.
"Sorry, but I'm here now!" you smile flopping onto the sofa laying your head on her lap.
"Are you really trying to steal my gf Y/N we've been over this" he chuckles with a teasing groan of mock annoyance.
"Look just because she likes me better doesn't mean you should get a mood" you grin turning into Lily and hugging around her stomach. In no time with the background sounds of the mechanics working in the garage and Lily lightly playing with your hair while talking to Alex you found yourself falling asleep.
"She is literally our child" Alex says to the interviewer who had come to find them in the garage. He looked back at where Y/N and Lily were still on the sofa, Lily letting the younger girl sleep.
"And how proud are you of her P5 today in a GP that only has 3 current grid members who have driven here in South Korea?" she asks.
"So proud, I know she's been feeling the pressure to make a good impression with everyone, from the people in the teams, to all the drivers and to the fans and public eye. She's just so natural and i think that's one of the things that pulls you into a friendship so strong with someone like Y/N" he explains.
"Yes, it seems earlier that she's been getting extremely close to some of the other drivers, what do you think about that?"
"Well on the track we all are doing our best to win, and so we become rivals. Of the track Y/N is another Daniel or Lando where there isn't one person on the grid that she wont get on with. Y/N is a friend of everyone" he smiles not to sure the direction that the interviewer wanted that question to go in.
"I'm talking about her and Charles Leclerc specifically?" she pushes and Alex looks at the person confused.
"Sorry?" he asks, he racked his brain wondering if this was why you'd been asking about Charles in Bahrain.
"Will Buxton reported seeing them together earlier outside Ferrari hospitality. She wasn't feeling well and he offered her to sit and get her and drink and he saw Charles and her talking. Some fans even got pictures of the interactions.
"Oh, well I'm sure if Will was kind enough to help Y/N when she was reporting as unwell that Charles also was concerned and was checking in on her!" Alex smoothly deems, the interviewer tries to hide their annoyance as the lack of gossip she was gathering but nods and thanks Alex for his time.
"That was weird" he whispers taking his seat next to Lily again.
"What do you mean?" she asks not having heard what they were talking about.
"They were asking me about Charles and Y/N, and after Bahrain i was just confused" he admitted. Of course at the time he had told Lily about your odd reaction to Charles having left early but not having thought too much off it, but now he was for sure thinking on it more.
"Lets just focus on tomorrow!" she smiles.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#charles leclerc#charles lecrelc x reader#charles lechair#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff
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7 11 12 14 soft yandere chan or minho
He Wouldn’t, Right? | 100 Followers Event
Soft Yandere Minho x Reader
PROMPTS:
7. "Don't look at them. Look at me. You're doing amazing."
11. "You're so mean!" "I'm not, but I can show you mean."
12. "Are we ignoring the hole in the wall?"
14. "Where do you think you're going?" "Away?" "Away where?" "To a faraway land-" "Answer the question." "I'm going to piss! Can I go to the bathroom?!"
WARNINGS: Idk… Suspicious vibes? Toxic Relationship obvi
100 Followers Event | 359 Words
“Are we ignoring the hole in the wall?”
An argument gone wrong. Extremely wrong. Minho apologized for it immediately. He even gave you some space. Well, as much space as an obsessive person can give.
“Someone is here to fix it. That’s why I wanted you to stay in our room,” Minho said, guiding you away from the hallway. Before you stepped into the living room, someone called out to him.
The both of you turn, and the worker is there. “You wouldn’t happen to know the paint color, would you?”
“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” Minho demanded as he stood in front of you. He turned around, facing the man and putting his back to you.
“I don’t know. Eggshell? We’re planning on redoing it anyway,” Minho explained, waving his hand dismissively. The guy nods in understanding as he tries looking around Minho at you.
You hide your face by pressing against Minho’s back. You can feel his back rumble as he speaks, “You’re doing amazing, my love.”
The man stares at Minho with a weird expression before walking back into the kitchen. You take that as your cue to leave, too.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Maybe not.
“Away?” You say. Though the way your voice rises in pitch sounds like a question.
“Away where?”
You spin, waving your arms around with a blissful smile. “To a faraway land!”
“Answer the question,” Minho glared as he crossed his arms.
“I'm going to piss!” You groan, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “Can I go to the bathroom?!”
“No, I don’t think so,” He hummed.
“What?”
“I said no. I don’t want to risk that guy seeing you,” He scoffed, guiding you into the living room and away from the bathroom.
“But I have to use the bathroom?” You huffed.
“Okay?”
"You're so mean!" You flop onto the couch and away from his arms. He follows you.
"I'm not, but I can show you mean." He smiles, but there’s no light in his eyes. It’s a little unnerving. His eyes are so dark they look black.
“I’m sure I can hold it,” You whisper, and this time his smile is real. The spark his back, but that feeling is still there. He wouldn’t hurt you.
Right?
©️DEANAMEANTAE2023 | 100 Followers Event
#lee minho x reader#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x male reader#stray kids x male reader#yandere skz#yandere stray kids#yandere lee know#lee know x reader#lee minho x male reader#lee know x male reader#lee know x y/n#lee know x you#skz x black reader#stray kids x black reader#stray kids x chubby reader#stray kids x gender neutral reader
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Four F's
As uncomfortable as this episode was to watch, there was something about Chosen's behavior in the most uncomfortable scenes that intrigued me. Not because of any hints it might give about Chosen's character, but because there was an element in these moments that I was surprised to see represented so starkly.
We all meme on Chosen for being traumatized, but this episode decided to play traumatization 100% seriously...even, I believe, going as far as to have Chosen display four of the recognized trauma responses.
Now, I say "four of" and not "the four" because sources actually disagree on how many there are, and even what they are and what to call them. Fight and Flight are the ones everyone knows about, and Freeze is getting more recognition nowadays, but there are many suggestions for what the fourth is, and some say that there are actually as many as five or six. Fawn, Friend, Flop, Flag, Fatigue, and Faint are all ones I've seen suggested, with some being different words used to describe the same phenomenon.
Throughout "The Box", it is my belief that Chosen displays the responses of Flight, Fight, Freeze, and Flop. It'll become clear why I chose Flop for the fourth one once we get there.
Chosen's first action upon realizing he's in the white chamber is to try and break out of it. This could be either Fight or Flight; if it's Flight, it's very Fight-y since he's attacking the walls, but if it's Fight, his intent is to leave the area so there's still Flight spurring him.
I considered that him simply standing there and taking Victim's opening punches without reacting might be a Freeze response, but I'm not sure he was actually that phased by what Victim was doing yet. He seems more nonplussed than anything; he doesn't dodge or block after taking Victim's hand and pushing it away the first time, his arms don't come up to defend, he isn't even in a fighting stance. At this point, the box itself- while not a threat he has the ability to combat at the time -is still a bigger threat than the random stick ineffectually hitting him for no reason he can discern.
Still, at some point he decides he's had enough of being punched, and he goes to tackle Victim. This is him fighting back, but I don't know if it counts as the Fight response because Victim isn't the source of his stress (as far as he knows), it's the box they're both in...but it could be that being in the box has put strain on Chosen's tolerance, leading him to lose patience sooner or react more aggressively than he would've otherwise, which might quality it as Fighting. Another thing that makes me unsure is that Chosen's movements during this tackle read as being very deliberate and self-controlled. He made the choice to counterattack, with awareness of himself and his actions. He isn't acting on impulse, here, this action wasn't driven by instinct.
After this, Victim starts utilizing his environmental advantage, and Chosen gets knocked around a bit. Once he realizes that getting Victim to stop isn't gonna be as easy as he thought, he decides to Fight.
...but what actually follows seems to be a blend of Flight and Freeze. Victim's attacks are too fast for Chosen to block effectively, and he's kept busy trying to keep his guard up while Victim keeps finding the weak spots he leaves open. Victim's attacks are also strong enough now that the rapid blows might be disorienting Chosen; he's constantly attempting to move away from Victim, but they're purely reactive motions that are probably involuntary. He's trying so hard to get himself situated that he's unable to attempt any counterattacks, and Victim moves fast enough that even when Chosen does get a moment of reprieve, it isn't enough time for him to find his footing.
(Brief interruption while I rag on him again for always falling for the sneak attacks. Always. Every single time. This man still has not learned to watch his back. Dark took advantage of it, Spyglasses or Shady or whatever we're calling him took advantage of it, and now Victim is too.)
He ends up cornered, which...is usually the worst position one can be in during a conflict, but apparently having something to brace himself against was all he needed, because he's able to recover enough of his wits to actually start Fighting back. (It isn't the first time he's done this, either: think back to his fight against the vira-mech in Return.)
Of course, it doesn't work, and he gets choked and thrown for his troubles, but he isn't out yet. Watch how he rolls after landing: he turns as he falls, so that his shoulder hits the ground first, and he takes the impact of every flip with his elbows, all while keeping his head from hitting the ground. He's going with the momentum of the throw, letting it carry him away from his opponent. This is tactical. He's still Fighting. When he slows to a stop, it takes little effort for him to prepare his next move.
The fire does nothing to deter Victim as he moves in to attack again, and Chosen gets knocked around a bit more. But unlike the first time he got knocked around in this fight, Chosen actually blocks and dodges this time, while still maintaining his guard, and even throws a few of his own punches.
Unfortunately, he's still unable to meet and counter all of Victim's attacks, and by this point in the fight he's exhausted enough to take the breather when the opportunity arises. But I don't believe this means he's stopped Fighting, because he only does this when there's a pause in the conflict, and he stands up of his own accord before the conflict resumes.
(Side note: either the lasso was invisible at first for some reason, or Victim started moving his arm in the twirling motion before the thing was actually in his hand, and I'm not sure what to do with either option.)
Chosen knows the lasso won't be a picnic, but his resolve to Fight doesn't diminish. (Though since his initial strategy is evasion, this could also be considered Flight until he's downed by the lasso.)
His attempt to outmaneuver the lasso with literal flight doesn't work, but even once he's been roped he's still Fighting. In an effort to loosen it from around his throat, he tries to take control of the slack by looping it over his shoulder, the same way Victim loops it around his own arms when pulling him in.
Victim's next punch sends him directly to the floor, and the combined forces of the blow and the impact of the fall (plus the aftereffects of choking right before this) seem to rattle Chosen enough to perhaps disorient him again; he slips into Flight as he tries to steady himself, moving away from Victim.
Unlike when the lasso was first brought out, the introduction of the whip causes Chosen to Freeze momentarily before pushing him deeper into Flight. He hears it crack, looks at it, looks at Victim, and then renews his attempt to crawl away. Putting distance between himself and his attacker takes precedence, even over getting his feet back under him.
This trend continues after the first strike; the impact is enough to roll him over onto his back, and instead of trying to right himself or get into a more defensible position he just continues trying to get away from Victim, scooting backwards. There's no time to roll over or get up because he can barely get his limbs out of the way in time as Victim keeps pace with him, advancing as Chosen retreats.
And then, we come to the moment that first made me realize what was happening...
...the literal Freeze. Though I suppose it could also be read as a form of Flight, since Victim can't follow him into the ice. But still, he's immobilized by fear, though not in the traditional sense, as the cause of immobility is external rather than internal. Fortunately, he's also protected until he's had time to process what's happening and determine how he wants to combat it. He has, temporarily, escaped. The ice also renders the lasso ineffective. Depending on whether you read this as Chosen quickly shifting tactics after losing his fire or purposefully misleading with fire so the shift to ice would be unanticipated, this could even be another form of Fight, one which buys himself time to recuperate.
Because when Victim attacks the ice, he bursts out in full-on Fight mode, destroying the lasso in the process. He manages to evade each of the following attacks, and the one time he's grabbed he manages to break free of the hold. But he forgets to watch his back (AGAIN!!!) and gets roped once more.
Even so, he continues to Fight, attacking Victim directly this time instead of trying to gain control over the lasso. Even his own fire being used against him isn't enough to break him out of Fighting, though afterwards he does switch back to trying to take control of the rope...and this time, he actually gets enough command over the slack to have Victim's own shuriken slice clean through it, freeing himself enough to pull his even more impressive reversed-fire attack. (And he actually closed the distance between himself and Victim before attacking, so he's definitely in Fight mode here.)
Unfortunately, this attack is also nullified, and once he's released he's exhausted again.
This is when the fourth response comes in.
Now, I hadn't realized what I was seeing, at first, so I didn't clue in to the fourth response until after it had already started. I'd wondered why he didn't try to correct his balance when Victim threw him into the chair, as even if he was too tired to resist force that was no reason to just let himself hang off the lasso like that; it would behoove him more to lean forward. So I rewound a bit, to see if I had missed anything. And I had.
He doesn't have the wherewithal to pick himself up or even move out of the way before Victim lifts him up. So his hands fly up to Victim's hold on his throat and he struggles—
and then he stops. And he's still, the whole time the chair is being placed.
For the rest of the scene, from the moment Victim moves to throw him onto the chair (and barring the one time he gives Victim his attention and his intermittent attempts to struggle whenever he thinks he has an opportunity, because bless him he's still Fighting), he's completely limp.
Is it his exhaustion? Partially, but I don't believe that's the only reason.
You see, he's actually not completely limp. If you watch, anytime there's an abrupt movement, there's a moment where he's not as loose-limbed as he could be, before he relaxes and goes even looser.
True, it might be exhaustion that pushed him to this point...but this isn't merely a lack of energy. Whether instinctual reflex or deliberate choice...this is the Flop response.
Look at how his body acts, when he is moved. Look how his limbs swing, responding to even the tiniest brush of force, as if he doesn't control them. Look how he does nothing to oppose or avoid any sort of imposition. Look how he literally Flops, without any hint of self-direction.
He's ragdolling.
Yeah, remember that short? It's a trauma-response now.
That's pretty much the end of it. Chosen ragdolls, aka Flops, for the rest of the video, except for a few brief moments that I consider to be him still Fighting. Because even when it seems like he's succumbed, he hasn't completely. He's still biding his time, staying alert for opportunities.
#did I headcanon that Chosen would ragdoll as a trauma-response during his time with noogai? yes#did I want that headcanon to be validated by him actually ragdolling as a trauma-response in canon? no#animator vs animation#ava the chosen one#ava tco#ava the box#ava 6#analysis#this took three hours to compose
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Hi, that's me again😅
So... my other idea for Lip is: (again with relatively shy reader, because I love the thrope a lot) the reader and Lip are already in a relationship, one day someone teases her a little too much on the sexual theme (they haven't had sex yet so she's a bit insecure about it) he notices, he defends her, and once they're alone he starts to joke around, teases her in a sweet way, to make her feel more comfortable to talk about it. (She is not a virgin, she's just not that experienced)
Hope you like this one, if not. It's okay, I promise😂
another great idea! <3
personally i don't celebrate thanksgiving but i remember an episode from one of the earlier seasons of them doing a thanksgiving meal which is very convenient for this so it's loosely based on that
warnings: sexual comments, innuendos, Mickey's kinda being an ass but his comments aren't ill-intended
xxxxxxxxxx
The Gallagher household was bustling with activity. Fiona and V were in the kitchen, finishing up some last minute food preparations while Kevin was entertaining Carl and some of his friends in the yard with games. Ian was fixing drinks for everyone, desperately trying to find Debbie to figure out what she wanted (she was in her room, Mandy braiding her hair for her so she could impress Little Hank). Lip was finishing up a project for some sophomore who'd offered to pay him $100, and Liam was sitting patiently in his high chair. Y/N did her best to help out by setting the table, ensuring there were enough chairs and that everyone had all the proper utensils.
Mickey walked in the front door, beer in hand and flopped down, watching as Y/N reached across to the other side of the table to put a fork next to the plate. Mickey whistled like a boy in a 60s tv show.
"Damn, I bet you're used to that position," he quipped, taking another swig or his beer. Y/N looked at him, furrowing her eyebrows.
Mickey shrugged. "You know, cause I'm sure Philip bends you over pretty often." Y/N realized his implications, blushing and looking away. Mickey laughed, much more comfortable on the subject of sex than she was. "I'm sure Fiona's had to schedule time out of the house with the rest of the kids just to give you two some 'alone time'!"
Y/N grew increasingly uncomfortable. She wasn't a virgin or a puritan, but she and Lip hadn't had sex yet. They hadn't had a conversation about it or anything, but she wanted to wait a while and Lip had never brought it up with her.
Mickey laughed, "Look, kid, don't have to hide anything, we've all walked in on Lip with one of his hookups before." He paused for dramatic effect.
"Besides, it's always the shy one's who are the kinkiest!"
Y/N looked away, trying not to pay him any more mind and focus on her task. Lip walked down the stairs having finished with the sophomore's project, and immediately noticed something was off. His girlfriend was shy, sure, but she never bowed her head as low as she had.
"Hey, Lip!" Mickey called, teasing. Lip looked at him, eyebrows raised in expectation. "Maybe you should go out back and have quickie with your girl, get 'er to stop bein' such a priss." Lip realized what was wrong, walking over to his blushing girlfriend and placing his arm around her waist.
"Fuck off," Lip sighed. "Y/N isn't a priss, she just doesn't think the whole world needs to know about her sex life like you and Ian seem to."
Mickey raised his arms in surrender, "'Kay, fuck, Gallagher, it was all teasing, no harm meant!" He got up from his seat and went to the kitchen, presumably to grab another beer.
"C'mon, baby," Lip said softly, squeezing Y/N's waist and guiding her up to his room. He sat with her on the edge of Ian's bed, holding her hand and rubbing his calloused thumb on the back of it.
"I'm sorry he was messin' with you, baby," he whispered. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Anything I can do for you?" He emphasized his apology by pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
"No, just," she paused, thinking about how she wanted to phrase her next sentence. "Do you ever, I don't know, feel like I'm holding you back?"
Lip had a puzzled look on his face. "Whatd'ya mean, hon?"
"Well with like, you know," she sighed, pulling her hand away from Lip to hide her face. "We haven't had sex and I feel like that's my fault." She heard him chuckle quietly, her embarrassment seeping into her soul even more.
"Baby," he cooed, wrapping his arms around her in a hug as she continued to hide her face. "It's nobody's fault. We haven't talked about it yet! That's the most important part of any relationship, and that's taken me a while to learn. I figured you'd bring it up when you were ready. I didn't want you to feel pressured."
She looked up at him, eyes wide and glazed over, on the verge of tears because of her embarrassment. "Really?" she asked.
"Really," he nodded like he had given an order to the universe.
"I thought that maybe you weren't attracted to me or that you thought I wasn't good enough," she whispered.
"Me? Not attracted to you? Aw babe!" he laughed, nose touching hers in a loving exchange. "A pretty thing like you deserves to be worshipped. When we have sex, I'm takin' my time with you."
She giggled at his compliment, rolling her eyes in disbelief.
"Oh, what you don't believe me? I've wanted to sleep with pretty girl forever, I just wanted to make sure she's ready for me," he smiled at her. The more he complimented her, easing in sex references, the more comfortable she felt on the subject. He had waited for her! He didn't think she was a prude or anything, he just had respect for her; he cared for her. She felt warmth in her chest as she processed the conversation. Lip kissed her nose briefly, helping her stand up from the bed.
"And try not to let Mickey get you down. He's just like that and assumes everyone else is comfortable talking about their sex life the way he does. I'll warn him to dial it down when he's around you, though," Lip told her, looking into her eyes to make sure she knew he was serious.
"Thanks, Lip. I love you," she told him, hugging him again.
"I love you, too, Y/N. Now, we'll talk more about us and our boundaries and moving forward later," he told her, trying to help her be more comfortable discussing sex with him. "But right now I think we've got a dinner to be at."
xxxxxx
thanks for reading! sorry about me projecting a lil bit in lip and reader's conversation lol, i just think it's really important to have these conversations with your partners and i think lip, despite being all tough and "not sappy" (but he totally is) really cares about discussing boundaries with his partner
have a great day!
#fanfic#writing#shameless#fanfiction#lip gallagher#lip gallagher x reader#phillip gallagher#fiona gallagher#kevin ball#frank gallagher#ian gallagher#debbie gallagher#carl gallagher#liam gallagher#mickey milkovich#gallavich#mandy milkovich#fluff
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Hot-spring (Zosan X reader)
Plot: Just the crew relaxing for a week at an exclusive winter resort.
Warning: Making out, bad language, Fluff and suggestive content but no smut.
Zoro X Sanji X Reader, poly relationship, established relationship, Reader is GN. Comment if you want a series out of this since i'm not 100% sure if i should do it
From a distance the winter island didn't seem like much just a dock a large few large mountains and land covered in snow but hidden away in the mountains was an exclusive hot springs and resort. Hotel room's, large banquets, bath houses, Spar, ski slopes and three massive natural hot springs a perfect place to relax. Nami has been after a spot for almost a year but last week she got a letter giving her and the crew a week's all expenses paid vacation, The navigator didn't bother to read the rest cheering and telling the crew how excited she was to finally go to this luxury spot. You and Robin managed to get the letter off her and read it wanting to know why, both of your were concerned it was some kind of trap set by the marines but it seemed genuine. Apparently the crew saved the owners grand-children form slavery and wanted to thank you all. The letter even have children's hand writing on it thank you all, the name made you and Robin smile the most since she stayed on the sunny for a while and clung to the two of you most of the time since she was def and only you and Robin new sigh language. With your worries solved you were more than happy to go, spending a relaxing time with your crew and your two boys.
Stepping off the ship bags in hand you all make your way down a long path leading to the resort. It was freezing cold and your coats weren't being much help but it would be worth it in the long run, the place looked so warm and inviting. Checking in was easy, the staff recognized you all right away and took you to your rooms, everyone of you had your own room with an ensuite bathroom and walk in closet but most of you wanted to stay with another. You, Sanji and Zoro shared a room of course, the beds were naturally big so all three of you could easily fit. Nami and Robin shared a room since they were used to each other's company. While Luffy, Usopp and Chopper shared a room since they were all planning on doing the same things. Brook deiced to have his own room as well as Franky, they secretly wanted to know what it was like to have their own room after sharing with the others for so long. You all have balcony rooms that looked out into the wilderness, a beautiful snow covered forest with a stream going down and through it. Inside the room was a walk in wardrobe fitted with a vanity and a soft fancy stool., White wooden floors lined all the rooms but dotted around where fluffy white rugs and near the balcony doors were two chairs and a coffee table, the lady was nice enough to get extra chairs for you although. The walls, curtains and chairs were a cream color and when the light form the glass chandelier hit the wall it made it look almost gold. The bed was super comfy a thick duvet and fluffy pillows you couldn't help but flop down onto.
You sigh happily as you lay on the bed your feet dangling off the edge feeling like your on a cloud, it is pure bliss. Sanji takes his bags into the walk in closet while Zoro just dumps his on the floor walking over to you and crawling on top using his elbows to keep his weight off you "You look perfect baby" he leans down kissing your lips as your hands went around his neck and into his hair pulling him closer. Feeling relaxed he takes more of a gentle approach lightly biting your lower lip asking for entrance which makes you moan a little letting him know your happy for him to do whatever. Opening your mouth you let the swordsman shove his tongue into your mouth as he garbs the side of your neck pulling you closer as he explores your mouth, with one hand gripping his hair you let the other glide down to his cheek where your thumb rubs against his cheekbone. Sanji comes back out after unpacking his stuff and goes to ask a question only to see you two on the bed "Couldn't wait?" he asks with a laugh walking over biting his lip a little as he watches the two of you, Zoro pulls away finally letting you breathe rubbing his thumb over your neck letting your head lay back on the bed as your hands slide down his arms. "Why should i wait?" The swordsman asks his eyes locking with the cooks before reaching his other hand out to Sanji who gladly takes it getting pulled over and shoved down onto the bed next to you. Placing his other hand on Sanji's neck the swordsman leans down and kisses his lips taking the cooks lower lip between his teeth and pulling away with it.
Sanji smile with a slight blush reaching his hand up and into his green hair happily opening his mouth for Zoro who lets go of the cooks lip to shove his tongue into the mans mouth. Sanji felt a little flustered by the brutes actions so didn't fight the swordsman's tongue as it roamed his mouth and their lips locked. You watch the two with a smile happy to share this moment with them as your hand runs through Sanji's hair to get it out of the cooks eyes. Zoro pulls away and let's go of your necks sitting up right still straddling your hips as his hand moving up and down the cook's waist. Slightly breathless Sanji turns to you and places a soft hand on your cheek while leaning closer, the cook brushes his lips over yours before kissing you lightly. You wanted his kiss so grabbed a fist full of his hair and pull him in closer crashing your lips onto his, knowing what you want Sanji licks your lower lip asking for entrance, immediately you open your mouth to him your tongues meeting as his hand goes down your side. You pull away mouths open a string of saliva between the two of you as you both pant , Zoro groans at the sight leaning down to kiss you two again only for a loud constant knocking to ram against your door. You can't help but laugh at the perfect timing of Luffy who yells from the other side of the door "There's a big banquet on, come on lets go" Your captain yells seeming to run off when Nami yells at him to shut up.
Zoro and Sanji sigh with the moment being ruined, if you guys didn't get up your captain would keep bothering you guys with questions on why you didn't join them, he's done it before and it was the most embarrassing thing. "Come on then hunk, get off me" you look up a Zoro running your hands over his hips and slightly pushing, the swordsman rolls his eyes and gets off you letting you sit up as Sanji gets up too fixing his hair that you messed up. While you also fix your hair Sanji walking past Zoro while sliding a hand across the mans hips and butt a way of teasing him while making his way to the door. "Your such an ass" Zoro looks away trying to hide his blush "You love me though" the cook laughs with a wink while putting his jacket on. Heading out the room and down to the dinning hall the three of you find the crew sitting around a long futon table thats already stacked with food and drinks. Nami smiles up at the three of you and pats the cushion next to her hoping you will sit next to her, you can't deny her so sit down next to her as she pores some wine into your glass. Zoro sits next to you and grabs a bottle of sake poring it into a glass while Sanji sits on his other side looking over the food, it's been a long time since he hasn't had to cook anything and as much as he misses cooking right now he can't help but be thankful that he gets to sit with the crew and eat rather than in the kitchen cooking for his hungry captain and crew.
The crew laughs and jokes while digging into the food that just keeps coming as music plays in the background and other tables chat away. You listen closely to Nami who's more than eager to tell you all about this place and what they have in store along with her plans for the week, it was mainly relaxing in the hot springs, getting messages and relaxing in the newly built sauna area. The smile on her face and the light in her eyes made you smile wide, you've never seen her this excited about something other than money before and it warms your heart "You have to join us in the sauna one day, i haven't seen anything like it before" Nami finishes off finally going back to taking a drink and eat something after all the talking, with a small laugh you nod at her "Of course i will , it sounds so nice" Taking a drink you feel Zoro's hand run over your lower back, it's been almost an hour of you talking with Nami, so he's probably annoyed that you haven't once paid attention too him, the swordsman isn't normally a needy man, but he can get this way if you or Sanji are close to him and don't somehow pay him some kind of attention. Turning your head to look at Zoro you notice the slight pinkness in his cheeks and an unamused look on his face, reaching your hand up you run your fingers of his warm cheek feeling the swordsman lean into your touch "You look tired" You whisper to him making Zoro smile at you and nod slightly before leaning over and placing his head on your shoulder while his hand grips your waist. Looking over at Sanji you notice the swordsman holding the cooks hand while the blonde talks with Robin and Franky who are across from him.
No wonder Zoro feels needy with both his partners lost in conversation, placing a kiss on the swordsman's head you run your hand over his cheek feeling him relax against you "Wanna head to bed?" You whisper hearing him hum in response and kiss your neck telling you yes, finishing off your wine you reach over and tap Sanji's leg getting his attention. You didn't need to say anything to the cook to make him understand the situation "We're gonna head to bed, night guys" Sanji smiles standing up soon followed by you and Zoro who keeps a tight grip on the two of you "Night, I'll meet you in the hot springs tomorrow" Nami smiles up at you as you pat her head and walk off with your boys. Walking down the hall Sanji clings onto Zoro's arm "So are you actually tired or did you just want our attention?" The cook asks making your laugh a little managing to see right through the drunk green haired man "Both" Zoro smiles down at the cook kissing he's head as you make it to your room, opening the door you hold it open for the two letting them in before closing and locking it. Zoro wraps his arms around Sanji's waist pulling the cook into his chest and leaning down to kiss his lips, Sanji kisses back while running his hands through the swordsman's green hair enjoying the taste of sake on the mans lips. "Sorry for ignoring you Zo, it wasn't intentional" You sigh walking over to the two only to feel the swordsman grab your arm and pull you into them, pulling away for the kiss Zoro leans down to you and crashes his lips on yours groaning a little.
Sanji sighs and shakes his head realizing that the swordsman must be needy because of the two talking to others and paying him no attention for almost an hour "Sorry Zo, Lets get into bed and cuddle to make up for it" Sanji runs his hand up and down Zoro's arm placing light kisses on the green haired man's neck. Pulling away form the kiss you cup his face and nod agreeing with Sanji, a smile appears on Zoro's face as he lets the two of you go so you can all get changed ready for bed. Zoro's the first to lay in the large comfy bed getting under the covers and claiming the middle, walking out of the bathroom Sanji brushes his hair before making his way over to the bed. About to get in the cook is stopped by Zoro who stretches his arm out to block the blonde before patting his lap, with a small laugh Sanji crawls onto the bed and straddles the swordsman's lap "This what you want three swords?" Sanji teases feeling Zoro's hands go up and down his waist "I thought you were supposed to be making it up to me?" Zoro glares squeezing the cooks sides making Sanji jump a little before being dragged down for a forceful kiss, the swordsman grabs some of his blonde hair while his other arm goes around Sanji's back to keep him there before forcing his tongue into the cooks mouth, they both hum at the feeling Sanji relaxing a little and letting his hands wonder over Zoro's shoulders, up his neck and into his hair. Stepping out the bathroom changed into your pj's you can't help but smile at the two boys as they make out on the bed, walking over you climb in next to them Zoro's arm unwraps form Sanji's waist to wrap around you and pull you in.
Sanji pushes off Zoro panting for air and laying on the swordsman's other side finally managing to get under the warm covers, without warning Zoro crashes his lips onto your gripping your waist as he presses you up against his side. With a hum you open your mouth for him as your hand travails up his chest and to his cheek letting the swordsman's tongue roam your mouth while Sanji rests his head on Zoro's shoulder still trying to catch his breath. Pulling away Zoro give the both of you a cocky smile before kissing both of your head and holding you close to his chest, Sanji takes your hand holding it as it rests on the swordsman's chest "I love you both... Mi amours" The cook leans over to place a light kiss on your lips before laying his head back down on Zoro's shoulder giving a swordsman a light kiss on the neck. "I love you both too. My handsome boys" You whisper nuzzling into Zoro who kisses both your heads "Love you" Zoro sighs relaxing into the bed and closing his eye letting sleep take over him. Sanji chuckles a little while squeezing your hand "That went better than i expected" The cook whispers to you trying not to wake the now slightly snoring Zoro, with a smile you hold back a laugh and nod "I didn't mean to ignore him but Nami's face was a sight to be hold, i've never seen her so happy" You whisper back seeing Sanji's cheeks turn red at the though of Nami's face "I wish i had seen it but Robin-chan knew a lot about the history of this island and its culture" The cook smiles as he brings your hand to his lips giving it a kiss.
#one piece#polly relationship#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro#sanji x reader#sanji x zoro#zosan#zosan x reader#zoro x sanji#one piece zosan#zosan fanfic#ronoroa zoro#one piece zoro#one piece sanji#vinsmoke sanji#black leg sanji#sanji#straw hat pirates#zoro#zoro x sanji x reader
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With the announcement of the movie cancelation I didn't get surprised because of what you said, you were right all along people just didn't want to accept it :/ is still sad tho
Thank you for you message!
Excuse me, as I will use this opportunity to vent.
It wasn't really hard to predict that the situation with IceAdo wasn't good at all since 2019 even by just looking at what was going on... Like the sudden lack of any effort to promote the show/movie after the trailer flopped (because of "you either give us what we want or you deserve to die in a plane crash" mentality that *a part* of YoI fandom had and still has...).
Later the same year, the rumor that IceAdo project was once reset to 0 dropped, then they announced the postponement, and the whole IP was just completely ignored from that point onward. (For people who speak Jp, I recommend searching for Yamada Reiji's video from Sep 2019 that he posted on his paid NicoNico channel just a couple of weeks after the postponement was announced... I'm 100% sure he recorded it right after going out to drink with Sayo - while he only says vague things, imo, it gives you a good idea that Sayo was most likely once told at that point that IceAdo, as she has wanted it to be like, just isn't going to happen.)
That, and on Japanese side of Twitter, you can find eg. share holders of various companies that do business in anime industry if you look hard enough, so based on info from such people, it was known that it isn't being worked on at all.
It's still a shock, though... It really is, to see that in writing.
There is also the thing that Jp news sites and so on chose to report it with "the news was met with 'well, it was inevitable' reaction from fans" blah blah comment, and while, sure, maybe in 2024 it was inevitable, but the history of IceAdo started in 2016, when Sayo had the idea when working on episode 10. It wasn't 'inevitable' at all that such an incredibly talented creator as her can't even finish making a movie in peace... I don't even know, but it just feels to me so deeply disrespectful... 😭😭😭 I'm genuinely devastated.
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Fic Name: five more minutes
Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Reader
Words: 596
Warnings: none just 100% pure fluff
One Shot or Multiple Chapter: One Shot
Content: you just want to sleep in while your girlfriend asks you to get ready for work
A/N: I made this cause I felt really bad with all the angst i’ve been writing recently so enjoy !!
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You usually wake up to the sound of your girlfriend telling you to wake up by softly shaking you and kissing your face to get you up but this time your alarm woke you up, your alarm went off at 6:30, the direct sunlight in your eyes didn't help you wake up the easiest either.
"Good morning my love" JJ starting getting out of bed.
"Jennifer no" you crawled to her and flopped your body onto her to stop her from leaving.
"We can have cuddles when we come back from work hmm?" JJ suggested while she played with your hair.
"Oh we definitely will be but we can but I want cuddles now" you cutely demanded.
"You're so cuddly today this morning and every morning for that matter" JJ laughed.
"Yeah but you love me for it" you said turning your neck and looking up at her.
"I do it's true" she laughed.
"Can we stay here forever please?" you asked burying your head into her neck.
"How about five more minutes?" JJ suggested while laughing.
"Five more minutes?" you giggled "you were much nicer in my dream" you rolled your eyes.
"Ooh yeah and what did I say in your dreams?" she asked stroking your hair with one hand and rubbing your back with the other hand.
"She said that we could stay in bed like this forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and-" you laughed.
JJ interrupted you "I'm sure she did, we really have to get up now but we can cuddle on the jet or as soon as we get home? deal?" she said kissing your temple as she lifted you off her chest.
You pretended to think about it for a minute "deal" you laughed.
You walked away to your en suite bathroom as JJ stopped you "Hey Y/N?" she called over "did you know that you sleep talk and that you snore?" she said desperately trying not to laugh.
"Laugh it up Jareau" you said walking back over to her pretending to be angry which made JJ laugh even more "but you sleep talk too" you laughed "I'm pretty sure you said something like my girlfriend is the hottest woman alive and that I'm going to give her all the cuddles in the world and we're going to put on her favourite movie later on when we come home blah blah blah it was something like that" you laughed.
"Oh well if I said that in my dream then I'd have to have meant it right?" she said leaning down to kiss your lips.
"Mmhmm" you laughed while nodding.
"Brush your hair by the way, you have terrible bed hair" she exaggerated.
"You loved my hair yesterday" you added grinning.
"Y/N" JJ shouted as she pushed you over making you fall backwards on the bed.
You laughed out loud as you dragged JJ down and kissed her.
"I love you" you said looking into her eyes.
"I love you too but I would love you better if we actually arrived to our jobs on time" she nodded.
"Can't wait to see you kick ass today" you added.
JJ rolled her eyes as she dragged you up before kissing you.
"Get dressed I'll see you in a minute I'm making coffee" JJ said walking out of the room.
"I love coffee" you sighed.
JJ turned around as she spun herself on her heels "I love my girlfriend more though" you laughed before walking up to her and kissing her again.
"I'll see you in a minute okay?" JJ added.
"Okay" you smiled.
#criminal minds#fanfic#aj cook#jennifer jareau#jennifer jareau x reader#jennifer jareau x you#jj x reader#yn
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A beach episode would be hilarious if Yuuji and Sukuna have to be covered in sunscreen and wear big hats because their pinky(gingery) asses would burn to a crisp otherwise.
Sukuna: Is this-?
Yuuji: Sunscreen. Did you think I forgot? What do you take me for?
Sukuna: ...it's 50 and is this CeraVe? *make face*
Yuuji: Oh my God just slather it on will you? And what's with that face? If you put on enough it should be okay.
Sukuna: I'm just saying, La Roche Posay has 100.
Yuuji: It's sun screen and you're a brand-whore! I'm sorry does this sunscreen not match your Gucci swim shorts or your Chanel flip-flops?
Sukuna: ...They're Saint Laurent. And all I'm saying, is you're going to regret going out into that water in only a 50, which I'm sure you only got because you were too impatient to look for the brand I mentioned.
Yuuji: Dude, I'll be fine. If you want to huddle under this big umbrella in your Micheal Kors straw hat-
Sukuna: Prada
Yuuji: wearing your giant as Tiffany sunglasses-
Sukuna: They're Bulgari, what's wrong with you?
Yuuji: -like an old lady then thats your problem. As for me? I'm going to surf.
Hours later Sukuna will only be slightly sunburned earning himself some new freckles and only minor discomfort, but Yuuji?
Sukuna: I told you.
Yuuji: Oh my GOD....*red all over, tender all over, possibly blistered all over* Shut up!
Sukuna: ...Do you want me to help you into the van?
Yuuji: *wimpers* Be gentle.
(Also, I don't know why I made Sukuna a designer slut because nine times out of ten he looks like a hobo. But now that I think about it imagining him looking like a hobo and everyone finding out he's wearing expensive ass hobo clothes is hilarious. How does he make his money? What's his side job apart from jj? No one knows what his day job is but it makes him money. LoL)
oh god sukuna would be that annoying rich guy that everyone knows in college or something 😭 this is hilarious but also i hc that sukuna loves surfing (based on his official art) so i don't think he would care about getting a lil bit of sunburn lmao
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