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#i know this because i just watched the damn thing
slytherinslut0 · 3 days
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theodore nott • may i have this dance?
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info: smallish blurb for @thatdammchickennugget’s hogmarch challenge. prompt four. (i know im a day late lol sorry mari ily)
summary: theodore told everyone that dances weren’t his thing and decided he wasn’t going to attend the yule ball. when you agreed to go with cormac, he realized that he’d made a big mistake, and was there for you when you needed him most.
tags: soft and fluffy. shitty cormac per usual.
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You should have seen it coming.
You should have damn well known that accepting Cormac's half-assed invitation to the Yule Ball was practically signing up for one thing and one thing only:
a one-way ticket to misery.
The sting of his abandonment wasn’t even the worst of it--though it did occur almost immediately, sneaky bloke somehow managing to slither off before Dumbledore even had the chance to make it to the podium to give the opening fucking speech.
Truthfully, you probably could have gotten over that. With enough drinks, that is.
The real kicker came after the bewildering manner in which he vanished into the ether. The moment he reappeared all the same, as if nothing had even happened, accompanied now by your ex-best friend, clinging to his arm like a fucking lifeline.
His smirk, so brazenly triumphant, seemed to stretch wider than the chasm between you, swallowing up his entire face in a painfully irritating display of mockery and betrayal as he shot you an infuriating wink from across the room, leading your friend through the crowd and into position for the first slow dance.
That was it. There was no goddamn way you were staying in that cursed room for even a millisecond longer.
If not for your ironclad resolve, you were fully convinced you would have set the entire room ablaze in a whirlwind of rage as you stormed out.
Yet, as you downed nearly half the flask of firewhiskey you had concealed beneath your flowing emerald green gown, a profound epiphany struck you: that wretched excuse for a human being didn't merit even a fraction of your emotional investment.
What he truly warranted, from the depths of your seething soul, was a resounding void of utter insignificance.
And with that realization burning in your chest, you pivoted on your heels and pushed your way through the throng, feigning ignorance to Pansy's concerned calls and Mattheo's mocking gaze as he reached out to grasp your arm, undoubtedly ready to ridicule you for being left high and dry before the first damn dance.
Your friends had warned you of this inevitable outcome, but your stubbornness had clouded your ears to their warnings.
You live and you learn, right?
"Wrong," Mattheo, Theodore, Enzo, Blaise, and Draco would have most definitely retorted in unison.
You could practically hear it in the recesses of your mind as you pushed through the large double doors and out into the warm spring breeze flowing through the corridor. They would have reminded you that sometimes it pays to heed the advice of someone who's walked the same path, that perhaps they were genuinely trying to watch out for you for once.
Of course, you would have simply scowled and rolled your eyes in response. You didn't need advice from anyone, definitely not them. Although…it certainly would have paid off to listen just this once…
Just then, in that fleeting moment of mental pondering, an intriguing thought popped into your mind;
Perhaps, just perhaps; you were the problem here.
…..No. Nope. Not even close.
You forcefully dismissed that nagging notion the very second it dared to intrude. No, you couldn’t, and simply wouldn’t entertain the idea that you were at fault here.
The reason you were making a hasty exit from the Yule Ball before the first dance had even commenced, the reason the echo of your black heels striking the cobblestones beneath them reverberated throughout the damp and desolate corridor, was solely because of Cormac.
If you were the problem, you’d be the one in there dancing with whomever you pleased, paying no mind to the feelings of others. Your Yule Ball evening was over. And not even the combined efforts of Godric Gryffindor, Professor Snape, Salazar Slytherin and Filch's bloody cat could have kept you from fleeing.
But in truth, if you were being completely real with yourself, you weren’t even all that bummed. A very large part of you didn’t even want to partake tonight.
Perhaps that was due to the fact that the man you longed to accompany the dance with had adamantly declared his aversion to such festivities, and simply decided not to attend.
But that’s neither here nor there at this point.
As you reached the threshold of the courtyard, your gaze fell upon the breathtaking scene unfolding before you: a moonlit evening enveloped in a torrential downpour, each raindrop hammering against the emerald expanse of grass with relentless force.
It was as tragically beautiful as it was suiting.
And as you were lost in the beauty of nature's fury, you were startled by a husky voice slicing through the stillness, calling out your name from down the hall. Nearly leaping out of your own damn skin, your head snapped to the side, your eyes meeting those of a tall, strikingly handsome Italian man striding purposefully towards you.
"Hey," Theodore called out, his voice gentle yet determined, "Wait up."
You rolled your eyes before you could even stop yourself. Force of habit.
“I saw you leaving,” he continued, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you. “Are you okay?”
You met his concerned gaze with a raised eyebrow, a hint of sass colouring your reply, "don’t I look okay to you?"
Theodore's gaze caressed you, hunger evident in his half-lidded eyes as they roamed over your form with a blend of admiration and concern. Barely audible, a curse slipped from his lips in Italian before he locked eyes with you once more, a palpable shift in the intensity of his gaze.
"You look more than okay, Bella," he murmured, taking a single step closer. “Doesn’t mean you feel it.”
Your breath caught in your throat, your heart quickening its pace in response to his proximity. As Theodore’s words washed over you, a shiver ran down your spine, your skin tingling with the heat of his gaze.
This was the man you’d longed to attend the dance with tonight. The one who swore he’d never take part in such idiocy. Standing before you, clad in an all black suit.
You didn’t even have a thought to question it—to question him—on what the hell he was doing here, dressed like that—because as you stood there, your temperature rising, you met his eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and longing swirling within your own.
“Maybe not,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, “but somehow…you make it hard to feel anything else.”
Theodore's lips curved into a knowing smile, and his tongue darted out to wet them, his eyes locking with yours in silent understanding.
"Then maybe," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "we should find a way to make you feel everything."
Your entire body froze in place as Theodore slowly extended his hand towards you, the world around you fading into insignificance as if time itself had paused, as if someone had cast a spell on the clock. Almost entirely speechless, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his, the anticipation thick in the air as the distant strains of a slow dance song filtered through the corridor, emanating from the Yule Ball.
With a gentle smile, Theodore broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I have this dance?"
As your lips parted to respond, a whirlwind of emotions danced across your face, your eyes flickering between his outstretched hand and the captivating depths of his gaze. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of your mouth, your usually sassy self left utterly speechless, and with deliberate slowness, you surrendered your hand to his, relishing in the warmth that flooded your senses as he drawed you closer and into his embrace.
Theodore’s hands found their place on your waist with a gentle yet firm grip, pulling you closer to him as if to reassure you of his presence. You reciprocated by resting your palms on his shoulders, feeling the heat emanating from his body, its intensity seeping through the fabric of his suit jacket, igniting a tingling sensation in your fingertips.
You let your eyes trace a path up his strong chest, taking in the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath the fabric of his shirt. It was then that you noticed the emerald silk tie adorning his neck, its colour mirroring the rich hue of your dress almost perfectly.
Utterly mesmerized, you couldn’t comprehend the way this man had rendered you so bloody speechless. You’d never have expected any of this in a million years.
Finally, you managed to exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, “you…you matched my dress…”
Theodore’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a tender smile playing on his lips.
“Only because I knew you’d be wearing it,” he replied, his voice warm, a soft caress against your skin. “Cormac is a fucking idiot.”
A breathy laugh escaped your lips, mingling with the soothing melody of the rain and the gentle hum of the slow dance tune. You blinked, looking up at him through your lashes, finding yourself lost in the depth within the ocean of his eyes.
“You knew he’d ditch me,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the soft cadence of the music. As you watched Theodore’s eyes trace the curve of your lips, a flicker of realization dawned upon you. “You were betting on it.”
“I knew you deserved better,” he murmured, a soft swallow rippling through his throat as he spoke, his eyes shimmering beneath the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the rain-soaked courtyard. “And I was hoping you’d see it too.”
“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” you whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.
You thought back on the advice from the others. All those times Theo was quiet, just watching. Listening.
Theodore’s expression softened, a rueful smile gracing his lips as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Would you have listened, Bella?”
You could feel the subtle tension dissipate as Theodore's touch lingered on your cheek, and with a gentle swallow, you met his gaze, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you considered his question.
"Perhaps not," you replied, your voice as teasing as the grin gracing your lips. “I am quite stubborn, aren’t I?”
Theo chuckled, and you were going to leave it at that, remain silent and enjoy the moment for what it was, but as your eyes found his once more, a surge of honesty flooded your senses, rendering you momentarily breathless. The subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips curved up while donning that devilish smirk of his, the sensation of his thumb brushing against your cheek—it was simply all too much to ignore.
"But, you should know,” you confessed softly, "I truly only wanted to go with you."
Theodore blinked, his gaze flickering with surprise at your admission, as if he hadn't expected you to voice your feelings so openly. But there was no denying the electricity crackling in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken desires that had lingered beneath the surface for far too long. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, coaxing your face closer to his, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin.
"Dances have never really been my thing, Bella..." his voice, a mere whisper, sent your limbs shuddering with nerves. Your fingers trembled slightly against his shoulders, the only anchor keeping you grounded in the intensity of the moment. "But I'd slow dance across the entire castle with you if you asked..."
Leaning closer, Theodore's breath mingled with yours, the warmth of his words sending a shiver down your spine. As he leaned closer, you could hear the subtle hitch in his breath, the tremor in his exhale.
"I was a fool...” as he hovered inches from your lips, you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the tension between you reaching its breaking point. “…for not mustering the courage to ask you myself.”
You wet your lips, your eyes bouncing all over his face, your entire body trembling with urgency, with need, with hunger. You’d hardly even heard his words at this point.
“Tell me, Bella…." he breathed, the words longing for an absolution only you could grant him. “Will you ever manage to forgive me?”
With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned as close as you could possibly get, your lips just barely grazing against his, savouring the moment for every bloody second it had.
"Kiss me," you murmured through a grin, your voice barely above a whisper, "and perhaps…just perhaps, I'll find it in my heart to forgive you."
With that, he dipped low, two strong hands finding your face, capturing your lips with his, and you sighed, lids closing, reaching to forage into his hair. A soft exhale escaped him, the kiss deepening, and he cradled your head, holding you closer, his other hand falling to support your neck, thumb skimming your jaw.
You whined, joy glowing in your chest, and you eased against his body, the both of you melting into each other, melting into the moment, the sound of the rain and the rhythmic tune of the slowdance fading away in the foreground.
And as he slowly pulled away from the kiss, Theodore's eyes met yours again, blue orbs shimmering brighter than the moon.
"I’d spend a lifetime making it up to you," he vowed softly, urging your head to rest gently against his chest. "Starting with this dance."
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satorusugurugurl · 23 hours
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JJK Men: Seeing You Without Makeup For the First Time
Warning: Fluffy sweetness, insecurities, suggestiveness, language
Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Modern!Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento
Word Count: 2,993
A/N: Ah yes, I love this trope. It was fun to write!! Please Enjoy, don't blame me from any cavities from this sweet fluff. Request Open.
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Gojo Satoru:
The smell of freshly brewed coffee was the only thing keeping your eyes open. You grumbled and cursed the sun for rising another day as you leaned over the kitchen counter, watching the magic bean juice filling your cup. The higher-ups must not like you because the mission they just sent you on was hell.
A week, a damn week, you were gone. A week from your bed, students, and your boyfriend. Stupid old men and their dumb missions. But who were you to complain if you paid your bills and you were able to teach the next generation of sorcerers? So life wasn't that bad.
Then again, your somewhat happy outlook on life might be the sleep deprivation talking.
The bastards were sweet enough to give you one day to recuperate. There was no time to relax, though. You had laundry to sort through, groceries to pick up, and the normal mundane things you'd missed out on during the WEEK you were gone!
A day off was a day off despite it being a busy one. You would get it all done after you drank this coffee Satoru got you from Mexico on his last mission. As soon as you downed it, you would off. You were already dressed to go. You had on sweats and a t-shirt, and you opted out of putting on any makeup, seeing that you would just be running around.
Your phone chimed as Satoru’s name popped up on your screen. You smiled as you opened the chat.
Satoru: Good morning, beautiful! 😙 Welcome back! I had breakfast delivered to you; enjoy! 🍳🥓🧇
“Oh, he's getting laid later.” You squealed, running for the door to your apartment.
You flung it open, staring at the ground, expecting a bag, but instead, you were greeted by shoes. Designer shoes that you knew all too well. Slowly trailing up dark uniform pants and jacket that was from the same school you worked at. Further up, you caught sight of a wide grin, a blindfold, and fluffy white hair. All of which belongs to your boyfriend, who was holding a takeout bag.
“Special delivery for Y/L/N Y/N!”
Your boyfriend was here. The same boyfriend who was utterly gorgeous no matter what condition he was in. The man could be caked in blood, and you still wanted to kiss him. Then there was you; you always put in the effort to look nice around him, hair styled, cute outfit, some form of makeup always on.
Today was not one of those days.
In a panic, you squeaked, slamming the door in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!?” You glanced around for anything you could use to hide your appearance. You panicked and grabbed the first thing off the couch.
“Uhm, babe?” Satoru questioned, opening the door. “I know you were gone for a week. But I'm Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend.”
“I know!! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you!” you had your back turned to him, covering your face with your hands. “T-Thanks for the food! But I have so much to do!”
“Really?”
“Yep! Laundry!”
“I had Ijichi pick it up this morning.”
Fuuuuck.
“O-Okay! I have to get groceries!”
“Your fridge is fully stocked, courtesy of yours truly.”
The room felt like it was shrinking in on you as you listened to him come up behind you. The bag was discarded as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weren't sure how he would react, seeing your bare face, and that was terrifying.
So many men thought women wearing makeup was like lying. You had always done very light and minimal makeup, but it didn't make it less scary. Sensing the tension, Satoru gently turned you around so you were facing him. He stiffened, his mouth turning from a grin to a shocked expression.
“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet.
“Y-Yeah?”
A choked laugh erupted from his throat. “I-Is that one of my blindfolded?!” He called as you stated at the darkness his blindfold provided. “Oh my god, hold on! Hold on!” You could feel him near you with the camera on his phone clicking. “Oh my god, wait until the second years see this!” Fingers hooked under the blindfold, yanking it up and off your head.
Your hands flew up, hiding your face. Your attempt was foiled as Satoru's gentle hands pulled them away. With a shuddering sigh, you looked up at him, biting your cheek as he fully saw you. For you, no makeup, fancy clothes, or styled hair.
Satoru just smiled, leaning down before he kissed your lips gently. “Welcome home.” He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “What was with the off-brand cosplay?” Your cheeks are flushed, the darker pigment visible without any trace of makeup.
“I-I don't have any makeup on.”
“Oh!” He straightened, his large hand patting your head. “You're so cute.”
His grin grew wider at the confused expression inching its way over your face. “Seriously? Do you think that? Even without the makeup and the baggy clothes? You still think I'm cute?” Satoru’s head bobbed up and down so fast you thought his head would fall out. His sincere reaction made you giggle, shaking your head. “Satoru, you are so strange. But also extremely sweet.” When you looked up, you blinked, seeing Gojo holding up one side of his blindfold. His bright blue eye looked you over, inching over every curve and surface of you. “Satoru, stop staring.”
“I just was confirming something.” he snapped his blindfold back into place before draping an arm over you.
You poured yourself a cup of coffee while Satoru pulled your breakfast out of the bag. “Confirming what?”
“Just confirming with Six-Eyes that I have the prettiest girlfriend in the entire world.”
Gojo’s smile slowly faded as you slammed the coffee pot down. Oh fuck, what did he say?! You led around; fire swarmed in Y/E/C eyes as you stormed over to him, grabbing his wrist.
“W-What?! What did I say?” He huffed out a gasp as you shoved him onto the couch.
“Everything.”
You unzipped his pants, and Gojo’s eyes were wide behind his blindfold. Even with Six-Eyes, Gojo did not see this coming. Spoiler alert: It was him, he was going to cum.
Choso Kamo:
A knock at your door had you straightening from your spot on the couch. Looking at your phone, you quickly got up. It was well past midnight, and it was never a good sign when someone knocked that late at night on the door.
Much to your relief, when you opened the door to your apartment, your boyfriend looked down at you. “Choso?” a sigh of relief escaped your lips.
“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked before entering your apartment.
“No, I think you just saved me a stiff neck.” You yawned out before locking the door. “Did you and Yuuji finish up with that mission?”
“Yes, he went back home; I wanted to see you.”
Choso watched as you moved around the apartment. You straightened up the pillows on the couch and wiped down your kitchen before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom. The entire time you went about your mundane tasks, Choso just stared. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about you.
Choso’s eyes moved over you. Trying to depict what was different tonight. Haircut? No. New pajamas? No, that wasn't it, either. Everything Choso tried to think of wasn't the right answer. Not knowing what it was frustrated him to the point that Choso’s eyebrow twitched.
What had you glowing in the lowlights of your bedroom as you pulled the sheets back? “Cho?” You finally asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You're staring holes through me.” Realizing that he had been caught, Choso flinched.
“I'm sorry, sorry I just—” Words trailed off as his cheeks flushed.
You had noticed Choso staring at you since he came inside. The poor guy never saw you without makeup, which was probably strange. He seemed to be struggling, trying to find the words to the mountain of questions he might have.
“It's okay. I think I know what you're going to ask.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, you’re going to ask what’s different.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I look different because I’m not wearing makeup.”
Choso tilted his head to the side.”Oh, no, I was going to say you look radiant tonight.” The words that left his mouth had both of you standing in silence.
You just eyed Choso as he smiled, nodding his head like he'd figured out the mystery of what was different. Pleased with his conclusion, he helped you pull the sheets back. His hands smoothed out the covers before he peered up at you. You were blushing, smiling ear to ear as you finished pulling the bed back.
“I just finished doing my skincare routine,” you announced as you crawled into bed after Choso showered. “I have a new serum that is supposed to make you look luminescent.”
Choso studied you carefully as he crawled into bed with you. “Mmm, maybe that’s it.” He pulled you into his arms. “Or maybe it’s just me.” Choso hummed, staring into the face that he loved so much. “Falling in love.” Love?! “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what this is.”
That was the reasoning behind your radiant glow. A glow that always surrounded you no matter what you wore or looked like. Choso saw utter perfection in you. So it only made sense that the reason you looked extra stunning was that he had fallen in love with you even more.
You just snuggled closer into his chest, grinning wide as he yawned. “I love you too, Cho.”
Ryomen Sukuna:
Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes before chaos erupted in Sukuna’s apartment. He had just finished changing when he heard the commotion. Yuuji and Choso were bickering before you gently tried to break up the argument. The next thing he heard was a scream, your scream, to be exact.
He bolted, running into the kitchen, where he found you wiping at your face. “What the fuck?!” His younger brothers both stood in shock, watching you in fear. Yuuji was holding a box of baking soda, and Choso held a bottle of vinegar.
In the center of the kitchen was the volcano experiment you had been helping Yuuji make. Sukuna was able to put it all together in an instant. He didn't bother yelling. He instead lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.
“What the hell happened?” You flinched when you felt a warm, wet rag gently cleaning your face off.
“The boys wanted to see how big of an explosion they could make. But you know the boys, they both were arguing about who should do what. Words were said, contents were thrown into a beaker, and I didn't have my safety goggles on.”
Sukuna sighed, continuing to rub off the mess on your face. “You're not hurt, are you?”
“Nope!” Your confident response had your boyfriend chuckling as he wiped more of the foamy goop off your face.
After about five minutes of wiping and rinsing the rag, Sukuna sat on the tub's edge, examining your face. It was without the small amount of makeup you had on and the lighting of the bathroom that he stared at you. You were stunning, gorgeous in everything. But here in the bathroom, his eyes mapped out your face.
“What happened here?” he asked, fingertips pressing against a small scar under your eye.
Thinking it was food coloring, you turned to the mirror, seeing your bare face. “EH?!” You touched it, groaning as you looked back at your boyfriend, who was smirking. “You wiped off all my makeup!” For a second, Sukuna thought he was dealing with a third child in his apartment.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to have vinegar on your face?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought. So confess what happened there?”
“Acne scar.”
A soft him rumbled in his chest before he learned over, thumb grazing over a tiny scar at the bottom of your lip. “This?” gentle fingers moved up, brushing over your bottom lip as he stepped closer towards you.
“I-I fell off my bike.”
You swallowed hard, whimpering as Sukuna’s fingers grazed over your face. You were feeling how soft your delicate skin was. All of you mesmerized him. Every time you came over, he learned a little more about you. And god, he fuckin’ loved that.
His hands gently mapped your face out. The softness had you breathing heavily, his eyes glued to your lips. Having your boyfriend gaze over you with such a soft yet burning gaze had you shifting. The air in the bathroom became thick with need as he slowly slipped your tank top sleeve down.
“Y/N, let me see all of you. I want to map out your body and learn everything it has to say.”
“W-What’s gotten into you?”
The whisper tone of your voice had Sukuna sliding the other sleeve of your tank top down. “You. You’ve crept your way into my heart.” The confession that spilled from his lips has you leaning in, wanting him to touch you everywhere. The same way he had touched your face.
“Hey, is she okay?” Choso’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Yuuji’s worried.”
“Take Yuuji out for ice cream.” Your tank top is slowly pulled over your head. “My card is on my dresser.”
Silence spreads out as you tug Sukuna’s shirt up and off. “R-Really?” hands began working on jeans.
“Yes, I have my own project to work on.” Sukuna turned the shower on, and he never heard Choso collecting Yuuji so fast. Refusing to answer any questions as the door to the apartment slammed shut.
Sukuna’s antics had you giggling, licking your lip, and he stripped you completely. “A project, huh?” he nodded, following you into the shower.
“Yeah, but it won't be vinegar foam that covers that pretty face this time.”
Nanami Kento:
The hotel sheets were cold and crisp over your and your boyfriend's bodies. Between the chill and the heat Nanami was putting out, you felt so comfortable. It was the perfect combination that made you want to relish the feeling forever.
The sun was up, which meant you both would be going home soon. You both had been called out on a mission, one that took a bit longer to handle than you both were anticipating. You missed the last train back to Tokyo. Leaving you both stranded in Kawasaki for the night.
Instead of having one of the assistant supervisors drive all the way out to get you, you and Nanami decided to stay at a hotel. God, it was nice: room service, wine, a hot shower. Missing that last train was a reward for the two of you. Nothing more than relaxation and joy. But the moment Nanami pulled you tighter against him, you realized you didn't have your overnight bag.
Meaning you didn't have your makeup.
“Oh no, oh god no.” You whined as Nanami lifted his head.
“What’s wrong?” His groggy voice asked, trying to assess what was going on.
Burying your face in your pillow, you grumbled, cringing as you felt Nanami shift beside you. “I don't have my bag.” The covers move as Nanami props himself up.
“Your overnight bag?”
“Mhmm.”
Silence stretched out. “Did you need something out of it? Aspirin or tampons? I'll go grab you some.” The sincerity of his words made your heart soar. God, Nanami was the best boyfriend.
“No, no, I'm okay.” You shyly turned, swallowing hard. “I just realized you've never seen me without makeup.”
Nanami’s gaze was soft; honey-brown eyes slowly roamed over your face. He took his time, his hand reaching out, knuckles grazing your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet that you pressed yourself against his hand. The warmth spreads to every part of your body.
The bed shifts as Nanami’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer. “You are still as stunning in the morning bare-faced as you are all dolled up.” Before you could even think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours.
His lips were warm, like a spring day. You moaned happily, kissing him back as his hands slowly ran down your arms. Breaking the kiss, had you pouting with a displeased groan that shifted into a moan. Those warm lips slowly moved down your face. Nanami was trailing the softest, warmest kisses down your body, over your shoulders and upper arm.
“I want to see all of you.” Hot breath whispered over your skin. “See every part of you, body, mind, and soul in the raw.”
Soft kisses were replaced with gentle nips. The sensation had you arching your back as Nana crawled on top of you. His morning wood was pressing against your hip. It felt like you were melting into the mattress as the once-comfortable room suddenly became too warm. The need to get naked grew stronger and stronger.
“Kento~”
He didn't respond. He was too busy being love-drunk off of you. His fingers, lips, and teeth slowly mapped out every part of your body. Nanami’s actions left you a squirming mess underneath him. One that he was so pleased to see and feel.
Only once you were gasping for air, gripping his shirt, begging him for more, did Nanami finally pull back, taking his shirt off. “Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing that's graced this world, Y/N.” You sat up, pulling him into a starved kiss as he took your shorts off. Limbs entangling as he gently laid you down.
And yes, you missed the morning train. . .and the afternoon train. . .poor Ijichi had to pick you up.
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ghostofhyuck · 3 days
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NCT Dream when you're told that you shouldn't date ugly men.
AN: LMAO this is inspired by that fancalls where fans would asked their idols (Miyeon, Seulgi, and Wendy so far) to not date ugly men, and damn dating news are spreading lately. (Don't date ugly men everyone.) Also this one is an idol! dream x idol! reader who's in a secret relationship. Enjoy!
Mark Lee
You were laughing when you came to visit your boyfriend. Mark was curious at why you're a giggling mess and when you told him that earlier, a fan told you to not date an ugly men. Mark laughs for a second and then thought about it for a while, "I mean, you have standards right?" he asked, and you only laughed at his question. "I'm serious babe." 
Huang Renjun
"A fan of mine told me during my fancall to not date ugly men." you said to your boyfriend while you two are watching a movie. The fancall happened a few days earlier but you just remembered it. Renjun looks at you confused, but he only brushed your hair as he shifted his stare at the movie, "your fans wouldn't have to worry then." 
Lee Jeno
When you met Jeno after a hectic fancall event, you were rambling about the weird calls that you had while he attentively listened to you. "Oh right! there's this one, which is kinda funny because she asked me to not date ugly men," you blurted out. While you know that the fan doesn't have any bad intentions, you just find it funny. "Would they be worry if our relationship went public?" your boyfriend asked. You stared at him for a good minute, "Babe, you're literally carved by the gods." 
Lee Donghyuck
"You know what my fans told me earlier?" you asked. You and your boyfriend Haechan are cooking dinner, when you remember what happened to your fancall earlier. "What?" "I was told that I shouldn't date ugly men thrice! three fans told me that," you laughed. Haechan glances at you and smirks, "Good thing, I'm not ugly," he flaunts. "Says who?" you teased, of course, you took it back before your boyfriend reacted badly. 
Na Jaemin
"So you know how lately there's a lot of dating rumors," you opened up to your boyfriend who's only busy brushing Luna's fur. "Okay so a fan told me to not date ugly men earlier during a fancall." Jaemin stops, he glances at you and smiles. "Well lucky you then," he teased. Annoyed, you pinches his cheeks but his cheeky smile never left his lips. 
Zhong Chenle
When you and Chenle met for a dinner, you immediately told him a funny encounter during your fancall. "They told me that I shouldn't date ugly me, and as much as I want to laugh, I think that they were serious about it," you explained to your boyfriend, who nonchalantly nods. Chenle grabs a piece of meat and places it on your plate. "Thankfully, you're dating me." he replied and you playfully slapped his shoulder, holding back your laugh. 
Park Jisung
When Jisung reached your apartment, he finds you smiling while petting your pet cat. "What's with you?" he asked. "Oh nothing! Just remember yesterday, a fan of mine told me to not date ugly men," you explained, almost laughing. Jisung raised an eyebrow, confused. "You think I'm ugly?" he asked sincerely. You looked at him surprisingly. "What? Of course not! Don't be stupid, it's just funny and no, you're not ugly, you're handsome don't worry about it." you rambled, even approaching him and cupping his cheeks. 
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massivewaffle · 2 days
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Hello do you know what my favorite ever Fitpac & Phil moment is because I have never seen anyone else mention it somehow?! Probably because Pac isn't even in the damn clip but I digress!
It's the stream where Phil and Fit hang out and Fit shows Phil one of the abandoned houses he found. They walk into the house to access the trapdoor leading to the hidden basement, and Fit goes:
"First of all, watch out for the fucking asshole seagull."
Fit fucking hates seagulls. Annoy him to no goddamn end. He's been on the wrong side of a seagull shakedown; Phil too, agrees.
"I'm just gonna murder him, I'm just gonna-"
And Fit fucking shouts OH NO NO NO to get Phil to stop in time.
"Oh no, Pac will be furious if that seagull dies, even if I fucking hate it."
It's just so perfectly representative of Fitpac. It's not even an official thing yet, and Fit knows Pac well enough to be aware that the seagull's death would upset him. Fit cares about him enough not to want to add any pain or sadness to Pac's life. He cares enough that he doesn't mind sacrificing his own annoyance by the seagull's existence; it's worth it if it makes Pac happy. Fit is all about making sure Pac is happy. He says it with such an exasperated but enamored tone it makes me smile every time. It's a very 'decades-married sitcom-couple laugh track-esque', and it's annoyingly endearing.
And then you get the cherry on top:
"...what if I put him in a cage? And put the cage on the floor?"
It's silly, but I love Phil processing Fit's statement, and rather than making a joke or comment, he reframes the question. I always imagine him going, "Yep. I get it mate." And leaving it at that, simply attempting to find a solution that won't have them yearning for seagull blood all day. Love Fit and Phil's dynamic.
And then Fit looks DIRECTLY INTO HIS CAMERA and sighs dramatically like he's the star of an NBC 8pm EST/7pm CST sitcom circa 2011. This man is the lead in a slow-burn sitcom romance, and I hate him. Motherfucker is lucky they've already got me fixated enough to write a 100k word fanfic. FitMC is too powerful and cannot be trusted.
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sincerelyneo · 2 days
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woman | h.rj
“i hope you can see the shape that i’m in while he’s touching your skin”
💿now playing: woman by harry styles
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❯ summary: Renjun is selfish - he knows. He knows that he has no right to be jealous of Shotato, your dance partner, but he is. Because even though he broke up with you, you’re still his.
❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader (ft. riize’s shotaro)
❯ genre: exes, smut, angst, idol!au
❯ words: 6.5k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, jealousy, swearing, arguing, slight angst, smut, dom!renjun, unprotected sex (don't do this!), marking, possessiveness, oral sex (f receiving), praising, mirror sex, hair pulling, creampie, porn with a little bit of plot, use of 'my girl', reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just renjun being jealous and sulky for 6k words.
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Fuck Osaki Shotaro. 
That’s the only thing going through Renjun’s mind as he sees the younger dancer have his hands all over you in your dance rehearsal. 
Renjun knows he has no right to be seething right now - he’s the one that broke up with you - but there’s something about seeing Shotaro in your personal space, tracing his fingers down your torso, and making you smile with every compliment he gives you on your technique that’s really starting to piss him off.  
It's not that Renjun has any specific issue with Shotaro himself; any guy in his position would irk him. Still, it’s Shotaro's love for helping others improve their dancing that only adds fuel to Renjun's frustration, especially now that he's volunteered to assist you.
As Renjun feigns busyness on his phone, waiting for his own rehearsal, he seethes behind the glass of the practice room, a visible vein pulsing on his forehead. 
“Dude, you’re practically burning holes into Taro’s hoodie,” Chenle chuckles as he walks over, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes down at Renjun.
“Don’t be so ridiculous, I’m not!” Renjun rolls his eyes and moves his bag to make room for Chenle to sit on the floor beside him.
“Oh yeah?” Chenle teases, “Then what’s with the bursting vein on your forehead?”
“I’ve just been replying to some shitty emails,” he lies, hastily locking his phone and stuffing it into his pocket.
Chenle quirks a brow and gives him a deadpan look, “You had the weather app open.”
Renjun runs a hand through his hair, about to defend himself, but then he hears your laughter and his gaze snaps back to the glass instantly. 
Shotaro's hand delicately trails along the curve of your waist, before he pulls you into a graceful twirl. You laugh softly, the sound echoing in the room loud enough for everyone outside to hear. Your movements are fluid and seamless against each other, and it’s starting to make Renjun feel sick.  
What dance lesson requires the instructor to twirl and dip the student?
Shotaro's grin is infectious as he spins you around, and you giggle in response. Renjun’s not stupid - he can see the chemistry, the easy camaraderie that exists between the two of you, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. 
As Renjun's eyes fixate on the scene inside the practice room, he scoffs tonguing the inside of his cheek. Chenle follows his gaze and smiles, an idea popping into his head. He lets out a low whistle. "Damn, they're really going for it, huh?"
Renjun clenches his jaw, trying to tamp down the surge of irritation. "Yeah, well, they're just rehearsing," he mutters dismissively. 
“Just rehearsing? We don’t rehearse like that,” Chenle counters, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Renjun looks up at him with a scowl. He doesn’t know what’s worse, what’s going on in front of him or the irritating little man next to him who seemingly loves poking the already angry bear. He can practically feel the amusement radiating off his friend as if he's revelling in his torment. It's infuriating, but Renjun knows he can't let it get to him. Instead, he focuses back on the glass, his jaw clenched tight as he watches Shotaro's infectious grin and your giggles echo through the room.
“Taro’s cool, I’m sure if you asked him to stop dancing with Y/N he would,” Chenle suggests. 
But Renjun's got more pride than that. He's just about able to handle the teasing from his friends about his jealousy, and he knows that telling Taro to back off would only add fuel to the fire of ridicule. And he's not sure if he's ready to deal with that.
“I don’t mind Y/N and him dancing together,” he shrugs.
Chenle’s face falls flat, “Huang Renjun don’t lie to me. You’re jealous.”
“No, I’m not!” His voice raises to an audio level that’s louder than he would like, gaining the attention of some of the other members outside the room.
"Hey, man, look I’m sorry, but it's okay to feel jealous. You two dated for a long time,” Chenle pats him on the shoulder gently. “Honestley I’m shocked the two of you even broke up.”
So is Renjun - even though he knows he was the one who initiated it. Honestly, there was no good reason for your breakup now that he thinks about it - now that he sees you with someone else. The reason behind the breakup stemmed from Renjun’s growing anxiety that being an idol would force distance between the two of you. You had assured him it wouldn’t, and you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend; still, Renjun figured separation would be the best despite your protests. 
He sighs, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude for Chenle's understanding. "I know, it's just..." He trails off. He doesn’t know how to properly articulate what he’s feeling without sounding like a hypocrite.
Still, Chenle nods sympathetically. "Just give yourself some time, Renjun. It'll get easier."
Renjun offers a weak smile in response before turning back to the glass. He doesn’t have his phone in his hand to ‘distract’ him now so he has to watch the scene in front of him, and his heart sinks.
He doesn’t even know how it happened, one minute the two of you are just laughing together, then he turns to talk to Chenle for another and as he turns back to you, Shotaro's hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin with a tender touch. Your eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you lean into his touch, your bodies inching closer.
He can't tear his eyes away, the sight before him a painful reminder of what once was and what now feels so out of reach. Renjun's fists clench at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggles to contain himself.
It's not just the physical proximity that stings, but the undeniable chemistry between you and Shotaro that Renjun just can't ignore. The way your laughter intertwines with his, the way your eyes lock - it's like a dagger to his heart, reopening wounds he thought had healed.
But just as your lips are about to meet, Renjun's up on his feet and barging through the practice room door without a knock. 
"Alright, rehearsal time's over," he announces, his tone clipped and authoritative as he strides into the room.
Shotaro immediately pulls away from you, glancing at Renjun, who responds with a scowl. Despite the tension, Renjun can't help but feel a sense of relief as the two of you separate.
"Hyung, we've still got fifteen minutes—"
"We need to start early today, gotta prep for the comeback and all," he interrupts.
Renjun's gaze shifts to you. You're shaking your head at him, hands on your hips, your midriff exposed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It brings back memories of all the times he's fucked you in this very practice room. Apart from the physical closeness, the fact that Shotaro got to witness you like this - sweaty and out of breath -  infuriates him.
“That’s not fair Jun, we booked this room for the full hour, you can’t just barge in like this!” You argue with him, but Renjun can’t even take in anything you’re saying because even after your months apart, you still use that nickname for him. 
Shotaro snaps him back to attention, “It’s fine, Y/N, we can reschedule for next week.”
Like hell you will, Renjun thinks.
You narrow your eyes at your ex-boyfriend before scoffing and heading for your dance bag, tossing it on your shoulder and heading to the exit. You make sure to slam your shoulder into his body as you pass him, muttering how much you hate him under your breath. 
Shotaro’s about to follow your lead, hoisting his own bag over his shoulder, but Renjun stops him in his tracks.
“Taro, can I talk to you for a sec?” 
Shotaro nods, slinging his bag back down but pausing by the door. 
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Taro 1:25 pm
Sorry Y/N, I won’t be able to help you with your
rehearsals anymore, something’s come up. 
There’s just no way. You look down at the text message, confused. 
Shotaro loves dancing, he loves teaching people choreography and helping them improve, so you know there’s no possible way he’d cancel your sessions like this with no word of rescheduling. Glancing at the time on your phone, you realize it's Wednesday afternoon - around the time Shotaro usually finishes his dance practices with his group. With a furrowed brow, you decide to head over to the practice rooms to ask him about it.
After all, you liked Taro and his teaching methods. 
As you approach the practice rooms, the faint strains of music drift through the hallway, accompanied by a few stops and restarts. Finally, you reach the room where Riize is rehearsing. The door stands slightly ajar, and you pause, opting to linger and peer through the glass instead. Inside, you see them all - sweaty and breathless, a clear sign that they've reached the end of their session.
You're about to knock on the door when you hear Anton's voice from inside. "Taro, are you eating with us today, or are you practising with Y/N again?"
“I’m not helping Y/N out anymore,” he replies and you deflate a little. 
“Why? I thought you liked dancing with her.”
Shotaro groans audibly, then passes his water bottle to Eunseok, who starts chuckling.
“What’s funny?” Anton asks.
“Hasn’t he told you?” Eunseok interjects, casting a glance between them, “Taro loves dancing with Y/N, but last week Renjun made it known that he’s not too keen on it.”
Anton’s face channels your own, because what the fuck did that mean?
You look down at the text message again, and now that you look at it, it only has one person written all over it. 
You know your ex-boyfriend better than anyone, and just from the way he crashed your practice last week, you could tell that the dance rehearsals with his old group member were getting under his skin. You won’t lie, there’s a part of you that liked the idea of irritating him, riling him up now and then just to be reminded that he still cared. But you’d never think he’d go this far. 
“It’s true,” Shotaro confirms, “Last week he told me to hang back after one of our practices, and he asked me to…” he clams up abruptly when he sees you standing in the doorway, arms folded tight across your chest. 
“He asked you to what?”
Shotaro doesn’t answer. The laughter between the boys suddenly runs quiet as you all just look at each other. 
“Finish that sentence, Taro.”
He groans and runs a hand through his hair, “Y/N, come on, he told me not to say anything—”
“Tell me what he said to you, he doesn’t just get to make demands about me anymore.”
“It wasn’t exactly a demand…” he mumbles, “More of a request.”
You give him a knowing look, “I swear to God if you don’t tell me what you know right now Shotaro, I’ll—”
“Okay, okay,” he interrupts, “I’ll tell you.”
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Around half an hour after grilling Shotaro and his group members for the truth, you burst through the practice room of NCT DREAM. The air is hot and humid, and it only channels the fury that’s built up in your muscles since finding out about your ex-boyfriend’s silly little plan. Huang Renjun has officially crossed the line and there’s no way on this Earth you’re going to let him get away with it without a lecture.
The boys all look a mixture of shocked and surprised to see you. And you don’t blame them, the last time you were in a practice with them, you were happy, probably bringing your boyfriend lunch to make sure he’d eaten. But this time you’re angry, so angry you’re body is trembling.
“Huang Renjun!”
He turns around almost instantly, and instead of looking scared about your anger, he fucking smirks with that stupid beautiful smile you hate (love).
“Y/N?” He responds innocently, though there's a glint of mischief in his eyes that tells you he's well aware of the storm about to be unleashed upon him.
As you and Renjun lock eyes, a heavy silence descends upon the room, punctuated only by the sound of your breathing. Mark, ever perceptive, notices the tension crackling between you, and like a good leader he senses the need to diffuse the situation. 
"Alright, everyone," he interjects, his voice firm yet soothing. "Let's take a break, yeah?"
Because of Mark's intervention, the boys nod in agreement, gathering their belongings and exchanging knowing glances and whispers as they file out of the practice room one by one.
With the others now gone, you waste no time laying into him, “What is the matter with you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs. 
You scoff, frustration bubbling up inside you. "Don’t pull that clueless shit with me. He told me what you did!”
His facade cracks ever so slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crosses his features before he quickly masks it with a defiant smirk. "And what exactly do you think I did?"
"Oh, don't play dumb," you snap, advancing towards him with each step. "You told Shotaro to cancel our dance lessons, didn't you?"
Renjun's expression remains infuriatingly neutral, but there's a glint of defiance in his eyes that sets your blood boiling even more. "And if I did?"
The audacity of his response only serves to fuel your rage. "Do you have any idea how selfish and manipulative that is?" You accuse, your voice rising with each word. "You have no right to interfere with my life anymore!"
He doesn’t look at all remorseful as he shrugs, “I’m not interfering in your life, I just figured Shotaro shouldn’t overflow his schedule.”
You shake your head in disbelief, “You’re unbelievable. That’s not your call to make. You’ve never had a problem with Shotaro teaching anybody else to dance until me.”
“That was before Riize debuted, it’s different now Y/N.”
“No, it’s not fair!” You snap, “You’re not being fair.”
“I’m just looking out for Taro…as his senior.”
“No, you’re not, you’re doing this to piss me off!” You groan, “So I’m asking you why?”
Renjun clings to the last shred of his pride, attempting to brush past you to grab his water bottle, hoping to deflect the conversation elsewhere. But you weren't about to let him off that easily. You reach out and grab his hand as he tries to slip past.
Your eyes plead with him, and he cracks under the weight of your gaze.
"What do you want me to say, Y/N?" He finally erupts, his voice rising in frustration. "You want me to admit that I'm fucking jealous, that I can't stand the thought of him with you?"
“What, if you can’t have me no one else can?”
He goes quiet at that and just looks at you, the silence speaks a thousand words and you can’t believe his audacity right now. 
With a heavy sigh, you run a hand through your hair, exhaustion creeping in. "You broke up with me," you remind him, your voice barely above a whisper.
Renjun's expression softens for a fleeting moment, a trace of remorse flickering in his eyes before it's replaced. "I know," he admits. "But that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you."
You take a step back, his words hitting you harder than you expected. "Caring about me doesn't give you the right to meddle in my life.”
He reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air between you as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "I messed up, okay? It’s just, I don’t like the way he touches you. I guess…I let my jealousy get the best of me."
"Jealousy?" You repeat. "After everything that's happened between us, you're still jealous?"
Renjun's gaze drops to the floor, unable to meet yours. "I can't help it," he admits, his voice barely audible. "Seeing you with him, it just... it drives me crazy."
You shake your head in disbelief, struggling to process his confession. "You broke up with me, Renjun. You made that choice."
"I know," he repeats, his voice filled with remorse. "And I regret it every day."
You're torn between anger and longing, resentment and yearning. Honestly, ever since he broke up with you there hasn’t been a day where you haven’t missed him. You’ve waited to hear him say those words - that he regrets leaving you - but you’re not about to make it easy for him to just crawl back. 
You narrow your eyes at him, a mischievous glint dancing in them as a sly smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "You know, Shotaro is a great dancer," you say, your tone deliberately casual.
Renjun's jaw clenches at the mention of the name, his gaze flickering with a mix of anger and insecurity. 
"It's been interesting to know he's always there for me now that you're not,” you say with a nonchalant shrug, enjoying the way his irritation simmers beneath the surface.
You watch as his hands clench into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling with each aggravated breath. His eyes darken with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, but you refuse to back down.
"It's almost as if he's filling a void that you left behind," you continue. "But I suppose that's just the way things go after a breakup, isn't it?"
The taunt hits its mark and Renjun's temper flares. In a sudden burst of rage, he closes the distance between you, his grip tightening on your shoulders as he presses you against the nearby mirror. His gaze turns possessive as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. 
"You really think I'll let him have you like that so easily?” He asks, voice low and dangerous.
You shiver at the intensity of his words, feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And what makes you think that’s your call to make?" 
A wicked smile tugs at Renjun's lips, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Because deep down, you know you’re still my girl," he asserts. "No matter how much you keep trying to deny it, you know you’re mine."
You scoff, trying to ignore the way his words resonate within you, "You can't just break up with me and then waltz back into my life claiming me as your own, Jun!" 
He smiles at the nickname again, and it gives him the confidence boost he needs to know you still want him, still crave him the way he craves you. 
"Oh but I can," he counters, his tone unwavering. He brings his finger to your cheek, tracing it along your skin until it rests underneath your chin. "Because no one else can make you feel the way I do. No one else knows you like I do."
His words send a shiver down your spine. All the good times you have with him replay in your mind and despite your best efforts to resist, you find yourself succumbing to the magnetic pull of his presence, to the familiarity of his touch.
"You’re fucking crazy babe if you think I’ll let some other man have you," he whispers. "Especially him.”
Your eyes narrow, he’s so close now that the two of you are practically sharing the same breath.
“And you’re fucking crazy if you think you have a say in my relationships.”
He remains unfazed at your rebuttal, his gaze unwavering as he leans in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours now. "Maybe I am," he concedes smugly. "But deep down, you know you still want me."
Part of you wants to push him away, to resist the pull of him, but another part - the part that still aches for his touch, for his love - finds itself surrendering.
"Renjun," you whisper, voice barely above a breath. "I..."
And before you can finish your sentence, his lips crash against yours in a heated, passionate kiss, his pent-up frustration and desire spilling over into the touch. It's a tumultuous mix of emotions - there’s still so much unresolved between the two of you - but you get lost in the moment. You melt into his embrace, and perhaps, just perhaps, being possessed by Renjun again isn't such a bad thing after all.
As the kiss deepens, your hands tangle themselves into his hair until it’s dishevelled and the lines between love and hate blur. It's a dangerous game you're playing, dancing on the razor's edge between desire and destruction, but right now you couldn't care less about the consequences. You can talk about all that later - after he fucks you. 
He pulls back for a breath, trailing kisses down from your lips to your neck, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body.
"God, I've missed you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.
"I've missed you too," you gasp out as he starts to nibble on your earlobe.
He moves his hand up higher along your thigh until it reaches the hem of your shorts, and he wastes no time slipping his fingers inside them. “It’s been too long.”
You exhale as you feel his hand brush against the edge of your panties before slipping under them. He runs his hand through your folds as he looks at you with a predatory glint in his eyes before finding your clit. A soft moan escapes your lips as you move your hips instinctively towards him.
"You're so wet already," he murmurs as he starts to rub circles around your clit. “This all for me?”
You arch your back in pleasure, feeling a wave of heat surge through your body. You nod pathetically, not being able to form a coherent sentence because the familiar feeling of Renjun's touch makes you feel dizzy. He smirks at your reaction, then pulls out his hand making you whimper from the loss of friction. 
You know you’re fueling his ego with your whining, but you can’t help it. You hadn’t realised just how much you missed the feeling of his hands before they were being ripped away from you so abruptly. 
“You know, you never asked me for dance lessons when we were dating,” he says - almost accusatory -  between soft pants as his kisses return to your jaw, trailing down your neck. His hands slowly travel from your legs and past your waist, dancing along your exposed sides until his fingers are fiddling with the straps of your sports bra. 
You can’t stand his teasing, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about sex with Renjun, it’s that you play by his rules.
“I know,” you remark, a little breathless.
“And I hated every time he would touch your skin, and how much it would make you laugh and smile,” he growls, gently nipping your neck and soothing the spot with his tongue. “I want all your fucking smiles, Y/N.”
You hold back a whimper as he sucks a small spot just beside your collarbone, a mark you know you’re going to have to cover tomorrow. 
“Seems quite selfish, Jun.”
“I guess I am when it comes to you.”
His fingers take off your bra, exposing your naked breasts to him. You gasp at the cool air making your nipples toughen. He looks up at you, his gaze dark and wild and sending a shot of pleasure straight through you. Not once does he break contact as his hands slide down your body, grazing your nipples until you shiver, and travel down until he is back at the hem of your shorts.
His fingers dance along your inner thighs before they trace along the hem of your panties. Your breath hitches as he skims along your clothed clit, not enough to be truly stimulating but enough to make you bite down in anticipation.
He knows you want more, but your impatience is his favourite part. 
So he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as he wraps his fingers around your waistband and slowly tugs on your shorts and panties together, pushing them down until they pool at your ankles where you swiftly step out of them. 
The smile on his lips can only be described as feral. “So damn pretty,” he mumbles, “And it’s all mine, yeah?”
You smile as you shake your head. “Possessive much?”
“Maybe a little bit,” he smiles. “But don’t pretend that you haven’t missed that about me.”
“Bold of you to think I’ve missed things about you.”
He grins. “Deny it all you want babe, but the fact you’re the one naked right now speaks volumes.”
You blush at the revelation and the fact that he’s fully clothed whilst you’re bare. You turn your head to the side and mumble. “That doesn’t mean I missed you.”
"Oh?" He raises his eyebrow, his finger gently finding the underside of your jaw, tilting it to meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, filled with a level of lust you didn’t even know was possible. “Then maybe I need to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.”
That’s when he finds himself dropping to his knees, his head dipping low enough to kiss up your thighs. You let out a small sigh as his lips latch onto your skin, nipping and sucking in the same way he used to do when he wanted to leave a trail of marks.
Your lip gets trapped between your teeth, and the cold from the mirror behind you lingers on your exposed back. You look down and wish you could see the look in his eyes right now, yearning to see the hungry glint as he’s between your thighs. You can’t help your nails from digging into his shoulders as you relax into his tantalizing kisses.
“Still so fucking responsive to me, aren’t you?” His words fan over your heated skin, his breath so close to your clit you can’t take much more.
“Don’t tease me, Junnie,” you breathe out. 
He laughs softly before pressing a gentle kiss against your clit, his tongue darting out to follow his lips. He can’t help but grin when he feels your nails digging deeper into his skin. His hands move to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh and basking in your moans. 
He loved it more than anything when his girl was always so vocal, he could get drunk off the sound. Especially when he knows it’s his tongue licking along your soaking cunt and was making you whine like that.
You’re like putty in his hands, breathless and barely able to form coherent sentences as he teases you. And before you can even whine for more, his insatiable need to taste you gets the best of him and one of your legs is being thrown over his shoulder so his face can nuzzle further against your cunt.
“Fuck,” he groans against you, the hum of his words vibrating against your clit. Your knees buckle under the sensation but the tight grip he has on your ass keeps you upright. “Still taste like fucking heaven.”
“Shit,” you moan before throwing your head back. 
“Only for me, right?” He mutters, ignoring your whine as he pulls himself away from your cunt to look up at you before adding a stern, “Answer me.” 
“Yes, yes.” You’re so needy right now that you don’t even care that it comes out in pants. “Only you.”
“That’s right, no one gets to taste this cunt but me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “You’re mine, every fucking part of you.”
He savours the way your cheeks burn red as you nod vigorously in agreement. His mouth finds your pussy again, and now that he has your omission, he doesn’t bother holding back. He loves the way your eyes flutter shut, and the shameless moans escaping your lips as he devours you like you're the last thing he’ll ever taste - he’s certain it will be the last pussy he’ll ever taste.
You can barely think as his fingers run up and down your thighs, slowly travelling up until his thumb is pressing slow, torturous circles on your clit as his tongue dives inside you, lapping and rolling. His teasing along with the fast tempo of his tongue makes your hips rock subconsciously against his face. 
“Please, please, please.” 
The words are a shameless plea, and you can’t help it because he has your legs physically shaking.
“Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl for me and cum on my tongue.”
The simple words of praise are enough for your body to be hit with a strong wave of pleasure. Your muscles tense, your body shakes, and your thighs run wet and slick with a mix of your release and his spit. The room is only filled with pants and you feel a few soft kisses being placed along your thighs. 
Seconds later, his face, plastered with a very smug smile, appears in your line of sight. You notice how his lips and chin glisten; you didn’t think it was possible but you grow even more wet at the sight.
“I’ve missed making you cum.” 
You can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes you. “I guess I’ve missed you being the one making me cum.”
“You guess?”
“I know,” you correct, “I know I’ve missed you being the one making me cum.” You bite down on your lower lip. “Starting to think I should have more dance lessons with Shotaro to make you jealous more often.”
His eyes instantly darken. “That’s not even funny.”
Your smirk widens, “It is a little bit.”
“You think mentioning another man’s name after I’ve just made you cum with my tongue is funny?” He asks, and his hands find their way to tighten on your waist. “Did I not make you cum hard enough if you’re struggling to remember who you belong to?”
You’re amused by his comment, nail lightly trailing along his lower lip before he playfully nips it. “I don’t belong to you anymore.”
He shakes his head with a tut, “Stop it, you know you belong to me, just as I belong to you. Always have, always will.”
“You must’ve been really intimidated by Shotaro to be this possessive right now,” you tease.
“Doesn’t matter though does it?” He squeezes your waist tighter. “Because Shotaro wouldn’t stand a fucking chance against me. He doesn’t know your body like I do.”
Your breath hitches, hands gripping his shoulders. “He could learn.”
The muscles in his jaw flex and his eyes sharpen, “Not a chance.”
His lips tease along your jaw, and he grins when you move your head to the side to give him better access. “You think he could make you cum like I do? Think he’d know how to make you scream like you do for me?”
The grip he has on your hips is a mixture of pain and pleasure. You feel him smile against your skin when his lips kiss over the developing mark on your collarbone, already starting to turn purple, from earlier. 
Then, without warning, he’s flipping you around and pressing you against the cold glass of the mirror. The plush flesh of your tits flatten against it along with your hands, making you gasp. He’s quick to find your ear, nibbling at it before whispering. 
“He’d never get the chance to even look at this pussy.”
“Fuck, Jun,” you squirm.
You know you’ve hit a nerve when you see his reflection toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants, tugging them down along with his boxers with one hand still on your hip. 
It’s clear as day that he wants to claim what was his, and you’re more than happy to let him do so. Because the look of determination bordering on something more territorial sends a thrill through you. 
You can see everything in this position, from the way he has you firm in his grip, to the way he’s slowly stripping from his own set of clothes. You watch as he grabs the flesh of your ass and squeezes it. And he can see you too, your flushed-out expression. 
“Bet Shotaro doesn’t know you like watching yourself get fucked out, huh?”
You exhale deeply, making his smirk grow as he runs his hands along your skin, slowly venturing to lightly tease along your slit. 
“And he’ll never get to know. Isn’t that right?”
Your eyes don’t leave his through the glass, “I don’t know,” you tease, “Maybe you should give me a good enough reason to make sure he never gets to know.”
You watch as he leans closer to you, his back slowly covering yours as he kisses against the nape of your neck. His cock head is teasing your entrance, sliding up and down your cunt tormentingly. 
“You know I love a challenge babe.”
He doesn’t even give you a beat to throw a snarky remark back at him because he finally thrust into you, deep and thick and just the perfect fucking  fit. Your eyes roll, matched by the guttural moan he lets vibrate beside your ear as you clench around him, listening to the small list of curses he lets slip past his lips.
“Already squeezing around my cock, huh?” He hisses through tight teeth, hands tangling in your hair and giving a sharp tug so your eyes snap open. “Eyes on me. I want you to see how much you fucking missed my cock.”
Your eyes are weak and hooded and your skin is flushed. You so desperately want to flutter them closed, but not more than you want to obey his command. So, you open them hazily and Renjun can’t get enough of it - enough of you. 
The way you let out cute, little whimpers with every thrust; the way your hands clench into fists against the mirror as he pounds into you from behind, his tempo unforgiving and merciless. The way his hand tangles in your hair to tug you close enough that your back is pressed against his chest. The way your own chest is heaving up and down, hips wiggling against his. 
He watches as your fist unclenches and comes to cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to hide your moans – that won’t do, he thinks.
“Don’t you dare hide those moans from me,” his voice may be breathy but it’s still commanding. The hand not in your hair snakes around your body so he can cup your tit. “I haven’t heard them for months, so don’t hide them from me.”
“And whose fault is that?” You counter, followed by soft whimpers as he squeezes your breasts.
“Stop reminding me.”
He rolls his eyes as his hand travels down the plain of your stomach, until his fingers reach the sensitive nub between your thighs, making you press your lips together.
The pace of his thrusts - deliberately harsh and sharp to entice moans from you - has you biting down on your lower lip.
“Look at yourself baby,” his breath fans over your heated skin. “So fucking pretty. All wrecked out for me.”
Your hair is tangled, wild and messy, and your thighs slick. It’s the hundredth time your body has begun shaken with desperation for his touch and - well -  you just look so damn needy. 
But who can blame you? Huang Renjun makes you feel things that no other person has. He hits spots so deep inside you, spots you didn’t even know existed. He is just not like anyone else and you love that he was all yours and you were all his.
And just when you think you couldn’t become more of a mess, the muffled words he speaks in your ear as he fucks into you are filthy enough to have you tittering on the edge. 
“Junnie!”
Your orgasm comes crashing down. Hot pleasure rushes through your veins and then throughout your whole body. Your hand reaches behind you to cling onto him like a lifeline, nails digging into his skin as he fucks you through his own release. Your head feels fuzzy with the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you along with his moans – especially when he lands one last final sharp thrust inside of your cunt. 
He holds your body close to his for a moment, letting the seconds pass as his mouth plants kisses messily against your shoulder. You shudder when you feel him pull out of you slowly, and then you feel his wet sticky cum dripping down your thigh. 
He grabs for your panties, which have been disregarded somewhere in the room, and starts to wipe off the cum on your skin. It doesn’t even register in your mind what he’s doing until you properly look at him in the mirror.
You try to pull away from him, but his hand finds your hip and holds you in place. “Renjun! I need to put those back on!” 
“Your point?”
You shake your head and look at him through the mirror, “I have rehearsals and my panties are going to be sticky from your cum.”
He smirks smugly, almost excited at the idea of you having rehearsals. He stands back to his feet holding your panties out for you to take. 
“Good,” he shrugs, “That way if Shotaro wants to try anything, he knows you already belong to someone.”
You scoff and take the panties from his hand, slipping them past your ass with a roll of your eyes. You both find the rest of your clothes, dressing yourselves quickly.  Honestly, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly aroused at the idea of you wearing panties filled with his cum during a rehearsal. 
“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, you know.”
“I don’t know about that one,” he gives you a shrug, then pulls you closer to him by your hand. “It helped me get to fuck you again didn’t it?”
You snort, “That’s your takeaway from all of this?”
He’s about to say something cocky, you know it, but he’s interrupted by a pounding at the door. 
“Are you two done fucking in there so we can get back to our dance practice?!” Haechan shouts and you hear utters from the others telling him to shut up. Renjun groans a series of curses as his friend’s voice starts complaining. 
“Give me a second will you?!” He yells back. 
“Seriously how long does it take to have makeup sex?”
“Shut it, Haechan!”
You can’t help the laughter and amusement in your expression as Renjun turns from the door to face you. 
“Is that what this was? Makeup sex?” You ask.
This time when he pulls your arm into him he wraps his hand around your waist, hovering right before your lips. “You know it was. How many more times do I need to tell you I’ve missed you for you to realize you’ll always be my girl?”
“Hmmm, maybe a couple more times.” You tease, and then your words soon morph into giggles as he nuzzles against your neck, right where he knows you're ticklish.
“Then I fucking miss you. A lot.”
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wintaerbaer · 1 day
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things we don't say: part 6 (TEASER) (kth)
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banner credit: @itaeewon
summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.
pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)
rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)
genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff
word count: 1.2k
teaser warnings: a very sad boy, references to sexual situations, brief mentions of child abuse, vomiting, someone has a wet dream, guilt, shame, a haircut
a/n: sincerest apologies that this series has gone so long without an update. i was struggling with some aggressive writer's block these past few months, but i think we're back in business! <3
PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST
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To say he falls into a state of depression may be an understatement.
He barely eats, barely sleeps, and while Taehyung has always considered you to be the center of his universe—his entire being oriented to you like a star—you’ve begun to haunt him in ways that you never have before. Reminders of you creeping into every minute of his days.
It’s passing your favorite ramen place on his way home from a photoshoot. Or finding a can of your favorite sparkling water buried in the back of his fridge. Or flipping past the cooking show you used to watch together or stumbling upon one of your sweatshirts in his closet or the fact that he still has that damn photo of you hanging up behind his desk.
You’re everywhere—your being so deeply ingrained into his life that he couldn’t erase you even if he wanted to.
And he certainly doesn’t want to erase you; he’s too selfish for that. Even now, even after he’s fucked up to catastrophic degrees by forcing his feelings on you, he still can’t bear to face you directly. Because he knows it would be the end of him for you to reject and abandon him too, even if he can’t blame you for it.
It keeps him up at night, thinking about what he could’ve done differently. How he somehow lost his handle on the control which he has always internally prided himself on (sans a drunken conversation with Namjoon last year where he spilled his guts as was met with a lack of surprise on his friend’s part). He’s always promised himself that he would never burden you, that his love for you was not your responsibility but something for him to manage on his own.
And yet, with you sitting so close on the hotel bed—looking absolutely beautiful in your simple PJs even after he spent the day with you all dressed up—his defenses had crumbled the second you pressed into his side and asked him the final question of your fateful game.
How could he not kiss you then? How could he not give you what you asked of him when he wouldn’t hesitate to lay down his very life if you required it?
But still, he spends hours each night staring at the white expanse of his ceiling wishing he had held back like he always did. Years spent training himself to resist the way his blood calls out for you reduced to naught the second he got his first taste of your lips. And now you likely hate him.
And as if it’s not enough for his brain to put him through this nightly torture, the guilt eating him alive, when he finally does manage to scrounge up a few hours of sleep, there’s the matter of the dreams.
He revisits the hotel room every night. Can taste you again, hear your moans, feel your mouth on him and your warm skin underneath his hands as his mind drags him back through every minute detail on a loop. It’s agony, having to both wrangle with the knowledge of how it felt to be with you as well as face his sins every time he closes his eyes. Realize just how badly he fucked up when he wakes to once again find the other half of his bed empty.
Because in spite of him spending years convincing himself that you were never meant to be, there’s still a small part of Taehyung’s subconscious that’s always carved out space for you in his life. It’s the part that stocks your favorite drinks in his fridge, keeps that photo of you pinned behind his computer, leaves a side of the bed open for you because he became so damn accustomed to sleeping next to you in high school.
He’d found that the bruises from his father didn’t hurt as much when you were sitting next to him making him laugh in your bedroom. That his brain would quiet enough from the terrors to allow him to sleep if you were there lying next to him. That he didn’t feel the dull pain, only the gentle touches of your fingers, as you carefully applied makeup onto the dark patches of skin before school.
It had been easy, then, to dedicate himself to providing you with the same support and care you had shown him in any way he could. To wish for your happiness above all else—his guardian angel through and through.
At least, that is, until he lost control in that hotel room.
One night, after a particularly vivid dream involving your body under his, he awakes to sheets that are soaked around his middle. He blanches at the evidence of his body’s desire for you even now, the horror at the audacity of his unconscious mind causing bile to churn and rise in his throat.
He bolts for the bathroom, barely making it there before he empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet. His body shakes as he retches above the porcelain, guilt rattling his bones until he can hardly keep himself upright.
When the waves of nausea stop, when he can finally pull himself up to lean his elbows against the sink, he stares hard at the mirror and man he sees there.
He looks haggard, dark splotches sitting under his eyes and hair hanging limp around his face and over his forehead. The pale skin of his cheeks and lips is surely due, in part, to the vomiting, but there’s no denying that he’s a shell of his former self. A ghost just going through the motions of a past life.
And it’s there, peering through the darkness at his own reflection, that Taehyung decides he hates himself.
He’s not sure if it’s the raw disgust or the unrelenting shame that has him reaching for the hair clippers, but as his sable tresses begin to fall in chunks over the bathroom counter and floor, Taehyung thinks he deserves this.
He deserves the torment of his dreams. That disturbing combination of his wildest fantasies and nightmares rolled into one.
He deserves to wake up alone. To be reminded of his transgressions at the break of each day.
And he deserves to lose you.
Hell, he never deserved to have you.
The silence that follows the buzz of the trimmer seems at odds with the roaring in his head. Still, he manages to scoop the mess of hair into the trash before dragging himself back to the tangle of his sheets.
He finds himself right back in that cursed hotel room.
When he shuffles into the living room the next morning, still fighting the lingering tastes of bile and your lips, Jungkook and Jimin are already awake at the kitchen bar drinking coffee. They freeze at the sight of him; the pastry that Jimin was halfway to putting in his mouth hits the ground with a thud as Jungkook lets out a low whistle and simply shakes his head.
“That bad, huh?”
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a/n: may or may not go back and revise this again for the final draft. in the meantime, a reminder that my ask box is always open! <3
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oceandriveab · 3 days
Note
rafe sees that mia has a hickey 🫣🫣
NOOOOOOOO HE WOULD LOSE HIS FUCKING MIND😭😭😭😭😭 (mia is 18!!!!!!!!!!!!) (he didn’t really go off on her like i’m sure everyone would expect bc i try to make him a somewhat reasonable, chill dad LMAO but it’s also rafe so he’s ofc pissed😭😭) (anyways i hope u enjoy bc i giggled at this)
he decided to take her golfing one saturday morning. she’d made a comment about how he never wanted to hang out with her, only rhett!! so, rafe decided to bring her along with him everywhere he went for the day.
at first, it was great! he’d gotten her an iced coffee, let her play all her little taylor swift songs in his truck, let her drive the golf cart, and he’d even taken pictures for her instagram of her “super cute new outfit!!!!”
but, as the day went on, the weather outside seemed to only grow hotter and hotter.
“dad!!! when can we go? this golf cart doesn’t even have an air conditioner and you don’t even have any water! all that’s in your cooler is beer!” mia pouts and whines, slumping against the seat of the golf cart.
“ssh mia! damn. if you make me miss this shot, i’m making you walk home.” rafe didn’t bother looking at her, keeping his gaze locked on the green before him.
“but daaaad, it’s one million degrees!! can i please just call mama to come get me?? or rhett?? please?!” she begged and rafe rolled his eyes.
“you’re not calling your mama and you’re not calling your damn brother. you’ll be fine, crybaby. now, c’mere and watch your dad get a hole in one.” mia rolled her eyes and continued pouting as she stomped over to rafe.
“alright, i just gotta line up my shot. line it up and thennnnn… swing.” rafe’s eyes followed his ball and he cheered when he saw it go into the hole.
when rafe held his hands out for a hi 5 from mia, he had to do a double take. she’d pulled her hair to the top of her head momentarily, trying to cool down, the heat making her forget just why she had her hair down in the first place.
“i-uh- mia. what the fuck is that?” she quickly let her hair back down, moving it with her hands to cover the spot on her neck- but rafe was quicker.
he stepped towards her and brushed her hair back, both of their eyes widening at his realization.
“is that a fuckin-“
“no!! no!! dad, i promise!! i promise it’s not, okay? i just- just burnt myself with a curling iron!!” mia swallowed thickly and rafe raised an eyebrow at her.
“mia-“
“i swear!!”
“mia.” rafe said her name sternly, making her even more nervous.
mia blinked rapidly and stared up at her father.
“do you think i’m stupid? do you think your mama never used that excuse when your grandpa found the hickeys i gave her?” rafe was leaning on his golf club and looking down at his daughter, whos eyes were staring holes into the ground.
“i dunno..” mia spoke quietly as she shrugged and fiddled with the hem of her golf skirt.
“the game hasn’t changed, sweetheart. only the players. one day you’ll realize you’re not as slick as you think you are. look at me.” rafe bent down to mia’s level, staring at her from under his hat. “you’re 18 now, yeah? i know what that’s like believe it or not. i don’t really want to be having this conversation with you, because i’ll probably end up getting pissed off, so i’ll just say this: be careful. and if that little fucker gets you pregnant it’ll be the last thing he ever does. are we clear?”
mia nodded rapidly.
“alright. now, let’s go so i can drop you off at home and then go have a talk with your little boyfriend.” rafe patted her on the back as he walked away, leaving mia frozen with wide eyes.
————
when you heard rafe’s truck pull into the driveway, you jumped from your spot on the couch to greet them at the door.
your face dropped when mia walked in quietly, looking anxious as ever, while rafe was behind her smiling like nothing was wrong.
“hey baby.” rafe pulled you in by your waist, bringing you into him for a kiss.
“rafe.” you tried to pull away but he refused.
“hm?” he mumbled into the kiss.
“what did you do?” you pulled away from him and crossed your arms over your chest, making him roll his eyes.
“listen. i didn’t do anything, alright? you need to ask your daughter what she’s been doing.” he pushed past you and you turned on your heels and followed after him.
“rafe.”
“she’s got a fuckin’ hickey, y/n! right on her neck, right there!” he pulled his own collar down and motioned to the nape of his neck.
“okay?”
“okay? did you-i just- okay? did you not hear what the fuck i just said? mia, our daughter, has a fucking hickey on her neck!” rafe threw his hands up exasperatedly and you simply blinked at him.
“rafe, she’s eighteen. if the worst thing she’s doing at eighteen is getting a hickey, i’m not going to complain. god knows the kind of shit we, especially you, were doing at eighteen. plus, mia’s a smart girl. she knows what she’s doing, we’ve already had ‘the talk’-“ rafe cut you off by holding his hand up.
“you what?”
“yeah, like forever ago. she started dating jack when she was sixteen. you know how sixteen year old boys are. i just wanted her to be..ready, i guess, and informed-“
“what?! you didn’t tell me!” rafe’s face was lit up with betrayal and you rolled your eyes.
“baby, i did. i promise you i did.. or at least i tried to. every time i try to bring it up, you’re like ‘no, no, no, no! stop! i don’t wanna hear that shit. she’s not doing any of that until she’s 30 and she knows that.’” you said, mocking rafe’s voice and he scrunched his face up, trying to remember.
“whatever. i better not ever see one of those on her damn neck again. talking about she did it with a curling iron.” rafe scoffed and shook his head. “does she think i’m stupid? like actually? do you think she thinks i’m fucking dumb?” you tried to stifle a giggle as rafe rambled on.
“no baby, she doesn’t think you’re dumb. i promise. she’s just a teenager-“
“‘just a teenager’ my fuckin’ ass’ she-“
“alright papa bear, let’s get you cleaned up for some lunch, yeah? come on.” you grabbed onto his shoulders and began leading him towards your bedroom as he huffed.
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f0point5 · 2 days
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With all the posts about Max’s first win I can’t stop thinking about how Y/N was feeling because it was still their feud era 🥺
do you have any headcanons about it?
I always had a rough idea of what happened after he won, I think it’s mentioned in the smau but I actually had some more detailed thoughts when I saw the reel on Max’s insta so…
Enjoy 🧡
Ps. Please ignore slight inaccuracies, I didn’t check the layout of the track’s parc fermé before writing this lol
**************************
It’s your dad who drags you to yet another race under the guise of actually seeing you for more than thirty minutes at an airport. You hardly bother being upset. The kid he wishes was his is entering his first race for Red Bull Racing, you weren’t expect him to spend the whole weekend with you while that was happening.
Of course Max goes and wins it.
The moment he takes the chequered flag and the garage erupts into noise that can’t even be softened by your headphones, you want to roll your eyes, but you can’t. You’re not sure why your heart is thundering in your chest and you’re lightheaded, but you can’t think straight to figure it out. You don’t even like the guy.
Later, you’ll realise it’s because for all the dislike, awkwardness, and misunderstanding, there’s one thing you know about Max Verstappen, and it’s that he deserves this. He’s deserved it since he was racing around on his stupid little quad bike right over your foot. He deserved it after every win and every rare loss. Every time you watched him load his kart into that battered van when his dad wouldn’t let anyone help him, every time he turned away from anyone who might notice he was crying after Jos spoke to him, every time he stood on that top step looking not happy, just relieved.
You don’t even realise you’re crying until Geri Horner hands you a tissue with a soft smile before she runs off to join her husband. You follow her out to parc fermé where Max is already out of the car, mobbed by people. Barriers aren’t keeping anyone away from F1’s story of the decade.
You’re making your way through the throngs of people without any clear idea of why. You’re not even sure you’re breathing. Your brain certainly feels short of oxygen. Max has his back to you as he talks to one of his pit crew, gesticulating wildly as the guy shakes him by the shoulder.
It takes pretty much all the courage you’ve ever had to tap him on the shoulder. Something in you is surprised he turns to look at you.
“Congratulations,” you say, past a lump in your throat.
He doesn’t say anything. His smile doesn’t fall, but his eyebrows raise, like in this sea of people congratulating him he’s surprised that you did.
“Uh, thanks,” he says squeezing the back of his flushed neck. Even with a grin he can’t dull, he manages to look so damn awkward, and he can’t meet your eyes. “It was a good race, huh?” He snorts out a chuckle like he’s just one a 100 metre dash at a school sports day.
“Oh, fucking hell, Max,” you scoff as you take hold of his wrist and pull him into a hug, one he returns so quickly it makes you laugh, shaking against him.
You squeeze him tighter and he responds in kind. You laugh again, and this time you feel him laughing, too. Maybe something in his sweat transmits his adrenaline, or the heady atmosphere of success just takes over and you lose your mind, because you find yourself wondering what would happen if you just never let him go.
It’s Jos who pulls you apart, giving his son one more hug before pushing him off to where the team is waiting to celebrate with him again. He even turns to you and gives a squeeze around the shoulder and a kiss to the crown of your head, which feels a little like being kissed by the pope.
You shrink back into the crowd of people as photographers move past you to get closer for more pictures. Max doesn’t even seem to notice them, talking to Helmut Marko and his dad, looking like he’s walking on air. You imagine he must feel weightless. You know that for some reason, you do.
“He’s phenomenal,” your dad says beside you. It’s a dig at you, but you don’t even care.
“Yeah,” you agree, watching Max hugging his race engineer, “he is.”
He may be an arrogant dick, but his talent is something you see once in a lifetime if you’re lucky, and today you feel lucky. Your dad may never forgive you for not having talent like that but right then you promise to stop hating Max just because he does.
You’ll never be friends. You’ll never have more in common than a childhood that shattered you and made him invincible. You’ll probably never stop wondering what it’s like to be him.
But when you see him stand on that top step for what you know won’t be the last time, you cheer.
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restinslices · 2 days
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Ngl now I wanna read MK1 LKBS reacting to Twilight in headcanon bullet point format 😭
Pretend I put a joke here
Bi-Han
Bi-Han probably hates a lot of things 
Twilight is quickly added to his list 
You know how you can hate a movie, show, book, whatever but have a favorite character? That doesn't happen with Bi-Han
Fuck Bella, fuck Edward, fuck Jacob, fuck EVERYBODY 
The fact that he managed to finish the first movie is a miracle. He for damn sure ain't watching the rest and/or reading the books. You gon have to stab him 
“I'll divorce you if you don't” “I'll get the paperwork for you”
I don't think he'd like any parts of it. There's not a single redeemable thing in that movie 
The type to get mad at Bella and pause the movie to do a lap so he won't destroy the TV 
His main question is “why are y'all doing all this for a girl you hardly know?”
I legit don't think he'd enjoy any parts of it. MAYBE the soundtrack, and that's a big MAYBE 
So many things would bother him. Why is stalking romantic? Why are you risking your family's life for a girl you hardly know? Why is Edward not considered a pedo? How has he not met someone yet? Why is Jacob stuck on her?
There is nothing redeemable about Twilight to him. I think every minute for him is agony 
I don't think any of them like Twilight but I feel like he hates it the most 
In turmoil
Kuai Liang
He doesn't like it either but he tries to be nice and hide it 
He hides it poorly 
A very pained smile whenever you look over at him 
“You like it?” “Yes… 🙂” “Great! Let's watch New Moon!” “There's more?😧”
Does he watch the others? Possibly 
Will he read the books? No
I don't think he'd be fond of any of the main characters either
He’s not a fan of love triangles and he also just doesn’t like the characters
Favorite character? Maybe Angela 
She gets hardly any screentime so she can't do any wrong 
That soundtrack is nice tho-
I don't think he's in as much agony as Bi-Han, but I don't see him liking Twilight 
I'm not even sure he's even into romantic movies 
Do I think he's against romantic movies? No. Do I think it's his favorite genre? No. It could be like, top 5 or something 
This isn't me jumping on the Twilight hate train because I like Twilight in a sense, but I just don't see any of them genuinely enjoying it and being apart of the Team Jacob vs Team Edward debate 
He for sure ain't rewatching the movies 
His niceness is only going so far. At some point he gotta deliver the news to you 
Bella's lullaby is his shit now tho 
Tomas 
Supermassive Black Hole is a nice song 
So… he doesn't entirely hate it 
Like it though? Um… he likes that you like it
Unlike the other two, he'll read the books but he's only reading them because he's like “these movies gotta be popular for a reason. Maybe the books are better”
Does he finish? Probably not 
The love triangle ain't even balanced fr, so he's not really intrigued by that part
I can see him being into the supernatural stuff but I mean, it's not like it's super expounded on 
Is he Team Edward or Team Jacob? Neither 
Bi-Han hates everyone, Kuai Liang doesn't like love triangles, Tomas doesn't like Bella 
Playing both sides when it's convenient for you is something he's not fond of. Pick one and stay on that one 
Who’s his favorite character? He jumps from side characters 
The main characters are probably never his favorite. They're always doing something that makes him raise a brow 
I can possibly see this becoming a series he hates so much, he feels the need to rewatch it 
He spots plot holes and now he can no longer unsee them
He really does try to pick a team if you want him to but it's like “I know who she ends up with so what's the point?”
The point is to be part of the community Tomas 
“I thought you didn't like Twilight” “I need background noise” “...” “I need to feel something” “I get it”
Love hate relationship 
He just like me fr 
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thot-of-khonshu · 2 hours
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Sundress Season (Joel Miller x f! reader)
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18+ MDNI
I got bored and horny and wrote a little drabble about Joel railing you in his car while you’re in a sundress. Hope you’re all well.
It’s almost sundress season.
And Joel Miller never considered himself an ass man, but boy did yours convert him to worship.
You were out running errands all day and he just couldn’t help himself to look. Opening doors for you was a requirement as a man from the South but he’d take an extra moment to watch you walk away.
Watch the fabric hug your ass with no lines as a barrier. Your long, smooth legs cross and uncross while at lunch, barely able to eat because he was already so god damn hard for you.
You ask him if he’s okay, he tells you he’s not really hungry. He says he’s feeling off which technically isn’t a lie because he cannot remember the last time he was this hard in public if ever.
You hold his hand when you go back to the truck. He opens the door for you. You watch him from behind as you slide in. The hem of the dress slightly higher up your thighs than it was earlier.
High enough for Joel to see you went commando. You gave him an innocent smile.
Why, you had no idea buying this dress would cause your boyfriend such disarray.
Except when you tried it on and your best friend and the sales associate discussed how fuckable you looked.
Whoops, guess you forgot.
Joel drives the two of you home, the tension growing thick. His hand sliding higher, and higher, and higher but not quite where you need it. Tease.
You come home and he parks in the garage. You’re on top of him before he can even turn off the ignition.
You grind into him, moving in motion so his cock rubs at your clit in the sweet spot.
He whispers dirty things into your ear. That you’re a dirty girl and you’re fixin’ to get fucked so hard you won’t be able to walk.
He tells you to keep the dress on when he slides himself into you. Taking and taking and taking. Watching you lose yourself on him, your strap falling off your dress and one of your tits falling out. You look divine. He knows it every minute of every day but he just loves you so much and can’t believe you chose him.
You cum on his cock, slow and throbbing. You grind into his pelvic bone because even though it hurts a little you’ve bottomed out. You can’t get enough of him.
He starts to cum inside you after watching you get yourself off on him. Pulsing into you and feeling his warmth. His want.
When you go inside to clean up, Joel makes you promise you still won’t take the sundress off.
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houserautha · 11 hours
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These Destined Ends
Part 3
Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?
Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: mentions of killing/death, naked concubines (man and woman), threats via penis manhandling
A/N: I have a vague idea of where I’d like the story to go because I love the fun in discovering different things when writing on a loose plan. This chapter ended up longer than I thought it would be but Feyd is just so damn fun to write😂
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You tried not to linger on the implications of your shared quarters.
Angrily you strode after Feyd-Rautha. “What is going to become of my parents?”
“I don’t care.”
You wanted to grab his arm and spin him around, force him to face you. But you were afraid of touching him again, afraid that any little contact would result in an even trade — and you did not want to confront the flicker of attraction you felt when the Harkonnen dragged his lips across your skin. A second reaction would be indicative of something more, and you were determined not to let another scenario arise to find out.
The best you could do was stomp after him. “Well, I do.”
“Nothing will happen.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I just am.”
You mull over this response. Would he tell you differently? You sensed that Feyd-Rautha tended to be brutally honest. Probably because he never had to deal with any consequences in his life. How could he, as na-Baron?
You fail to think of anything else to say and lapse into silence, trusting that he is telling the truth and your parents will be fine. Besides, you comfort yourself, the Emperor would be furious if the Harkonnens just slaughtered one of the other Noble Houses like that. There were laws in place to discourage such atrocities.
Feyd-Rautha continues his unofficial tour, winding through a complicated series of interweaving corridors without speaking. You see several servants along the way, all who keep a cautious distance from you both. You couldn't ignore their curious looks. How strange you felt among them - pale and unblemished like stones smoothed over by a river's constant force. It didn't aid in your comfort.
"Do you not know any of them?" You ask. Feyd-Rautha is anything but a pleasant conversational partner, but at least if you're talking you don't have to listen to your rampant thoughts.
"Who?"
"The servants," you reply, brow furrowing.
He grunts in a noncommittal fashion. "Why would I?"
"Because they work for you." You were on friendly terms with the staff back on Caladan and trying to befriend the Fremen employed to you on Arrakis. The natives were untrusting of you, rightfully so. But you couldn't imagine just ignoring them.
"They're disposable," Feyd-Rautha comments with a wave of his hand. A pair of servants scurry by.
You watch them turn the corner and vanish. "They're afraid of you."
"Hm."
"Am I?"
"Are you what?"
"Disposable."
He casts you a sideways look. "Everyone is disposable once their use has expired. Thus is the way of the Harkonnen."
You contemplate this, frowning. "Even you?"
A dry, brittle laugh erupts from him.
"Are you planning on killing me already, wife? Perhaps you'll adapt just fine here."
That wasn't the compliment he thought it was.
You pointedly ignore him. "Are you telling me that there's not a moment that would make you disposable like the rest of us?"
"There is," he says, seemingly unbothered by the threat of his mortality, unlike you. "My uncle has promised the Baronship to me. If I am an unfit ruler then I would be challenged. Thus is the —"
"— way of the Harkonnen," you finish.
Feyd-Rautha flashes you a smile as sharp as the blade of a dagger. "You are quicker than you look."
"But what of the Noble Houses? The Emperor?"
Feyd-Rautha lifts a shoulder. "House Harkonnen has proved powerful for many, many generations. No one dares challenge us. Nor will they," he adds thoughtfully. He pauses. "Do you fret for our children?"
You inhale sharply, swallowing, and it sticks in your throat. You cough out an unconvincing, "I'm fine!" then set to composing yourself, confident that your sanity would be doubted by anyone who happened by. What a way to be viewed by your subjects. Feyd-Rautha just stares at you in poorly veiled amusement.
"I try not to think of our children," you say after you're sure you're done coughing. Something akin to embarrassment burns you skin.
"Pity," Feyd-Rautha says. "These are our quarters."
Feyd-Rautha's quarters are much more grand than your room on Arrakis. He leads you into an antechamber with a skylight, pouring the strange light from the black sun into the space. There's a sunken level in the floor furnished with dark colored furniture — two love seats and a sofa. A handful of glowglobes float aimlessly by.
Feyd-Rautha crosses the room, forgoing the sunken level, to the other side of the antechamber. You have no choice but to follow.
You don't know what you expected from his — your — room. Perhaps a chamber of torture. But it's not the sleek, elegant display before you, a full sized bed with plush bedding and tasteful curtains covering a bank of floor-length windows. It's impeccably neat.
And, to your abject horror, features three naked figures sprawled out on various surfaces. Two women and one man.
Feyd-Rautha ignores them, even as they slink from their positions to greet him, bodies slender and completely hairless, free of any visible blemishes. You feign an interest in the ceiling. It's not that you're naive to nudity or sexuality, but the sudden exposure to it roots you in your place.
"Do you need an invitation?" Feyd-Rautha asks.
When you force your gaze from the ceiling, you find him settled casually in a chair with a low-slung back, the two women kneeling on either side of him and the man behind. You follow their hands as they wander his body.
"No. No."
Where are you supposed to go? If he believes you will worship him like the others than he's sorely mistaken. You walk to the bed, ghosting your fingers over the bedding and confirming its softness. You hate the way that you can feel him watching you, clearly amused by your discomfort; you rally your courage to meet his stare, refusing to acknowledge the naked bodies draped across him.
"Are you quite alright, wife?"
"Fine," you grit out. "I didn't realize we would have company."
"Would you like me to tell them to leave?"
A loaded question, one that you were aware would set the tone for the rest of your life with Feyd-Rautha. A challenge. You control the slight quiver in your voice, "Leave. I wish to be alone with my...husband."
The concubines hesitate, obviously waiting to hear from Feyd-Rautha. He continues to hold your gaze. "Leave."
Uncurling themselves from around him, the women and the man are all white limbs and smooth skin, a multi-limbed creature. Whether or not they are disappointed by this development, they don't reveal, simply sauntering out of the room to wherever they go when they aren't waiting naked for Feyd-Rautha. A feeling of annoyance stirs.
"There's no need to be jealous," Feyd-Rautha says as the door closes.
You bristle. "I'm not."
“Then come here, wife.” Feyd-Rautha spreads his legs, indicating his lap and his powerful thighs. You resent yourself for noticing. “If you dismiss my concubines, then you must come to me now and offer me your warmth instead.”
Another challenge. You wonder briefly if he is playing with you, testing your boundaries, but just as you refused to show weakness in the throne room, you refuse now, crossing the carpeted floor. A surge of bravery — or maybe stupidity — prompts you to wedge your knees on either side of his waist, straddling him, the skirt of your dress hitched up to ensure mobility.
The look on his face is worth the cost of the heat reigniting in the pit of your stomach. You chase it away in pursuit of the heady high you receive from asserting your dominance. He might’ve had the upper hand but you were in control now.
“Warm enough?” You ask him innocently.
“Not quite,” he replies. He’s tipped his head back to examine you, leaving a blazing trail where his gaze goes.
Brazen beyond you imagination, you work the buckle to his pants just enough to slip your hand inside and grab his cock.
That bastard. He was already hard. Not fully erect, you observed with conflicting feelings, but clearly you had your effects on him. Feyd-Rautha showed no shame or guilt about this, however. Like it was expected — normal for women he’s just met to reach into his pants.
And it probably was.
Injured hand screaming in defiance of your actions, you grab the head of his cock and twist, slightly backwards and to the side. You apply pressure, hopefully enough to hurt him, he wouldn’t dare reveal it to you anyway.
“Do not,” you hiss, “embarrass me like that ever again. I will not tolerate looking like a fool.”
Feyd-Rautha’s throat bobs. Except instead of agony he looks totally enthralled. “Or what?” He mocks. “You’ll wrap your pretty hand around my cock?”
“You won’t have a cock for anyone to wrap their hand around.”
“Is that a promise?”
You release him and climb off his lap, figuring it would be more impactful to leave him wanting then lustful. His utter indifference, his arousal, gives you pause to just who you’ve been arranged to marry.
“You disgust me,” you spit out.
Feyd-Rautha’s mouth twitches slightly. Did he really have to find everything funny?
He says, “We’ll see.”
A month passes at Giedi Prime in a disconcerting blur. To your surprise, besides the first afternoon, you hardly ever see Feyd-Rautha. Always busy with important meetings or sparring sessions. Or whatever he did in his spare time. You didn’t ask.
Ever since that day when you’d straddled his lap, you’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had said clearly that you were even after the slap but then you’d unexpectedly turned the tables — did he intend on returning the favor?
You informed him that you would sleep on the couch in the antechamber until your wedding, to which he never remarked upon. That first night you lay awake, afraid and absolutely convinced that he would try something. But he never came.
The days passed without event and your anxiety dwindled. Besides, while Feyd-Rautha was busy with na-Baron affairs, you were forced to schlep through a mountain of preparations for the wedding ceremony. You didn’t care, frankly. You chose the first sample of whatever you were offered — tablecloths, menu items, decorations — until one of the servants accompanying you threw down the sample booklet and scowled.
“This will be the most horrendous wedding in the history of the galaxy,” the servant said in exasperation. “And all of them are too afraid of your husband to say anything.”
You had raised a brow, secretly thrilled by this confrontation. At least it broke the monotony of your life here thus far.
“Do you question my taste?”
The servant glared at you. “What taste?”
A moment passed. The other servants stared in horror, undoubtedly convinced that their demise was imminent. Perhaps that was one benefit to being betrothed to the na-Baron. He wielded a certain type of power.
You busted out laughing. In fact, you laughed so hard that tears stream down your face.
“You’re right,” you said, laughter weakening into an uncontrollable giggle. “It will be a horrendous wedding, but that has nothing to do with the decorations. Will you help me?”
The servant’s name is Asha, and in her you found a companion. She chased away the other servants that day and set to work rectifying your wedding decisions, weighing in on current trends on the planet and admonishing you for your Caladan tastes. “Absolutely not,” she deadpanned when you inquired about floral bouquets.
Out of everyone on Giedi Prime — well, really just the Harkonnen fortress, as you weren’t permitted to leave — Asha became your friend. No one else bothered or cared to talk to you, and now that you had bonded over wedding preparations, you spent infinite amounts of time together strolling the halls arm-in-arm and whispering about servant gossip since you had nothing to contribute.
Asha made your miserable new life interesting.
“Are you scared?” She asks you one day, plucking at your eyebrows.
You outright refused to shave them off in order to conform to the hairless style of the Harkonnens, but regrettably agreed to a touch-up. You kept one eye on a nearby mirror just in case she got any ideas.
“Of what?”
Asha yanks at an eyebrow hair, and you cry out in surprise. “Oh, stop, you’re fine — I mean are you scared of Feyd-Rautha?”
“No. Why would I be?” You avert your eyes from her probing stare. Asha, unfortunately, is able to read your expressions better than a trained Bene Gesserit. You learned that this stemmed from the combat trainings that all young children received on this planet.
“Because,” Asha stresses. You frown when she fails to elaborate, and your friend issues a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve heard things about him, you know, in bed.”
“Oh.” You twist your hands in your lap. “What kinds of things?”
Asha grins triumphantly. “I knew you were scared!”
You laugh and shove away her hands as she playfully jabs at your sides. “I’m not scared,” you say, fending her off. “I’m just curious. Aren’t all brides?”
“Just you. We aren’t all Noble daughters with arranged marriages. We fuck —”
“I get it,” you interrupt. “Consider yourself lucky.”
You’re about to prompt her again about the things she’s heard when there’s a light rap of knuckles on the door. Asha shoots to her feet. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes — of course she’s respectful to Feyd-Rautha but not you. But you supposed it was the basis of your only friendship, so you couldn’t exactly complain.
“You’re back,” you say, standing up slowly.
Feyd-Rautha rests, hip and elbow, against the doorframe into the antechamber. He hungrily drinks you in.
“Indeed,” Feyd-Rautha replies. Last you’d heard of him he had left for an offworld obligation without saying goodbye. Something stirs in you at the sight of him after so long.
“I hope your trip was well.”
Feyd-Rautha scans the room before his gaze returns to you. “I would prefer to be here. The Baron seems determined to keep me occupied until the ceremony.”
Did you detect a trace of resentment in his words? And why would the Baron keep him from you? The heir wouldn’t exactly conceive itself; though he would have no way of knowing that you had been sleeping on the couch all this time.
“Retrieve the present I’ve brought back for my wife,” Feyd-Rautha suddenly instructs Asha. She secretly meets your eyes before dashing away.
You fold your arms over your chest. “A present? And I thought you’d forgotten I existed.”
If he picks up on your anger, he doesn’t show it. Feyd-Rautha crosses the room to you, replaces Asha in the chair across from you.
“It’s for tonight. The Baron has requested our attendance for dinner.”
You bristle slightly. “The Baron? Tonight?”
You had been exceedingly lucky to avoid the monstrous head of House since your arrival. But perhaps it was because you ran the other direction at the mention of his name, or the fact that you hadn’t strayed from your quarters.
“Yes. You needed something…acceptable to wear.”
“My clothes aren’t acceptable?”
“Yes,” he answers. “I have no doubt that my uncle has planned something magnificent for tonight. You will need to look the part.”
Your careful, fragile existence on Giedi Prime was crashing at your feet. From wiling away the hours to suddenly being thrust into the explosive political landscape that was House Harkonnen.
But no matter. Jessica had raised you for this very purpose.
“Fine,” you agreed coolly.
Both of you turn as Asha returns from her errand, a garment bag folded over her arm. She goes to deliver it to your closet but Feyd-Rautha halts her in her tracks. “I want her to open it here.”
Tags:
@moonsoulk
@heartarianagran
@torchbearerkyle
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@taleah
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khryptid · 2 days
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BRB, just thinking about newly escaped baby Sanji stowing away on Zeff’s ship, helmet and all.
Option 1:
Zeff finds Sanji tucked away fast asleep in one of the overflow pantries (c’mon they’re called the Cook Pirates for a reason) and of course immediately kicks the kid. Sanji startles awake, flinging themself backwards in the same way they’d try to escape their brothers, only to let go of the one meaningful thing they’d managed to take from Germa. Sliding across the floor only to stop at Zeff’s feet is a book titled All Blue.
“Where’d you get that?”
“It’s mine! Give it back!”
“What? A fairy tail book for a little kid?”
“You’re wrong. It’s real. The All Blue’s real, and I’m going to find it one day.”
“ha ha Ha HA HA HA,” Zeff’s slow chuckle grows into a full bellied laugh, “how about a meal, Little Eggplant?”
Option 2:
Zeff knows someone on his crew’s got to be messing with him. First, it started with his spice rack getting rearranged. Dammit, he knows it’s unconventional, but he had them in order of the flavor profiles he used the most. Then, the ginger cookies he had stashed away for his next watch shift were just gone, not even the wrapping left behind. But worst of all, worst of all, someone had messed with the things in his quarters. Not much, barely enough to be noticeable, but his maps, the precious books he’s collected about the All Blue, he can tell have been rifled through.
Meanwhile, Sanji has been putting their Germa training into practice. (I mean there had to be a reason they were supposed to be Stealth Black) Somehow sneaking around the pirate ship is easier and harder than it was sneaking around the castle. While there’s certainly less space on the ship, they find it almost simple to avoid the ship’s inhabitants in ways they never could seem to avoid their brothers. As for the ship itself, it’s practically paradise. The kitchen is fully stocked—though whoever organized it seriously needed their head checked, who thinks basil goes next to chili powder—the food was pretty damn good, and best of all, the captain has a stash of books on the All Blue hidden away in his room. Now if only they could get this helmet off, they’d be set.
Zeff still ends up finding Sanji eventually, but rather than kicking the kid awake, because it’s definitely a kid who’s been messing with him and not one of his crew, he takes a good long look. Eyes catching on the metal contraption wrapped around the kid’s head, but settling on the book tightly clasped in too small hands titled All Blue. It’s not one of his, but it certainly explains the intrusion upon his private collection. Making up his mind and without waking the kid, he returns to his kitchen to plate up something simple yet hot and filling. When he gets back to the little nook, the kid’s still asleep, still tightly grasping that book, and setting the food on a crate at eye level, softly kicks them awake.
“Oi, you got a name stowaway?”
“Sanji”
“Nah, you look more like a Little Eggplant to me.”
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mediumgayitalian · 2 days
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I'm curious as to your thoughts on how Nico and Will manage chores?? you've mentioned that you hc Will as OCD, but I'm interested in how you think that would combine with the different aspects of adhd. plus, I can't imagine Nico had much experience with chores having been rly young in Italy, plus living at the lotus casino, plus being on the run for so long
YES okay so i answered a similar ask here but i'm going to reiterate it and also explain a little bit of my ocd headcanon.
when they move in together, how do you think they will split the chores?
they do not.
they are in an interesting situation: nico has never had to do chores in his life. as a kid, he was the son of Literal Hades and an aristocrat, he for sure had people doing that shit for him. in the lotus, they presumably had room service. he may have had to do a few chores at the military school, but a) they weren't there for long and b) as an older sister with a younger brother, bianca was doing that shit for him. she ordered him to make his bed, he did a horrible job, she huffed and did it herself because it's more of a pain in the ass to make your brother do it again than it is to do it yourself. bianca i get you. after that he was homeless, so there was obviously no cleaning there, and then he lived in his father's palace. he has never so much as done a load of laundry except maybe hastily with a public washroom sink and a bar of soap. he barely knows what a mop is.
will, on the other hand, has been in charge of both a cabin and a literal infirmary since he was 13 years old. on top of that, if i am not mistaken (i'm so sorry i still havent read toa and tsats im getting there i swear), he grew up on a farm. his ass knows how chores work, in fact i would bet money that he gets a little obsessive when it comes to cleaning. he is acutely aware of how many germs are on every single surface ever. he cleans and he does it a lot.
this could go really badly, because habit would indicate that will would be doing all of the housework and nico none, which is Bad For Relationships.
however:
nico really likes will.
will is a massive hypocrite who overworks himself. he also is a bit of a control freak.
nico is also very, very observant.
i think, in the beginning of their friendship, even, nico noticed that will, like bianca, would let the onus of cleaning and tidying fall to him because 'no one else does it right', and also, maybe, it's just easier not to fight people about it. i think this would bother him. i think he would, in his inability to, like, be normal, impulsively challenge will to a cleaning contest.
and. like. will is a competitive person, okay. maybe not about things he knows he can't win, but when he knows he's good at something? he is not letting that shit slide. look at how fast he was to dunk on octavian, how prickly he got when nico doubted his ability to outrun the romans. if nico, who will knows damn well has done like four chores in his life, tries to challenge will, mr. antiseptic is my closest friend solace, to a cleaning contest?
he is going to sweep the floor with him.
pun absolutely intended.
from there things kind of spiral. at first it's a dorky ass learning curve, because nico loses every cleaning competition so so badly and quit fucking laughing, solace, you dickead, the windows are not that streaked and also watch me spray you in the goddamn eyes, huh, how do you like that and it's just kind of...fun. for the first time in a long time cleaning up doesn't make will quietly bitter.
plus, as an added bonus, nico helping will clean up makes it less invisible when he does it. now people are starting to notice that, no, the infirmary does not magically clean and organise itself, someone does that. and maybe a few more people pitch in to help. and maybe will realises, and maybe he smiles gratefully at nico when, for the first time in years, he has two entire days off, back to back, in the summer, for the first time in years. and maybe nico thinks he is going to collapse into dust because gods will has a nice smile. not that he cares or notices or anything.
do they need to keep having competitive chores forever?
no.
but does it make both of them kind of shyly pleased and happy to remember how they started? to remember how much their friendship means to them, first and foremost, and not just their relationship?
yes.
(also, by the gods, nico is going to beat will at laundry one day. he is. as soon as he learns to fold without creasing the whole stupid shirt it's over.)
on ocd:
so i've technically been diagnosed with ocd. i'm not sure how much i believe it, because i have severe anxiety and in 2020 when i was 17 i had anxiety about being ocd so i called my psychiatrist and went 'hey i think i have ocd' and she said 'yah you do', which, well. i've read some testimony and biography of people with ocd and there's a lot of stuff i don't relate to. so i'm not rly comfortable calling myself ocd, but i do have a lot of obsessive behaviours that i am aware extend past generalised anxiety disorder.
but on the stuff i do relate to:
mostly i am Fine. but i am also Aware of the Germs Around Us. at all times. taking a safe food handling course was a Mistake.
however i am also aware that these germs are Unavoidable. and i work with children. i get covered in fluids a Lot. (have you ever held a tissue to a young child's nose and told them to blow, feeling the hot gush of mucus, because they are too young to blow their noses themself? i have. it is revolting. more revolting than being thrown up or shit on, frankly, although those are also Not Great.)
for the most point i employ the Very Clever strategy called: Just Don't Think About It.
i don't think about it.
don't think about the germs on your laptop. don't think about the germs on the seat you're sitting on. don't think about how many germs are built up on your hands and transferring onto your laptop from all the dirty doorhandles you touched to get into the building. don't think about all the airborne germs that you are breathing right now. don't think of how easily staph virus travels. don't think about the germs built up on your phone, dear god. don't think about the germs on your bracelets.
Germs Die. Hands Wash. Germs Die. Hands Wash. Germs Die. Hands Wash.
this is a regular thing i chant to myself.
i have to.
so i don't go Insane.
there are some things i won't do, though, regardless of whether or not germs die and hands wash. i won't wear outside clothes to bed or let them touch my bed. i won't touch door handles with my bare hands if i can avoid it. i won't fill up the gas in my car if i don't have hand sanitizer or lysol wipes handy (gas pumps are DISGUSTING). i won't eat without washing my hands before and after. won't use the bathroom without washing my hands before (we should all do that?? frankly?? why do we allow germs near a place that gets infected real fuckin easy??????). i won't put my toothbrush on the side of the sink (INSIDE A DRAWER WHERE IT'S SEALED OFF). i won't flush the toilet with the lid up (DO YOU WANT THOSE PARTICLES IN THE AIR MORE THAN THEY ARE). i won't use hand dryers in public bathrooms.
lots of stuff i will do too. i will turn the water off and SCRUB my hands for thirty seconds (MISSISSIPPI) before rinsing the soap off. i will wash my hands every couple hours at least but regularly if they feel dirty. i keep a mental note of what is Contaminated and what i have to wash after i touch. i keep a mental record of what i'm touching. i look into ways bacteria and germs spread so i can learn how to keep myself protected. i keep hand sanitizer on my at all times, as well as extra in my car.
etc etc.
i don't always have all this in the forefront of my mind at all times. in fact most of this is habit.
i do spiral though.
sometimes i become Hyperaware of what i'm touching and i feel rly rly unclean. the germs and grime build and build and i get nauseous. usually, this only happens when i think 'i need to wash my hands' and i Cant. i can handle it because i have been handling it my whole life but it makes me really irritable really quickly, and then panicky if it goes on too long.
other times i get really obsessed with preparation. i'll try really hard to Avoid germs, which is impossible, and when i can't i get panicky too.
it is also Really Embarrassing. i get screechy when i'm not expecting to be germy (like at work i'm fine, i know i'm gonna get gross at work, so it's Fine to get gross at work; but if my sister wipes something gross on my shirt to get a reaction out of me she is Going To Get A Reaction Out Of Me, and it is going to be me shrieking at the top of my lungs). so that's fun.
on will:
i do think will would be kinda similar to my experience?? so ocd-adjacent.
he is Hyper aware of germs for one. i imagine he struggles to turn it off. he knows how disgusting something is at any given time because it is really important for him to know if something is sterile.
as he gets older and is abilities get more defined, i think he has a period where he spirals a Lot.
in the infirmary, he knows where the germs are. they are his job to treat or add as necessary. it's no big deal if he has to deal with catheters or sweat or vomit or snot or whatever. that's part of the job.
but Outside of the infirmary???
what really peaked my interest was, amusingly, the shaking hands line: that whole birth thing Bothered him. it was outside the norm, outside of something he could prepare for, and sure, it's just regular horrifying but i feel like it might be Germ horrifying as well.
does he panic about accidentally infecting people?? i think that might make him spiral. he has to do surgery and shit -- if he's hyperaware of what is and isn't sterile, i imagine the situations under which he has to apply medical care would send him spiraling after they're over.
i think he has a lot of anxiety Build Up. i think he shoves it back to Do His Job and then he's supposed to have free time, supposed to chill, and he's rushing away every forty minutes to scrub his hands.
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johnwickb1tsch · 2 days
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The Girl Next Door ~ 2
A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine. Part 1
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Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮 Note: I got Constantine on my brain, y'all! 😆 I write about vampire hunters all the time, but never from the vampire perspective. This was new. I hope you enjoy!🧡
2. whoever drinks my blood has eternal life
In the end, he was too late.
Oh, he killed them all, wiping out the entire coven with his magical holy shotgun, and a handy spell that basically burned the remaining undead to a crisp around you.
But you were already half dead, drained and forced to drink their blood in kind.
You were well on your way to becoming one of the Damned.
John knew this, as he cradled your cold body in his arms, carrying you like a bride to the cab outside the warehouse. He knew it as he held you close in the backseat, reciting ancient prayers over your fevered brow, hoping just this once God might grant him a good miracle, and not forsake one of his children just because of an unlucky twist of fate.
Your only crime, as far as he knew, had been extending the mercy of your kindness towards him, and that should not have earned you this.
He barely thanked Chas for a job well done, carrying you bridal style up the stairs of your apartment building. Rather than return you to your bed, he brings you to his. He doesn’t know if the vampire who you must have inadvertently invited into your home died that night, and all his holy weapons are at hand in his own space.
He lays you down in his bed, wishing he’d washed his sheets more recently for you. He wishes a lot of things, in the interim hours that follow.
He can tell that his incantations are not touching the dark magic that is taking hold of you, and he knows that he should just put an end to it here and now. You are damned, and there’s no going back, and who knows what chaos you will reap with your new thirst when you wake?
He can’t bring himself to do it.
Looking down at you, huddled in a ball, trembling as your body is dying and remaking itself anew—he falls to his knees to talk to God, though his words aren’t exactly a prayer. “Our father, who art in heaven…fuck you. I hope you're happy, asshole. Another innocent who you should have protected, fucked over by your stupid games. Why? Why is it always the good ones? I hate you. Amen.”
He takes your hand in his, and only because you are practically unconscious in the fever-pitch of your transformation, does he let his eyes fill with silent tears.
One more soul he was too late to save.
One more weight upon his conscience.
He cries for you. For himself. For the impossible odds God and the Devil pit against humans, then punish them when they're just not up to the task. Flesh is weak, but They made you this way. None of it is fair.
Constantine has never actually been present at a Turning. He doesn’t know how long it will take, or how you’ll act when you come out of it. He has crosses and holy water to keep you in line if he has to…or maybe you’ll rip out his throat, and he will absolutely deserve it after what he let happen to you.
He wonders how the vampires knew about you. Did they watch through the window from some impossible perch, as you made love? Maybe he would never admit it out loud, but that was what that merciful night together had felt like, with you.
This was a hell of a reminder, as to why he couldn’t ever let anyone get close.
It never ended well.
Fully clothed, shoes and all, he spoons your smaller body with his arm around your waist, and waits.
***
When at last you wake, the first thing you are aware of is a heartbeat, right next to you. Behind you. Pressed against you. You hear it like a drum, thundering in your ears. There is a grinding pain in your belly. You are so hungry.
You do not recognize your surroundings, or the bed you lay in. A heavy arm is draped over your waist. You study the large hand upon the sheets, long fingered, veiny. Maybe you know that hand.
Slowly you turn, to find John Constantine beside you. He looks up at your through hooded dark eyes. He was dozing, but no longer.
“Y/n?”
You take a deep breath, and the smells that hit you: his aftershave, sweat, deodorant, dirty sheets, scotch whisky in the kitchen. Old Chinese food. But most of all, you can smell his blood, and it is the sweetest thing you’ve ever smelled.
You lean towards him, mouth open, hands reaching.
You don’t know that your incisors have lengthened to deadly little points.
Casually, John holds up a little crucifix between you. You feel it like a hand pressing back against you, and instinctively you flinch.
What is going on with you?
“John?”
You feel something long brush your lip, and you reach up to touch your teeth, finding the sharp points. Your eyes go half-dollar round as you nearly cut yourself with the tip of one.
“What happened to me?”
He sighs, and there is so much weight and sorrow in that one exhalation of air.
“I’m sorry, y/n.”
“John?” The panic in your voice starts to rise.
“Shh. Don’t get excited. It won’t be good.”
A rampaging new vampire was the last thing he needed on his hands.
“Those things took me,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. You start to remember what happened, those creeps who snatched you from your apartment, the impossible things you saw. They were monsters. Vampires. Things you only thought existed in folklore, books, bad B movies. And they’d told you a little about John Constantine too. That he was some sort of demon hunter, crazy as that fucking sounded, who clearly they wished to do harm to.
“Yeah.” 
“They took me,” you repeat with emphasis, still trying to understand.  
A longer pause, pregnant with lots of words you sense he doesn’t quite know how to say.
Again, he settles for, “Yeah.” 
“Why?” 
“I guess…they thought that you mean something to me.” 
After everything that happened, this hits you like a knife between the ribs, a long sharp blade aimed right for your heart.
“Do I not?” 
“Come on, I didn't mean it like that.” 
Yes he did, and you realize... that maybe he's just like all the others. 
At least he'd warned you. 
You just...had hoped, anyway, like the stupid little romantic you are. 
You look down, unable to meet his eyes. 
You kind of want to cry, but you're not even sure you can anymore. 
“I came for you as soon as I knew,” he says quietly, not liking this at all.
You nod, your lip quivering.
“What's going to happen to me?” 
The haunted way he looks at you rends your heart in two.
“We'll…figure it out.” 
“I'm hungry...I think.”
He nods gravely. 
“I was afraid of that.”
“What am I going to do?” 
“I'll...try to help you.”
Your eyes go to his throat again. The thought should be gross, but...you just feel hunger pangs, instead—and a confusing wave of desire.
He notices the focus of your attention, and looks uneasy about it. Your eyes have started to glow.
“Why don't we start with the wrist?” he deadpans, not enthused about your untried razor-sharp fangs in his throat.
You nod shakily, tears in your eyes. “I'm sorry,” you say. 
There's a flicker in John's soulful brown eyes, and though he says nothing, you feel his guilt as though it's your own. You feel it crawling over your skin, and it scares you. 
What is happening to you? 
“Come on,” he says gruffly. “Let's get this over with.” 
You've seen the movies, and you’re not a total idiot. But the thought of actually...biting him? And drinking his blood? It freaks you out, ok, even if every cell in your body is singing out for you to swallow him down. The smell of him. You'd thought it was intoxicating before. Aftershave, spice, and cigarette smoke. The smoke was good only because it ticked some deep buried memory box in your subconscious. But now...it’s like you can sense the strength of his very soul, in the smell of his blood, and you know he will nourish you. 
These thoughts come to you unbidden, and you don't even really know what they mean. Just... that they are unequivocally true.
You take his wrist, the blue veins there seeming to dance for your new improved vampire vision, as though you can see the blood pumping within them.
This is so fucking weird.
“You’re going to be really strong now,” he cautions you. Then, the corner of his mouth ticks. “So be gentle with me.”
Your eyebrows raise at the thought that you could actually hurt him. This big, strong man who threw you around not so long ago like you were just a doll. You’d loved that, truth be told. The memory is so sweet that it almost makes you want to cry again.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You should do it now,” he says. “Because you’re just going to get hungrier, and young vampires when they’re hungry are at their most dangerous. I’d hate to have to—”
He cuts himself off before finishing that thought. Your eyes drift to his nightstand, the holy water, crucifixes, and a broom handle piece that has been sharpened into a nice neat stake. Just in case he has to shove it through your heart.
“Could you do that to me?” you ask quietly before you can stop yourself, still staring at the stake.
“I don’t want to find out,” he deflects. “So come on. Pull up your big girl panties.”
You glare at him, taking his wrist again. “I think I have a right to be freaked out about this.”
“Sure, but it is what it is,” he fires back unkindly. “You’re a vampire now. You have to drink blood to survive, and you’re Damned. Welcome to the club.”
You frown at him, your eyes flashing dangerously. You notice him tense, his attention flicking over to the stake on the bedside.
“You’re afraid of me now,” you marvel. 
“A little, yeah.”
“And I should be afraid of you? They told me what you are.”
“Let’s agree to have a healthy respect of one another, alright?”
You sit quietly, contemplating him. With his wrist in your grasp you can feel the thump thump of his pulse through your entire body, like bumping bass out of a speaker. It is distracting, and as you think about what you must do a warmth rises in you, a tingling rush of power that spreads from your fingers into his arm. It makes him shudder, his pupils suddenly blown wide with desire.
This feels good. Better than the fear, although you’re ashamed to admit, that had been delicious too.
You don’t know how you’re doing any of this. It’s just happening, and you let your new instinct take you, straddling his narrow hips to find his burgeoning erection straining against his slacks. You are still wearing the sundress those creatures took you in, and nothing but the thin cotton of your panties barricades the space between you and him.
He is so handsome, and strong. His blood smells so strong, and it fills you with an aching desire, wetness flooding between your legs. Suddenly the desire to bite him while he is inside you grips you like an iron fist, some ancient knowledge of arcane pleasure pulsing through your veins. You blink, the urge receding only slightly, and you do not know it but your eyes glow like coals. It’s strange, how your body feels cold, except where your skin is touching his. Your points of contact are almost searing, in comparison.
“Y/n…”
“What?” you taunt him. “You don’t want me now that I’m a monster?”
You can still hardly believe this is really happening to you.
“I think you can feel that’s not the case.”
Again, you sense his fear, cloyingly sweet upon your tongue. You like it, and that is the thing that brings you back to yourself. Wanting anyone to be afraid of you is so opposite your true nature that it shocks you.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you apologize again, squeezing your eyes closed.
“It’s alright,” he says in that deep voice of his.
It’s not. It’s really not.
“Just…can we get this over with, please?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“He’s not going to help you now, believe me. Just…go slow, ok? Don’t bite me too hard. I need use of my hand still, if you don’t mind.”
You let out a shuddering breath. It feels weird, and you realize…you don’t need to breathe? Taking in air is a reflex, but there’s no effect of your body processing oxygen.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Okay. I’m going to do it.”
“Any day now.”
“Shut up.”
This is the thing that actually makes him smile, that slight curl of lips that is like a full-on grin for most people. Maybe it’s stupid—but it gives you courage.
You graze his skin with your new sharp teeth, and like a beachcomber searching for treasure with a metal detector, you just sense the sweet spot. You move as carefully as you can, pressing down into his flesh to make two neat little holes.
The spill of blood is divine, and you don’t have time to think that it’s gross. It fills your mouth and it is good, and you are so hungry, and you can’t get enough. The magic in this bloodletting rises like a tide, desire crashing over the both of you in a tingling, intoxicating rush. You feel everything, and there is no extricating the sexual pleasure from the gustatory. They are one and the same with this man, his delicious, powerful blood filling your mouth, his strapping body beneath yours, his hips bucking against you.
You feel his hand slide up your thigh, his thumb seeking the molten center of you. When he makes himself stop just short of your panty line you whine in protest, straining for his touch, but he resists your goading, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh. Perhaps you should be grateful, that he is strong enough to resist the pull of this magic between you, trying not to debauch you while you feed for the first time and everything is new and you have no idea what is happening. And yet, you can hardly think past how wonderful it would be to have his teeming erection buried inside you to the hilt while you drink him down.
You would tell him all this, but you can’t bring yourself to separate your mouth from the font of his delectable lifeblood. In fact, you don’t know how you’re going to stop, period.
It’s just so good.
John watches you through heavy lidded eyes, seemingly enjoying this as much as you are. Yet he has more sense of the situation as well, and when he tells you, “That’s enough, y/n,” an inhuman keening of protest escapes from deep in your throat.
“Y/n…” he warns again, his words thick with desire. “You have to stop.”
You close your eyes, telling yourself just one last mouthful.
That was two long sucking draughts ago.
Suddenly you feel a searing heat very near your face. Startled, your eyes fly open to find the crucifix there before you, and you hiss in answer, scrabbling back on the bed away from the holy item. With John Constantine’s blood on your lips you cower, shielding your eyes with a hand.
With a shuddering sigh he lowers the cross, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. He presses a tissue against his wrist, and your eyes are drawn to the crimson stains flowering on the wad of paper beneath his fingers.
What a waste, you think, before shaking the thought away.
Then the horror of what could have happened dawns on you.
You could have drank him dry, and in the heat of the moment you would have done it gladly.
Oh God. What have you become?
“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “Are you ok?”
He actually has the gall to smirk at you, as though any of this could be funny. “Yeah. Not the first time I’ve lost a little blood.”
There’s some inside joke in that statement you don’t understand, though you sense the darkness of self-deprecation in it.
Somehow, you feel simultaneously sated, and horrible. With a whimper you curl up at the foot of his bed, closing your eyes against the world. You can feel everything. You sense the people in the building, the fragile sound of their juicy little hearts beating. Even outside, the life on the street, men and women going about their lives with no idea what lurks in the shadows, wanting to eat them up…
But most distracting of all, the sheets beneath you smell like John, and the lust in your blood has yet to abate, even if the feeding is over. You feel it marching across your skin like red-hot ants. The desire to crawl up the bed and press your bloody lips to his is real, and you fight it with everything you have, because you don’t imagine he’d appreciate that very much after what he’s done for you. The sour expression on his face did not match the size of the tent in his pants, that is for sure.  
You wonder, is it going to be like this every time you eat from now on? The thought does not thrill you.
“Hey,” he goads softly, and your eyes fly open to regard him. Again, your irises shine like lanterns, fueled by the roil of emotions warring in your heart. “Come here.” He holds out one of those beautiful hands to you. Hands that you had so relished upon your body, on your flesh, in your hair…hands with such thick, beautiful blue veins…
You’re not sure how he knows that you want to be held, but now you fear it too. You fear what you are, and your ability to control yourself around him. Because the truth is you still want him very much, and he’d basically told you point blank that you mean nothing to him. The thought weighs on your heart now like a thousand stinging needles, and you feel your eyes fill with moisture of some kind.
So, vampires can cry after all.
You touch a finger to the corner of your eye, and see it comes away tinted red.
You kind of want to throw up.
“Maybe…I should go,” you say sadly, sitting up. You’re certain you look as disheveled as you feel. Your hair is a bird’s nest. Your once pretty floral sundress is dirty and torn. No wonder he doesn’t want you.
“If…you want.” Why does he sound sad about it? Shouldn’t he be glad to see the backside of you? Constantine the Demon Hunter? If you’d been nothing but a one-night fuck as a human, he certainly didn’t want to spend time with you now.
 “You know you’re going to need a dark place to rest for the day?”
Is he actually worried about where you’re going to sleep?
“Okay.” You think you can manage that, in your apartment next door. Or maybe…you’ll see what happens, if you watch the sun rise. Maybe it would just be better that way. Are vampire suicides double damned? You’ve never really been a religious person, but he’d said it like it was A Thing.
It reminds you of what John had said earlier. “What did you mean before? When you said join the club?”
He sighs, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the night stand. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
Feeling like you’ve now been dismissed, you slide from the bed, standing on bare feet. You should be sore, but your movements are lithe, liquid as a cat’s.
Something else to get used to.
You can feel Constantine’s eyes glued to you, and you dare to take one last look back, waiting to turn to a pillar of salt. He’s so handsome it hurts, even in his rumpled state, his cuffs rolled up his forearms and his tie loose around his neck. How do his soulful dark eyes seem to hold all the sorrow of the world right now?
“Bye, John.”
He just nods, and you let yourself out.
***
Much to your surprise, ten minutes before dawn, you hear a knock on your door. You know it's John. You can tell by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heart beat. You can smell him, and it is a heady thing in your nostrils. When you do not answer he just lets himself in, the cheeky bastard. 
He finds you sitting in one of your thrift store chairs by the window, one of the only ones not broken in the mess the vampires who took you left behind. He does not like this, you can tell, by his hairline frown. 
“Hey.” 
“Hi.”
“Hate to tell you, but you're going to have to find a new way to get your vitamin D.”
“Ha ha,” you say, turning back to the window. A few people are out and about below. This city never really sleeps. 
“Hey,” he says again, crouching down by your chair. “I know this is a lot...”
The look you pay him is not exactly kind. He plows forward anyway.
“But take it from someone who's been there. Hell isn't a place you should be in a hurry to go.” 
You blink at that. He says it like it's so black and white, not a hint of uncertainty. Not faith. Fact. Once upon a time, you might have questioned his sanity. Not anymore. 
“Sounds like you've been.” 
“For about two minutes. It was enough.” 
“What was it like?” you whisper. 
“Pure agony.” 
Your eyes go wide at hearing that. 
“So...want to show me your bolt hole?” he asks.
Once upon a time you would have capitalized on the opportunity for inuendo with such comedic gold just handed to you for free, but you’re not in the mood. You just stare at him.
“John...You're a demon hunter. Why do you care?”
He tries to meet your eyes, but in the end can only look away. “Come on, y/n. Just…don’t give up yet, ok?”
He just feels guilty, you tell yourself, and you pry yourself from your chair with a sigh. You’re not sure what the point of anything will be, anymore. But maybe you’ll make an effort to go on, because he asked you to.
Sometimes, that’s all it takes.
“Fine.”
You figure the closet will be the darkest place in the apartment for you to hide.
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bronx-bomber87 · 1 day
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Good evening wonderful fandom! SO glad to have a new ep to do some quick thoughts on. I missed our babies. As stated few weeks back the gif library is a turd right after an ep. So quick hand made ones till summer. Off we go.
6x04 Training Day
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Lucy saying she’s fine as she consistently does all her fidgety tells screaming she is anything but LOL Tim picking this up too love it. Smart man saying what he does about “being fine.” They cute with her saying 'Does he want her to be upset?' He's so good at making her laugh in this moments. Makes my heart happy. Till John appears.... Way to jump in on their moment Nolan. Of course the man makes it worse…She was laughing before you got there John…Tim's face when she takes off. Like if I could punch you Nolan...
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Oh Lucy... Definitely hitting her hard she’s still a patrol officer. Tasks that didn't used to bother her as much are. Ugh my girl. This is rough. You are anything but fine my friend…Poor Lucy last thing she needs is more alone time with her thoughts at a scene that'll take forever to wrap up. Not only that but babysitting puke…I think our girl is headed toward quite spiral that has yet to happen. Tim is gonna do his best to keep her sane but I have a gut feeling we are headed there. I could be wrong but just how I'm feeling.
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Lucy killing me softly watching Juarez and Nolan get recognized on Tv. Mmm I am loving Tim coming to pick her up yum yum. Lucy mentioning almost getting that call... Damn nothing going her way today. Or lately... Think her only sanity at this point is that man next to her. Tim of course is picking up on it immediately knowing her mood is linked to Primm. Knows his girl so well. Stating she was hoping could've proved him wrong with catching a call like that.
I love this scene. Lucy telling Tim about her crappy day and Tim giving her perspective. Saying she could be the big hero tomorrow. Not only that but making her smile as well. Look at him building her up like it’s second nature. Cause it is. Damn I love these two. Him basically leaning on her and bumping her shoulder with his telling her not to be too greedy hehe That Lucy smile of his loud and proud. Making her beam as well. She loves this man next to her so much.
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Oh my lord this entire scene had my heart racing. What an absolute BAMF our girl is holy hell. Tim would've lost his mind seeing this. Hell I did. I screamed when she got hit and my dog ran from the room LOL The looks on Harper/Lopez's face when she went down oh my goodness. The absolute panic on their faces. Right there with you ladies. This was a huge risk she took to prove herself. One like I said Tim would’ve lost his mind at seeing.
Lucy was definitely being the big hero this entire scene oh my lord my heart was pounding. What a way to impress Harper and Lopez but give me a damn heart attack. That scene in the ally with the brother..... I was worried when he didn’t stop she was gonna have to shoot him. Giving me 5x19 flashbacks. I think she is going to CARRY this with her for a long time. Being an empath is no joke. Our girl one of the finest even at her own detriment.
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I was hoping for some insanely worried Tim and they DELIVERED. Like that man couldn't breathe till he set eyes on his girl. Oh my damn lord. The way he ran to get to her. Man on a mission doesn’t even stop to check in with Grey. By-passes them completely. Only wants to get to Lucy. His hand on her head had me reeling everyone. It's the gentle way he caresses her hair I'm squeeing. Also his non stop touching.
Trying to ground her by letting her know he was there emotionally and physically. Rubbing his thumb up and down her her collar bone. The sweet squeezes. I'm a puddle.. The way this man has transformed because of her still blows my mind. The sweet comforting touches. I'm losing my mind. His adorable attempt at a joke telling her she didn’t have to take the hero suggestion literally. Ugh Lucy breaking my heart into million pieces. Saying she doesn’t feel like one.
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Melissa you deserve all the awards madam I’m crying. Her little pre cry when he says they'll deal with it my damn heart. Killing me. I love how Tim's hands have not left her for 90 percent of this moment. Protective Tim was very much present in this scene with Wes. Grey was too being like dude let us take the win. Feral Tim having Wes back it off for tomorrow. Wade being the sweet man he is says that's ok. Lucy is going to be anxious about all this. I would be stressed about him succumbing to his injuries now that Wes said that. Read the room Evers lol
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Gah Tim telling her let’s go home. Then we get another glorious hug where he encases her in his arms. Protecting her emotionally from this situation. Lucy burying herself in his embrace. Wrapping her arm around him tightly to ground herself again. She needed to fall apart in his arms before they left. THIS IS SOO GOOD. Annnnnnd another head kiss I’m dead I am writing these thoughts from the grave.
Oh my word this season has delivered in spades both friggin crap. I’m out of breath from this episode in the best way. Also whoever does the music needs a raise I say it time and time again. But that song was perfection against the backdrop of this final scene. Was telling D earlier I already need to change my header to it.
I love this hug SO much it's insane. Sure I'll write a novel on it this summer. Having everything that's going on plus this I think our girl is hurtling toward a breakdown of some sort. Some actual UC/detective feelings coming with it. Cause our girl is anything but fine. I'm so excited to see where we go from here S6 has every bit worth the wait. I cannot wait till next week
~~
Side notes -non Chenford
Yay Aaron progress in therapy. Back to active duty ha his heart rate going up for her too cute.
We finally get Nyla’s new hair style. Loving it
Adore the idea of Tim being one to take Aaron back out. Ain’t no one better.
Mmmh love hard ass TO Tim in metro uniform yummy. Does things to me. Aaron thinking he got this TRAIN but there is panic there.
‘Train is leaving the station officer Thorsen.’ Mmmm He does impress Tim for this first call. Yay Aaron haha
Giving Aaron only 9 minutes before bouncing him back to being a rookie oh my lord Timothy. I love you so much.
I do adore watching Tim watching Aaron do well. I’m sure there is a part of him that misses being a teacher. You can see it in these scenes. The pride and excitement he gets when Aaron is doing well. Aaron doing little fist pump and Tim shaking his head I’m dying.
Also How can Tim make leaning against a chair look so sexy? I want to be the chair he is leaning against in this scene with the wife LOL
Glad he passed Tim's TRAIN test. Glad they took their time getting him back out there. Was realistic
Feel free to comment any and all thoughts. I welcome them. See you all next week!
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not-goldy · 2 days
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Why do I feel we're being played? Like these grown men get bored, hop online, decide to cause chaos & dip just to watch the timeline burn. SIGH And when it happens here go shippers arguing the same thing. My ship is real. No mine is. Jk's telling us something. No he's telling us something. Tae's telling us something. No he's telling us something. Same copy/paste argument. Tae drops a song Friends knowing he has Friends with Jimin with his sus obsession writing songs for Jimin in the past, while posting a Tk account to his IG and its Vmin vs Tkk. Not to be outdone by Jk who likes a Tk edit, while simping over Jimin in comments and its Jkk vs Tkk. And everyone knows they're fighting the same argument but don't care. What are you doing? Stop it. And I hate to call them out, but its Tae and Jk the ones for several months specifically engaging with shippers on both sides.
All I gotta say is Jimin baby, keep minding your business, you're doing amazing, sweetie. Now because of that follow & unfollow from Jk on an account with Jimin's name, he is the one being mocked. Not even 2 seconds after they realized Jk unfollowed that account, the mocking & name calling started. If I were Jimin I'd snatch that damn phone outta Jk's hands and tell him to start paying closer attention to stuff regarding me. That man is just trying to serve his time in peace & Jk caused him to catch a stray cause he can't stay off Jimin pages. Lord have mercy.
Fascinating
Wish I was bothered😩😩😩😩😩😩🤣💀
Jikook do worst things than this.
If he unfollowed its cos someone made him aware he'd followed and was creating a mess in the Fandom. To that person I say- snitches get stitches 🔪
But if it's content he's consuming does it even matter?? Bro watching himself gawk at Jimin while Jimin bringing him to edge of nutting- does it matter if he likes or follows the account?
We've been saying for years those two a very much aware of the shipping narratives the gay expose and they don't care- unlike straight celebs who get so offended they start staying away from eachother and roasting eachother.
Watch Jungkook knowing damn well just how gay we think he and JM are with eachother come out and say his favorite moment from MS was a night he and JM slept arm in arm naked to keep themselves warm. Watch him come out to say he's limping cos JM manhandled his balls.
When I tell yall he knows what he's doing when he says things like this bite mark on my neck is from Jimin or let's eat Ramen or Jimin can handle all this.
He can't stay off JM pages sounds about right.
Let me not catch anyone throwing Jimin in the mix dude drinking water staying hydrated and working out his glutes
Hold on brb
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