#the answer is: index cards

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

was gonna post about my REVOLUTIONARY absolutely fucking breathtaking brand spanking new novel outline system and how i am an unparalleled GENIUS and then I realized i just reinvented the hipster PDA for nerds

#on writing #anyway! #the answer is: index cards #why is this different from how i usually go through a post it / sticky note phase? idk man

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Bing bong? Zeeple glorb snorble???

#yes im answering from class on an index card no we will not ask #Anonymous

[talentforlying]

father grimaldi: forgive me, lord, for i have sinned. constantine: — understatement of the bloody century, that is. father grimaldi: the chapel is closed to the public! who are you? how did you get in here . . .? constantine: did you know vatican city has the highest per-capita crime rate of any nation state in the world? i'd have thought a touch of breaking and entering's pretty much par for the course around here.

so #1, an undeniable slay.

#2, how long do we think he was sitting in the confessional booth waiting for the guy to wake up from ellie's fake vision quest. like an hour? checking his light, practicing his Big Reveal Pose TM? he probably brought a book with him and just shoved it underneath the seat cushion when it was time to show off.

#3, knowing how intensely he studied & continues to study in order to teach himself magic at such an absurdly advanced level without any teachers to formally guide him? and how that level of dedication would absolutely carry over into researching a mark / making sure he had every corner of a confidence scheme nailed down pat? i like to imagine that the day before this meeting was spent with his severely under-caffeinated ass parked at a public library computer, squinting at articles for 'most important things to know about vatican city before you travel' or 'top 10 little-known facts about vatican city' and using the back of his boarding pass to take notes on what would be the best throwaway line to blow off all the usual questions with.

also, he probably woke up still in his travel clothes less than two hours before this scene and had to hustle to get suited up in time for his Dramatic Apparition. the demon blood was boiling so bad in that chapel that it was giving him a killer migraine. he didn't get breakfast so his stomach was growling the ENTIRE time. but all that meant was he had plenty of room to eat UP the runway and that's EXACTLY what the fuck he did.i'm

#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS. #always torn in half between 'john is a freaky little weirdo who just Knows Things and Picks Up Vibes and it usually works for him' #and 'john is the most Normal Dude in the whole london occult scene he just works w/ magic like a grad student prepping for finals week' #and you know what? the answer is always 'Both. Both is good.' #also on the one hand i'm truly obsessed with the idea of john just?? Always having a bunch of weird trivia available w/ his eidetic memory #like he read about the apostolic palace once in a book when he was with the peace convoy and his brain latched onto it forever #and it just Happens to become convenient later on and this happens VERY often and no one ever really knows how he does it #but there is a real real charm in considering that he's still Just A Guy beneath all the layers of false confidence and mysticism #still someone who had to work to get to where he is now and who will always have to work to Maintain as well #i like the mental image of him pacing around his temporary digs with index cards and drilling all the necessary details for the scam #or him and ellie getting blasted the night before and dramatically playing out their Big Final Confrontation to iron out all the beats #you just Know they were laughing til they cried workshopping shit like 'MY OLD ADVERSARY! WE MEET AGAIN!' and 'DO YOUR WORST HELLSPAWN!' #still trying to keep straight faces the day of the fake fight while drastically improvising to try and throw each other off their game #idk!!! i always enjoy the Strange and Off-Putting things about him but all of the Really Really Human stuff is also just. so so precious #we always get to see The Myth The Legend as shaped by the errors of The Man. but especially in later years actually SEEING The Man gets rar #all this to say that for every perfectly executed and properly horrifying loom out of the shadows with a glimmer of his freaky glowing eyes #there is always at LEAST half an hour or more practicing angles + expressions + mood lighting in the mirror going on behind the scenes #and that is very very special to me!!!! #( headcanons. ) I'M JUST LIKE THE BASTARDS I'VE HATED ALL ME LIFE. #( visage. ) AND I'M A BASTARD. #sched.

[percki]

catholic school is so funny because what do you mean your sex ed class was called “in god’s image”

#good old IGI #i distinctly remember my best friend asking our health teacher about trans sex and this 30yo white woman did NOT know the answer… #the questions were written on index cards and you could tell when she reached that one because her face went gray #abstinence only sex ed is Bad but by god is it funny #talk tag

[idontdrinkgatorade]

so, you know like, blank revision cards? or like flash cards to some people. I think they're also known as index cards.. but flash cards are also like memory cards like for cameras so maybe it's best to avoid that for clarifications sake.

Ok so I looked on line and it said they're also called study cards or study notes but I've never heard that so I'm not going to use it. A teacher once called them placards but that's a little old fashioned in my opinion.

I guess it doesn't really matter if they're blank. They could have words on them if you want, I stopped using them because I found them too hard to keep track of. I'm going to stick to calling them revision cards I think. It makes life easier and I think we could all do with things being a little easier. I hope things get easier for you whatever you're going through.

Anyway back to revision cards. It's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Flash cards are easier to say, but as previously mentioned that term has another meaning related to memory sticks. Are they called memory cards anywhere? that sounds right. Are revision cards called memory cards, I mean, although I'm sure memory sticks have at one point been called memory cards. I think I'm creating more confusion and it would be best to stick to calling them revision cards.

anyway what if you could smoke them

"what if" as if there were anything stopping you. live your dreams. smoke that index card

when i was in sixth grade we had to write a shit ton of vocabulary for my social studies class on index cards and we hated them so much that we decided we would get together as a group at the end of the year and burn them in a bonfire. it never happened.

anyways if index cards were safely smoke-able i would probably still refrain from smoking them bc of smell and taste sensitivity and the smell of smoke makes my nose burn.

#asks #in my area we call them both index cards and flash cards #if they're blank or just have notes on them then they're index cards #but if they are meant for studying (they have a phrase/word on one side and a definition on the other) then they're flash cards #like quizlet if you've ever used it. where you flip the card for the definition or the answer #those are flash cards #i think flash card just entails the way the text is on the card bc we have digital flash cards #but there's no such thing as a digital index card #so an index card always has the potential to be a flash card #but not all flash cards are index cards #if that makes sense #congratulations anon this may be the ask of the year

[lovebugism]

Okay soooooooo

How bout something like King Steve picking on shy!reader, then later finding out she has a shitty home life plz

ty for requesting!! this can be read as a prequel to this fic — steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of abuse, 1.8k)

Sitting alone at the Hellfire table, you feel a little like fishbait. 

Your spot in the very back of the cafeteria is normally full and loud — with Dustin’s bickering, and Eddie’s laughing, and Gareth’s stupid jokes — but they’re not here now. They’re off getting their trays while you sit in wait for them (and the cold fries you’ll ultimately steal from Eddie’s plate). It leaves you perfect prey for circling sharks.

You hear laughter from behind you, over the sounds of the bustling lunch room. You’re certain they’re laughing at you — ‘cause you always think someone’s laughing at you — but you try hard to ignore it. You disregard the subtle pang of anxiety in your chest and stick your nose in your book, eyes flitting across the words without reading any of them.

Someone flumps down at your side then, where Mike usually sits. The overwhelming scent of spiced cologne stings your nostrils. With watering eyes, you look beside you. At Tommy fucking Hagan.

“Hey, Wallflower,” he greets like it’s normal — like he hasn’t spent the past four years pretending you don’t exist. You think he only calls you Wallflower now because his friends have been doing it for so long they don’t remember your real name.

The boy props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his fist, trying hard to hide his boyish beam and accompanying laughter. He fails.

You cower at his presence, all but shrinking into yourself. “…Hi?” you reply in a tiny voice.

“How’s it hangin’?”

“...Fine?”

“That’s great!” he answers instantly, like he hadn’t heard you at all. “You see, my friend Steve, over there— you know him, right?”

You don’t bother to look where he’s pointing. Of course, you know Steve The Hair Harrington. You don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins who doesn’t.

You nod in response.

Tommy’s smile widens. “Well, he’s got this massive crush on you,” he confesses, choking back a laugh halfway through. “I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

You know he’s lying. And not just because he’s grinning so hard that his eyes are crinkled and his freckled cheeks are turning pink. You’re almost certain Steve Harrington doesn’t even know who you are. He never had a reason to. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever stoop so low to know someone like you?

You glance at him over your shoulder, a couple tables down from you. He’s almost magnetically pretty. You couldn’t ignore him if you tried — with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty smile. His golden cheeks flush as all his friends start poking fun at him. 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs a laugh you can tell is forced from here. He doesn’t think any of this is funny. You can see it on his face. But he isn’t trying to stop it all from happening. You’re just collateral damage, really.

You turn back to Tommy with a disbelieving look in your eye.

He continues to ramble despite it. “He was just a little nervous coming up to you, that’s all. So I thought I’d do him a favor and slip you his number. You know, as his wingman and all.” He tosses a folded-up index card onto the pages of your opened book. “You should call him tonight— It’ll make his day, I swear.”

He pats you a little too hard on the back before he goes. His laugh echoes over all the rest when he sits back down at his table. You watch them over your shoulder as they fall over themselves to crack jokes about you. 

Steve’s the only one not smiling. “Not cool, Tommy,” he mouths.

—————

Locker 148. The one right across from yours. Property of Steve The Hair Harrington. 

You shove the thick card with his number written on it between the slits in the metal. You’d carried it around all day, utterly unsure of what to do with it. You decided ultimately to return it, figuring he might feel a little better if a total stranger didn’t have his phone number.

You struggle to slide it through the thin gap, though. The paper gets caught halfway through, and you try to yank it back out again. The old locker moves with you, like it’s not completely shut but still somehow latched. 

You’re so in your own head you don’t hear the gymnasium door down the hall squeal open and shut again. Steve pants heavily and tries to recover from a ruthless basketball practice. He hunts for a water fountain and finds you instead.

“What are you doing?” he calls as he nears you, not malicious or unkind but genuinely curious.

Your heart lurches into your throat as you all but jump out of your skin.

Steve laughs, a pretty sound in the silent hallway. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you assure with an averted gaze, though your frightened demeanor says otherwise. “I was just— I was trying to give you this.”

You hold the paper out towards him. He takes it with hesitant hands. “What is it?”

“Your number. Tommy gave it to me earlier, and I know it was just a stupid joke, so I… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I gave it back to you.”

Something in Steve’s chest aches. He doesn’t understand why you would care about what might make him comfortable. It’s not like he ever gave you the time of day — or ever tried to stop his friends from being total assholes. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the last person who should give a shit about him.

“Oh. Right— Yeah… Thanks,” he stammers and shoves the thing into his pocket. “And I’m— I’m sorry about Tommy and everything. He can be a real douchebag sometimes. I didn’t… I didn’t tell him to bother you or anything—”

“I know,” you assure in a mousy voice. “Tommy gave me your number hoping I’d be dumb enough to call while your friends were over so you could all… laugh at me? I guess. He could’ve been a little more original, honestly.”

Steve cracks a smile. He almost laughs, but he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“I’ll talk to him later. Tell him to leave you alone—” He rambles and walks closer to you. You watch him with tentative eyes as he approaches. “—He’s a total dumbass sometimes, but he usually means well. Most of the time, anyway—”

Steve raises his hand suddenly. And, because you’re frightened by everything little thing, you flinch and stumble over yourself in the process. The lockers catch your fall, and you hit the back of your head. Hard.

“Shit— Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you squeak, holding the crown of your hair and squinting as your skull pounds.

Steve rushes to your side, then idles just ahead of you because he doesn’t know if you want him touching you. His brows pinch, chiseled features swimming with concern. His cinnamon eyes glitter with it, too. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“It’s okay.”

“—My locker was just jammed. I was going to shut it.”

The metal door is open now, from where it wasn’t shut all the way and where you just smacked your head on it.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you assure in a tight voice, trying hard to ignore the sharp throbbing. “It’s fine. I’m fine—”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’ll go away—”

“Let me get you an icepack.”

“—I’ll be fine once I get home.”

Steve, feeling purely at fault and aching at how effortlessly you shrug him off, decides to approach you fully. He curls a warm hand around the outside of your elbow. A touch surprisingly gentle. “No. C’mon. Let me help.”

You don’t feel much like you’re in any position to fight him about it. Not with the world still swaying under your feet. 

Steve guides you the short distance to the empty cafeteria. Slow and kind and dreadfully patient. He sits you down, makes sure you’re still okay, and then rushes to fix you a makeshift icepack — a ziplock bag filled to the brim with chipped ice.

He sits at the chair beside yours, slightly askew so his knees bump your thighs. He holds the pack to the crown of your head and gazes at you attentively. You’re not looking back at him to see it.

“Does it still hurt?”

You shrug, eyes flitted to the wringing hands in your lap. “It’s fine. It just feels a little like I have a migraine.”

Steve winces. “I’m sorry.”

Your doe eyes peek at him from beneath your lashes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I scared you.”

“Everything scares me.”

It’s a dumb joke. You mean it, but you still expect him to laugh about it. He doesn’t even crack a smile, though. He just keeps looking at you with that puppy-like twist to his features. The worry is evident in his face. 

“Do you wanna, like, talk about it or something?”

“About what?”

“Why you flinched.”

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat. No one’s ever noticed your incessant panic — outside of making jokes about it anyway. No one’s cared enough to ask about it, either. Steve Harrington is the last person you expected any kind of concern from.

You shake your head after a few long moments. “No.”

“You could,” Steve assures, suddenly shy. You didn’t know he could be anything other than totally full of himself. “You know, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t tell anyone—”

You scoff a disbelieving laugh.

Steve’s features swirl with hurt. You hate that it makes your chest ache. You hate most that he hasn’t stopped being soft with you. The hand holding the pack to your head hasn’t yet wavered, even though you know his arm must be tired now.

“I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I— I know what it’s like to… to have a bad home life or whatever,” he confesses, stammering hopelessly. He forces a laugh at himself. “Probably more than most people do, honestly.”

His admission takes you by surprise. It comforts you in a way you didn’t think someone like him could. 

Even still, you shake your head. “I— I can’t—” you murmur, clearing your throat when the words get stuck there. “I can’t talk about it…”

Steve nods, firm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, I was just… I was just saying, you know? I get it.”

You swallow through a tight throat, nodding wordlessly in response.

“Plus, you know, you have my number and everything… If you ever wanted to talk…”

You flash him a timid look and crack a quiet smile. “I gave it back to you, remember?”

“I’ll write it down for you again,” he promises with a shrug and a lopsided grin. It’s easier to ignore his aching arm and the ice stinging his palm when he’s looking at you. “For real this time.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

[yzzart]

okay okay hear me out: an interview compilation made after y/n and tom are public about their relationship that consists of all the moments they nearly slipped up/did slip up BEFORE they were public that fans didn't pick up on until it was confirmed

almost caught.

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: after you and Tom assumed your relationship, your fans carefully observe every detail of all of your interviews.

word count: 576!

notes: this request got me so much, anon! you guys're so creative and keep requesting!

"Who would you…" — Taking one of the small cards, which contained some questions and questions, the interviewer read it carefully. — "…rather be struck in an elevator with?" — After reading, she moved her eyes to each of you, waiting for the answer.

In a pure coincidence, or irony of fate, you and Tom tilted your heads towards each other; meeting in a look of complicity, with arched eyebrows. — Blyth could see your lips trembling in an attempt to hold a cheeky smile and almost risking laughing along.

Oh, the answer was so obvious and risky but it had to be kept secret, even at a certain point.

"We're talking a trivia quiz today." — The producer, behind the cameras, explained, duly and carefully, to you; pointing to the cell phone that Tom was holding. — And you can play together or you can compete against each other." — She clapped her hands, ending the explanation and leaving the two choices to you.

"Oh, no." — You spoke slowly, resting your hand on your knee and leaning towards Rachel, who was laughing and thinking about what could happen.

"She'll want to compete." — Tom exclaimed, pointing, indiscreetly, the cell phone that was in his hand, towards you and looking at the producer. — "I know you, my darling." — Now, he started to direct his eyes at you accompanied by a confident smile.

"Oh, shut up." — Your hand rested on his arm, slightly pushing him. — "And of course I'm going to compete." — Blyth raised an eyebrow as Rachel and Josh laughed. — "Just to watch you lose."

“Oh my god, Y/N!” — The interviewer's lively and expressive voice caught her attention, shaking the microphone a little frantically. — "Come here!" — She asked and Tom turned towards you, expecting you presence next to him.

Holding onto a part of your long and majestic dress, you directed your steps towards the meeting point where they were. — It was a simple surface, like a small stage, with only two steps to climb; it wasn't risky or complicated. — Tom tilted his hand towards you, wanting to help, and you held it; feeling the coolness, not bothersome, of your rings.

"You look so beautiful." — Tom whispered, and the camera recorded the moment he leaned into your ear, distributing a quick kiss through your hair. — "You always are, actually."

"Look who's talking." — Your brief laughs came into sync. — "Thank you, my love."

"Hi, i'm Tom Blyth!" — The camera centered on your presentation, your hand waved briefly at your along with a soft smile, slightly showing your teeth.

And also, biting your tongue to stop yourself from laughing at the joke that you and Tom had joined in on. — He was the one who suggested it.

"And i'm Y/N." — Tom nodded, shaking it just once, and quickly raised his eyebrows.

"I was going to say the same thing." — The oldest rested his arm against the back of his chair, before looking at the floor at a fictitious point and, quickly, looking at your face. — "Really."

"We have a kind of connection." — You clicked your tongue, pursing your lips, and moving one of your hands pointing at you and Tom. — “A connection indeed.”

"Like, soulmates, right?" — He leaned down, raising his index finger and pointing to his head, then to your; signaling possible telepathy and joking about it.

"Yes!" — Your laughter extended with Tom's, and the interviewer's, and you started to make the same movements, at a certain second getting in sync with him.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus #snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

[rileyslibrary]

“The Lieutenant wants to see you in his office immediately,” Soap said. And when you asked why, he shrugged and said he didn’t sound very pleased.

“I don’t understand, Sergeant,” you whisper as he escorts you to Ghost, “I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t know, soldier,” he shrugs once more as you reach the door, “just stay strong.”

Strong? Why? And what does he mean by “stay”? You have no idea what happened, so there was no time for you to prepare a case against it. You weren’t “strong”. On the contrary, you were as vulnerable as a house of cards.

Soap knocks on the door, and Ghost calls you in.

You push the door open to find an angry Lieutenant Riley sitting on the edge of his desk. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, tapping his fingers on one of his biceps. His leg hits rhythmically on the desk, and his breathing is audible from across the room.

“Sit down,” he orders sternly and points at the chair right before him, “and close the door, Soap.”

Soap does as he’s told, and so do you.

“So tell me, soldier,” Ghost begins, “what did you want to be as a kid?” He asks and looks at his watch.

“What does th-”

“Answer the fucking question, soldier!” He snaps.

“A t-teacher, sir.”

“A teacher, huh?” He contemplates, “so you liked to lecture others?”

“I don’t under-”

“Answer. The. Fucking. Question.”

“Yes, sir.” You reply and look at the floor.

Ghost unfolds his arms and hands you a piece of paper he has been holding. You look up at the note and then back at him. He brings his index finger to his mouth and eagerly shakes the message in his other hand. You nod, take the paper and unfold it:

“It’s April Fools. Soap has framed you. He’s eavesdropping as we speak. Play along.”

The statement “has framed you” was Ghost’s way to say that Soap was pulling a prank on you.

“So,” he proceeds, “as an aspiring teacher, I suspect you also liked to write on whiteboards?” He asks and checks his watch again, “you know, mark things and put stickers on stuff?”

“Yes, sir!” You reply enthusiastically, and he gestures to take it down a notch. He’s right; you’re supposed to be in trouble.

“And,” he stands up and looks at his watch again, “you decided to relive your childhood and do this?” He says and turns around to reveal Soap’s prank: A giant stamp on the back of his cargo pants with the words “BABY GIRL”, written in white paint and clearly visible from space.

You cover your mouth with your hand, and he gestures for you to stop. You nod and take small inhales, then a long exhale.

“Don’t you have a spare uniform, sir?” You ask, trying not to laugh.

“Good question, soldier,” he shouts so Soap can hear him from behind the door, “see, my spare uniform has a bedazzled JUICY COUTURE written on the back.”

You both hear a thud on the door and someone running away.

“What happened?” You whisper, but Ghost puts his hand up to stop you. He’s focusing on the sounds behind the door. He looks at his watch one more time.

“Well, why don’t you look at that,” He cheers, “it worked!”

“What worked, sir?”

“Senna leaves,” he explains, “I steeped a bunch into Soap’s tea in the morning as revenge.”

“Senna, what, sir?”

“Laxatives, soldier,” he replies, “they take about eight hours to work.”

“And you waited eight hours to get back to him?” You ask, shocked. You thought he had a short fuse. But, no. This man was calculated.

He shrugs. “I saw him last night sneaking into my room,” he explains, “I figured if he wants to mess with my ass, I might as well mess with his.”

He walks towards the window and picks through the curtain. “Come,” he says, “come look at him as he runs to the other side of the base since the toilets here are,” he brings his hands up and makes air quotes with his fingers, “out of order.”

#simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x y/n #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod ghost #ghost cod

[luvring]

MOMENTS YOU FLUSTER THEM

gn!reader x kageyama, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwaizumi, osamu, aran, sakusa | flip it around baby! we need to fluster more men!!!

KAGEYAMA watches you pat down all of your pockets and reach into your bag. he frowns when you swear under your breath. “are you missing something?” you let out a deep sigh but continue to rummage around. “yeah, i had something to give you,” you complain. tobio’s eyes widen and he stiffens. “oh…uh, am i allowed to help look for it? or, is, is it, can i get a hint?” he stutters and takes a step toward you. “ah!” the exclamation catches him off guard, but you smile at him with your hand still in the bag. “found it.” “oh. oh, that’s good—” “ta-da!” when you finally take your hand out, there’s nothing in it. but tobio’s still surprised at your index finger and thumb shooting a heart in his direction. the heart accompanied by your amused grin get his face to heat up, and his eyes can’t stop darting from your face to your hand. he clears his throat. “i—” he doesn’t know if he should tell you to shut up or walk away. “th...thanks.” “thanks?” “shut up.”

BOKUTO lets out a yelp when he hits his head against the desk, trying to get up after grabbing a dropped pen. you call out from the room over, “ko? you okay?” he stands up properly with a groan, and rubs the top of his head. “yeah, i just hit my head.” there’s a pout on his face when you walk in to check on him and you do your best not to comment on how cute he looks.  “lemme see.” you reach your arms out, gesturing for him to come closer. kotaro reaches you, and you tilt his head down. “what’re you doing, baby?” he asks. instead of answering, you kiss the spot he was rubbing, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away and running a hand through his hair when he looks at you. “does it feel a little better now?” blush is suddenly dusting his cheeks. “yeah, thank you.” but then he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and he shyly asks, “can i have another one?”

AKAASHI has a bad habit of falling asleep with his glasses on. the amount of times he’s woken up to indents from them pushed into his skin is too many to for him to count. you quietly walk in to check on him and almost coo at the sight of your boyfriend curled up in bed, book in his hand. doing your best not to wake him up, you make your way over and kneel in front of him. gently, you take his glasses off, and pull the blanket up to cover him properly. keiji wakes to the feeling of you tucking him in, and does his best to stay still as you press a kiss to his forehead. “have a good nap, keiji. love you,” you whisper sweetly. he listens to you padding out of the room and waits patiently to hear the door click behind you. as soon as the coast is clear, he shoves his face into the cold side of the pillow to try calming down.

OIKAWA’s used to fans offering him gifts from chocolates to one-of-a-kind sweaters. he thought he was immune to surprises, until he spots you walking toward him with your hands behind your back and a grin on your face. “hm? what’s this?” he asks when you stop a few steps in front of him. “guess.” “...guess? is it…my phone charger you stole a few days ago? maybe a very expensive dinner?” “first of all, i put it back. second of all, why would i bring dinner here?” he pouts. “because you love me?” “tooru—i’d say no i don’t but i guess i have to agree today.” you jokingly sigh before pulling out a bouquet of flowers from behind you. “surprise!” tooru blinks, then gapes, maybe for once being lost for words at a present. “i picked each kind myself, and there’s a little card where i wrote down their meanings,” you explain with a smile. his chest tightens—in a good way—and when he looks at you his gaze is softer than usual. tooru sighs before clasping his hands over yours. he hopes you don’t notice the way they tremble a little when he teases, “if i didn’t know better, i’d think you have a crush on me.”

IWAIZUMI doesn’t know how attractive he is sometimes, maybe a lot of the time, really. you wake up to the sound of his morning voice saying “good morning, baby,” and the sight of him in bed beside you. “haji.” hajime groans as he stretches, only furthering your point in your mind.  “yeah?” “you look really handsome right now, y’know.” he freezes mid-stretch and whips his head to look at you. “what?” “you look really handsome,” you repeat yourself in a murmur, preoccupied with staring at your boyfriend. with his stretch over, he reaches to pull the blanket over your head. “hey—” “don’t just say that to me.” “but i’m right. you’re handsome and pretty, you’re like a prince, li—” “stop,” hajime groans and brings the blanket to cover his own face—not out of annoyance, but because if you saw how red he got over a few compliments he thinks he might explode.

OSAMU loves cooking for you, no matter how many days a week he does it. but you know he’s had an especially busy, rough day today, and tell him to sit down so you can get dinner yourself. he grins and sits up properly at the sight of you walking toward him. “thank you, babe, seriously. you’re an angel,” he groans. “pretty sure that would make you a deity or something if one meal is all it takes to be an angel.” you snort. he shifts so you can sit beside him, and reaches for the plate. “wait, wait, wait.” you stop him and move his hand away. osamu raises a brow and stares while you grab a spoonful of the meal. “what are you doin’?” all you do is smile and raise the spoon to his mouth, other hand in position to catch any food that falls. “open up.” “babe, y’don’t have to fe—” “‘samu, open up,” you sing-song to cut him off. osamu softy laughs, incredulous, but surrenders and opens his mouth. he can’t tell if it’s because the food is hot, or because you get another spoonful ready to feed him, but osamu feels an urge to cover his face. “ready for the next one?”

ARAN comes out of the shower to see you curled up in bed and smiles. “i’m done, you can go in whenever you want,” he says as he reaches for his shirt. you hum and push the blanket off. aran’s usually the one flustering you, especially at times like this when he’s shirtless and if you wanted, you could watch him getting ready. but this time it’s your turn as his eyes trail down and linger to the bottom of your shirt when you stretch—where it lifts enough that your stomach peeks out. you groan and don’t move to fix it while you continue to lie in bed, eyes closed for a few more seconds. he's always teased you about staring while he stretched, and being on the other side of things he suddenly really, really understands what you mean when you say something about it is attractive. aran is still staring at your arms above your head by the time you look back at him. “aran?” “what?” he asks a little too quickly. you raise a brow and he scratches the back of his ear before looking away. “nothing. it's nothing.”

SAKUSA’s hair is getting too long, he notes to himself as it decides to fall in front of his eyes again. he huffs in annoyance, but makes no indication that he wants to bother pushing it back. you watch him from the corner of your eye. “your hair’s getting long again, huh?” “yeah, i’ll need to cut it soon.” you hum and stare at the strands slightly covering his view. “not gonna move it out of the way?” kiyoomi sighs and closes his eyes. “later.” his eyes shoot open again when he suddenly feels a hand that isn’t his reach for his hair instead. he watches as you carefully brush it back, messing with it so it’d stay out of his eyes. “you have a hair tie? or a bobby pin?” you ask, holding his hair in place and mindlessly rubbing a thumb against his cheek. kiyoomi stares at you and doesn’t respond, focused on the warmth of your palm against his scalp. “‘omi?” “huh? oh, in my bag. thanks.” he pretends he doesn’t hope you don’t find anything so he can stay in this position a little longer.

🏷️ @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @leexshin @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @@spooky1magazine1bread @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @tooruchiiscribs @curiouslilbeast

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kageyama x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #osamu x reader #aran x reader #sakusa x reader #kageyama tobio #bokuto kotaro #akaashi keiji #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #miya osamu #aran ojiro #sakusa kiyoomi #x reader

[residenthughes]

opera house - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, oral sex (m on f), dirty talk (if you can call it that?), no mention of y/n, pet names (baby, princess)

summary: reading is your favourite pastime. jack makes it harder than anticipated.

notes: so...🫣 this happened. it's a small little thing that started out with me just wanting to write about how pretty jack is only to turn into the respectful pile of filth. don't write smut much so apologies if this isn't to your liking, but hopefully i'll be back with something better. also, the sentence in italics is a quote from the book mentioned in the fic. much love! <3

As the cold November climate nips at your flesh and colours the sky in hues of grey, you nestle in the cosiness of your home, warm and sheltered with your treasured fuzzy socks on as you curl up on your bed with one of the books you’ve been meaning to read. Jack says it’s a bad habit of yours: buying books that collect dust on your shelf, to which you quickly argue that he’s the one enabling your ‘bad habit’ by constantly buying them for you - your Goodreads profile bookmarked in his phone for safe keeping. An endearing act of service, all of which he is no stranger to - gifting said books in the form of a bouquet every time he leaves for a long road trip, taking out the trash because he knows it’s your least favourite chore, curling up with you now, sweetly bundled in between your legs as you two find peace in the silence you share. It’s like a warm hot chocolate on a chilly day like today, your connection smooth and comforting, wrapping you in the warmth of its embrace.

You peer beyond the top of your book, catching an eyeful of the back of Jack’s head and his loose curls, the soft clicks of his gamer control sounding as his eyes focus on the TV screen a few metres ahead. Your sugary thoughts of how endearing your long-term boyfriend can be - always is - overflow like lava, the smile on your face terribly enamoured as your fingers card through his hair, curling the soft locks around your index finger.

Like clockwork, Jack leans into your touch, slouching further into his position in between your thighs, laying a chilly cheek against the flesh of your thighs.

You squirm against the brush of his eyelashes against your skin. “That tickles.”

“Uh huh,” he absently answers, tapping away at his gamer control. “Does this?”

A delicate kiss marks you, Jack’s head going back to laying against your thigh as he directs his attention to the game set out against the TV.

“No,” you blush. “But, that was nice.”

A huff of amusement sounds from Jack and instantly, you know what position you've put yourself in by saying that. “Bet it was. Aren’t you busy with that book of yours?”

You bite back, the muscles of your thighs tightening their grip around your boyfriend. “Sometimes a distraction is necessary.”

The clicks of his gamer control halt and silence envelopes the room, your eyebrow raised as his on-screen character dies as a result of his negligence. 

Jack clears his throat, his body shuffling against yours as he readjusts his position, restarting the game. “Maybe you’re right about that, baby.”

A pout remains settled against your lips as your eyes squint at your partner, your suspicion towards his action not enough to distract you from the habitual motion of your fingers as they thread through Jack’s hair. You raise your opened book back to eye-level, not batting an eyelash.

It’s when you’ve gotten perhaps three sentences into your book that Jack breaks the silence. “What’s the story about?”

“The book I’m currently reading?” Jack hums in reply. “Oh, it’s a spinoff of a series I’ve been meaning to read. It’s basically a college romance story about a girl aspiring to be on the national ice hockey team and her getting help from this guy she met years ago, called Ryder. Unexpectedly smutty, 10/10 would recommend.”

Jack laughs with you at your nasty comment, body vibrating against yours as his chuckle courses through him. You lower your book again.

“You and your smutty books,” Jack snickers to himself, eyes trained ahead of him. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “In what ways is it unexpectedly smutty?”

Despite how long you’ve been with Jack and the comfort you've established living alongside him, the question does make you a bit flustered, crimsoning as you look away, avoiding any view of him. “Well, it’s pretty raunchy up front. Like how they’ve done some naughty things in the shower - quite tame, but I’ve also just read that Ryder did some things when they went to go see the opera.”

“What things?” Jack asks, point blank.

Now, it’s time for you to clear your throat. Cheeks tinted. “Do I even have to say, Jack?”

The pause screen displays itself against the TV, the clicks of his controller no more as Jack shifts once again within your grasp, body turning as he lays his stomach against the comfort of the mattress, pools of azure staring into yours. Your heart thuds in your chest.

“Yes, I wanna hear what things you’re reading,” he says easily as if he isn’t inciting violence in your chest right now, the corner of his pink lips curved softly as he tilts his head against your thigh. “All of it.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room escalates from toasty warm to scorching hot, a familiar flame in the pits of your stomach igniting as you’ve somehow found yourself in such a predicament - backed into a corner and at a loss for words.

“He,” you stammer, averting your eyes because all Jack’s eyes do is look at you, his burning gaze elevating the heat that dances against the surface of your cheeks. “He fingers her in the opera.”

You whisper that last part but Jack hears you judging by the faint chuckle coming from him. “He fingers who at the opera?”

He accents his point with a kiss against your thigh, this time the gesture conjuring a polar opposite sensation as goosebumps riddle your skin. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t known you were holding, looking again at your partner to still find him looking right back at you, eyelids heavy and eyes dark. You have to look away.

You gulp. “Gigi - her name is Gigi.”

You finally muster some sort of courage you’ve had to find within your situation when you hear Jack shift again, eyes capturing your boyfriend’s arms coming up to circle around your thighs, eyes never leaving yours as his hands find purchase against your skin, thumbs absently caressing the surface much like you did earlier with his hair. 

“Is that short for something?” Jack accents his question with another kiss, his touch searing. 

“No,” you gulp, voice foolishly unsteady as your eyes study Jack’s movements with caution. “I mean, Ryder jokes that her name is Gisele, but that’s-”

“Guys like to tease,” he kisses a little higher against your thigh as if to prove his point. “Especially with girls they like.”

“I don’t think that’s appreciated, Jack.” 

You’re talking about a completely different thing now - a conversation within a conversation. 

“I don’t know about that, baby,” whilst still staring at you, his teeth manage to nip at a small sliver of your skin, numbness plaguing your limbs. “Read it to me.”

Your brows knit together, puzzled as ever. “What?”

“You heard me,” declares Jack, his kisses abundantly littering the expanse of your thigh as your mind begins to spiral. “Read it to me.”

Your mind is frazzled, brain working overtime to comprehend the sudden turn of events, all the while Jack takes it upon himself to sit pretty in between your legs and touch you as if made from porcelain - delicate and tender, a sharp contrast to the emotions bathing you in lust. Jack glances up at you one more time, button nose nuzzling against your inner thigh as he gives you a knowing look, his lips preoccupied. You obey wordlessly, uneasy eyes still on him as you bring your book back upwards, its previous position altered so you can manage to steal a look at Jack out of your peripheral.

Out loud, you begin to read to him the aftermath of the opera scene, a more tame development following as you manage to get through the next page unscathed. Jack’s kisses at first, are a bit distracting and have your voice betray you, but they’re sporadic and by the time you’ve turned the page, you’re already used to the sensation. You even achieve some comfort in his touch, but that doesn’t last long because when you’re in the midst of your storytelling, you feel Jack’s fingers hook around your shorts’ waistband.

Immediately, you lower your book, a chill running down your spine. “What are you doing?”

He bats his long eyelashes, almost mockingly. “Listening to you.”

“Jack.” For once, your tone is firm, watching aimlessly as he inches the material past your hip bones.

“Lift your hips a little or I won’t be able to get these off you,” he insists, a convincing smile settled amongst his charming features that express his pleasure in this all. “Unless you wanna keep them on?”

It’s a rhetorical question, a trap set up to see if you’ll bite and despite it all, the excitement of what’s to come leads you right where Jack wants you. Lifting your hips with an embarrassing ache in between your legs as you lie in anticipation, continuing on with your reading as Jack goes back to teasing you endlessly.

“Gettin’ pretty worked up over this story, huh?” echoes Jack. “I can tell.”

To demonstrate the meaning of his words, he blows a cool breeze against you that makes you mewl and draw your thighs closer at the sensation. Heart thudding against your chest, your bewildered gaze gravitates back to Jack who kisses you through the fabric of your underwear and has you fumbling for words.

“I didn’t say you could stop reading,” Jack removes his lips, peering up at you with a look that melts you into a pathetic pool of yourself. “You stop, I stop. Sound fair?”

That sounds anything but fair, but who are you to say so? He clearly holds all the power in this situation, you dancing right in the palm of his hand. This has escalated beyond a point of no return and you’re not backing out now so you oblige, opening your mouth to read but uttering out nothing more than a moan as Jack pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers gliding through your wet folds. 

“So satisfying to tease you when your reactions are this good,” he rasps, followed by a low chuckle as his calloused fingertip circles around your clit, eliciting the buck of your hips and the waiver in your voice. “Anyways, you were saying?”

You’re grasping for straws here, trying to tie yourself down to the little sanity (and patience) you have as your frantic eyes try and find where you last left off, straying away every couple of words as Jack does nothing more than use his fingers to distract you. 

“Words, baby. Use your words,” he instructs, and it’s the sexist thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “We follow...”

“We follow..the people,” you falter, voice wobbly. “We follow the people in…”

Somewhere in that sentence, a hefty exhale blows past your mouth as Jack moves two fingers into you, the curl of them accentuating the end of your sentence with a moan. 

“Always sound so pretty with my fingers in you,” muses Jack, tone low and memorised as he works said fingers in and out of you, your slick building all around his fingers. “Can’t get enough of it.”

You do a subpar job of reading the next few lines as Jack’s fingers pick up the pace, moving deeper in you to milk every reaction you give him mixed in with your slurred words. Your attempt at remaining coherent diminishes completely when Jack’s lips find their way to your swollen clit, a light press of the lips against the hood of your clit before he’s sucking on the bud.

Your words come out in stutters, voice trembling pathetically as he wraps you around his fingers, making a mess of you in the form of kitten licks against your clit and nibble fingers coaxing your building orgasm out of you. His motions stop every time you get lost in the feeling of him sucking your clit, fingers tangled in his locks of hair. And with a whine, you compel with his previous instructions, reading along with the world’s prettiest distraction in between your legs. 

Somehow, you make it to the next page without much delay, Jack’s mouth trained on you as he laps up every bit of you, tongue drawing all kinds of figures against or around your clit. You’re clenching around his fingers more than you can forgive yourself for, body running hot as the sounds of your slick echo throughout the room, the pit in your stomach only growing.

“Just like that, princess,” he hums against your clit, the sensation drawing a tight-lipped whimper from you as your hips follow the vibration. “How many more pages until the chapter’s finished? I don’t think you’re gonna last long.”

And, it’s all true. Body twitching, toes curling and cunt spasming around his fingers that curl in you. Your brain can barely keep up at this point. “So many.”

Jack tsks, his thumb replacing his lips against your clit as he moves it in slow circles. “You think you can hold on till then?”

You answer truthfully, however embarrassing it may be. “No.” 

He laughs briefly when he hits that spongy part inside of you, your back bowing off the stacked pillows behind you as Jack continues to hit the exact spot that has you seeing stars. 

“How ‘bout a compromise?” Jack starts, your hips lifting to meet the insistent thrust of his fingers. “You tell me how badly you wanna come, and you get to ditch the book whilst I make you come. Sounds good?”

An awfully generous offer considering how your brain has turned to mush and can barely keep up with any of the inked words on the page right now. So, you agree. Enthusiastically.

“Please,” you mewl with a puckered forehead, gazing down at your beautiful boyfriend with his tousled hair and glossy lips. A sight for sore eyes. “Please, J. I wanna come.”

“How bad?” He doesn’t miss a beat, eyes challenge yours.

“So bad,” you keen when his other hand lays over your stomach, applying pressure to the spongy spot that teethers you on the very edge. “Fuck, it’s only you. Only you can…make me feel good. Please, J.” 

The begging works. It always works and with that, you drop your book, long discarded amidst the mess of the sheets as your fingers tangle in Jack’s hair as he sucks roughly on your clit again. Rocking up against his mouth, the angle of his fingers renders you completely at his mercy, uttering stuttery breaths as he brings you over the edge, applying pressure in all the right places because he knows your body better than you do, gushing slick flowing from you as you ride out your high, brain reduced to syrup. 

He doesn’t even wait before you’ve caught your breath that he sends you a flirtatious wink in between your quivering thighs. “So, opera date next week?”

#jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #smut #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #jack hughes #residenthughes

[synapticconstruction]

Look doing work isn’t hard for me, It’s just that I have to grasp the concept of me being in University now like how that fuck did that happen

#I can read the modules for our next session I can do that #I can test out the tools yes I can do that #4 pages 4 exercises #buy the supplies - get it done right #I can make a composition with index cards and connect the lines #five lines and three lines of varying sizes #and learn the principles of the exercise #I can read the list of instructions and take in my surroundings and I can try and observe how an individual does what #I am capable of writing my favorite dish from my country of origin #to repeat an answer however is what I hope isn’t a bother #this isn’t hard #the days in which they are due are from 3 to 5 days apart #dare I say I just can’t fanthom making it this far #yadda yadda I’ll be alright #the first step is that I get up from bed #I’ll go walking later until a good portion is done

[sphireath-wisp]

#Anything for my Favorite Lady

Sypnosis: Stupidly rich guys always spoil you, giving you everything you want and more <3

Warnings: The title is just a lyric from a song and the reader is still gender neutral, not proofread

Featuring: REO MIKAGE!!, Sae Itoshi, Micheal Kaiser x GN! reader

Reo Mikage

One glance was all Reo needed to tell that you wanted the matching necklaces on display. Just moments ago, you and Reo planned to buy something small to eat before leaving the mall. Now, was dragging you by the wrist inside the jewelry store, fingers intertwined with yours.

By the time you register it, he's already speaking to the lady at the counter. His lips are curled into a charming smile as he glances back at you, "Do you want the silver or gold ones?"

"Reo, you really don't need to." Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as the lady returned back with both variations for the both of you to try. She gently opens the box and your eyes sparkle at the sight of it, all the more reason to buy it in Reo's books.

Reo gently pinches the chain of the necklace between his index and thumb fingers, holding it up against your neck as he puts it on for you without you needing to ask. He even brushes your hair away, voice soft when he asks if it's too tight on you - god, what a gentleman.

His fingers linger for a little while, tracing your skin and jaw. His gaze softens, eyes glued to you in a way that almost makes you melt. "...It looks stunning on you, babe." You've left him speechless.

After a small moment of silence, Reo pulls out his wallet. He turns his head to the lady, looking at you still as if he couldn't take his eyes off of you. The voice of the lady snaps him back to reality the moment she asks which variation the both of you decided on.

"We'll take both." He receives a nudge and a shocked gasp from you. "That's too much, Reo."

Reo's already paying. His credit card and love has no limit when it comes to you.

You bite your lip as you conjure up a few retorts in your head, anything to stop him from spending so much on you even though you knew he wouldn't budge a single centimeter. You relax and a defeated sigh is the aftermath of you giving in.

He holds the bag and thanks the lady, leaving with you by his side, content with his purchase. On the other hand, you seem to feel... quite the opposite. Lowering your voice into a whisper, the words that were originally stuck in your throat find their way out. "You don't have to spend so much on me, Reo."

"Hm? Why shouldn't I?" Reo inquires as if he isn't well aware of the answer, head tilting to the side oh-so-innocently. "What else would I do with all of my money?"

"You could... pshhh, I don't know, invest? All I'm saying is that you really don't need to waste so much money on me." At first, you wanted to say 'save your money', but he already had more than enough.

"But, babe," He gives you the most dreamy-eyed look and, oh lord, you were already being swayed by that cheeky grin. "You're my best investment. You're gonna marry me, so I need to spend a little more to make you mine, right?"

In vain, you try to hold back the smile creeping up on your face. "You're so cheesy."

Sae Itoshi

"What do you mean you didn't use my card?" You watch Sae's eyes narrow at you as if he was offended, as if you had committed some kind of heinous, unforgivable crime against him. 'How dare you not use my card?' was the message you were receiving from that disappointed look he was giving you, despite not uttering a single word.

You scratch the back of your neck, chuckling awkwardly. "It's just a small snack for us to share. I rarely get to buy these, so I wanted to treat the both of us." You glance down at the bag, inside is a box nicely tied together with a bow. You felt a little guilty for spending so much on just a dessert, but it's fine!

Unluckily for you, Sae could see right through you and that pang of guilt you felt so deeply. Though, before getting to the mushy, sappy comforting (he was avoiding it), Sae was determined to discover why you avoided using his card.

"You have my card in your wallet, don't you? The black one?" You nod in response, but it only leads to further pestering. "I gave that card to you for a reason, why aren't you using it?"

That scowl on his face only highlights how serious he is about this. He only knows how to use that colorful vocabulary of his to be frank and straightforward, even harsh. Thus, Sae resorted to actions instead of words, gifts instead of compliments. He'd rather go back and play in Japan than let you feel guilty about spending such an insignificant amount of money.

You felt like you were being chided, like a kid who was being reprimanded by their doting parent. "It wasn't super expensive. Plus, we can share it, just the two of us." Maybe coaxing him with sweets will work?

"I asked you why aren't you using my card." So blunt.

"You told me to use it however I please." Fire against fire.

"I told you to use it. You clearly aren't."

"It's for..." Ah, shit, he had a valid point. From the time he gave it to you to now, you haven't even pulled it out of your wallet once. "...emergency purposes! When I really, really need it."

Sae's eyebrows furrow. He frowns, but in a way that tells you he isn't angry, just upset. Is there something stopping you from using it? Do you feel like you'll owe him something if you decide to use it?

"Please, (Name)." You feel his nimble fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, his gentle touch leaving you stunned for a slight second. "Don't feel guilty about spending my money. It's meant for you to indulge."

You notice his teal eyes glance around first before linking your lips with his. A sweet kiss, more filling than any expensive dessert, is shared between you two for just a moment, but he got you right where wanted you in a matter of seconds. You were convinced.

The kiss ends on an unfinished note. Before you can register it, he holds the bag and "coincidentally" slips his hand into yours. "Clear?" Sae asks, ensuring that you got the message.

"Yessir," A slight hint of pink finds itself on your cheeks and spreads to the tip of your ears.

Sae was more than happy to notice a few charges on his bank account after that.

Michael Kaiser

"Oh? So this is what you want?" Kaiser peeks over your shoulder, the intoxicating scent of his cologne entering your nose and alerting you of his presence.

"Yeah... too expensive?" You sarcastically ask and add in a sigh for dramatic effect, even though you knew damn well the amount of money in his bank account rivals his ego. Chuckling faintly, you watch him examine the intricate bottle of perfume. He replies oh-so-nonchalantly without checking the price, "Not at all. It's my treat."

Usually, you wouldn't let him spoil you to this extent. However, it was your birthday... and the idea of wringing him dry out of money was too appealing to pass on.

Or so you planned.

Recently, the both of you had been strolling around high-end stores - luxury stores you had gotten used to buying from thanks to Kaiser - and skimming through what they had on display. You tried to test the waters, picking up something that cost what you thought was an ungodly amount of money in front of you.

Instead of gasping or at least seeming hesitant, that doubtful look you were hoping for was nowhere in sight. In fact, he seemed unbothered by the price. You're at a loss for words when you hear him mumble under his breath, "That's it?" Your plan was backfiring, all thanks to some rich, pretentious, arrogant, white guy whom you loved dearly.

Whatever, it could be some tough guy act, right? Plus, you'd been eyeing this perfume for a few weeks now. It's your birthday, so why not indulge a little?

"But..." Kaiser's usual charismatic smirk falters and your eyes light up. Is this a sign? "Meine Liebe, can I get you something else?"

"Huh? Why not? You said it wasn't that expensive." You pouted, just to seem a little more convincing. His usual teasing smile returns, an arm wrapping around your waist as he sets the perfume back on the table. "Secret," Kaiser responds after a moment of silence.

"Alright then," You were satisfied with that. If he really couldn't afford it, you wouldn't push it any further. If that was his way of saving face, you could understand. "It's too cheap anyways, let's pull it up a notch." You blink when he says that, "Huh?"

But of course, nothing goes as expected when Kaiser's around.

Right after that visit, you were dragged by Kaiser to a buffet, that happy-go-lucky grin on his face as he proceeded to burn off the money in his wallet on you. He pampered you with not only his gifts but his attention. Kaiser was never reserved when it came to PDA, but it felt as if he was practically smothering you with kisses today.

Finally, when you're in his car, about to drive home, you notice a peculiar box on the passenger seat - your seat.

"Is this my birthday gift?" You unconsciously smile, getting comfortable in the passenger seat as you wait for Kaiser's signal to open it. He nods and you slowly lift the lid of the box, bated breath as you unveil... a bottle of perfume?

"This is... the same perfume from this afternoon."

"I noticed you eyeing it for a while now, so I bought it in advance a few days ago. It'd be awkward if I bought you the perfume earlier in the afternoon and then gave you this as a birthday gift." It all adds up. You're left speechless as you cradle the perfume in your hands.

"Happy birthday, Meine Liebe." He notices you pursing your lips before giggling. "Thanks, babe. This is the best gift ever."

#blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk #~𝕾𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝕸𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖘~ #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage #reo x reader #itoshi sae x reader #bllk reo #reo x you #reo x y/n #sae itoshi x reader #sae x you #sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x y/n #sae x y/n #reo mikage x you #reo mikage x y/n #michael kaiser x you #kaiser blue lock #bllk kaiser #micheal kaiser #kaiser x reader #micheal kaiser x reader

[allbark-no-bite]

Don’t Say Love || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: you notice Rafe is different in the mornings, softer in someways. Definitely not in others

word count: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ smut, wouldn’t consider anything in here a OBX3 spoiler

author’s note: this one’s pretty short and sweet. enjoy :)

Propped up only by my own elbow and a tangle of his limbs, I caress his timelessly drawn face. There's a half smile underneath my fingers, and I pass my index finger over his mouth. My finger ventures past his lips, pushing them aside to reveal glossy white teeth. Rafe reels his head back slightly as to ward off my ridiculous ministrations.

"What are you doing?" His tone verges on the rhetorical side, obviously possessing little interest in entertaining whatever I'm up to but willing to amuse me for now. It's the least he could do after being inside me just a few hours ago.

Nevertheless, I am relentless, as with all things in life and when he returns to my reach, rather than answering him, I pursue my venture again. This time he allows it, his lip curling upwards to indulge me further. My finger runs along the slick gloss of his pearly teeth — teeth that have both scraped along the tender skin of my throat and aligned on occasion to remind me of just what made him so attractive. I rather adored his pristinely bleached smile and it's viscous canines.

"I love you," I whisper to him. It means no more than the obscenities that I moaned into his mouth last night as he ground his hips into me. It's not a dramatic proclamation of my affection for him, nor a confession in the slightest. I just—I like him. I like him differently than I have ever liked anyone else.

He breaks into a smile and scoffs, almost laughing as he falls backs onto the mattress. "Don't say that," he admonishes gently.

I bite the bottom of my lip to keep from laughing myself. This whole thing was ridiculous. Turning to catch his gaze again, we smile at each other, lips pressed together to convey what we won't say out loud. Something inside me knows he won't be this way tomorrow. He won't share this same look with me, won't be this gentle or placid again.

The thing is, I would go all in if he let me. Would place all my cards on the table if he said he wanted me to. He needs a four? Sure, I've got a four. What else? I would willingly give him everything.

Laying in his bed together the morning after a party is an occurrence that has become more and more common over the past month. Admittedly a welcome one. We're not a item, probably never will be, but it's nice to think that he's mine for now.

With Rafe, things between us are so utterly simple. I don't think I've ever had so much fun with one person. And it's not even that he's so entirely special or even the love of my life. He's cocky and charming and a bit of a jerk at times, but I like that about him.

Sometimes, while we're laying in the darkness together, he tells me that if he had grown up differently he would be less of a nervous wreck and more honest. I tell him that I grew up mostly alone, in a small little house with my alcohol obsessed father, who was still growing up himself when he became a dad. That nothing was ever enough, but how was I supposed to know the difference? I tell him that his family is alright because at least he has siblings and a father who loves him, even if that love is questionable.

He smiles softly and pulls my hand away from his mouth, kissing the palm of it tenderly. His lips grace the inside of my wrist and warmth spreads through my naked body. I slip my leg over his waist, pulling myself on top of him. The white sheets that have been doing very little to cover our bareness slip further down my waist — I am sure much to his enjoyment. His broad chest expands as he breathes in, and I watch the steady rise and fall of it.

"Quit doing that."

"Doing what?" he asks, his voice still gruff with sleep, wondering what I could possibly be on about this time.

"That panty-dropping smile. It's ridiculous."

Twinkling, his blue eyes gaze up at me, as if storing the image of me to his memory. His billowy white shirt is barley enough to cover the top of my thighs from where I'm straddled over him, pining his hips to the plush mattress. The light coming in from the early morning sun seeps in through the curtains, slowly swallowing everything in his bedroom whole and washing us in gold.

"It worked, didn't it?" he chuffs, lazily sliding a warm palm up my bare thigh. Timidly, he hooks a finger on the edge of the sheet bunched around my waist and tugs it back slightly. Without an ounce of shame, his eyes dip down to indulge in my bareness. "God, you're so fucking sexy," he groans, his head falling back onto the pillow for dramatic effect.

Laughing, I lean down to kiss his puffy lips, and he graciously meets me part of the way. I pull away to press my lips to his chin, and then his jaw, and then his collar bone, spending no more time on the next than the first until I reach his shoulder. This time, I kiss the firm muscle there, lingering to drag my nose along his skin. His scent engulfs me – manly, with the lingering traces of expensive cologne and the musk of sex.

With all the tenderness that I can muster, I attach my lips to the hollow of his throat, close my eyes and breathe him in. I want to remember him. All of him. My tongue smooths across his salty skin, working to soothe the already bruising flesh. Beside my ear, the swallow of his throat echos clearly, but he doesn't budge beneath me. His skin tastes salty and raw, unsullied by the usual cleanly redolence of woody soap and washing detergent. I continue to suck until his taste is tinged coppery, and only then do I release him. The imprint remains after I pull away, the impression red and tender on his throat.

There, in the bruising flesh of his skin, is my only claim to him.

In a way, it is impressive — his charisma. He is so good at giving me nothing at all and making me feel as though I have everything. He breathes my name and it sounds like his religion. I'm an atheist, truthfully, but I have come to believe that religion is mostly subjective anyhow. I'm certain the golden cross around Rafe's neck means very little to him.

His jaw cracks open in a yawn, revealing pink gums and pearly teeth again as he reaches his arms over his head and flexes his legs beneath me. I reach out to graze my knuckles along his jaw, reveling in the barely there bristles and the way the sun catches on them, turning blonde to gold. In the morning light, his eyes shine wet with a combination of bleary affection and sleep.

After stretching his body into wakefulness, Rafe grabs my face in his large hands and draws me towards him, kissing my forehead, then my nose, and then the corners of my mouth. His thumbs caress my cheekbones, petting aside lose strands of hair.

"I've got some things to take care of today," he informs me vaguely while gently removing me from the entanglement of his body. Suddenly he's not underneath me anymore, and I'm left on his pristine mattress alone.

It's my turn to stare as he shuffles around the room. Smiling smugly to myself, I watch as he tugs on a fresh pair of boxers from the floor, the material fitting snuggly around him.

"Yeah?" I hum, trying not to sound too disappointed. "What kinds of things?" I really don't care, just want to ask him to stay a while longer, but I'm not sure I should push my luck.

"Family stuff," he answers mindlessly, effectively putting a stop the the conversation as he turns away. His retreating back gives me a perfect display of his sinewy body as he walks into the connecting bathroom. I wait, listening to the sound of water splash into the sink and Rafe brushing his teeth before I muster up the will to get out of his warm bed.

The title is cold against my bare feet, and I whine at the unpleasantness of the sensation. Immediately seeking the comfort of Rafe's warmth again, I curl around him from behind, my face pressed into his neck. He hums from around his toothbrush, one palm leant against the counter as he scrubs with the other.

Presented with the opportunity in which both of his hands are occupied, my own hand that is splayed across his stomach slides downwards. His blue eyes flicker up to mine in the reflection of the mirror. Teasingly, I cup my hand to palm his crotch.

He's already hard, straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. His nostrils flare, toothbrush still in his mouth as my hand slides back up, fingers slipping under the waistband of his boxers, warming to his skin.

Rafe dips down to the sink to spit and rinse his mouth before straightening, both palms gripping the counter. His chest heaves, muscles sliding over his ribs when I take him in my hand. He's heavy and throbbing. There is nothing deceiving about what's being concealed within the confines of his pants.

"You gotta go?" I ask softly, kissing between his tensed shoulder blades as my thumb swipes over his weeping tip. His hips stutter into my hand at the motion.

Rafe swallows heavy, head dipped down as he shakes it. "No, no," he dismisses, his voice thick. He clears his throat. "If you stop now I'll never get that thing tucked into my pants."

I nearly laugh against his back, pressing my lips against his impossibly warm skin again. His blue eyes narrow at me jadedly through the mirror. Not funny, is what that look means.

I pump him lazily a few times, twisting my wrist as my hand slides up and down his shaft. He's already slick with precum and likely very close to coming. There's an a large portion of it already leaking through the front of his navy blue boxers.

"Fuuuuck, baby," he moans, tucking his nose into his shoulder to get a grip on himself. "Jesus—fuck me."

With a whimper that's a dignified as he can muster, his body jerks when I rub my thumb over the swollen pink head. He's breathing hard at this point, trying to breathe and restrain himself at the same time. He won't let go until I say so.

"Good boy," I murmur softly, my lips attached to his shoulder, the top of his spine — the spine that I'm noticing is becoming less and less ridged with each passing week. With his dad off in Guadeloupe, his posture has lost the intensity that it usually carries. His brow has softened too, and he smiles a bit more often.

“You're a good boy, Rafe," I repeat. He is. He's good to me. He can be a good guy when he wants to be. I think people are so focused on this preconceived idea of him that he just goes with it rather than fighting it.

He whines, with his eyes closed, jaw slack, and head hanging down. I change the pace, alternating between pumping him until he's clinging to the sink and going so slow that his hips buck up into my fist, chasing what I won't give him.

"Please, (y/n)," he finally asks, his voice strained as he pants.

I hum, my body lounging nonchalantly against his back, admiring his ability to keep his composure for so long. He's beautiful like this, golden skin flushed red, chest heaving. So much to be trusted with in my hands.

The moment I give him the okay, he's spilling into my hand, his hot release dripping down my fingers and I'm sure the front of his boxers. He sags against the sink, body limp and boneless as the high of his orgasm fades away.

Smiling privately to myself at his sudden lethargy, I draw my hand away as he gathers himself. There's a crumpled towel on the floor that I use to wipe my hand. I’m not entirely sure it was clean in the first place.

Rafe nabs it from me when I’m done and uses it to clean himself up as well. Then, as if he was not doubled over, receiving a handjob against the sink moments before, he splashes cold water on his face and slips out of the bathroom. Through the doorway, I can see him opening and closing drawers as he searches for clothes.

"Very dignified," I hum watching him tug his pants on out of the corner of my eye. "Coming in your boxers."

"Shut up."

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #obx x reader #obx smut

[lemonlover1110]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Satoru Gojo

Satoru Gojo NSFW Week 2023 Masterlist

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Day 5: Breeding Kink, Lactation

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Nipple Play, Lactation, Breeding Kink, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Summary: After the birth of your second daughter, everything seems to be chaotic. Luckily, you have a night where you can relax and unwind with your husband.

❤︎ Gojo NSFW Week Twitter - AO3 Collection ❤︎

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

There’s nothing Satoru enjoys more than to come home to his wonderful life. He has a simple routine: get home, greet his wife and daughter, help his wife out with as much as he can, spend time with his daughter, eat dinner, put his daughter to sleep, and finally spend the rest of his free time with his wife before going to bed. The routine changed though when his second daughter was born.

Everything was much more… Hectic. He comes home and he can’t properly greet his wife and his daughter because there’s a screaming baby and you’re trying to calm it down while your eldest daughter tries to drown out the baby’s screams. His eldest is so engulfed by the television that she doesn’t bother greeting her father properly, and you’re just trying your best.

Your first was so calm, really nothing like her little sister. It prompted you to have another, but unfortunately, she’s not as calm. You get adjusted though, and your youngest becomes calmer. Until she’s finally an angel baby, just like your eldest was. 

It makes Satoru want another baby. Even though your baby is only six months old, he wants to try for another. But he knows if he just springs the question up on you, you’ll refuse to have another baby. So he plans a very special date night, leaving the kids with your parents and then taking you to an expensive restaurant then taking you to a five star hotel to spend the night. 

You’re barely in the room when Satoru’s lips land on yours, his tongue not wasting a minute as it swipes your bottom lip and then enters your mouth. His tongue presses against yours while his hands look for the zipper of your dress. God, he just wants to rip the dress off your body but he knows you spent a fortune on it– Well, technically he did, he pays for your cards.

“I need you so fucking bad.” He says, pulling away from the kiss. He finally finds the zipper and undoes it. You let the dress fall to the floor while you move to the bed. He’s kissing your neck while his hand unhooks your bra. He slides it off before throwing it elsewhere. His lips kiss your neck, and they attach and suck on that sweet spot that makes you weak. 

You lay down on the bed, and he continues kissing down your body. Just as he’s about to kiss your breasts, he notices some milk fall from your teat. Satoru bites down on his lip before he licks his lips. He licks up the milk, his fingers then pinching your nipple to watch as more milk comes out. His lips kiss yours before he asks, “Can I suck on them, baby?”

“They’re all yours tonight.” You answer, and he kisses down until he gets to your nipple. His tongue circles around it before his mouth wraps around it and he begins to suck. He doesn’t know why, but as he sucks your tit and gets to drink your milk, his cock gets so fucking hard.

You bite down on your lip, holding back on moaning as your husband sucks on your breast. His index finger and thumb pinch your other nipple. Your hand moves down, pushing your panties to the side to play with yourself as Satoru unlatches from your puffy nipple and kisses to latch onto your other.

You run your finger through your folds, gathering your slick before you begin to play with your clit. You feel your husband’s moans vibrate on your breast. God, if you had known that he’d be enjoying this so much, you would’ve let him suck on your lactating breasts sooner. 

Satoru can’t seem to get enough, going back and forth between your breasts, but he also needs to fuck you so bad. He’s in pain, he needs to feel you wrapped around his cock. He continues sucking while his hand goes to his belt, unbuckling it. Your hand goes into his pants, wrapping around his length and slowly stroking it and his hips twitch. He moans more and more and it feels so fucking good.

When he finally unlatches, he pulls his pants and briefs down. His tip is leaking precum, and your thumb spreads it before your hand strokes his cock. Satoru bites down his lip before he tells you, “I need to feel you so fucking bad.”

“Fuck me, Toru.” You tell him, removing your hand from your clit. Satoru’s tip runs through your folds before slowly inserting his cock into you. You shut your eyes and bite down on your lip as his cock stretches you out. When he bottoms out, he gives you a minute to adjust to him, until you say, “Please move.”

Satoru begins to move his hips, moving slowly but steadily picking up speed. You look so fucking pretty while you’re taking his cock, especially when you finally part your lips to let your moans into the air. You feel so fucking good around him, he can’t control himself.

There’s nothing Satoru loves more than the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock. Satoru loves it so much. His only thought in mind right now is knocking you up, and he mutters, “Need to knock you up, baby.”

“Toru…” You moan, your back arches as you take it all. He hits all the right spots and it’s driving you insane. Your hands grip the bed sheets as Satoru’s thrusts get faster and faster. “It’s so fucking good!”

“I need to make you a mommy again.” He says, one hand goes down to play your clit. Your walls begin to squeeze around him, and he swears he’s in heaven. He watches some milk drip down from your breasts and he makes it his mission to lick it up. His mouth latches onto your tit again.

“Fuck!” You get louder and louder, and you feel as your orgasm approaches. You shut your eyes as you take it all. Satoru unlatches, and focuses on just fucking you as well as telling you how much he wants to knock you up.

“Need to see you all big and round with my baby, please.” He sounds whiny as he begs, and you get tighter around him with his every word. You moan loudly as you finally reach your climax, and he nearly comes right there but he can contain himself. “Let me knock you up, give me another baby.”

“Oh, Satoru.” Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. His thrusts begin to get sloppy, and you know that he’s near his release. It’s not going to be your only round of the night, you have the entire night free, you’ll obviously keep going.

“Gonna knock you up, baby.” He says, and with that his cum fills you up. And the man doesn’t pull out until he makes sure every drop of his cum is inside of you.

When he pulls out, his lips meet yours in a short kiss. Two fingers are pushing the cum that drips out of you, and he tells you,

“Let’s have another baby.”

#gojonsfwweek2023 #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru smut #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut

[draconic-desire]

DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)

Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!

Incident #2 — The Wager

Aventurine knows your angry footsteps from a mile away as you shove your way through the Penaconian casino and straight to his table.

He has plenty of time to react, but he sits back in bemused silence as you slap his hand, sending aces and spades flying across the table and fluttering to the floor.

You are livid. Aventurine cannot help but chuckle at your adorable expressions as he begins to concoct a plan. After all, emotional betters tend to be reckless.

“Damn, and that was a good hand, too.”

You grit your teeth at his lackadaisical dismissal. “Screw your game. Are you going to tell me why there were IPC goons posted outside my apartment yet again this morning?”

He folds his hands and tilts his head innocently, a smirk painting his lips. “You assume I had something to do with that?”

“Don’t play dumb!” The rein on your temper is hanging on by a thread. You take a deep breath to reset yourself, then place both palms on the table to brace yourself. “What do you want?”

By this point, the others at the table have enough common sense to flee, leaving the two of you alone. The sounds of the slot machines and cheers of the casino-goers echo through the charged atmosphere between you.

“Darling, I think I’ve made that painstakingly obvious.” Before you can react, he grips one of your wrists and pulls you down so you are leaning across the table, face inches from his own. He runs a gloved finger along your cheek, licking his bottom lip. “Have you finally come to concede?”

You narrow your eyes but do not struggle—yet. “You fucking wish.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” he drawls, much to your chagrin. “If not to acquiesce to my desires, then what brings your lovely presence here? Care to take a seat?” He motions, of course, to his lap.

You inhale sharply and speak before you lose your courage, temper, or both. “I want to make a wager with you.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly; you’ve either surprised or excited him. Neither bode well for you.

“One game. We both know what we want from it.”

“Ah ah, I’ll need some clarification as to what I’m actually betting on,” Aventurine teases as he begins to reassemble the deck of cards, all while maintaining your eye contact.

Aeons, he’s actually going to make you spell it out. “I win, I get my out from you and the IPC. I get to leave Penacony and never look back. If I lose…” Your throat collapses for a moment before you spit out, “You win me.”

Aventurine releases you, leaning back in his chair. He grabs the newly formed deck of cards and begins shuffling. “I accept. But, since I have more to lose here—” You begin to protest, but he quickly tuts you into silence, “I will be the one choosing the game. Deal?” He extends his hand, golden rings glinting. You think you can hear the tick tick tick of his watch, counting down to your end.

You look over his expression, his body language, the smug smile. He’s hiding his ace, you can tell, but what choice do you have?

Slowly, you sink into the seat across from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs, reeling his hand in with an exaggerated pout. “In that case, we’ll be playing Maverick.”

Your accelerated heartbeat calms ever so slightly. That’s one game you’ve heard of. A game of pure luck rather than skill. You can work with that.

“The rules are simple.” He lays two cards, face down, in front of you. “Your goal is to guess a number that falls within these two cards. If you’re in the correct range? You walk out of this casino and never see me ever again.”

Your heart soars, but quickly falters when you spot the mischievous glint in his irises. “But, if you’re wrong and your number falls outside…” His thumb and index finger form the shape of a pistol, which he pretends to fire into your heart with a dramatic bang.

“Your heart is mine.”

No backing down.

He gestures between you and the cards, prompting you ahead. That smirk never falters.

Glancing between the two cards, you go with your gut. Defiantly holding his breathtaking blue and pink gaze, you speak aloud your favorite single digit number.

Aventurine hums and flips both cards simultaneously.

Two king of spades stare back at you mockingly.

“Looks like I win.”

#yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere #yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #yanderecore #yandere imagines #hsr drabbles #hsr headcanons

[renku]

Catering Demand and Need

Loossemble Yeojin x Male Reader

“Yeojin, what are you doing down there?”

“Nothing, oppa... You took so long to get here,” Yeojin playfully twirls her hair while still exposing her thighs out, “I’m kinda lonely here without my unnies...”

“Now’s not the time, Yeojin.”

Yeojin pouted and climbed on the couch, slouching to show her disappointment.

What am I going to do with her? This old, repititive question is almost a million dollar question in Mathematics that the most brilliant minds in the world try to solve. But Yeonjin is on another level. Try with all might and sheer will, it’s always her—Yeojin always, always wins.

Letting a sigh as a sign of defeat before sitting beside her, Yeojin knew that it’ll happen no matter what—she will prevail.

“Baby girl?” soft yet manly tone, a maintained balance of persuasion and dominance. Yeojin must know she’s the one in need, and the one that needs to earn it.

No answer. As expected. Yeojin’s habit of putting the act for a bit longer serves as her trump card. Just to get this over with, let Yeojin have it her way.

Felt the touch from your index finger on her silky thigh, gradually sliding upward until it reaches the hem of the laced white dress. Inaudible gasp escaped her lips, and goosebumps spread all over her.

“Still not going to answer, baby girl?”

Yeojin is a tough cookie to break. Well, you already did literally before but it’s the attitude. She could just gave a nod or a simple 'yes' or 'no' to make things easier. If a newbie managed to survive the job as her manager, it’ll be a breakthrough. But here you are, still on the same role and job.

It would only be a matter of time before the others arrive. Compromising others’ time and schedule would spell disaster. Raising the hem of her dress, a pleasant smell greeted your nose—fresh rose scent from her favorite feminine wash, and visual blessing by means of a matched red-laced panties; enough to increase the blood flow in all the right areas in your body.

As much as you want to tease Yeojin first, it’s just simply impractical and dangerous at the current circumstances.

Grabbing and pulling her undergarments in one go; almost breaking it at the process. Your hands found their place in Yeojin's petite cheeks—oh, for the love of Venus—supple and irresistible.

“O- op- uhm– Daddy?”

Thank God, she finally spoke. And she just used her ultimate move. The perfect trigger—climbing to the level of overdrive.

“Yes, baby girl?”

“Will Daddy punish me for not behaving good?” Yeojin turned around to look at you with her half-lidded eyes. Fuck. So vulnerable yet ruinable.

“Yes, my baby girl needs to learn again to listen.”

Spreading her cheeks there lies her impatient lubricated cunt; dripping, already forming a pool on the couch but it doesn’t matter anymore. Unbuckling your belt with haste to push down your pants and briefs in one go just enough to let out your raging cock.

“All fours, now.”

Yeojin didn’t even hesitate for a second. She got herself into position right away.

A two, quick strokes on your cock before lining up yourself in her entrance. The glans kissed her labia, making Yeojin whimper.

“Hmmp–”

“Still not used to this, baby girl?”

“It’s just– Daddy’s cock is too big for my pus– AH!”

Not letting Yeojin finish as you pulled her waist to penetrate her deep right away. Tight. Warm. Wet. Perfect. Words could not even experiencing the real thing. Its grip like it's holding on for its dear life? Priceless. That is why you can keep with Yeojin and her stubbornness, when there’s a sweet prize only you and you can claim.

Your hips knew what they suppose to do—starting from a nice, good rhythm gradually increasing tempo. Clapping sounds growing stronger each second.

“Yes- oh- oh- fuck- yes, daddy! I miss your big cock so much!” Yeojin really screams her heart out in happiness, or pleasure, or both in general. Her cute, lewd voice—the same one she uses to record their songs which her fans enjoy. Well, you couldn’t totally blame them. It’s an earcandy.

“Shit. So good- ugh!” you grunted.

Dirty, filthy sounds—moans, whimpers, two fleshes clapping against the other, and compliments of how two bodies give each other pleasure—are what filled the room basically. You and Yeojin may not admit it but you can’t get enough of each other. It’s like a need that turned into addiction. Yin-yang. Light and dark. Good and bad.

But like everything else, there’s always an end. Your phone rings, and the ringtone is specifically assigned for the group. They’re about to arrive in no time. Time to finish the business and thankfully Lady Luck is on your side.

“Yeojin, fuck, argh, I’m close!”

“Yes, Daddy! Do it inside! Breed me, fill me with your cum!”

Even without her words, you’re about to do it anyway. Spraying all your semen on the couch is not a good news for the others.

“I'm cumming!”

With your final forceful thrust, burying your cock deep inside, ropes and ropes of cum reached her womb, painting her insides. Yeojin’s still tight pussy milking you out—baby girl claiming her prize. She also came as her spasms were noticeable; her body barely keeping steady from her position. Upon slipping out your cock, you pulled her panties back immediately to avoid any droplets of cum reaching the couch.

Yeojin was exhausted real good. But she has to fix herself before the girls see her ruined and messed up.

“Get up, Yeojin. Your unnies are coming. We need to fix ourselves and everything else before they arrive.”

“Ok... yes, oppa,” she said, her voice showing signs of fatigue.

~~~

After making sure no trace was left on the crime scene, the girls arrived just on time. The assistant manager was the one who handled them for the meantime. They looked tired on the ride going home.

“Oh, manager-nim, Yeojin, you two are here already? How lucky!” one of the girls said.

“Just need to talk about something with our lovely maknae,” you replied.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing serious. Just a few reminders from the company.”

“I see. Well, we better go to bed it’s already getting late.”

“Right, right. Shall we, Yeojin?”

“Yes, manager-nim!” she responded with such enthusiasm, and winked at you before going to her room.

“Oh, please,” you sighed, as the exhilarating job of keeping up with them especially Yeojin, continues. Sadly.

A/N: Purely BFH and done in one sitting. Seeing Yeojin was just- hoo, nevermind. Anyway, the fic is unedited so forgive me for a few mistakes. Have work tomorrow but still finished this using the writing juices I have. Hope you enjoy! Have a good day, or night!

- Ren :)

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