#I had to wait until I had time and a brain to write

[finniestoncrane]

You know what I'll bite first(?)

I want reader to convince Hector to let them care for him instead in the bedroom tonight and it's basically a mix of body worship and general praise while jerking him off

Hector x GN!Reader, word count: 1.4k ooooooooh ok i had to write this, he was living in my brain and skittering around in my pipes up there!! i've not finished his storyline yet, so no spoilers for me please!! but i know regardless of what happens next, he deserves a bit of praise and pleasure >:3c request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: a lot of praise for this boy, body worshipping, masturbation/handjobs, tiny bit of hair pulling, pre-ejac, little bit of yandere dialogue because it's hector...

"You told me you couldn't relax for yourself, so please, please let me help you. You need to learn to embrace your body. That way, I can embrace it too."

Hector's heart skipped a beat at the emphasis on your pleading, and he found himself unable to catch his breath in enough time to respond. Instead, he let himself be pushed back towards the bed in your room, sinking down into it as the back of his legs hit the edge.

"Good boy, Hector. This is the first step to changing how you see yourself. Let me show you how I see you."

The bed shifted as you sat down next to him, hand on his chest as you gently pushed him backwards, waiting until he was laying down, his dark curls resting on the pillows, before you began to stroke your fingers through his hair, twirling the locks around your fingers and hoping to soothe him. But he was still nervous, enough that he began to tug at your sheets, trying to hide himself with them out of his instinctual urge to conceal the things that he disliked so much.

"No, no. Don't cover yourself up. I want to see all of you."

"Are you sure? I still find it so hard to believe that someone as magnificent as yourself would be interested in any aspect of me."

"Really? When you're so handsome, and so sexy. I'm almost angry that you'd hide yourself away for so long, Hector. Seems wrong to keep this a secret."

It was all he could do to keep his smile from widening, but he'd warmed up to you so quickly that it was impossible to hide himself from you. And you were determined to keep things moving in that direction, so positive reinforcement was required. Luckily, you knew now how he worked, and you were able to pull the sheets away, uncovering his body and noting the slight tenting of his cock underneath his clothes. It was distracting, but not more so than his satisfied grin.

"Such a sweet smile, it makes your eyes light up. Your cheeks are so warm, so cute. And your lips, so soft... so welcoming."

"Only for you..."

Each milimetre of the tiny distance between you was tension filled and wrought with a dire need that was immediately turned to passionate satisfaction once the kiss begun. Hector was content to lay back and let you take over, offering no resistance as you deepend the kiss, and even less when your hands began to travel down his front and to the stirring below his waist. Your fingers teased below the material, skimming over the skin above his erection, feeling the contrasted texture of his thick, black pubic hair. And as the kiss broke off, Hector struggling to catch his breath, you let your lips follow his soft jaw line to his neck, your pecks and the gentle nips of your teeth interspersed with words that amounted to yet more compliments.

"I know you've felt so comfortable behind the security of the grate, but I need you, Hector. More than you could imagine, more than I think you're willing to accept. But I can show you. Let me heat you up for a change, I want to see your skin flushing, that sparkle in your eyes."

His cock was freed now, and it protruded into the air as you wrapped your fingers around the length. Average, but thick, and just a few shades darker than his perfectly clear skin. You leaned your head against him, angling your view to watch the way your hand fit so perfectly around his length. Hector shuddered, stuttering out something, but you assuaged whatever concerns he was fabricating.

"You've given me so much, all of those years, unappreciated. Now I want to pay you back, it's only right."

Your gentle strokes firmed up, quicker movements as your determination took over. You wanted him to be happy, to see him satisfied, relieved, and to at least offer him something physical in the way of evidence of your attraction to him. With your tempo set, you kept up the motions, noting that Hector's hips began to shift, pushing his cock upwards into your fist as his body squirmed slightly against the mattress.

"I'm... This is... Wow..."

With a giggle, you whispered against his skin, still loud enough that he could hear you past his own hushed whimpers.

"That sense of contentment? Of pure joy? you deserve that. You work so hard to make me happy, and I think you deserve the same back ten-fold."

"I live to please you. I ask for nothing in return. Your pleasure is just as ah... ah..."

Your other hand reached for his balls, cupping them before gently squeezing.

"All of that time you spent watching me, I think it's fair that I get to see you as you reach complete ecstacy, too, no?"

As Hector let out a sigh of relief, his body giving in finally to the looming and certain orgasm that was beginning to wash over him. A little coaxing was all it would take to get him to finally let go of the last of his tensions.

"All that stress, the nerves, your worries and concerns about how I'll perceive you? I'm going to make them all... go... away."

It sounded like a stifled groan, a strangled sound that he was trying to cover up. And you weren't having that.

"I want to hear your sweet voice, Hector. Your moans, your sighs, your screams."

Hector's stomach was tensing, the slight hint of muscles below the softness of his stomach as he clenched in response to his quickening climax. Each stroke of your fist down the shaft of his cock had him quivering, and you relished in the view of his body that you had from this perfect position. One of his hands rested in your hair, occasionally gripping at the root as he became overwhelmed with arousal. Even without the firm placement of his palm against you, there was no way you would have lifted your head from his chest. From there you could see your own hand working, pumping at his twitching cock, his precum leaking, dribbling from his head down to the visible frenulum as you pulled back his foreskin with your movements. And as you watched his body react to your stimulation, you could hear his heart beat thudding in his chest against your ear.

You were worried for a moment when his gentle whining turned into a sharp shriek, concerned that in your distractions you might have become to firm or too quick. But as you felt the warm, yet quickly cooling, liquid begin to drip over your fingers, you understood.

"Ah... I, I've ruined it. A moment so perfect, so pure. I'm so sorry. Faced with your charitable gesture, the idea that you would be so willing to help me seek the same satisfaction as I've helped you with so many times... Well, my excitement got the better of me. Yet another reason that you could do far better in-"

"Did it feel good?"

He paused his nerve driven rambling, all desire to self-flagellate superceded by his need to offer you an answer when one was asked of him.

"Of course! It was marvellous. For all that I've dreamt of how your hands might feel on my body, it was better than I ever could have guessed."

When it seemed as though he might start apologising again for something that in truth you found flattering, quite endearing to his adorably desperate nature, you placed a finger on his lips and hushed him.

"Then there's nothing to apologise for, Hector. We both got what we wanted."

You lay your head next to his on your pillow, watching his eyes scan the room, as if he were looking for the final bit of confidence to say what he said next.

"In that case... perhaps it wouldn't be too much to ask if I could lay here a while longer. I could warm you in a more manual manner than either of us are accustomed to."

Hector lifted his arm, offering you the space between that and his chest, and you willingly dove into it, wrapping your arms around his body and settling in with a sigh.

[sunsetmade]

can you write about how Rafe and the reader always call each other pet names (like baby and sweetheart) ans they aren’t dating but they don’t realize they do this until someone like sarah calls them out. thank ya!

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!!

Goodnight, Baby

Rafe Cameron x Shy! Reader

Rafe Cameron had a way of saying things that made her heart trip over itself.

Not in the loud, sweeping, rom-com kind of way—though, admittedly, when he leaned in a little too close or let his voice drop into that gravelly rasp, it sometimes felt like the air thinned and the world tipped slightly on its axis. But mostly, it was subtler than that. More internal. The kind of flutter that tugged at her ribs and burned behind her cheeks. The kind that made her fingers nervously twist the hem of her sweater as she avoided his gaze, knowing full well the teasing smirk he’d be wearing.

And he knew. God, he definitely knew what he was doing.

“Hey, baby,” Rafe said, his voice casual, almost careless, as he opened the front door of Tannyhill and stepped aside to let her in.

Her stomach flipped. That word—baby—spilled from his mouth like it belonged to her. Like it wasn’t dangerous at all. Like it wasn’t laced with weight and meaning and a thousand unsaid things. He said it like they weren’t just best friends. Like it wasn’t reckless for her to let her heart leap every time.

She ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she slipped past him into the house. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and she swore she felt him lean just slightly into the contact before the door clicked shut behind them.

“Hi,” she said gently, her voice small but sweet, eyes trained on the floor tiles as her heart thudded against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

Rafe grinned. One of those lazy, cocky grins that always meant trouble for her composure. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world to stand there and watch her unravel.

He loved this part—the soft blush creeping across her cheeks, the way she got all quiet and bashful when he so much as looked at her too long. She didn’t even realize it, but she was the only person who ever brought out something warm in him. Something patient. Something kind.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and teasing as he followed her into the hallway, his steps unhurried behind hers.

She nodded quickly, too quickly, still not meeting his gaze. “Mhm. I came a little early, sorry.”

He stepped closer—slow, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing and how it would make her freeze in place.

“ ‘S okay,” Rafe murmured, voice low and rough. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

Her breath hitched before she could stop it. Her first instinct was to look away, hide from his icy blue eyes like she always did when he got too close, too gentle. But he wasn’t having it. He reached out, calloused fingers brushing lightly beneath her chin, coaxing her face back up to his.

His thumb traced the soft line of her jaw. Warm. Careful.

“Don’t hide that pretty face from me, sweetheart.”

There it was again. Sweetheart.

The second nickname—the one that felt more tender, more dangerous than baby, and that was saying something. That word always hit her like a soft punch to the stomach. She didn’t know which one made her melt more—or ache more.

“Rafe…” she breathed out, a little whine escaping before she could stop it, her eyebrows furrowed teasingly.

He gave her that look—that cocky, slow-burning smile that was all teeth and playful arrogance, but somehow softened at the edges by something warmer. Something real.

“What?” he said, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing to her.

“You always say stuff like that…” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because it’s true,” he said easily, shrugging like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just turned her insides into syrup.

She didn’t respond—she couldn’t. Her brain was too busy trying to reboot.

Eventually, like always, they ended up in his room.

It was their place. The unspoken routine. The space where things slowed down, where it didn’t matter that the rest of the house belonged to the Camerons and the world outside didn’t know what to make of them. Up here, it was quiet. Safe.

She sat on his bed the same way she always did, legs folded underneath her. Rafe collapsed beside her with a sigh, limbs sprawling across the mattress like he owned every inch of the space—which, to be fair, he did.

Sometimes he scrolled through his phone or channel surfed without really watching, while she read or softly told him about her day. They never really planned it, but somehow hours passed like that—comfortable, warm silence that buzzed with something unspoken just under the surface.

Today, she’d brought snacks in a little lunch box she use to use, pretzels and candy she knew he liked. She placed them between them, and when he saw them, his eyes lit up in that quiet, boyish way that made her chest squeeze.

“You know you don’t have to bring stuff,” he murmured, popping a pretzel into his mouth and leaning back against the wall. His voice was soft now—lower, like they were the only two people on Earth.

“I like to,” she said gently, her tone almost bashful.

He turned his head just slightly to look at her, eyes settling on her face like he was memorizing it. “Baby,” he said, almost like a sigh. “You’re too good to me.”

There it was again—baby. And the way he said it, all low and familiar, like it wasn’t driving her absolutely crazy inside. Like it wasn’t unraveling her thread by thread.

It sounded like it belonged coming from him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

Every time he said it, her stomach tightened, and that ache behind her ribs grew heavier—like the truth was sitting there, pressing against her chest, reminding her that she wanted something she couldn’t ask for. Because they weren’t dating. He wasn’t hers. He was just her best friend.

Her handsome, infuriating, impossibly charming best friend who treated her like she meant the world, who called her baby like it was second nature.

She didn’t want to risk losing him. Didn’t want to ruin the soft, slow thing they had by wanting too much.

So she smiled, small but genuine, and looked away.

“Thanks,” she said softly, staring down at the snacks like they might give her an answer. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He chuckled, a low hum in his throat, and nudged her foot gently with his. “Yeah, yeah. I owe you.”

But he was still watching her. She could feel it. That stare of his—sharp and quiet and warm all at once. Like he saw everything she didn’t say.

And all she could do was hope he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was thudding—or see the way her fingers were curled into the blanket just to keep them from reaching for him.

They were halfway through some dumb, half-watched movie when the door creaked open.

“Rafe, Rose wants to—” Wheezie’s voice cut off abruptly. “Oh.”

Wheezie stood frozen in the doorway, blinking like she’d just walked into the middle of something she wasn’t supposed to see. Her eyes flicked from Rafe to his bestfriend tucked into his side, taking in the soft lighting of the bedroom, the quiet buzz of the TV in the background, the way his arm was lazily draped over her shoulders—fingers drawing slow, absentminded circles on the fabric of her sleeve. Their legs were touching. And how she was leaning into him like she didn’t even realize.

Wheezie tilted her head, curiosity already taking root. “Why do you call her baby?” She asked deciding to get the burning question she’s been dying to know off of her mind.

The question landed like a pin dropped into still water—barely a sound, but it rippled.

She froze, her pulse skipping like her body hadn’t caught up to her mind. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught. She could feel Rafe’s fingers still on her arm, but he didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

Instead, a small, smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied smoothly, glancing at his sister like she was the one being weird.

Wheezie squinted at the two of them. “Because you’re not dating… right?”

Her entire face flushed. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, crawling down her neck, making her wish she could shrink into the mattress and disappear. Rafe, on the other hand, chuckled under his breath. That low, familiar sound that meant he was enjoying this far too much.

But then his eyes slid sideways—to her. Not just glanced. Looked. Really looked, like she was the only person in the room that mattered.

He didn’t answer.

“Rafe,” Wheezie pressed, now crossing her arms with all the boldness of a little sister who smelled something suspicious. “That’s not an answer.”

He grinned wider, that easy, arrogant grin that always made her nervous. “Go tell Rose I’ll be down in five.”

“That’s still not an answer!”

“Wheezie,” he warned, the playful edge in his voice soft but final.

She groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she turned to leave. “Whatever. You’re so weird,” she muttered under her breath before disappearing and pulling the door shut behind her.

Silence lingered.

She slowly shifted, pulling away just enough to feel the cool air hit the space where his body had been warming hers. She stared at the blanket pooled in her lap, carefully not looking at him to get her cheeks to cool down.

Rafe shifted beside her. “You okay?”

She nodded, but it was too fast. Too practiced. “Yeah.”

“You’re blushing,” he said softly, tilting his head toward her like he already knew the answer.

“Rafe…” she said his name with a quiet warning, already flustered, already spiraling.

He leaned in just a little, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. His voice dropped, teasing. “Did that make you nervous?”

The smirk on his face said he knew exactly what he was doing. He always did.

She swallowed. “You didn’t answer her.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice low. “I didn’t.”

Her throat tightened. “Why not?”

There was a pause, stretched thin and quiet.

Then his hand brushed against hers on the bed, fingers grazing hers once—twice—before gently slipping between them, like he’d been waiting for permission that never came but hoped for anyway.

“I like how it sounds,” he said quietly. “Calling you baby.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened just slightly around his.

“I like the way you look at me when I say it,” he continued, voice hushed, almost hesitant. “Like you’re about to melt, but you’re too sweet to tell me to shut up.”

“I’m not too sweet,” she whispered, barely audible, eyes locked on their intertwined hands.

He turned his head slowly, his gaze dropping to her lips for a fleeting second before finding her eyes again. “Nah,” he murmured, “you are.”

She exhaled shakily, pulse fluttering. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She faltered, the words catching in her throat. She didn’t have an answer that didn’t sound like a confession.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Because it makes you feel something?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But the look on her face said everything.

He pulled back just a little, giving her space, but his hand stayed laced with hers, warm and steady.

“I’m not trying to mess with you,” he said after a long beat, the teasing gone from his voice. “I just… I don’t know. You’re the only person I feel good around. Like, really good. Like I can breathe.”

She blinked, slowly turning to look at him. His voice had softened in a way she rarely heard, and something in her chest tugged hard.

“And calling you baby?” He gave a faint smile, a small shrug. “It’s not just a nickname. It’s the only way I know how to show it sometimes. That you’re… different.”

The room felt heavy. Charged. Thick with all the things they hadn’t said yet.

She didn’t say anything right away—just let herself lean in again, gently resting her head against his shoulder like it was instinct, like it was home.

“You’re different for me too,” she whispered into the fabric of his shirt.

He stilled, then exhaled slowly. His breath was shaky this time.

Neither of them moved. The movie flickered on the screen, long forgotten. Outside, the house made its usual quiet creaks, but in here, it was just them.

Eventually, Rafe shifted, sliding his arm around her and tugging her closer until she was tucked beneath his chin, legs draped over his lap, her cheek resting against his chest. His fingers started moving again—soft, slow patterns against her back.

“Still blushing?” he asked, voice barely above a murmur, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“Yes,” she admitted, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

He chuckled. “Good.”

She groaned. “Rafe…”

“Hmm?”

She turned her face up just enough to peek at him, eyes narrowed. “You like making me blush.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks burning brighter, but her smile gave her away. “You’re impossible.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, unhurried. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Her heart stuttered—once, then again—and this time, she didn’t look away. Didn’t hide it.

She just let it happen. Let him hold her. Let herself fall a little more.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel reckless.

It just felt right.

⸻

Later that night, when the sky had melted into dark navy sprinkled with stars, and the last light of day clung to the tops of the trees, Rafe walked her out to her car. The breeze was warm and slow, carrying the quiet hum of cicadas and the scent of summer grass. The whole world felt still—like it was holding its breath for them.

She glanced sideways at him as they reached her car, keys dangling loosely in her hand, heart fluttering like it always did around him. Rafe moved ahead and opened the car door for her without a word, leaning lazily against it with one arm braced above her, the other casually resting in his pocket. He was close. Always close.

She turned to face him, eyes soft. “Wheezie’s gonna ask again.”

His mouth tugged into a lopsided smirk. “Yeah. Probably tomorrow.”

“What are you gonna say next time?”

Rafe didn’t move for a second. Just looked at her with that unreadable glint in his eye, like he was weighing something. Then, with quiet confidence, he leaned in—crowding her gently between the open car door and the warmth of his body.

“That it’s none of her business,” he said, voice low and teasing.

She giggled, eyes dropping shyly to the space between them before flicking back up to his. Her cheeks were already warm.

Rafe’s hand slid up to her waist, squeezing lightly, grounding her. His other hand reached up, slow and deliberate, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. But his fingers didn’t leave right away—they lingered, brushing lightly against her jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek like he couldn’t help it.

“Or,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers, “maybe I’ll just tell her the truth.”

Her breath caught. “What’s the truth?”

He looked at her like she was something fragile and brilliant all at once—like she was a secret he’d been dying to say out loud.

“That I’m working up the nerve to ask you to be mine.”

The air stilled. Her chest rose sharply with the breath she forgot to take, her eyes wide, heart thudding so loud she was sure he could hear it. Her fingers curled slightly into the hem of her shirt as she stared at him, face tingling with heat.

“Yours?” she asked softly, voice barely there.

Rafe nodded once, gaze never wavering. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

She looked up at him and something in her face softened.

“I like that,” she said quietly, her lips lifting into a bashful smile.

His brow raised slightly. “Yeah?”

She nodded, cheeks glowing, and before she could overthink it, he wrapped both arms around her waist and tugged her flush against his chest.

“So you like me, baby?” he teased, his voice low and rough, his breath brushing against her ear.

She let out a nervous laugh, face burning as she buried it against his chest, hiding from the intensity of it all.

He chuckled, deep and raspy, his chin resting lightly atop her head. “Say it, baby girl.”

She hesitated, her voice muffled against him. “I like you, Rafe.”

He smiled—she felt it more than saw it, the way his body relaxed, the way his arms tightened just a little around her.

“I like you too,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of her head. She stayed tucked into him, neither of them in a rush to pull away.

For a few long moments, everything felt still again. Easy. Like this was always where they were meant to end up.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look down at her, his hand brushing her cheek one last time.

“Goodnight, baby.”

She gave him a look—sweet and shy and impossibly full—and stepped into her car, her fingers trembling slightly on the door handle as she shut it.

As she drove off, windows down and wind in her hair, her heart was floating somewhere above the clouds.

She didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

[sevarchive]

જ⁀➴ blue lock ; kahoot edition

synopsis: in which nine blue lock players are forced into a “team bonding” on kahoot! starring: isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, barou shouei, gagamaru gin, and kunigami rensuke

a/n: this took me an entire day to write, edit, and recover from emotionally TT i really hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed losing my mind making it. have fun, i hope your brain short-circuits at least once. enjoy the ride 💀🧹

[ isagi started a call. ]

isagi: okay—okay, everyone’s here, let’s just—

barou: if one of you makes a fart noise into the mic i’m blocking you

isagi: i didn’t even say anything yet 💀

shidou: YOOOOO START IT I’M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. MY MOUSE IS READY TO VIOLENCE.

bachira: wait i can’t hear anything is that my mic or shidou screaming again?

reo: your mic’s fine. shidou can we please act like people for two seconds—

shidou: NAHHHHH I’M LOCKED IN CHAT

nagi: …i still haven’t opened it btw

barou: STOP BEING LAZY. OPEN IT. YOU TAP TWO BUTTONS AND YOUR WHOLE LIFE’S NOT THAT HARD.

gagamaru: gu—ys—wai—i—he—lp—

isagi: gagamaru are you STILL lagging???

gagamaru: i’m in a forest

rin: bro what

reo: are you in the middle of a national park right now—

gagamaru: it’s fine, i climbed higher. might have signal now… i think

shidou (laughing way too hard): MY GUY IS PLAYING KAHOOT FROM A BRANCH. A BRANCH.

barou (losing it): IF I LOSE TO SOMEONE USING TWIG SIGNAL I’M FLIPPING MY WHOLE SETUP.

rin: i hope this kahoot crashes

bachira: same but in a fun way

shidou: IM READY LET’S GOOOOO

isagi: okay okay i’m sending the game pin—we're not starting until everyone’s in, alright??

reo: someone tell nagi it’s not a visual novel he actually has to do something.

nagi (deadpan): idc. i’m just here to breathe and get questions wrong.

isagi: code’s 666420. join the kahoot. don’t pick dumb names this time.

chigiri: …that feels illegal.

bachira: OMG that’s my angel number!!!

Nagi: too lazy to type it. someone click for me.

gagamaru (faint, laggy): wai—don’t—start—i can’t—my screen’s—fro—

[ gagamaru left the call. ]

bachira: GAGAMARU NOOOO

reo: bro he’s gonna rejoin and say “wait what question are we on” when we’re on like #19

kunigami: wait what’s the code again i just got here—

shidou: THE CODE IS 666420—YOU’RE WELCOME! LOCK THAT IN YOUR MUSCLE BRAIN

chigiri: someone mute him PLS

[ gagamaru joined the call. ]

bachira: OMG TREE WIFI IS BACK

gagamaru: uhhh so signal’s kinda better now. a crow moved off the branch so that helped ig

reo: bro kicked karasu off the tree just to join kahoot

shidou: LMAO karasu somewhere in the woods like “damn my bad bro, didn’t know you were lagging”

isagi: ok who the hell just joined as @ben.d.over

everyone (talking at once): NAHHHH

kunigami: wait why’s everyone laughing what’s wrong with ben

rin: read it again slowly

kunigami: …oh my god

isagi: i’m ending this game already and we haven’t even started—

rin: i should’ve muted you all when i had the chance

reo: too late we’re in the trenches now

[messi_is_me has joined the game.]

[rin has joined the game.]

[HUGH MUNGUS has joined the game.]

[ben.d.over has joined the game.]

[richdaddyreal has joined the game.]

[leftthumbonly has joined the game.]

[imagine losing has joined the game.]

[EMPEROR_OF_GOALS has joined the game.]

[muscle_reaper7 has joined the game.]

[forestwifi_survivor has joined the game.]

isagi: bro who the hell is HUGH MUNGUS 😭

shidou (already dying): NAHHHHHHHHH whoever typed that needs jail and a hug

bachira: sobbing at ben.d.over omg pls whoever you are never change 💖💖💖

kunigami: this is actually a crime against maturity

reo: bro we’re in 8th grade again and it’s kinda fun ngl

gagamaru (still lagging): wait who’s hugh? did another person join??

barou: TCH. EMPEROR_OF_GOALS has ARRIVED.

everyone: bro. we KNOW it’s you 😭😭😭

isagi: ok BUT why is someone just rin 💀 that’s worse than being cringe

shidou: LMFAOOOO bro typed his name like it’s a school test

chigiri: nah bro said “i’m not like the other girls” and then picked nothing

rin: i am literally just rin. i have dignity. unlike the rest of you parasites.

bachira: ok “rin” 🙄✨

[ host clicks “start game” ]

[ kahoot music starts blaring ]

barou (mic BUSTED): LETS GO EMPEROR OF GOALS! I WILL ASCEND.

shidou (yelling over him): AYYYYYYY GET READY TO LOOOOOOOSEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥

bachira (cackling): MY EARS JUST LEFT THE CHAT 💀💀💀

chigiri: somebody MUTE THEM.

shidou (immediately): EZ. it’s RED. next question.

isagi: BRO DON’T SAY THE ANSWER DIMWIT 😭😭😭

reo: YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY IT OUT LOUD YOU WALKING CONCUSSION

bachira: LMFAOOO not shidou speedrunning self-sabotage

kunigami: this is why we can’t have nice things

nagi: does that mean it’s not red? 🤨

gagamaru (from the trees): wait hold up i just got signal what did he say

barou: TCH. if you don’t know the answer, don’t play the game.

chigiri: bro has the audacity to scream the answer like it’s a flex

rin: first question and the stupidity’s already astronomical

shidou: ok but like. i was RIGHT tho. you’re welcome.

isagi: this isn’t a group project bro SHUT UP 💀

[ leaderboard after Q1: ]

🥇 ben.d.over 🥈 EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 🥉 messi_is_me 4th — leftthumbonly 5th — HUGH MUNGUS

barou: SECOND?! I AM THE EMPEROR. I DO NOT ACCEPT THIS.

isagi: how the hell am i losing to a guy named ben.d.over

shidou: i’m FIFTH??? i SAID the answer out loud 😭

reo: you helped everyone and still fumbled.

nagi: me being 4th is actually a miracle. i clicked by accident

gagamaru (finally loading): wait the leaderboard’s up?? guys. what place am i

chigiri: bro you’re not even on it 😭

rin: one question in and i already want to mute this entire call

bachira: #1 babyyyyy catch me if you cannnn

gagamaru (already overwhelmed): ok wait wait. it SAYS “red” but the box is BLUE! do i click the blue box that says red?? or the RED box??

reo: just click the one that says red 😭 it’s not a trick question

barou (yelling): NO—JUST PICK THE COLOR

gagamaru: WHAT—WHICH COLOR?? THE COLOR OF THE BOX OR THE COLOR OF THE WORD??

bachira: i’m wheezing he’s getting gaslit in 4K

shidou: bro’s fighting kahoot, barou, and his internet all at once 💀

kunigami: nah that was dirty i won’t lie lol i had an existential crisis

nagi: i think he just blacked out and clicked uno

isagi: whoever designed kahoot is actually evil for that one

barou: IF YOU FELL FOR THAT YOU’RE A MORON. WORDS OVER COLORS. THINK WITH YOUR HEAD.

rin (finally losing it): you are all COLORBLIND. you are COLOR. BLIND.

[ leaderboard after Q2: ]

🥇 leftthumbonly 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 4th — messi_is_me 5th — rin

gagamaru (finally catching up): NOOOO i should’ve clicked the blue one that SAID red

reo: bro that was 2 minutes ago 😭 you still processing??

nagi (deadpan): ayo??? how am i first

bachira: YOU??? i was #1 you fraud

barou: THIS IS AN OUTRAGE. EMPEROR OF GOALS WILL NOT STAND FOR THIRD.

isagi: i’m 4th. this is bullying.

bachira: wait bro where’s imagine losing 😭😭😭

reo: nah don’t tell me chigiri’s not even on the board 💀

shidou: bro’s the fastest in real life but couldn’t even click a button in time 😭

isagi: he’s got 40-yard dash speed but lagging in kahoot reflexes 💀

chigiri (furious): I MISCLICKED ONCE

barou: sounds like skill issue to me

chigiri: ok but when i beat all of you in sprints i don’t wanna hear a thing

shidou: not if kahoot beats you first 🫵

isagi: there is ONE correct answer here. and if y’all pick anything else i’m calling the cops

reo: WHAT IS THIS QUESTION??? 😭

bachira: i voted for my imaginary friend. he told me to

shidou: gagamaru’s wifi is NOT the goat that’s the villain 😭

gagamaru (suddenly cutting out): i clicked m– krrch —own wifi an— skshh—wait why— disconnects

[ gagamaru left the call. ]

chigiri: NAHHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭 HIS WIFI TOOK IT PERSONALLY

reo: he clicked “gagamaru’s wifi” and it jumped him on sight 😭💀

shidou: HIS WIFI SAID “WHO’S THE GOAT NOW?” AND YEETED HIM OFF THE CALL 😭😭😭

bachira: self-inflicted lag. beautiful

barou (suddenly SCREAMING): WHY. IS. MY. REFLECTION. ON THIS DAMN LIST. WHO. PUT. THAT.

isagi: you sound mad for someone who looks in the mirror every 4 minutes

barou: I’M MAD IT’S EVEN AN OPTION. THIS BETTER BE THE CORRECT ANSWER OR I’M ENDING THIS GAME.

isagi: calm down emperor palpatine it’s not that deep

barou: SOMEONE CHANGE THE QUIZ NAME TO “WHO WANTS TO DIE TODAY”

shidou: NO LMAO SOMEONE GIVE HIM A POINT JUST FOR SELF-LOVE

[ leaderboard after Q3: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 leftthumbonly 🥉 ben.d.over 4th — richdaddyreal 5th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS

isagi: HUGH MUNGUS???? bro HOW are you first 😭😭😭

shidou (screaming): LET’S GOOOOOOO I AM HIM 😤💥💪

bachira: how did he climb all that from the pits of dumbassery

barou (still fuming): you’re telling me my reflection wasn’t correct?? YOU’RE SAYING RONALDO OVER MY MIRRORED GLORY???

reo: it’s literally a real person vs. your gym selfie 😭

[ gagamaru joined the call. ]

gagamaru (reconnected, confused): wait i got booted mid-question did the wifi option win or what

isagi: nah bro your wifi sabotaged you 😭

gagamaru: my router’s holding a grudge i swear

rin: i hate that HUGH MUNGUS is at the top of the leaderboard. i actually hate this.

bachira: don’t worry rin, you’re top 1...IN SULKING SPEEDRUNS

rin: i hate all of you

reo: WAIT. IS THAT RIN IN A BALLGOWN 😭😭😭

isagi: YO WHO MADE THIS QUIZ. WHO DID THAT TO HIM 💀💀💀

nagi: nah he lowkey serving… but also threatening

shidou: bro looks like he’s about to hit a pirouette and a homicide 💃🔪

rin (furious): WHAT. THE HELL. IS THAT PICTURE.

bachira: you in your disney princess era bestie 😚

barou: ENOUGH. I BETTER NOT BE THE RIGHT ANSWER. I AM FASHION.

kunigami: you wore zebra pants with gold chains last week–

chigiri: don’t forget the crown and the “born to score” crop top

barou: SAY THAT AGAIN AND I’LL SCORE YOUR FUNERAL

gagamaru (still buffering): wait why is rin dressed like elsa

reo: can we circle back to the fact that I’m an option too??

bachira: yeah that’s for all your rich boy yacht outfits 😭

rin: WHO MADE THIS. WHO ACTUALLY MADE THIS.

shidou: these questions got more violent than blue lock itself 💀

isagi: nah fr. this isn’t trivia, this is targeted bullying

bachira: AND I’M ENJOYING EVERY SECOND 😍

[ leaderboard after Q4: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly 4th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS 5th — messi_is_me

shidou (wheezing): BAROU WAS THE CORRECT ONE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

bachira: LMAOOOOOOO I’M ACTUALLY CRYINGGGG

barou (screaming from his soul): EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?!?!

reo: oh my god he’s gonna suplex the kahoot server

isagi: no bc the zebra pants were a crime and the quiz just confirmed it 💀

kunigami: justice has been served. with glitter and shame.

barou: WHO DECIDED THIS?? WHO HAS THE AUDACITY TO PUT EMPEROR OF GOALS AS A FASHION FAILURE

nagi: you wear gold chains to practice bro

chigiri: and you showed up in crocs once. crocs. with spikes.

rin: Y’ALL ARE LAUGHING AND I’M STILL IN A DAMN GOWN

gagamaru (delayed): rin look like he’s about to sing “let it go”

bachira: BC HE’S LETTING GO OF HIS DIGNITY

barou: THIS. QUIZ. IS. RIGGED.

reo: NAHHHH THIS QUIZ JUST WENT PERSONAL 💀💀💀

bachira: “rin (but he’ll never admit it)” is insane levels of violence 😭

nagi: picked blue. left foot supremacy

shidou: i picked yellow. i want drama 😈

isagi: bro this is less trivia and more emotional exposure therapy

rin (furious): WHY AM I EVEN AN OPTION. WHO ADDED THAT.

bachira: sorry rin ur tsundere lore is out 😚

shidou: “he’ll never admit it” is SO real tho

barou: I THOUGHT THIS WAS A GAME ABOUT SOCCER. WHY ARE WE IN A TELL-ALL CONFESSIONAL

kunigami: lowkey “the idea of being better than everyone else” might actually be the most accurate

gagamaru (late as always): wait did sae join the kahoot??

bachira: no but i wish he did just to see him pick “himself” and log out

rin: this quiz is sick. i’m reporting it.

shidou: what’s wrong rin. you don’t love yourself the way sae maybe does??? 😭😭😭

[ leaderboard after Q5: ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly 4th — richdaddyreal 5th — EMPEROR_OF_GOALS

bachira: nooooo not “himself” 😭😭😭 SAE YOU SELF-LOVING BASTARD

isagi: bro really looked at love and said “me, myself, and i”

shidou: LMFAOOO RIN GOT LEFT ON READ BY HIS OWN BLOOD 💔💀

reo: can someone hug rin before he explodes

nagi: rin’s emotionally speedrunning all five stages of grief

barou: i don’t care if sae loves a brick, can we move on

gagamaru: wait so sae doesn’t love rin?? 😔

rin (low, dead inside): i’m. not. crying.

bachira: you’re just allergic to emotional damage??

shidou: guys don’t make fun of him. he’s top 1 in having a fictional situationship with his brother

isagi: can someone play sad violin noises over vc

reo: we need to end this before rin disconnects permanently 😭

nagi: yo is this next one the last question??

isagi: yeah yeah ONE MORE. FINAL ROUND. everyone breathe and brace!

isagi: WHAT AM I LOOKING AT

reo: WHY IS HIS APRON SO TIGHT WHO DID THIS

bachira: NOOOO HE LOOKS SO ANGRY YET SO SERVING 😭😭

nagi: this is the scariest and sexiest thing i’ve ever seen

shidou: TRUE. TRUE. TRUE. I CLICKED TRUE BEFORE IT EVEN LOADED

kunigami: what the actual hell is this quiz

barou (deranged screaming): WHO MADE THIS. WHO FOUND THAT PICTURE. I WILL END YOU.

isagi: bro why does he still look like he could bench press all of us in that outfit

gagamaru (in awe): wait fr… why is he kinda…

chigiri: no say it. we’re all thinking it.

gagamaru: …kinda bad

bachira: BADDER THAN YOUR WIFI 😭😭😭

rin: i think i'm gonna be sick..

shidou: maid barou supremacy forever. that apron’s doing heavy lifting

reo: he looks like he’s about to hand me a cupcake and then body slam me

barou (still unhinged): I’M ENDING THIS QUIZ. I’M DELETING KAHOOT. I’M BLOCKING ALL OF YOU

bachira: too late babe you're trending on maidtok 💅🧹

[ FINAL KAHOOT LEADERBOARD ]

🥇 HUGH MUNGUS 🥈 ben.d.over 🥉 leftthumbonly

shidou (screaming): I WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNN LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOO 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

bachira: NOOOOOOO WHY DID I GET SECOND 😭😭😭 i wanted the power

nagi: i was just pressing colors. what happened

isagi: i dropped from 3rd to off the podium like my stocks crashed bro

reo: wait. where the hell did I go. am i in NINTH??

kunigami: i’m BELOW gagamaru. and he picked options with lag.

gagamaru (re-entering from the woods): i think i clicked red but it was actually green and the crow started screeching again

chigiri: y'all just imagine me being the fastest in blue lock and the slowest in kahoot like shut the hell up

bachira: chigiri fumbled the click bag 💀

rin: i hate that HUGH MUNGUS is the winner. i genuinely hate it.

isagi: ok rules are rules… winner gets to choose anything, right?

shidou (with the most evil smirk): YES. and i’ve decided 😇

barou (already panicking): no. NO. WHATEVER IT IS, NO.

shidou: you… barou-sama…are going to wear. the maid outfit. AGAIN. 😈 but this time... we’re POSTING IT ON TWITTER 🧍‍♀️✨

barou (screeching): WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

bachira: LIVE YOUR TRUTH MAID KING 😭😭😭😭

reo: we are boosting the tweet. everyone turn on RTs

nagi: wait let me edit the photo. adding sparkles and cat ears rn

gagamaru: can we tag ego

kunigami: you are all going to hell gagamaru. DON'T

barou (frothing): I WILL UNPLUG EVERY ROUTER IN JAPAN. I SWEAR.

shidou (typing on phone already): caption: "maid barou ready to serve AND score 🧹💘"

rin: i’m leaving. i’m logging off. this is brain rot.

bachira: SEE Y’ALL AT THE NEXT KAHOOT 😍🎉

[ vc disconnected ]

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

[parkerloves]

TIK TOK FILES || FC43 x GN!Reader 3

paring: franco colapinto x partner!gn!reader

type: fluff

trend: your golder retriever bf

based on

word count: 322

fc; n/a

warnings: just franco being dumb

note: more tik toks because my brain can't write too mucho rn

[masterlist]

You turned on your phone when your boyfriend, who was on top of you, seemed glued to your cheek and started sucking on it like it was nothing—so obviously, you weren't going to miss the chance to get another video exposing him.

“Fraaan, you're going to make a hickey,” you said, scrunching your nose, waiting for your boyfriend to get tired of acting like an idiot. Too bad—by the time he pulled away, there was already a mark there.

He looked at the camera with an innocent smile, leaning on your shoulder before hiding behind it.

“Look at my face, I’mma kill you,” you said, turning your head so your cheek showed on screen. He looked at you, blinking a few times before leaning in again. “No!”

Luckily, this time it was just to blow a raspberry on your cheek, which earned him a very disapproving look from you.

Of course, that didn’t faze Franco at all, who calmly started playing on his phone, pretending to be offended.

“Now leave me alone.” That calm didn’t last long though, because soon enough he was back on top of you, trying to at least bite your earlobe—but since you hid in your hoodie, he had to find another task.

This time, he decided to start sniffing every part of you he could reach, burying his face in your neck and leaving little bites on your neck or even your cheek, which earned several annoyed sounds from you—once again, completely ignored.

At least until he got bored of bothering you and lay down next to you again, pulling out his phone to start gaming.

“And this is who I have to deal with every day,” you said, pointing the camera at your boyfriend while shaking your head slightly—until he noticed, stuck his tongue out at the camera, and leaned in to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth and cutting off the video.

[thinkerer24]

Mary on a Cross

Young, sweet, inexperienced Johnny x Big, Bad divorced!Simon

Or, They both realise some things about themselves.

@gerdddds !!! This was SO much fun to write (I think you can guess because it started as a blurb but became so long 😭😭)

Also I suck at writing the accents like some people do, so just- imagine them speaking in their respective accents lmao

SMUT 18+

Simon was tired. His eyes felt heavy in his skull and a certain gritty sensation burnt behind his eyelid that no amount of squinting was getting rid of. Normally, Price's commanding voice kept him and his team in order, oriented them in the right direction, but tonight it just felt like grating in his ear. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor of the conference room, the post mission briefing seeming to last longer than the actual mission itself. He checked the clock above Price's head.

9.34 pm.

He couldn't wait to hit the bar just outside the base and drown himself in vodka (yes, he was a vodka guy secretly at heart; don't tell Price).

John signalled the end of the meeting and Simon almost leapt out of his seat to flee the room, attendance signatures be damned. He's a lieutenant for god's sake, not a child, he could-

"Boss! Wait for me!"

Simon is a very patient man, too. At least, he'd like to think so. But he doesn't know why every deity and every spirit was making it very very difficult for him to maintain his cool today. Did he piss someone off? Is this all that karma hitting back at him?

"Yes, McTavish, what do you want?"

The spritely young man jogged to keep up with Simon, who hadn't stopped walking, by the way, and looked a bit too excited for someone who'd just come back from a grueling ten-day mission in the middle of bumfuck Siberia.

"Are you going to Joe's? I can come with, if that's okay? I really really really need to get pissed, I don't think I've ever craved alcohol in my cells before but fucks sake I-"

"Fuck me, Soap, do ye ever stop yapping?"

Johnny just grinned wider, unfazed by his senior's gruff behaviour. "Sorry, LT. Lead the way."

Simon decided he couldn't really shake him off that easy and was too tired to argue otherwise, so he just wordlessly got in his truck. He turned to see Johnny right at his heel, climbing beside him with a jump. Eager pup, Simon mused.

He knows if he were a few years, hell even a decade younger, he'd have shown the youngin a night he wouldn't have forgotten. His sexual prowess was a bit overbearing to old lovers, men and women alike, a fact his ex husband both loved and hated. He was known to last hours in bed; in a relentless pursuit of pleasure and pain, until his partners were breathless and sore. One of his exes was once rushed to the hospital, too, on account of certain, let's say, sex injuries, that had the entire ER blushing under their masks. It was safe to say he wasn't allowed to touch her for an entire month.

Now, sitting in the dim lighting of the bar in a greasy countertop right next to the ancient stereo, he stares at Johnny and maps his features in his brain. He'd never noticed the scar on his top lip that almost disappeared when he smiled, or that he had flecks of green dusted in those blue irises. He's rambling about some video game he's eager to try out, Simon couldn't be arsed really, but he realises that Johnny's brows tick upwards whenever he gets too excited and he makes the funniest face when he's being sarcastic about something the game developers have said.

"You got a bird waitin on you, boy?" Simon interrupts him, taking a long swig of his beer.

He'd never seen a grown man blush such a deep shade of red so quick.

Cute.

"Uh, no LT. Don't reckon I got the time, you know? The missions are just too stressful, and training usually takes up most of my day, ya know? I mean, some of these girls, LT, I wouldn't even know what to say, like, hey, I'm super tired most days because I'm in a super secret special ops force and My team gets sent to highly confidential locations regularly and oh, I could die too but no big deal, see ya soon, keep dinner ready for me? My hand does fine, thank you very much."

He's rambling now, clearly tipsy, and Simon quirks an eyebrow. "Who's talking about a relationship, Johnny? You could pick up literally anyone you want at this joint- shag 'em and leave 'em? Ever heard of no strings attached?"

Johnny ducks his head and Simon realises he's hit a nerve. Unlucky for Soap, Simon relishes in making boys like him squirm.

"I- I don't know how to say this but, eh fuck it, LT-- I haven't really fucked anyone, Like, ever? I know- I know what you're gonna say, boss, but I don't wanna hear it, okay; it just- never happened, yaknow? Fuck, I really do sound like a bumbling virgin but, fuck, LT, I-"

Simon decided to put the kid out of his misery and leaned forward to put his hands between Johnny's legs and grip at the stool he was sitting on. He effortlessly slid him closer and Johnny squeaked in surprise but instantly shut up as Simon bracketed his thighs with his own and placed one large palm on his jeans, frighteningly close to his bulge.

"It's okay, kid. Stop overthinking."

The heat from Simon's palm burnt a hole through his jeans and Johnny felt a bit lightheaded. He raised his hand and slowly traced the gold wedding band on Simon's ring finger. It felt like both a reminder of his experience and a taunt- he belongs to someone else.

"He left me a year ago," Simon says softly, making Johnny shift in his seat. "Wasn't exactly- husband material, you could say."

This was the first time Johnny had ever heard about his lieutenant's private life, and also, maybe, the first time Johnny was silent for so long. He stared into Simon's eyes, eagerly swallowing every word that left his scarred lips.

"I couldn't sleep for months. The Paris job almost killed me, and Parker couldn't take it anymore. He'd begged me to retire, take a desk job, anything. I refused. Said we needed the money. I woke up the next morning with his side of the bed empty and a note that said his lawyers would contact me soon. No goodbye."

Johnny raised his palm and cupped the side of Simon's cheek. He just stared back with an intensity that made something stir low in his belly.

"I want to take you back to my house. Strip you of all your clothes, and lay you in my bed. Dismantle your thoughts until all your pretty brain can think about is me. I want you to go limp in my arms and beg me to stop. Do you want that, kid?"

Johnny could feel himself nodding desperately, mouth agape, before his mind could even catch up to his actions. He swallowed roughly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Is this really happening?

"W-wait. Simon, Simon."

Simon was half dragging him out of the bar already but he slowed down to look at him. "What, pup? Something wrong?"

Pup. The word made his dick twitch in his pants but Johnny braved through, " Simon, are you sure? Like, absolutely sure?"

Simon scoffed. Poor boy doesn't know what he's getting into.

He tugs him further and leads him into the truck, wordlessly getting into the drivers seat. "I meant what I said. I'll make it good for you, kid, I promise. Is this what you want? Think about it, we've got the whole ride back."

Johnny nods and looks at his side profile as he drives them to his house. He wants this. He's tired of avoiding all physical contact because of the stupid voice in his brain- "you're not smart enough, you're not wanted, no one wants you, no one could want you". He knows Simon can make that go away, he can feel it in his bones. He knows his LT will take care of him. He feels braver than before and inches his fingers slowly over Simon's regulation khakis, almost palming his bulge.

"Behave."

One word, and Johnny freezes. He'd always been the perfect soldier, hanging onto his LTs voice. Not surprising that it would be the same outside the battlefield, too.

They reached the barracks in record time, Johnny almost breaking the seatbelt buckle in his eagerness. They reach Simon's door and Simon leads Johnny into the room. He's been here several times before but now? It feels like he's a newborn fawn stumbling into the world for the first time. He tries to be sexy and turns to look at Simon but he bumps his toe into the center table and curses, before deciding to just, sit his ass on the sofa and let Simon take the lead.

Simon observes the entire thing with a glint in his eyes, desire stirring low in his belly. He closes the gap between them and sits on the floor in between Johnny's open legs. He places both hands on his thighs, leans up close to his face, and he can almost see Soap's neurons short circuit at his proximity.

"You don't have to do this, lad. No hard feelings".

Johnny whines low in his throat and grabs Simon by the nape of his neck. He jerks forward and clumsily presses his lips onto Simon's, and they both groan at how right it feels. Simon lets him lead the pace, explore what feels good and what doesn't. His tongue wearily circles his own and Simon sucks on it gently, making Johnny gasp. His hands run themselves into that goddamn mohawk, scraping at the buzz cut and massaging the scalp there. Johnny all but melts under the watchful care of Simon, and almost forgets what he was actually here for. Well, until Simon used one hand to press into the bulge that's straining against his pants and Johnny gasps.

"Go to the bedroom, kid. Take off your clothes and wait for me, yeah? Can you do that?"

Johnny nods eagerly and all but sprints to the single bedroom, making Simon scoff out a laugh. He enters the bare room and frantically takes off his clothes, but something in the bedside table catches his eye.

A framed photo of Simon and another man, in front of the Sydney Opera House. Both had matching grins, and Simon looked a good ten years younger. They were wrapped in a tight embrace and looking at the camera like nothing else mattered, because it didn't. They had each other and everything would be okay.

"It's been quite some time, John." Simon's quiet voice seemed to echo in the tiny space and Johnny almost jumps. His broad biceps encircle around his waist completely and Simon rests his chin on Johnny's shoulder, inhaling at his neck. "Don't dwell on the past. I know I don't."

John turns around in his grasp and looks at him longingly. "I don't want to make this sappy, Lt, but I think I'm a bit scared".

Simon nods, as if he had already anticipated it. He knows, he always knows. He's his lieutenant, his leader, his friend. He'd know what he's thinking, what he's feeling before he even frames it in his head. Soap knows that, and he would leap from a cliff if it was what Simon wanted, only because he knows Simon would be on the other side to catch him.

"I want you to touch yourself for me. Can you do that? Can you show me how you make yourself feel good?"

Simon lays him down on the bed and kisses him so deeply it makes his breath stop in his chest. His tongue delves into Johnny's mouth as his hands grip his waist, his hips, palming everything he could get his hands on. He pulls away and a string of spit connects their lips. Johnny looks fucked out already and Simon feels his heart thud louder.

Johnny nods along with him, humming low in the back of his throat as he slips a hand over his dick- fuck, it was as hard as a rock already. He rubs the head with his palm as Simon drops his head low to watch his motions. Johnny continues pumping his hips into his closed fist, increasing the pace frantically and panics when he realises he's so, so close already. His precum was making the entire ordeal so sticky, and Simon's intense stare wasn't helping his case.

"Kid, slow down, come on, easy, baby. Yeah, that's it." Simon places his hand over Soap's and guides him into a slower, more languid pace. His head felt syrupy, his stomach cramping already with how hard he's clenched it. He doesn't think he'll last any longer when Simon bends down and licks his tip gingerly.

"Fuck, FUCK Si, I-" he grabs onto Simon's head with both hands and almost smothers him by shoving his entire length into his mouth. Simon doesn't even gag, that fucker, and starts sucking his cock, making it so sloppy, so loud, Johnny doesn't think he'll survive this. The sight is downright obscene- Drool drops down the side of his mouth and his lips form a tight suction as he bobs his head up and down and up and down and up -

"I think I'm comin- fuckfuckfuckfuck,"

Simon pushes him further into his throat just as he climaxes, and Johnny gets tears in his eyes at how well Simon's throat clenches his cockhead. He doesn't know how long he's coming for, but knows that Simon doesn't let up for one second, constantly licking and laving at his dick and working him through the orgasm right into the territory of sweet oversensitivity. He's about to push his head away when one of Simon's thick fingers circle his asshole, and Soap feels like he's ascended.

"Is this where you want me, little pup? Do you want me to stretch you open, fill you till you're leaking with my cum? You wanna cry tonight?"

Soap sobs in agreement, fisting the bedsheet and twisting his torso to escape the pleasure as Simon pops the lid of the lube and generously pours over his taint and shaft. He pumps a finger in cautiously, making Johnny's breath catch lightly, huffing out tiny breaths to regulate himself.

"Breathe, kid. That's it, you're doing so good for me. I'm gonna bend my fingers just so, yeah? Oh- oh, is that the spot? Yeah, baby? Is that your happy spot?"

Simon's fingers hook inside in a way that makes them hit his prostate so deliciously- Johnny screams and bows his entire body up off the bed. Simon has to use his other hand to keep him pinned down and chuckles, starting to pump even harder. His fingers stretch and fill him, making him pant like a dog in heat now. He thinks he's going to come again, but he's not sure that's anatomically possible.

"Si, please, I need you, oh, I need you inside me, I need your cock, pleasepleaseplease Simon, I can't come like this, I-"

"Okay, okay, baby, breathe, breathe, yeah, my good boy wants my cock? Huh? I'll give it to you, I'll give you anything, fuck."

He pours some extra lube over his dick while his other hand continues to fuck into Johnny's tight hole. He caresses his dick slowly, thoroughly coating every inch in the sticky lube and slowly notches himself right up against Soap's asshole.

Feeling the blunt head against himself makes Johnny zero in on the moment; as if everything's faded away and it's just him, and just Simon, and there's nothing in between. They don't need to say anything, don't need more reasons to delay, and Johnny nods once, his eyes tearing up slightly. Simon understands- he bends forward to interlace his hands with Soap's and kisses him so so sweetly as he pushes inside.

The moan that leaves Soap could only be described as pornographic, as he feels every inch, every ridge and every vein breach his virgin hole. He stutters into the kiss, almost babbling as Simon grits his teeth together and powers through the tight embrace.

"Holy shit, kid, you're so tight."

"You're so big, sir".

Simon grips the back of his neck tighter and slightly massages the skin there, making Soap melt and relax a bit further. The last inch was the most difficult, Simon's girth found it almost impossible to make his rim stretch further, the sight of it so perverse it made Simon's mouth water.

"Let me on top, sir. I can take it."

Simon didn't really have the energy or the will to argue and effortlessly switched positions such that Johnny was on top and his dick never even slipped out.

"Go easy, yeah? I don't want you to hurt yourself"

Johnny nods with newfound vigor and plants both his feet on the bed, giving Simon a show for the ages. He takes a deep breath and lets gravity do most of the work as he slams himself down the last inch, right upto the thick base of Simon's god like member.

"Holy fuck, kid. I told you to go easy." He admonishes, but there's no real bite in it.

Soap grins, and oh, there's my boy, Simon thinks, "Sorry Lt. I'll be, fuck, more careful".

He starts a decadent rhythm, making both of them roll their eyes and moan loudly, neighbours be damned. It feels like heaven, like coming home after a long day at work, like the first sip of water after a hangover.

He realises soon enough that bouncing on his cock feels better than the grinding, and this knowledge makes Simon grip onto his hips tighter to help him along. Soap has his head thrown back, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and onto his chest, eyes rolled into his skull. Look so perfect, Simon thinks. My boy.

His pace gets harder and faster and Simon realises he's not going to last longer. "Come for me, Johnny. Paint me with your cum, baby."

His hips stutter as he releases a whorish moan, probably waking up the entire base as he climaxes all over Simon's chest, his belly, heck some even went up to his face. He holds onto Simon's arms that were around his hips and crashes his lips onto his. This sets Simon off as he pumps once, twice, and buries himself deep in his ass and comes hard. They're both shaking and groaning, the kiss sloppy with sweat and spit, and their orgasms melting into each other's.

After a long time, Johnny pulls apart and stares into Simon's eyes. Those big, beautiful eyes that made him feel like home. They were slightly dazed and not all coherent and Johnny just grins.

"Let's do that again, sir."

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 13

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader

Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 7.0k+

Note: SMUT again!!!!! i had SO many requests to write more so im trying!!! any authors want to give me tips id love that xxx

18+ only, MDNI

content warnings: blowjob, face fucking sorta, cum swallowing, exhibitionism I suppose?? idk what to call it. if I'm missing any let me know <33

xxx

The last three weeks? A blur.

It’s been… about as close to "not casual" as you can get without admitting it’s something real with Will. And I don’t know whether I should feel relieved or like I’m teetering on the edge of some emotional cliff.

He’ll wait for me to finish work, and then we’ll go out to dinner. Always somewhere low-key, somewhere we can avoid prying eyes.

But he hasn’t made me a cup of tea, not once. Not even when I’ve been on the edge of exhaustion, when a cup of Earl Grey could fix everything.

He’ll text me job opportunities his friends are posting—always practical, always thoughtful—but he doesn’t ask about my day, not in the way someone who’s really invested does.

Or maybe he's trying to keep it casual, like me.

And we never meet when the sun’s still high in the sky. It’s like he has this rule, a silent agreement we’ve never discussed: after dark, we exist. Before then? It’s as if we’re just... separate lives.

He hasn’t met my friends. Not Ruth, not anyone. It’s like I’m hiding him away, but I don’t really mind. I don’t want him to be friends with Ruth—she’d ask too many questions, and I’m not ready for that.

We don’t know what the other gets up to when we’re not together, but over text, we’re funny. We send memes, random jokes, and stupid updates, like we’re in some constant, low-stakes conversation. But it’s never about anything real. No talks about our days, no checking in on anything that matters. It’s just… banter.

It’s like we exist in parallel, connected by inside jokes and little moments, but never touching the deeper stuff. Until we come together for our stolen moments.

But god… it’s fun. It’s so much fun. He’s fun. He’s wild and unpredictable, and when we’re together, it’s like the world falls away.

And yeah, he’s pretty. He’s ridiculously pretty. Like it’s almost unfair.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s easy to get caught up in all of it. The thrill. The mystery. But I’m starting to wonder… is that enough?

xxx

Work was hell. One of those days where every email felt like a personal attack and the printer chose violence for the third time this week. My manager spent the afternoon breathing down my neck like I was personally responsible for the state of the global economy, and by the time I got on the tube, I felt like a chewed-up receipt someone had stomped on.

So when I finally unlock the front door, all I want is silence, maybe tea, maybe death.

Instead, it hits me immediately—music, laughter, and the low thrum of voices carrying down the hall from the living room.

Shit.

I thought I’d dodged this.

Chris texted something earlier about “lads round before the pub,” and I’d purposely stayed late at work, hoping I could sneak in, grab a snack, and vanish into my room unnoticed. No small talk. No beer breath.

No Will.

I’m not ready for him to see me like this. In my work clothes, Absolutely destroyed. My limbs are heavy, my brain is fried, and I have zero patience for banter or flirtation or pretending to be even remotely charming. I feel frayed at the edges, like if someone so much as asks me how my day was, I’ll burst into tears or flames—whichever comes first.

I try not to think about the last time I came home like this. When I’d been this wrecked, this worn down, and he saw it—all of it. I remember the quiet way he looked at me, like I wasn’t pathetic for falling apart over spreadsheets and deadlines. I remember how he kissed me like I made sense to him, even when I didn’t make sense to myself.

I almost get to my room. But then—

“Y/N!” Chris’s voice cuts through the noise like a boomerang of guilt. “You’re back! Come sit, we’ve got room!”

I freeze at the corner of the hallway, fingers still curled around the strap of my work bag. Just a second’s pause. Too long. George’s head turns. He sees me.

There’s no escape.

“Just for a bit,” I call back, keeping my voice light, masking the internal oh-for-fuck’s-sake that’s bubbling up behind my ribs .I step into the room and it’s like a spotlight swings right onto me. Seven pairs of eyes. A half-empty bottle of rum on the table. And Will—

Will, lounging across the couch like a Renaissance painting that got bored and discovered sarcasm. Long legs stretched out, one arm draped over the backrest, beer bottle balanced loosely in hand. He clocks me immediately, and his mouth curves—not into a smile, exactly, but into something far worse.

Our eyes meet.

It’s electric. Sharp. Stupid.

He's got that knowing tilt. That lazy smirk. That look that says: You came here for me, didn’t you?

So painfully obvious that I look away almost instantly, like that’ll stop my cheeks from heating up.

Chris kicks the beanbag next to him, indicating the spot he's 'found' for me. “Don’t be antisocial. You’ve earned a drink, coder queen.”

“Only if the drink contains morphine,” I mutter, letting my bag thunk to the floor. I move into the room slowly, careful not to look too long in Will’s direction, which of course just makes me more aware of every molecule of him.

George offers a vague nod from the armchair, glass coke-and-probably-rum in his hand. “Rough day?” he asks.

I shoot him a look that could curdle milk. “Define ‘rough.’” I don't mean to be so curt with him. But its hard not to be recently.

Will hums, eyes glinting. “Did someone interrupt your TikTok scroll with a meeting invite?”

I give him a saccharine smile. “No, just got emotionally waterboarded by capitalism. But thanks for your concern, William.”

He raises his beer in my direction, grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Cheers to emotional trauma.” The room laughs, Arthur snorts into his glass—but Will’s eyes don’t leave mine. Not really.

He’s joking. Obviously. That’s the game. We throw jabs, deflect with sarcasm, act like neither of us is keeping score. But there’s a flicker underneath it. His brow arches just slightly, the tilt of his head barely perceptible—but it’s there.

You alright?

He doesn’t say it out loud, and I don’t answer. Not with words. Just a half-smile, quick and crooked, the kind that says I’m fine even when I’m not. Especially when I’m not. I'm sure he sees right through it but that’s okay.

I take the spot Chris offered me on the beanbag, it's just close enough to feel the heat of Will’s gaze, but far enough that I can pretend to ignore it. The voices swirl around me, but they feel distant. My focus is too busy tuning itself to him. Chris hands me a rum and coke he's just mixed. I take one sip, holy fuck it's strong. I know I insinuated I wanted one with heavy drugs in it but goddamn. I mutter a thank you to him.

Will leans slightly forward, one elbow resting on his knee now. His fingers tap absently on the glass bottle. His eyes flick to mine again, like he’s checking I’m still there, still looking.

I am.

I always am.

The stress starts to slip off me in layers—first my shoulders, then my jaw. He doesn’t even say anything to me. Just exists in the room the way he does, all ease and quiet smugness. This always happens. I show up bristling and bitter, decide I won’t even look at him, and five minutes later I’m laughing at nothing, forgetting why I was mad in the first place.

I scan the room, counting names like mental flashcards. Chris. George. Arthur—both of them. Bach, curled up with a cider and a fresh haircut, hoodie sleeves pushed up like he’s about to solve a mystery or maybe start a band. But then there's a face I don’t recognise.

He’s shorter, with could-be curls and the kind of cheekbones that suggest he’s good at five-a-side. His football shirt is vintage, or at least cool enough to pretend it is. He catches me looking and offers a polite, not-unfriendly half-smile.

I nod, reflexively. Then—without thinking—glance at Will.

And he’s already looking at me.

He clocks the exchange immediately. Doesn’t miss a beat. “This is Stephen,” he says, voice pitched just that bit louder than necessary—like he’s introducing him to the room, but really, the message is mine. A soft thread tugging: I see you.

The conversation ripples with laughter, someone says something about Stephen being “the designated wildcard,” and I manage a real smile this time. Not forced. Not polite. Just… easy.

Will’s eyes find mine again. That same look—subtle and steady, with none of the usual bite. Not quite a smile, but something warmer than neutral. Something careful. Protective. Like he’s flicking the corner of a post-it note stuck to my ribs that says, You’re not invisible.

I want to thank him, for throwing me that social lifeline, for always noticing. For being the first and honestly only person who introduces me to people. It seems like everyone just assumes I should know them.

But the words catch in my throat, too heavy with everything we’re not saying. So instead, I shift on the beanbag, tuck one leg underneath me, and look away—pretending not to blush while the heat creeps up my neck like he lit a match inside me.

Still, I feel it.

That invisible line drawn across the floor. The energy between us shifts. It’s no longer sweet — it’s something else. It’s…

I meet is gaze, steady on me.

Like a secret that doesn’t need to be spoken to be known.

So I take a sip of my too-strong drink, pretending it doesn’t taste like his name on my tongue.

It’s…

Hot.

Heavy.

It’s…

everything I didn’t want to admit.

The conversation rolls on, picks up speed again like it never noticed I tried to derail it by existing. It’s normal. Casual.

I feel anything but.

Every nerve in my body is hyper-aware of Will’s presence. Of the three inches of space between his leg and George next to him. Of the way he isn’t drinking much, just slowly nursing a beer and glancing in my direction whenever someone else is talking.

I try not to notice.

I fail spectacularly.

“So, Will,” Chris says, stirring something neon and suspicious, “what’s going on with you? You seeing anyone? What happened to that girl from Dublin?”

My stomach tenses. I blink hard at the rim of my glass. I didn't know there was a girl from Dublin.

Will grins, infuriating and deliberate. “She moved back to Dublin, plus we couldn’t understand a word each other were saying.”

George scoffs. “Translation: she ghosted him after one mediocre date.”

“Excuse you,” Will says, hand on chest in mock injury. “My dates are never mediocre.”

He says it to the room, but he looks at me when he says it.

Direct. Unapologetic.

Like he’s daring me to contradict him.

Laughter breaks out around us. Chris chuckles into his drink. Arthur-who-i-don't-live-with claps once, delighted. George chuckles too at first. But I feel it. That subtle shift. The way his body leans back, almost imperceptibly, like he’s just remembered something, or just noticed something he hadn’t meant to see.

Will sits back again, smug. His fingers brush the rim of his bottle, slow and rhythmic.

Arthur-who-i-DO-live-with raises his eyebrows. “So what—you are seeing someone now?”

Will shrugs, slow and maddeningly nonchalant. “Yeah, sorta. It’s… early. Kind of nice, actually.”

The word nice lands on me like a spark. My heart flips.

I see George go stiff.

Arthur-who-i-don't-live-with lights up. “Is that an exclusive soft launch?”

Will tilts his head, grinning like he knows the chaos he’s about to cause. “Wouldn’t be very soft if I confirmed that, would it?”

More laughter. But I see it—the small clench in George’s jaw. The way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

My pulse is in my ears, like the room just tilted slightly and no one noticed but me.

I stare at glass, trying to focus on the ice melting. I don’t look at Will. I don’t look at George.

I try not to look like I’m thinking too hard about any of it.

The conversation has shifted again, and now I'm pretending to listen to whatever Arthur’s saying about Fantasy Premier League. Will’s directly across from me, half-lit by the warm lamplight, that same lazy posture like he hasn’t moved in an hour. But I can feel him.

Not see him.

Feel him.

The way his gaze keeps drifting—pulling across the space between us like a taut string. It slides over my cheek, down my collarbone, lingers somewhere just below my neckline. Never obvious. Never quite bold enough to be caught by anyone else. Well, except maybe George.

But I feel it. God, do I feel it.

I keep my face carefully neutral, sipping at my drink and nodding like I’m tuned in. I’m not. I’m hyperaware of everything else—of the way Will’s thumb rests along the bottle’s edge, slow circles, absent-minded but precise. Of the way his knee bumps against George’s once, shifts, then angles ever-so-slightly toward me. Of the flicker of his tongue as he licks a bit of beer from the corner of his mouth.

He hasn’t said a word to me in ten minutes.

And he doesn’t have to.

That silence between us? It’s louder than anything.

Someone jokes about going out soon, about being already half-cut—and the room laughs, the energy rising. I laugh too, a bit too high, a bit too fast. Will notices. Of course he does.

He lifts his bottle and tilts it slowly toward me. Barely half an inch. Just a twitch of his wrist. But it’s deliberate. Drink, love, it says.

I blink. Tilt my glass back in quiet rebellion.

He smirks.

The bastard.

Chris throws a cushion at Arthur, and the room devolves into a tangle of boys and half-empty mixers. But I stay grounded—anchored by Will’s eyes. Every time I glance up, I find him already looking. Like he doesn’t trust me to be in the same room without watching me.

I shift slightly on my beanbag, tug my work cardigan off my shoulders like it’s casual, like it’s just warm in here. It’s not. I’m ice inside and overheating all at once.

He doesn’t look at the cardigan. He watches my hands as I pull the sleeves over my wrists, watches my fingers fiddle with the hem like I’m trying not to fidget. Like I’m unravelling, slowly, and he’s enjoying every second.

George says something beside him, and Will nods along, doesn’t break eye contact.

Doesn’t need to.

His gaze is that constant hum under my skin. That pressure behind my ribs. That memory of last week’s hands on my skin—of mouths, too fast and too familiar, of breathless laughter tangled in the dark.

I press my knees tighter together, shift again.

Will’s brow lifts—subtle, cocky. Like he knows exactly what I’m doing.

I clench my jaw. Look away.

Then, under the coffee table—light, so light—I feel it. The brush of his foot. Just barely grazing the side of mine.

I don’t move.

I don’t flinch.

But my pulse kicks up like I’ve been yanked out of my own skin.

I glance up again, carefully, slowly. Will’s talking now. Joking about something, deflecting someone’s dig, probably Stephen's, but his eyes flick back to mine mid-sentence. And the corner of his mouth twitches.

That almost-smile. That “I know what this is doing to you” look.

I hate him. I hate how well he reads me. How much I want to close the distance between us in front of everyone. How I can’t.

Someone’s asking me a question—Arthur, maybe—but it doesn’t land. I answer with a nod I barely register. My brain is half-fog, half-fire, and all of it is him.

He shifts again, knees spreading wider, then lets his hand drop to his thigh. His thumb taps once. Still watching me.

I sip my drink just to give my hands something to do. I’m going to combust.

And he knows it.

Xxx

There is a lull in the conversation, and I can feel another story starting, another distraction spinning through the air like glitter. I use the moment and push myself to my feet.

“Gonna crash,” I say casually, stretching like the act of standing isn’t a full-body escape. “You lot have fun.”

There’s a scattered chorus of goodnights. George offers a warm “Sleep well,” and Chris winks like I’ve just admitted defeat to my own social battery.

Will doesn’t say anything.

But I feel his eyes follow me as I walk out.

I don’t look back.

Upstairs, my room is dark and quiet, the low hum of bass from downstairs barely bleeding through the floor. I close the door gently, not quite clicking it shut. Just in case.

I exhale.

Then I sit on the edge of my bed, the silence thick around me, hands pressed into the blanket like I need the grounding. The energy from the night still crackling across my skin.

Two minutes later—barely enough time for me to even kick off my shoes—I hear the floorboard outside my door creak.

The faintest knock.

Then the door opens. Will slips in without waiting for a reply, like it’s not a question. Like this has always been the plan. He clicks the door closed behind him.

He’s holding his half-finished beer. His brows lift when he sees me still sitting on the edge of the bed, like he expected something different—maybe pyjamas, maybe distance.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he says, voice low and easy, like the joke’s been waiting on his tongue all night.

I glance up. “Like what?”

He tips his head toward the clutter. “You. Me. This cursed little museum of other people’s bad purchases.”

I snort. “Hey, don’t knock the early-career YouTuber aesthetic. George says the broken drone adds character.”

He glances at the corner like it personally offends him, eyes landing on the toppled ring light still leaning sideways against the wall.

“That tripod’s still knocked over,” he says, mouth twitching. “Should’ve known you’d leave it exactly where we kicked it.”

I shoot him a look. “Technically, you kicked it. While trying to multitask.”

He steps a little closer, slow, smug. He’s still standing. I’m still seated, spine straightening without meaning to as he closes a bit of the distance. “I was very focused,” he says.

“On making a mess?”

“On you.”

God.

That look on his face—just barely smug, but warm underneath, like he’s remembering the exact moment he lost focus. The way his voice drops when he says you.

It does something to me.

I try not to let it show. But suddenly I’m hyper-aware of the way he fills the doorway. The way his shirt clings to the dip of his collarbone. The light catching on the edge of his jaw. He smells like citrus and beer and something faintly like heat.

He’s not even trying, and I feel like I’m about to go up in flames.

That shuts me up for half a second too long. He notices—of course he does—and the smugness softens, just a fraction. Not gone, just folded beneath something quieter.

“Yeah, well, I live here rent-free. I don’t get to be picky.”

“There’s a monitor from 2011 under your bed.”

“And yet you keep showing up.”

He smiles at that—slow, crooked. Dangerous. “Yeah. Wonder why that is.”

He doesn’t move closer. Just lingers near the door, like he's giving me the choice. Like if I said go, he would.

I don’t. Obviously.

He scans the room again, like he’s seeing it for the first time—even though this isn’t new. He's been here before. More times than makes sense, actually.

More than makes sense for two people pretending not to mean anything.

His voice softens. “You alright?”

“I am now,” I say, quieter than I mean to.

He nods like he already knew. Like it’s not the first time I’ve said that to him.

Then a beat. Just enough silence to feel like gravity.

He looks at me, just looks, still standing, beer in hand, five feet of electric space between us, and says, “Funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“This keeps happening.” His eyes flick around the room—the clutter, the quiet, me sitting there in the middle of it all like a scene he keeps returning to. “Me ditching my mates. You sitting here like you didn’t plan on letting me in.”

I try to look unimpressed. “I didn’t.”

He takes one slow step forward. “You always leave the door open.”

“I always forget to close it.”

“Sure you do.”

His voice is lower now, steadier, pulling something out of me like thread from a seam. I should say something clever. I should move. But I can’t. I just sit there, heart thudding, skin flushed, and think—

He looks so fucking good.

And then I do move.

I stand slowly, like I’m not entirely sure why I’m doing it, like gravity’s just pulled me to my feet instead of common sense. We’re closer now—barely a foot between us—and he watches me rise like it’s happening in slow motion.

He opens his mouth like he might say something else, but I don’t give him the chance.

I kiss him.

Soft at first, but insistent. Like I’ve been thinking about this all night—and I have. His mouth tastes like beer and something sharper underneath. I grip his collar and feel his breath catch against mine.

He kisses me back, of course he does—hands sliding to my hips, grounding me, anchoring us—but there’s something restrained in it. Like he’s kissing me carefully.

I know that version of him. That cautious, thinking-too-much version.

So I tip things.

My hands slide lower, thumbs brushing under the hem of his shirt. I toy with the edge of his waistband, tug lightly, just enough to make a point.

He breaks the kiss with a soft, breathy laugh. “All of my mates are literally a door away.”

I look up at him, deliberately unfazed. “So?”

His breath hitches again.

It’s almost funny, how flustered he gets when I push things. He’s all bark in the living room, teasing across the room with smug little comments and those eyes. But in here, with me? His confidence slips just a little when I’m the one steering.

"I think they're about—” he starts, but he doesn’t finish.

I kiss him again, firmer this time, my hands threading through the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer like I own this moment. “We’re already being stupid. Might as well commit.”

Will leans back against the door, just like the first time he pressed me here—his body a solid frame against mine. The heat between us sizzles, silent but undeniable, like electricity sparking in the tight space.

My fingers move to his chest. I pull back just enough to catch my breath, eyes locked on his. “I need five minutes and a hairtie,” I say, voice low, teasing with a dangerous edge.

He arches a brow, a slow, reluctant smile curling his lips. “Five minutes? What’s the plan, boss?”

I step forward, voice dropping to a sultry whisper as I lean close, so close he can feel my breath against his jaw. “You’ve been looking at me like you can’t resist me all night," I murmur, "may as well give you what you want."

He laughs, rough and easy, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, I know he's nervous, with all his mates next door but let's be real, he's a guy. He won’t think about the consequences of a blowjob if it means getting a blowjob.

“Alright, alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” I murmur, my lips brushing his ear, “because I like you exactly where you are.”

I step back just enough to grab the scrunchie from the messy bed, my fingers trembling slightly over the pile of clothes and tech junk. The crooked ring light teeters but doesn’t fall.

Will watches every move, his gaze sharp and hungry, the light catching the planes of his face—jawline, collarbone, that subtle crease above his brow.

I twist my hair up slow, deliberately, locking eyes with him the entire time. When I turn back around, he’s still by the door, eyes dark, lips slightly parted.

Without warning, he reaches out, fingers sliding around my waist, pulling me close again. His touch is firm, possessive, and completely sure—like he’s claiming every inch of me without holding anything back.

My hands press against his chest, feeling the steady pulse beneath his shirt, matching the wild racing in my own veins. I let my lips drift lower, tracing a slow path along his jaw, brushing against the sharp angle, every kiss deliberate, every breath warm against his skin.

Will's breath catches. I bite lightly at the curve of his neck, my teeth teasing, my tongue on his skin just enough to make him shiver. My fingers find their way back to his waistband, and I feel his bare skin under his shirt, my fingers ghosting along his hips.

Without breaking the kiss, my fingers fumble hurriedly at his belt buckle, the tension making my hands tremble just enough to slow me down. It catches on the metal, stubborn. He leans in, breath warm against my ear, and with a quick, practiced motion, frees the clasp.

His hands slip around my waist again, fingers pressing into my skin, pulling me impossibly closer—solid, grounding me in the wildfire sparking between us.

His eyes darken, shadows deepening into something fierce and hungry, raw and unfiltered, completely caught in this moment like nothing else exists beyond us.

I can feel the heat radiating off him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat syncing with mine, every second stretching out, heavy and electric.

Theres no hesitation now, just the undeniable pull, the raw energy crackling through the air.

I kiss him again—no time for pleasantries—my tongue sliding boldly down his throat, hungry and demanding, like I’m trying to swallow every word he’s left unsaid.

I push his jeans down his legs, just enough to give me access to his briefs. I palm his dick through them, a moan escaping his mouth into mine. His knees buckle just slightly, but enough for me to notice. I giggle softly, breathless, and he responds by moving his hands up, cupping my face gently—his touch warm and steady, grounding me even as everything else feels like it’s spinning.

I want to tease him a little longer—draw this out, keep the heat simmering—but I’m wary of the time, the situation.

I told him five minutes. I’ll deliver on my promise.

So I pull back just enough to flash him a sly smile, my fingers trailing teasingly down his chest before stepping away, leaving the tension hanging between us like a spark waiting to catch fire.

“Five minutes,” I remind him softly, voice low and mischievous.

I drop to my knees faster than he’s expecting. I know because when I look up, his eyes widen—surprise flickering across his face.

My hands work quickly, sliding his briefs down, then his jeans, the fabric slipping and pooling around his ankles like they don’t belong.

He’s exposed and vulnerable now, and somehow it only makes my grin widen.

His hands find my hair, fingers curling tightly around my locks, tugging firmly—sharp enough to sting but slow enough to tease—setting the tone so fast it knocks the breath out of me.

Heat surges through me, but I have to steady myself, remind myself we don’t have all night to make this flirty or even sexy.

There’s no time to ease into it, no room for slow burns or soft teasing.

Just this—raw, urgent, and real.

I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his tip, trying to make it as slick as quickly as I possibly can. I can taste his precum, and I catch every last drop.

I move forward, taking him into my mouth as deep as possible, my hand covering the rest. I'm still not over how big he is. For a skinnier guy hes a) strong and b) hung. I press one hand lightly on his bare thigh, using it to steady myself—feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm, grounding me in the moment.

I look up at him, drinking in the way his chest heaved and how his eyes were screwed shut. His mouth is hanging open, He's trying to not moan, I can see it in how he bites his lips, how tight the grip is on my hair. I wish he would, he has the prettiest little moans I've ever heard.

He tells me late at night, when we’re soft and happy and talking about anything and everything, that he doesn’t moan.

I’ve learned otherwise.

And tonight? Tonight is just more proof.

“holy fuck.” he breathed out, as quietly as he could. He's not able to stop himself from thrusting down, his eyes blinking open, a shocked face looking down, looking at me. I look back, hollowing my cheeks, taking him deeper. He hits the back of my throat over and over, im gagging slightly, but not too loud.

I hope.

His hips were shaking now, and he was twitching in my mouth.

"Love can I - " he breaths softly, looking down at me. One of his hands is now detangled from my hair, finding its way to my cheeks.

Even now, like this, he’s soft with me.

Despite everything, there’s a gentleness in the way he holds me, in the way he lets himself be vulnerable—right here, right now.

“Can I move? Can I…” It’s so cute and honestly downright hot when he says things like that—when he asks sweetly before taking the next step, like he’s checking in, making sure I’m okay. Before he fucks my face.

I nod, mouth still full of him. He smiles at me, hands returning to my hair, further back now, and much tighter.

his hips set a restless pace, it's hard to breathe, but god. If he looks like that he can do anything to me.

My name spills from his lips, soft and quiet—like a prayer. Like a plea.

It catches in my chest, a tender weight I didn’t expect but don’t want to ignore.

He moves a hand,  ushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead, my fingers trembling just a little.

Tears start to well in my eyes, blurring my vision until I can’t see him clearly anymore. My body feels like it’s on fire—every nerve alive, every breath catching like it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“god, fuck, yeah-,” he stumbles over his own words, the pleasure taking over him completely.

Will's muscles are strained in his long sleeves, and he pushes my head further down him.

He groans quietly—low, guttural, a sound that vibrates through me and sets something deep loose.

I blink, tears falling from my face. His pace falters for a second, but I softly move my fingers on his thigh.

Its okay, keep going.

His pace resumes, but not for long. “sh-shit, I’m gonna… fuck.” his body began to shake, and I restrict my mouth around him one last time. His pace stops, and his body shudders forward. Hands still firmly tangled in my hair.

I felt his hot, desperate load down fall down my throat. 

and I swallow all of it, like a goddamn champ. I clean off his cock with my tongue and finally let him drop from my mouth, wiping the sides of my lips with my thumb. He whimpers, clearly overstimulated, and is looking at me like I just sucked his soul clean out of him.

Maybe I did.

Will is still catching his breath, chest rising and falling as he recovers. I revel in the site. A silent I did this to him.

He pulls his jeans back up his body, fixing his belt. Then, slow and steady, he extends a hand to lift me off the floor.

His fingers brush the tears from my face, wiping them away gently. He smiles at me—sweetly, innocently—as if we hadn’t just committed filthy sin in his mate’s storage cupboard.

He kisses me, deeply, and tastes all of himself on my tongue.

"Holy… Fuck" he says. Our faces only inches away. "You weren't kidding about five minutes. I've never cum that quick in my life".

"What can I say? I'm a woman of my word, I say, cheeks very warm. I can feel my own heat sticking through my underwear. I'll have to sort myself out later, when the flat is empty.

Oh my god. The flat isn't empty.

If anything its very full.

Will’s breath is still warm on my neck.

We haven’t said anything in a minute, he's holding me close to him, his back still against the door, like he didn’t actually want to pull away. My chest is flush against his and his hands are still resting on my waist like he's forgotten how to let go.

“Think they’ll notice I’m gone?” he mutters, voice low against my skin.

I don’t get the chance to answer, because right then, through the door, we hear it:

“Oi, where’s Will?” George.

Will stiffens. I feel it immediately — every muscle in him goes tense.

Shit.

We’re still standing way too close. I try to move but he doesn’t step back. Not right away. He just lifts his head, eyes flicking toward the door like he can see straight through it.

“He was just here?” says Arthur-who-i-do-live-with.

They don’t sound suspicious. Yet. Just drunk. Loud. Careless.

Will finally shifts, just enough to ease the weight between us, but he doesn’t step away.

His arms stay around me, loose but certain, like letting go isn’t an option yet. One hand trails slowly down my arm, brushing my skin in a way that sends shivers up my spine—but instead of stopping, he links our fingers together, holding me there.

Close.

Warm.

Silent, but full of something neither of us dares to name.

I take a shaky breath, still wrapped in him, pretending I’m fine.

Not flushed.

Not trembling.

Not wildly aware that we’re tucked away in my bedroom with friends just metres away and his heartbeat still thudding against mine.

And even though we should be moving, disappearing before anyone notices—we don’t.

Because neither of us wants to be the first to pull away.

“Bathroom?” someone says. Then there’s the sound of doors opening — hallway cupboard. Not mine.

“This is bad,” I whisper.

He shrugs, but his eyes are still locked on the door like it might vanish if he stares hard enough. “Only if they find me.”

I look up at him quickly. He grins. Bastard.

“Come on, we’re heading out!” Chris calls. Muffled, but definitely closer. “Will, don’t make me come find you!”

Outside, someone knocks on the bathroom door. A beat of silence. Then George again: “If he’s having a tactical, he better hurry the hell up.”

They’re all still yelling and fumbling around out there, no idea he’s right here, ten feet from them — hair messy because of me, shirt untucked because of me. I hold onto him, heart racing.

Will and I both freeze when we hear the bathroom door open.

“Nope,” George calls. “He’s not in there. Ghosted us.”

Will glances at me. He looks amused.

I don’t.

Outside, footsteps echo down the hallway — Chris stomping like he’s on a mission, Arthur’s voice somewhere behind him, probably making sarcastic commentary, and Stephen mumbling something about just leaving without Will entirely.

Will leans his head closer to the voices, listening carefully.

He holds up a finger: wait.

And then, the second their voices fade past my room and toward the front of the flat, he opens the door just enough to slip out.

It happens fast. Quiet. Like he’s done this before.

But right before he disappears fully into the hallway, he glances back at me — not a smirk this time, not a wink. Just… a look.

I don’t know what it means.

Then he’s gone.

I hear his voice seconds later, chiming in with the group like he’s been there the whole time.

“Oi, I was getting my jacket. Calm down.”

They laugh—one of those tired, half-drunk bursts of laughter that echoes down the hall.

Chris curses him out, but it’s half-hearted, more fond than furious.

And I can hear Stephen’s already halfway out the door—his voice going all echoey as it carries from the shared hallway, fading in and out between open space and walls.

They’re leaving.

They think Will’s just behind them.

And I’m still here, tangled up in him, trying to catch my breath while pretending this doesn’t feel like more than it’s meant to be.

But then there’s a pause.

A beat.

Arthur's voice isn’t loud — just close. “…You didn’t get your jacket from Y/Ns room, though.”

Silence.

My phone buzzes.

I ignore it.

It’s probably Ruth. Or maybe it’s Chris asking if I want to come with them. Either way, I don’t have it in me to check right now.

I curl onto my bed, knees pulled in, face pressed to the pillow that still smells like his shampoo. I can still sort of hear them, I guess they're at the front door, dicking around with the uber app, realising they need an XL.

Will’s voice is the first I catch.

“yeah were… It’s… a thing. Kind of.”

The words hit like a slap I saw coming but didn’t move fast enough to dodge.

I don’t even know what the question was. Doesn’t matter.

The way he says it — awkward, hesitant, like he’s embarrassed to say more — that’s the part that sticks.

Not a relationship.

Not I really like her.

Just a thing. Kind of.

God.

What happened to "it's kind of nice, actually." from before?

There’s a short silence, and then George pipes up, far too quickly.

“I’m happy for you, mate.”

But his voice betrays him. There’s something sharp under the words. Brittle.

And the others go quiet, like they heard it too.

I go still, barely breathing, straining to hear anything else — but the silence that follows says enough.

Because I know George, better than most.

Will doesn’t reply right away.

I imagine him there — shifting uncomfortably, maybe rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s not sure if he should push or back off.

I almost wish I could see his face.

Almost.

A few minutes later, I hear the front door shut. Voices blur into the street noise—Chris yelling something, someone laughing too hard—and then the house finally settles.

Quieter. But not quiet.

Not in my head.

I don’t move. I just sit there, staring at the chipped edge of my bedside table like it might tell me what I’m meant to feel.

I want to be angry.

At George, for whatever that was.

At Will, for saying "It’s... a thing. Kind of.”

Like I’m a side quest. A rumour. A shrug.

But the worst part is—

he's not wrong.

That’s what we agreed to. No pressure. No label. Nothing real.

Just fun.

But it's not just fun anymore. I'm sure of it. It's changed somewhere.

Somewhere between when he notices when I’ve had a bad day before I say a word.

When he brings me the crisps I always pretend I don’t want. When he lingers after everyone else has left — just long enough to ask if I’m okay, but not long enough to make it obvious.

Somewhere in the way he kisses me like he means it.

I rub my palms down my jeans, still not sure if I want to scream, cry, or just disappear into the mattress entirely. There’s a twisting feeling in my chest—hot and stupid and hard to name.

Not heartbreak.

But definitely something cracked.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, screen lighting up in the dim room.

 lol cat’s out the bag

The boys are teasing me for how fucked my hair looks.

I don’t respond to him, not yet.

You alright? Want me to come back up?

I stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply bubble, but I don’t type anything. Because I don’t know what I’d say. Not yet.

Lol

Probably should've thought that more through

Enjoy your night!!

I feel so tired now. The heat in my cheeks is long gone, replaced by something strange and hollow—like whatever was burning in me has cooled too quickly, leaving just the ash behind.

I want to forget about George, I really do. Because this—this sharp edge under his words—it's not just a random mood swing. It’s personal. And it’s unfair. Because he was the one who rejected me. Not the other way around. But I don’t want to think about George. I don’t want to untangle the way my chest tightens when I hear his voice. Or the way his eyes flicker when he catches me looking. I want to focus on Will.

But George—George is a weight I can’t shake, and it feels like he’s dragging me back every time I try to move forward.

And it’s not fair. Not to me. Not to anyone. I rub my palms against my trousers , willing the knot in my stomach to loosen.

But it won’t.

xxx

Taglsit: @meglouise00@migilini @thankyoulovely @mosviqu @formulaal @jonnybernthalslover @tiredqzl @mrswillne @ravenaz

[ladylynse]

Hello! I love your works, they're all so cool! I especially love your rc9gn ones because it's my current hyperfixation. Do you think you can make some (even your 3-sentences ones would make me really happy!)? I have a bunch of prompts!

Prompt 1: Viceroy trying to create a robot, but something went wrong (Bash/McFist/a robo-ape probably messed it up) and it caused an electric short-age to the whole town

Prompt 2: There's a thunderstorm at the end of class and everyone was advised to wait out the storm before they could get home, shenanigans ensues

Prompt 3: (contains human!Nomicon) the Nomicon thinks about all the good and bad things his current student has done

I have more, but I don't want to spam you with all of them, so here's all I'll give! It's fine if you can't do any of it, I'm just thankful for the work you've alr done!

Thanks so much, Anon! I'm sorry I'm getting to this so late, but I am delighted you like what I've written. I really appreciate you letting me know!

These prompts are best for ficlet prompts (specific scenarios always are), and unfortunately my ask box isn't open for that at the moment, but I'll turn them into three sentence prompts: blackout, stormbound, and human!Nomicon AU, reflections. I'm specifying what I'm boiling the prompts down to because I don't take specific scenarios for three sentence fic prompts anymore, so I ask for a word or two (along with the AU if it's an AU) for those, and this is how I'm going to list them in my three sentence fic list. (I'm still going to do your scenarios because I'm assuming you're new and don't know what I've been doing more recently, but this will give you an example of how a prompt can be boiled down.) You are welcome to still share any ideas you have, though! (It's always fun to see what people come up with.) I just won't necessarily turn them into ficlets.

Prompt 1 - Blackout

“Viceroy,” McFist growled in the sudden silence that seemed all the louder for the absence of any hum of machinery, “what did you do?”

Viceroy pinched the bridge of his nose—of course he’d get the blame for this when McFist, in all his enthusiasm, had been the one to activate the prototype before it was ready—but somehow summoned the patience to say, “It seems premature activation caused a power outage that, if the view out the window is any indication, is affecting the entire town; if you had waited—”

“The Ninja was right here,” snapped McFist, his words nearly—but not quite—covering up the sound of a pair of feet hitting the floor behind Viceroy and their owner no doubt dropped from above, “and if he’s going to show his face under my own roof, I’m going to send every WND we have after him!”

Prompt 2 - Stormbound

Randy didn’t think it would be too long before the rain let up enough for them to safely leave, but Howard—and clearly Heidi—had other ideas, since Howard had his phone out and was willingly watching Heidi’s Me-Cast, where she was saying, “Hey, N-villers, Heidi here with the DL on the downpour; the storm has us all stuck in school, so I propose a contest: first person to—hey!”

“First person to discover the real secrets of Norrisville,” continued Debbie, her face only partly in frame and the entire camera bouncing as she scrambled to keep the phone out of Heidi’s reach, “will win the prize. So how about it—who wants to unmask the Ninja with me?”

Prompt 3 - Reflections, Human!Nomicon AU

He would be lying if he called Randy his best student or his most skilled one, but Randy may well be the one who most embodied what it meant to be the Norrisville Ninja; he had a heart that wouldn’t fail him, and when he dealt with the likes of the Sorcerer and now the Sorceress, that was the most valuable of all.

Of course, he also had more luck than the last ten Ninjas combined, and at times like these, it was hard to accept (despite ample supporting evidence) that that luck was entirely natural and not the result of a magical artefact altering the luck of others and bending fortune to his own favour, no matter how well that would explain the current predicament.

“Yo, Nomi,” called Randy, since Randy had insisted on calling him that once he’d realized he wasn’t speaking with the one he called First Ninja, “now that you’re, like, a person and not a book, this is a perfect time to teach me how to do the Ninja Dragon Fist, so how ‘bout it?”

-|-

see more fics | more RC9GN fics

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday thursday

tagged by @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard @spotsandsocks @hoodie-buck @weewootruck thank you 💖 tagging y'all back for friday lol

(I was so sure it's still Wednesday and only checked after I prepared the post so fuck it, posting it now lol)

don't look at me, I started another bucktommy wip 🙈 istg these two inspire me like no other ship ever has lmao the problem is i can't finish anything bc I constantly have new ideas

this one is inspired by mgk's song "twin flame" bc it was stuck in my head and it makes me think about the invisible string theory, and I'm a little insane about them clearly haha - I have most of the dialogue outlined so now I just gotta write the fic around it and hopefully it'll be done soon and I can get back to all the other ones lol I feel like for each writing game i post a snippet of something totally different 🙈

___

He’s so focused on admiring every little feature of his boyfriend’s face, thinking about how much he loves him and wants to spend forever with him, he startles when suddenly Tommy turns his head, his blue eyes on Buck now, smiling softly.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, a hint of concern audible.

“Yeah.” Buck smiles, his hand on Tommy’s chest tracing small patterns on his pec over the fabric of his t-shirt. “All good.”

“You sure? I’ve felt you stare at me for like ten minutes straight.” Tommy raises an eyebrow.

“Can’t I admire my hot pilot boyfriend for a minute?” Buck answers and adores the blush on Tommy’s cheeks, the sound of his laughter filling him with warmth and affection

___

no pressure tags for friday!: @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 @hippolotamus @your-catfish-friend @dangerpronebuddie @loveyouanyway @theotherbuckley @diazsdimples @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @bucked-it-up

[flaming-toads]

So what if I go back to s1e10 of 911 and I enjoy Bobby's little dating profile and think about silly cute ideas about it hmm?! HMMM?!

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[blacksurvivalnostalgichanges]

therefore?

therefore!

[nxmelessfighter]

//

[sabraeal]

1000 Followers Update!

Due to some super fun chronic health shenanigans, the posting for the 1000 Followers Celebration is being postponed a month! Posting will start on 2/2 with to all the ghost still standing in this room, and continue as previously planned from there. Thank you guys for bearing with me-- I struggled with the idea of even postponing for a week, but it became very clear on Monday that I would not be able to catch up with the schedule unless I took an extended break to recover. Can't wait to show you guys what I've got up my sleeve!

[thedeadthree]

HEHEHEHE 🥀💌☺️🥴

[no1ryomafan]

Thought about how given I’ve written so much for getter and rotate enough in my brain I could make hypothetical “how to write this characters” post if those even exists until I remember the factors of:

<the status of the tags doesn’t warrant a lot of writers as is and the only person to ask me this was a irl <I don’t wanna be gatekeepy even if I wouldn’t put my bias into it <who the fuck would it really be about besides ryoma and maybe hayato bc honest to god just grasping the team dynamic of the getter will make you be able to understand each individual pilot <I doubt myself I even write 100% in character despite what I’m told 💀

[skitskatdacat63]

I wanna watch Oppenheimer againnnnnnn please I'm begging 😭😭😭😭