#anyway this is your call to make something

[vampmira]

open up what you got in your mind to me. [pt.2 – saja boys.]

they've never met someone like you — a mortal who almost knew them .. better than they knew themselves. for the boys, it's annoyingly intriguing. for the girls, it's comforting.

paring(s): huntrix & saja boys x demon expert!gn!reader

warning(s:) EVERYTHING IN HERE IS A PART TWO TO THIS !! some movie changes, probably effected lore that makes no sense for the sake of the narrative, a little angst at the beginning

request | tags: @blueberrysquire @akariis4snowball @j0ykill

a/n: this is part 2 !! i had sooo many ideas for huntrix that i had to make another part for the saja boys so that it wasn't so long . this part isn't as good but i liked it so ☆☆☆

that night huntrix defeated gwima was a blur. all you remember was the zombie mob of fans, half of the fight, and the use of your aura vision to raise the saja boys above the honmoon before it glimmered in gold. jinu, who gave his newly found soul for rumi, was practically reincarnated through her sword – standing in front of her post-concert, arms open for her to fall into with tears from the both of them. everyone else? well, they felt lost.

the saja boys weren't sure what to do anymore. jinu was overjoyed, of course, but the boys knew nothing more beyond gwima and their mission. they didn't care much about music, nor their fans – which huntrix still couldn't wrap their minds around – and it's not like they had secret human hobbies. they never had time for that. until now.

post-gwima, they stayed in an apartment near the huntrix penthouse, trying to figure out their new lives. for the most part, they spent most of their time under your watch – to make sure they didn't go cause chaos – but also .. under your study.

you were weird to them

they weren't used to someone other than them.. knowing them

their capabilities, their knowledge, their origins.

actually jinu found your extensive understanding of what he is to be kind of comforting

he noticed how you never really drooled over them

you'd stare, sure, but in the same way an art critic would stare at a painted blue canvas with a smeared red dot in the middle

he felt like that red dot – unexplained but you somehow understood

when he told you about his past, it was a lot for him – talking about his cruel choice

but you.. didn't judge him.

in fact, you wrote it down in your notebook immediately, the one you never let the boys get too close to

he accepted you into his life when he entertained your interest in his history

unlike him, however, the other boys were uninterested

at first anyway

thank jinu for getting them to talk to you btw

it took a little bit of convincing – telling them that you wanted to give them something more than just gwima

even though they didn't want it ...

REGARDLESS they hang out around the penthouse

because they're no longer saja boys (uninterested and unsupported by any demon staff anymore)

they really had nothing to do but mildly annoy your personal space

including being the center of your attention when the girls are out

mira gave you one rule, "living room and bathroom. only." and you've succeeded so far. abby and romance were talking by the large scale windows, mystery was playing some game with baby (and obviously winning), and jinu sat in the middle of the couch, watching whatever movie rumi put on for him. you sat beside him, sketching in your one and only personal researcher book. your pencil drew out what you felt like was the final line in mystery's hair ... before you huffed, erasing it, and trying again.

that was... until the littlest demon startled you.

"mystery, they're drawing you." bored of his game, baby peered over your shoulder, only passively curious and really wanting to mess with you. heads turned at your exposure to the room, especially jinu, who looked over your other shoulder at the sketch you did of him earlier.

"you're.. sketching us?" the direct ask made you a bit nervous, especially being under so many eyes. (kind of. mystery was more just.. generally facing your direction.) "'weakness.. chest?' are you taking notes on us?" you stood up, nearly defensive, turning around to face the couch trio.

"if it weren't for your old friends, i wouldn't have to write it all down again." the boys went quiet, remembering the origin of your knowledge and powers. "i'm just.. tired of keeping it all inside. i need to get it out somewhere."

romance, true to his name, leaned over your shoulder, putting you both in a proximity much closer than you've ever had to experience before.

"then why don't we do something.. a little more fun .. to help you get it all out?"

normally sentences like that from him sound way more suggestive than he means them to be

but this time he came up with an actual solution to release your closed up, ready-to-pop-out-of-your-skin knowledge

they gave you a one way trip to infodump station ! an interview !

they wanted to learn more about you anyways

their fellow demons down below were the ones to wipe out your ancestors

not them

and they make sure you know it too

but they can't help but feel .. a little, tiny bit bad that you're now just a living library

a time capsule, holding onto so much information that you're about to burst 24/7

they had never met a researcher honestly

you intrigued them as much as they did for you

how much did you really know ?? did you know anything or is all this antsy behavior a ploy to make it look like you knew everything when you really knew nothing ??

their disguises were perfectly created to make every little fan fall for their attractiveness the second they looked at the boys

but you never drooled at them or had your eyes pop out of your head

you just always... stared. processing. tracing mindfully.

they didn't know what you were really abut. but they were about to find out. and really test your persona.

romance sat relaced in a chair as you circled him, pencil taking note of everything you noticed. how his markings were sharp, not rounded like rivers, how his skin was cooled, not burning hot. all things you already knew, but you found small comfort in knowing not much changed. you took a deep breath around his hair, nose scrunching up. he smiled, taking your cheek in his hand.

"new cologne." his voice was smooth, gentle. traditionally alluring. "just for you. do you like it?" he turned up his flirtatiousness, pulling you in closely, testing the waters of your focus.. before you turned away to start writing, completely uneffected.

"so many generations and you guys still smell like flames.." you mumbled to yourself.

"would you rather we smell like bubblegum?" baby tried to sass you, but you were too focused on the sharpness of his teeth to care. you stepped towards him, eyes widened.

"can demons still tear apart brick with the force of their canines?" you asked, rather close to his face. for a moment, he almost felt like the flustered one.

"yes..? no? i-i don't know." he crossed his arms, childishly. "i don't go around biting bricks." you jot it down still as you move towards abby. he's deeply relaxed, leaning back on the couch, comfortable shirt riding up to expose his famously toned abs. your eyes trail off of your notebook and they think.. they've got you.

"like what you see?" he teases. "you can touch them, you know." a bold move that brings you closer, nails tracing his skin. they're almost disappointed that abby is the one who stole your attention.. before they realize you're attention isn't stolen at all. you're drawing his markings with careful detail.

"where did yours come from? rumi's started forming on her arm when she was a kid, but they haven't reached her stomach yet. they grow with time, right? how old would that make you then..?" you dissolve into mutters they can barely decipher. "oh!! mystery!" he almost jumps behind the couch when you race over to him, making jinu laugh from the sidelines of their attempts to flirt with you. "i've never seen a demon sparkle! that's new.. is that just you? or is there a whole subspecies of sparkling demons? or is it your human disguise..?" your questions nearly overwhelm him, enough to make him forget how he's supposed to flirt with you, but romance pulls you away, whispering in your ear.

"it's not just him." he smiles, hand on your shoulder. "you're sparkling, too, sweetheart." if anyone could fluster anyone, it'd be him, even if it takes two rounds. his thumb runs against your chin. "you look so cute in this lighting, like a rose."

"speaking of which, what's the flora like down there? are there any? do they eat demons or are they like.. regular flowers? we knew more of demons than of gwima's realm. did they smell? i bet they might have.. would it be nostalgic or torturing?"

the boys share a look, and sigh. you went off into high speed muttering again.

you really were everything you said

uninterested in their flirts and more in knowledge

that almost made them like you more..

in the following times after the interview, they greeted you a bit more casually – sometimes cheerfully, asking if you had any new drawings or trivia you wanted to get off your chest

how did you . tame them !? does the whole hard to get thing actually work !?

it confused the girls wildly

but to see them adjusting to being here through someone who actually understood them instead of lying around, empty and lost, was a pick-me-up in the mornings

one morning, after being delivered a coffee, handsigned by the boys, you felt something click in your head, a sensation you had never felt before, and reached to put it in your notebook immediately

"demons, when properly befriended, like to be understood. they brought me coffee. do demons like coffee??"

[gangplanksorenji]

Her (Risky) Invitation.

Pairing: Chuu x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,432

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This fic was supposed to be out as a BFH but I got busy so whatever haha. I feel like this should out in the draft hell since my folder's getting stacked and dusted (rip) but anyways, hope you guys like this pretty quick bit.

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The ebullient sounds of the audience roars around the stadium, and you contribute to it with a single percentile. The match is getting exciting at this moment, considering how a single home run changed the course of the game yet someone isn’t in the same boat as you.

“This is pretty boring, argh—” The girl is unfiltered, not giving a care on who may hear her despite her opening pitch earlier that made the crowd erupt in cheers.

“Don’t say that—a wrong word that comes out of your mouth could get you in trouble, Chuu.”

“So?” She raises an eyebrow, following a coy smile as you sigh in little disbelief.

She doesn’t care, and you couldn't care less—her pettiness is something you despise, an attitude worth removing with teaching her a lesson but that won’t even make her learn anything.

“What do you mean ‘so’?”

She brushes you off, looking at the distance, reeking with boredom, and with nothing much for Chuu to say right after, you just avert your attention back to the game where it’s getting spicy.

“You know what—whatever, I’ll go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t care less even if she leaves the stadium (metaphorically, you do, yet realistically, you won’t let her) knowing how you’re getting more hooked with the game in front of you.

Letting Chuu by, you nod to her as she just looks at you and flashes out of your sight, through the door, then averted your attention towards the possible climax of this stupendous game.

“Hope this delivers an exciting ending.” You hope it does, and you’re looking forward to what happens in the next minutes.

---

Almost a home run, and the waves of cheers erupt as the pitcher poises himself to throw the ball until a buzz in your phone piques your attention.

jiwooya__ at 5:58 PM - “come at the restroom rn plsss”

You at 5:59 PM - “why am i gonna go there with u?? something wrong?”

jiwooya__ at 5:58 PM - “yeah, just come over pls pls”

The ephemeral conversation sums up: her needing your help on something, an immediate call for you, and possibly another game from her—you know how this can end and whatever the outcome may be, you would welcome it with open arms because it’s Chuu and you can’t resist her.

You’re quick to get off your seat and excuse yourself, not giving a damn if the game’s getting spicy or not.

“This better not be a waste of my time...” You’re optimistic it won’t be, rather suggestive or not, you’re in positive spirits with what trick she may have up her sleeve.

---

You’re an easy bait and no one can blame you for that—like earlier, you can’t resist Chuu, not even in public places like this and you doubt anyone would care if something may happen here, the eruption of cheers that quakes the stadium says otherwise.

“It’s pretty compact here, don’t you think?”

“It doesn’t look like it—” Chuu’s eyes wander around the bathroom, sensing possible dangers to unveil such profanities. “Besides, this is the perfect place.”

It was all part of your plan, and hers—it was all an act out there, because deep inside, the both of you want to discover the thrill of the underlying threat of being observed, but you’d love to keep all of what’s bound to happen for you and you only.

You’d make it clandestine, a secret that will be locked just between the both of you.

“Can’t wait any longer~” Chuu’s tone teases you, legs uneasy as you could sense her wetness beneath such a hot pair of jeans that accentuates the fine build of her ass. You can’t let yourself die out of impatience, a cruel death that’s not worth as your hands did an audacious move—gripping her ass and pulling her closer to you.

“Me neither.” It’s simple, enough for Chuu to receive the message with clarity as your lips lock hers. An entangled mess comes right after, hungrily exchanging torrid kisses with tongues dancing around gracefully with the aim to taste each other.

She’s insatiable and you can’t wait to just do the unthinkable. Knowing her patience is running low too, she knows this isn’t the reason why the both of you are alone together in a restroom.

“Been wanting this for a while.” Her breath blesses your face, just inches away as her seductive barrage of words comes after, not without her hand finding its way onto your clothed bulge that’s growing with every second that passes.

“Elaborate, Chuu.”

“Huh, you wanna hear the things I want to do with your cock?” She chuckles as you nod, Chuu then fixing her hair and tucking it behind her ear just to whisper these words: I want to stroke your cock until it leaks all over my fingers, then, I’ll suck it sloppily just like you always wanted, and then, you’ll cum all over my face, and it’s not just going to end there, because you’re going to pound me in front of this mirror until you drain your balls into me.

You’re fucked, and you love it. Chuu doesn’t just say it all because she wants to, because she’ll mark her words and she’ll fulfill her needs whatever it takes.

“So, you in?” Simples words as a smirk paints your face, then nodded knowing how much you fucking liked the dirty talk she’s escaped.

She doesn’t need to be commanded, because it’s in her nature to know what she’s an expert at, and she’ll show you why you won’t find a girl like her—she’s just that type of girl. She drops down to her knees, dexterous fingers coming right after, unbuckling your belt and undressing what fabric that just hinders her to her deserved reward. She can undress you with her eyes closed, and with just your boxers as the last bit of defense, she exhales and drops it down with one, swift motion.

Her eyes glimmer in lust and admiration, your erect shaft in sight for her to savor for the umpteenth time. She places her hand around it and brings shivers down in you, the coldness of her hand rivaling the emanating heat of your cock.

She strokes it, you wincing with that hint of pain until she spats on her hand and continues her expertise. “Just want it slow? Give you some room?”

As much as you want to tell her to pacen up her strokes, you want to savor every second of her dexterous talent, a pleasurable drive that’s downright commendable. “Like t-that, Chuu—god, your hands are a blessing.”

“Already stuttering? Oh my, I really did turn you on, hm?” Those doe-eyes that only have innocence as its façade, begs for your answer as she continues her work until the base of your shaft.

“What do you think, hm?” It’s rhetorical and you know it as her laugh says otherwise. She averts her eyes onto your already throbbing cock, leaking such a minuscule amount on the slit where her tongue laps the gifts, making your knees weak.

“I fucking love you—and this cock, god.” Her handjobs are just the side dish, because the main course is being delivered immediately, lips enveloping on a tight snug that earns a moan out of your lips. Her strokes on your base are continuous, massaging the hardness where it stands tall yet you crumble, and it's evident with her lips venturing deeper, almost taking half of your shaft to really test you.

If she’s not careful, she’ll knock down the architecture of your legs, and she’ll pick up the pieces once she’s done. 

She just swirls around your sensitive crown, dethroning your attempts to resist her utter control. She licks with passion unwavering, moreso, her lips sucking you off like a lollipop with a suction that rivals even a vacuum. It doesn’t end there, because she’s just starting this, and she’s not even bobbing her head frantically to the point where the both of you become a mess.

Well, speaking of that, she’s fulfilling her promises, one by one.

“Shit—that feels good, Chuu.” You’re hissing, a hand cradles her head, then your fingers running through her locks as she bobs with a pace that’s moderate, yet her experience shows evidently—her absence of gag reflex, her tongue licking wherever it lands, her hands fondling your balls and her lips that’s wringing out the best bits of pleasure from you. Her bobs are in this recurring pattern to die out the inevitable building inside you—slow, fast, slow—and it’s just perfect, because you’re moaning like you mean and encouraging her that she’s doing great.

“Keep sucking—shit, you’re really a filthy cocksucker, aren’t you?” You taunt her but it falls deaf onto her ears, continuous with her pace and what she’s great at.

Saliva seeps out of her mouth, dripping onto your balls that she’s taking care of, until such a hot pursuit was hindered, ejecting out and looking at you with delight. “I am your filthy cocksucker.”

Then she continues, only this time, she’s locking eyes with you as down she goes, relentless with her oral pursuit of greatness.

Her nails are digging deeper, gripping your thighs harshly yet not enough to mark you, as she’s bobbing more furiously, the saliva staining her orange top and the puddle of worthless clothing of yours—rather rendered as worthless, the intention of the commotion says otherwise. She’s slobbering all over your length, gawking with the succulence as her actions are repeatedly dangerous and rightfully audacious—she doesn’t care if her mascara runs rivulets onto her cheeks or she messes the clothing full of saliva, because all that matters is the fulfillment of the need.

She’s just bringing you down slowly, piece by piece until you break as she’s relentless, but she knows what her limits are, and releases such warmth out with a loud pop.

“Are you close? You’ve been throbbing more than before—like my mouth that much?” She’s igniting you, words that unlock a safe that’s your reservoir, slowly filling in and nearing the end. You’re not going to be under her spell, not this time, and as much as she thinks you’re lying, there will be a single answer to her rhetorical question.

“No and yes, Chuu.”

She’s stroking, wringing it out leisurely and you inevitably grunt as she does so, a mischievous smile directed towards you as she seems appalled with your answer. “Elaborate, please?”

She knows she’s fucking you up, barely got any space to genuinely articulate a sentence, what more about a simple elaboration? Well, it doesn’t matter whether you answer or not, because your earlier reply is enough to stroke her ego, and she’s giving it all, stopping the feverish pumps and letting her mouth do the job.

Let’s be honest, with the suction Chuu provides, the plumpness of her lips and her mouth complementing the shape of your cock, you’re not going anywhere far as the inevitable builds up quick on par with her pace. Albeit the lower ground, she keeps your lower body in check, ultimately powerless to move as all you can do is embrace the warmth she brings. You’re gripping those dark locks as a leverage, not restraint and decelerating her pace because this is the outlet you have to combat the pleasure she delivers.

You want to thrust and fuck her throat just to suffice the filthiness that’s orchestrated at your end, and with those doe-eyes glimmering with lust, she’s quick to assess the situation and nods as her lips just puckers at the tip of your cock.

“Do it—” She laps the drool that dribbles onto your underside, licking fervently as she continues her verbal approval. “—fuck my face—I know you’re dying to do that.” 

With her disheveled look begging to get your job done, you know it’s the green light. She doesn’t need a breather even if you ask her to have one, because she is that addicted to your taste that she can’t bear the vision of being depraved by it even for just a second. Your pace is immediately ruthless, and you wouldn’t give such an introductory act considering how she slobbered all over your length earlier without giving a damn with the mess she can make.

The pace dictated didn’t render herself useless, being used like a toy, but instead battled against your roughness as she bobs repeatedly alongside your thrusts, which makes her falter a little, gagging onto the rapid actions of filth. Your thrust, do a couple and she gags—it’s beautiful, all that pretty countenance just to be ruined within minutes as your control dominates her. Chasing the nearing high, your hands grip a handful of her hair, a leverage to muster greater pace, skin clapping and her repeated gags reverberating around the restroom. 

At this point, someone may suspect something suspicious between the both of you, and thank god her mouth is shut thanks to you because you know how much noise she can create in such a filthy session with you.

“Fucking like t-that, hm?” You tug her hair as she looks up at you with glee beneath the dishevelment, nodding with just those eyes as you continue your assault, yet she never resisted, only carving more.

You’re dying to paint her body with your cum, you really do—nobody can blame you for that, not when her outfit perfectly accentuates a godly figure. Despite that, you can’t just do that immediately when she’s still all dressed but just a mess.

Just a mess. Well, you should really fulfill her needs and add up to the monstrosity.

You pull out as the saliva-sheathed cock is throbbing relentlessly, as Chuu catches her breath but her words contradict her visible struggles.

“Hah—hah, I c-can—can take more of it—fuck me more, please.”

Her grip on your thighs weaken and ultimately, you’ll do what you need to do. 

“But I can’t, Chuu.” Your hand raises her chin, as she smiles and anticipates what you’re about to do. What she had in mind might be right, and you’d know it’s imminent. “Stay fucking there and make me cum.”

She does what she’s told to and does it with eagerness. You’re on your wit’s end as Chuu’s fingers wrap around them and muster a velocity unparalleled, slick with her drool and messing her up. She closes her eyes as she knows what’s about to come, and she embraces it.

White, pearlescent streaks paint her porcelain skin, splattering and coating almost every feature of her face as her awaiting mouth receives plenty of her reward. She hums in satisfaction with what you’ve given her, the warmth complementing the hotness the both of you are in and the succulent taste that she’s been yearning for quite some time.

This is far from over and she knows it, but for now, you marvel at the fruit you bear—an outstanding sight, her face covered with your cum and it’s filthy in all of the right places.

She parts her lips, hitches a breath and opens her eyes just to meet yours painted with utter satisfaction. Sweat forms on your forehead and it’s worth effort, ruining her in a space where risk lingers around the corner.

Even with the marvelous sight, you’re still not done with her, and she knows that.

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“You know why.” You didn’t hesitate to outpower her, grabbing her by the wrists and flipping her over, facing the mirror. “And I’m fucking you up to get the job done.”

You meant it, and she gets herself ready.

Your eyes just darts onto her fine ass accentuated by those tight jeans (thankfully), its scrumptious volume allowing you to really test its integrity with a single, harsh spank that makes her yelp, and bite her lip. You see it in the mirror, a clear vision that she’s genuinely enjoying this and so you did another until you know to yourself that you shouldn’t play with your food.

You tug, she wiggles and you spank. It repeats for another time as the lust emanates the air the second that inviting face of hers exactly points out her reasons to fuck her—it doesn’t get any better than this and you know it, you’re damn impatient as much as she is. You undress her pants slowly, down to its ankles as your cock throbbed to the sight of a monumental wonder of nature and you’re glad to see it firsthand, nobody being blessed as much as you are. 

“Red ones, hm?”

“Like what you’re seeing? It’s your favorite shade.” Chuu knows you well, and you can’t lie. You just can’t help the fact that this looks like she orchestrated herself for you to fuck her publicly, anticipating with the right moment of the possible embarrassment to come and risk of being caught.

“You’re really a fucking slut—you did this intentionally, didn’t you? You wanted me to fuck you at this very day, hm?” More spanks wrings out cries at her end, a sweet disposal of the masked pleasure. She laughs and kept that gleeful face on hers, nodding because you debunking her sole reasons was just a piece of cake.

“You alwa—o–oh! Fuck, t-that’s great…” She grows weak, the second finger teasing the cameltoe formed onto those panties, feeling her wetness evident as her hands grasp the concrete of the sink and close her eyes.

“Keep d-doing that—oh!” 

“Grab the sink, Chuu.”

“What—ow!” You spank as your command renders deaf on her ears, the pleasure finally getting into her and she’s submitting slowly to you faster than you’ve expected.

“I’m fucking you with my fingers—be ready. Grab the fucking sink.” She does what she’s told to, gripping tighter as you plunge a finger, half with its depth and she moans in reply—that alone is the driving force to tease her, plunging another just to elicit that same, sexy moan you love hearing. 

You thrust in and out, a repeated process that orchestrates sounds in such a rhythmical and discordant pattern even with such a benign way of introducing yourself into her clit. You swipe and slowly make her descend down to her carnal desires, and your eyes sparkle with each passing second that passes, drooling with the fact how much it turns you on to see her dripping, glistening under the lights and her legs shuddering due to your own actions.

Guess you need to really start the show, for the better for both worlds.

Chuu knows you can’t contain it anymore, unleashing the beast, setting up the pace and going to “home-run” all over her backside—

“Fuck!” She swears at you, laced in goodness of what she’s feeling as your exposed lengths envelops another eventful paradise, plunging in deep and withdrawing with just the tip resting in it. The pace is sluggish, much intended for your comfort rather than hers, getting accustomed to her tightness that still surprises you until this day. You hold her hips and she holds the side of the sink tighter as your thrusts grow harsher and deeper, the profoundness driving you into insanity as Chuu spews profanities that reverberate around the puny restroom. It’s not just her dulcet tone that is an ear-candy, but also the clapping of your bodies against each other, a sound that adds to the erotic soundtrack that’s purely an abomination, your greatest creation.

She grows louder and it alerts you, so with an immediate action against it, the domination truly shows and it starts with you reprimanding her. “Shut y-yourself or we’re going to be fucked and you’re not gonna like it—do you understand?”

It’s surprising how articulate you could still be even with thrusts nigh-unbearable. Your other hand is occupied shutting her mouth up, letting her muffled screams vibrate on your hand as her eyes portray the sight of being satisfied, and it’s all shown in the mirror just to fuel you to take it into the extremes. It will be, but you’re still having the semblance of humanity left to just fuck her in a pace that she can take but if she talk right now,  you know that she’ll beg for more and she won’t break—the former, an absolute chant yet the latter can be debatable.

Thank god the cheers and the sounds outside rivals the absolute sinful cacophonies the both of you muster, and you’re thanking the blessing in disguise with that. With the climax of the game being evident outside thanks to the sounds of the audience, now brings the opportunity to bring spanks onto her butt that makes her grit her teeth in pain and pleasure.

You let go of your hand on her mouth to let those beautiful moans out for your ears to be blessed again, and she wails in pleasure with your pace and the harshness your hand makes contact with her ass. The sight of a rosy hue is the fruit of your efforts, and the events occurring in such a stingful session is a sight to see—a jiggle of her ass was enough to make you riled up even more.

You’re gripping her hips and you can foresee what can be her—

“Shit! Fuck, more, more! G-god, just fuck me real g-good…” Chuu is utterly fucked and she’ll thank you for it. She snapped and there she goes, you reading her like a book—she’s going to beg for more and with her numerous pleas that isn’t even registering in her head totally, you fulfill it anyways knowing it’s the route that you’ll inevitably pass.

“Fuck m-me—my ass—shit, more!” Your hips muster a velocity that is uncertain, but ultimately frantic and in for no-return. Her juices just stain the tiles and thank god you still have some time to discard her pants away to the sinful scene where her nectar will fall into, and at that point you know you’re breaking her apart slowly. At this point, Chuu is just blabbering with nonsensical jumbled pieces of existing words that will soon be more incoherent when you put the final in the coffin.

“You fucking like that, huh?” She nods in the mirror, those cum-glazed lips smiling after as she closes her eyes, savoring whatever that’s stimulating her and the pleasure you’re bringing all over her body.

“God, fuck! Ah, you’re crazy!” You pull her hair and make it as a leverage for you to fuck her truly. The pain stings but is translated as pleasure the second she feels it, and it’s evident because she’s been secretly talking about it and with the live reaction, oh, it’s all right there for you to hear.

You spank her and she bites her lip, you hissing at her remarks. “What did I say? Shut your fucking mouth.”

You’re vulgar and she didn’t care, even dropping the honorifics when you’re dropping her pants. You thrust repeatedly until burying it deep in her, making her moan so sultry and cry in pleasure, as lean towards her and whispered, “You want my cum again, hm?”

You slowly oscillate your hips, kissing her nape and ear as she replies an audible yes that enables the green light for the denouement of this spectacular show—spoiler: you did this before and you’ll never get tired of doing it again.

You pull yourself back, grab Chuu’s waist and run your hands towards her clothed tits, caressing it as she moans with your actions and cries once you return to your original pace. It went for possibly twenty seconds that felt like minutes on how heavenly she feels until you lean towards her again, this time, announcing the very thing she wants to hear again.

“I’m going to fucking cum, Chuu.”

You’re nearing the end and it won’t be in her pussy.

Well, here are the reasons why: firstly, you don’t want people to see your reward marked onto her pants and that would be unhygienic; second, she haven’t earned that luxury yet as per the situation the both of you are in; third, it’s a damn risk to it knowing it’s a sudden invitation by Chuu because you don’t want to risk these things; and lastly, you might just need to add up to the mess on her face you plastered all over her earlier.

Reasonable arguments, and it’s easier to be done than being said.

She doesn’t argue with your principles and wants, but eagerly obliges as she brings herself down to her knees again, stares at you with anticipation and her mouth agape. You know she really does know what she’s doing when she’s initiating the actions, stroking your cock frantically as your knees shake a little due to the pleasure her hands bring.

“Come on—cum on my face, right he—” She doesn’t need to finish her sentence when yours does, spurting strings and strings of cum on her already disheveled face, flinching whenever it gets on her forehead and savors with her hums when it gets on her tongue and lips. With the final orgasm that possibly lasted about ten seconds, she still wrings out the leftover cum in your slit, even licking it clean to savor your succulence, then smiling towards you because of the gratification.

“God, you still came a lot…” She still grips your length, admiring it as she slowly strokes it for good measure as an ending.

“It’s all your fault, Chuu.” You reply back, chuckling as the both of you exchange smiles. Chuu licks her lips and wipes her face full of your cum, the messy liquid being tasted by hers and she commends that taste, and you roll your eyes because of that.

Now, with the adrenaline diminishing slowly, the both of you are grasping the situation as the both of you get dressed up quickly, and Chuu is cleaning up the mess you’ve made on her face.

“Shit—I’m sorry, Chuu—was I too rough? Sorry if I came too much—”

“No, no, it’s fine—I can retouch and reason with them later. You got me pretty sore though.” Her bubbly smile takes effect and reassures you, and you trust what she can do to reason herself out of this mess. You got her ready and you know it’s still a risk even going out, even with the busy atmosphere around the stadium.

Chuu just smiles at you, smirking even with a single sentence that follows. “We should do these things again, I never knew it would be this fun…”

You’d be truly damned if it was to be fulfilled but you’re foreseeing the inevitable, and it’s just about when would be the next time such sin would happen.

[rawme-price]

So...healer!reader pt 5, shes already healed the guys individually, where will they go from here?🤭

It becomes a bit of a routine. The guys try not to ask for ur healing too often, they value u as a genuine member of the team and would hate for u to think ur just here for that. But, you do notice they all perform much better after you heal them. Plus, it kind of gets on ur nerves when they try to 'tough out' some of the minor pain, bc u can feel it radiating from them and now that you have healed them before there's really no reason for u to be shy about it again.

So, you make sure to heal them all at least once a week, sometimes more if they actually are hurt. Ghost goes all soft and pliant, simply enjoying the fact his chronic pain is gone for a bit. Price tends to take the time to smoke, hes learned that ur healing with smoke in his lungs feels devine. Soap doesnt have much constant pain besides mild tinnitus, so he and gaz tend to work out like hell beforehand bc it feels alot better when the magic has something to focus on.

But you never seem to ask anything in return. Its frustrating. Especially considering soap has explicitly offered you to bed and all you've done is turn him down with a small smile. Needless to say, the guys are concerned. Gaz calls a team meeting between the four of them, a furrow in his brow.

"Do you think we're taking advantage?"

Its a long and serious discussion. Price thinks they are, they all have some sort of power dynamic over you (some more than others). Ghost doesnt think so, hes seen you punch a guy's lights out for looking at you the wrong way, if you didnt want to do something then you wouldnt. Soap seems mixed, he trusts your decisions, but he doesnt want to have accidentally coerced you into anything. The discussion gets them nowhere, so finally gaz calls you in.

U give them a confused look, but seem overall relaxed. "Uh- everything okay?"

Price doesnt mince words, "if you dont want to heal us. You dont have to. If you dont feel comfortable working in this team, give me the paperwork and ill approve it, no questions asked."

"What?" Youre honestly baffled, looking between them like they're crazy. "What on earth makes you think i dont want to heal you?? If I didnt then I wouldnt??"

So they explain they're reasoning, finally leading to the last point of u never seeking out ur own satisfaction. They don't want to make u heal them if u dont get some sort of satisfaction in return, it feels predatory or whatever.

You cant help it, you laugh. A bit from nerves but also from relief bc you thought you were being kicked out. "Oh my god- thats it?" You try to cover ur grin with a hand.

"the hell do you mean thats it?!" Soap retorts, a bit put off by ur sudden mirth "this is serious!"

"God! No- its- you dont understand-" you take a few deep breaths before calming down. Looking them in the eyes you shrug "im asexual. I uh- dont feel sexual desire. Like. At all."

Before they can freak out, you strike down whatever fears u know they're thinking "whatever sexual moments did occur were totally my choice. I may not get satisfaction like you guys do, but I like to see you guys happy, I like to help. Besides, all this healing has given me alot of practice with my magic, I really dont want to stop."

You and them have another, quite long discussion, and decide to keep up the arrangement. You get to practice magic, and they get to have the best damn orgasms of their lives. In fact, this probably means you can heal them more often now that you have permission to really experiment with ur methods.

(HA YALL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A FIVESOME HUH??? WRONG!! anyways happy pride to all my fellow asexuals!! Also dw guys this is NOT the end of the series lol)

[lymtw]

hi!! i love your fics theyre highkey my fav rereads🤭idk if youre taking requests but if you were, could you possibly do a hurt/comfort fic with toji and shy reader where shes mad/upset with him? hope youre having a great day btw!

A/N: Five years later... 🫩👍 I'm sorry this took so long. I really, really appreciate your support 🫶 I hope this turned out at least okay, it's been a minute since i've finished any writing 🥲 Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing day :))

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

It's been a week since you and Toji have spoken, not for lack of effort or opportunities, but because the one sided attempts are not corresponded. It's hard to think about him, it's hard to read his words through your screen and see his name flash briefly, before your phone does its job of sending him to voicemail.

'Maybe we shouldn't be together, Toji. If me simply trying to talk to you is such a burden... I don't know if I should keep trying.'

You said this to him a week ago. You clicked the door shut and he sped off in his car, bleary-eyed, brimming with rage and regret the whole way home. He couldn't get the sound of your voice out of his head—the cracks, the occasional sharp inhales that came with your suppressed emotions. Even in the moment, he knew it was so, so wrong for you to be looking the way you did.

The instant he got home, all hell broke loose. His fists were clenched as he treaded towards his bedroom, and as if possessed by the force of a natural disaster, he tore apart his room—demolished it—throwing things blindly, uncaring if they broke beyond repair. The picture he keeps on his nightstand of the two of you was not safe. The encased memory was thrown with all the strength he has, at the wall, the frame instantly falling apart and the glass shattering to pieces.

He couldn't stop, it all hurt so much. His chest burned, his head was pounding, he felt like he couldn't breathe, and once there was nothing left to throw, nothing left to break, he finally broke down—wholly. Harsh, uncontrollable sobs racked his entire body as he sat there in the debris—the aftermath of losing his mind over you. Barely any sound came of it, his voice was shot, courtesy of the tormented screams that accompanied his meltdown.

This all happened a week ago. You won't talk to him and these days have been hell without your company. You won't respond to his good morning messages, and if he asks to meet up, you always have something to do. He calls you whenever he can, but you don't pick up. You're avoiding him like it's your job.

Everything feels pointless without you around, his little sunshine, the reason he wakes up motivated every morning, the light of his life. His routine has been altered in the worst way. It's work, home, work, home, and he absolutely detests it because if it weren't for that damned day, he would be with you, smothering you with the borderline overwhelming love he holds for you, making you laugh and watching you get flustered over the words he whispers in your ear. He wants it back—all of it. He can't let you go, it would break him entirely.

You don't want to let go of this love you have for Toji, either. You miss being in the warmth of his embrace, and you miss the sound of his voice, and the way he calls you 'sweetheart' when you're not focusing on him. You see every single one of the messages he sends you and the phone calls.

Good morning, baby.

Morning, sweetheart. Make sure to eat breakfast and lunch. One meal isn't enough.

Saw those fields of flowers you point at all the time on my way home. I miss you.

Baby, will you talk to me, please?

[Missed Call]

And you cry, because all you want to do is respond to every one of those messages and hear his voice again, but something always stops you. The memory of when he snapped at you. The sound of his voice—cutting and utterly spirit crushing. The furrow of his eyebrows that made you feel like everything you did was wrong. It hurts to think about the whole situation, and all these notifications only serve as reminders. Reminders of the way you immediately wilted when the door shut, chest heaving as you cried your way to bed and then to sleep, wondering what you did to deserve being lashed out at.

You're lying in bed, scrolling through your phone when he calls again. The instant you see his contact picture, your heart plummets to your stomach, but an irrepressible giggle escapes you. The picture on your screen... it's kind of blurry because he was chasing you and you were laughing so hard that you couldn't hold the phone steady, but you love it. You love the man in the picture, you love that he can make you smile through memories, even during tough times.

"Baby?" You hear through the speakers of your phone. A lump immediately forms in your throat and you painfully swallow. "Baby, can you hear me?" He tries again.

"Yeah, I'm here," you respond, quietly.

"Holy fuck, doll. Can I... Are you busy? Are you doing anything right now?"

"No, i'm home," you mumble.

"Can I come see you?"

"Toji..." you start, your tone conveying what you haven't even said yet. Your uncertainty.

"Baby, we have to talk. It's been a week and-- This can't be it. Please, just... just five minutes. Five minutes and i'll go."

You know it won't be five minutes. You can't force a solution out in five minutes—not a sincere one at least. Some part of you is soothed by the sound of his voice, regardless of how frantic and desperate he sounds. That's your love right there, and no matter how much hurt lingers from this whole dilemma, there's nothing you can do about your heart's response to him. So you open a door for him.

"Okay, Toji. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, pretty girl. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

There's a heavy, tense pause. Neither of you has hung up the phone, because something hasn't been done yet and he knows you know what he wants to hear. It would be enough for him to believe that you haven't forfeited. It would make him feel even the slightest bit of relief if you said those words he's been aching for.

"I love you, too, Toji," you utter, hanging up a couple seconds after.

Toji would be bouncing off the walls if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to you. He's been deprived of any form of love from you for a week and he was starting to go crazy, but hearing you say those words was all he needed for now.

Twenty something minutes later, you get a text from him, letting you know that he's outside. Your heart is in your throat, your stomach keeps flipping, and yet you use all the strength you have to get out of bed to meet him. Though you decide to take your time to get to your front door, you find that you're still there too soon, no time left to mentally prepare yourself for what is about to happen. With a final deep breath, you turn the lock, twist the doorknob, and open the door.

There Toji stands, hand suspended in the air with your spare key pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He steps back instinctively when you step aside from behind the door.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me using it, but you were taking a bit, so I thought maybe you'd want me to come in and we can talk inside or... I don't know."

He's rambling, there's a light stubble on his face, he's smiling at you like he always does—like you're his everything. Him being there doesn't actually process in your mind until he speaks up again.

"Hi, baby," he says, softly, observing you like you're some majestic painting hung up in a museum. Your eyes well up and it feels like there's a red-hot metal sphere lodged in your throat. "You're a saint for letting me come here and see you, you know that?"

Out of habit, you nod and mumble out a small, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, doll," he says, reaching for your hands to hold them. He barely manages to grab them, get a feel for your soft skin after so long, before you're pulling them away from him. "No, come on," he pleads, grasping your hands again. "Please? Please, look at me."

"You can't talk to me like that, Toji," you utter, voice unsteady because you're not used to having to stand up for yourself against the one who loves you like it's his life source.

"I know. I know that, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I was having a bad day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't know what the hell got into me, but please..." he mumbles, bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing weightless kisses on your fingers and knuckles. "Please, I love you, you have to believe me."

"You said..." you inhale sharply, doing all you can to get through this without choking on your emotions. "...you said you didn't have time to listen to me talk about nonsense, and that you wanted peace and quiet for once. Isn't... Isn't that all you get from me?"

"No tears," he says, warm palms moving up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the crystals that glide down them. "No tears," he repeats, softer this time. "This is gonna get worked out, my sweet girl. I swear."

"I don't know how you want me to be," you admit, your voice wavering. "And I don't have the ability to read minds. You acted like everything was fine when you texted me, and then when you got here..." You let out a shaky breath, your hold on your emotions slipping. "I don't want to be upset with you, anymore, but i-i'm trying... It's not right."

It's as if someone is jabbing at his chest over and over again, relentlessly, even when his skin starts to bruise and little pinpricks of blood begin to appear. He hates seeing you this way, especially when he knows he's the reason for why you're hurt this bad. He wants it to stop and for this enormous raincloud above both of you to just dissipate.

"Come here," he says, low, almost inaudible. His hands lower, arms making contact with your sides. It's been too long since he's held you, yet, pulling you in feels as natural as breathing.

Your hands come up to rest on his abdomen, keeping him at a distance. It feels unnatural, because you're so used to letting him handle you like you're a stuffed animal, pulling you around when you're adventuring together and picking you up just because he feels like it. Your mind immediately clouds with guilt at your denial of his embrace, you can't even meet his eyes, opting to look down at where your hands are.

"Please don't," he says, his voice so soft that it makes your chest feel tight again. He grabs ahold of your wrists, just to have some sort of contact with you. His grip is almost entirely loose and you're in control, he won't move until you pull your hands away. "I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

You love him and you know he needs this—holding you in his arms, your confirmation that it's all going to be okay. You've said it before and the words have become one of his greatest comforts. What could be so bad when you tell him that it'll all turn out just fine?

"We've been apart for too long. A week shouldn't have gone by like this... and, fuck, I know it's my fault. I don't blame you for not wanting to see me, but... please, baby." His thumbs brush the insides of your wrists, eyes never leaving the sadness of your face, regardless of whether you look at him or not. He'll take this over not getting to see you at all, any day.

"Sweetheart."

You sniff, unmoving for a few more seconds. Your heartbeat is thrumming wildly in your ears, almost suffocating you with its relentlessness. It's all you hear, words lost in a spiral of ongoing silence. You still don't look at him when you finally pull your hands away, but you can feel his heavy, unwavering attention on you.

You're glad he doesn't wait for you to give him the green light to pull you in, because you have nothing to say at the moment, and it would be another test of patience. Instead, the second your hands are balled up at your sides, he moves at the speed of a lightning strike, your body colliding with his in an almost aggressive manner—there's an audible thump. His body heat mingles with the cologne on his shirt, the smell coiling around you and rushing through your nose with every breath you take. The feeling is familiar—love, safety, comfort—a second home, all wrapped up in your favorite person.

His hands scrunch up the back of your shirt like he's afraid you'll push him away again. "Baby," he mumbles, his voice almost inaudible. "Don't disappear like that again." A soft breath is expelled from his chest, riddled with the genuine fear he felt that he would never get to see you again.

"I know it's unfair of me to say this. I was an asshole and you were hurt, but, doll... I thought you were leaving me." There's a pause. Toji stares at the ground behind you, his hands deepening the creases he made on your shirt due to his unfaltering grip. "I don't want that."

"I'm not," you respond, heart shaking. "That day... it felt like you didn't even want to see me and you only came over because I asked not because you wanted to." The familiar ache in your chest stirs slightly, but you give it your all to get everything out in a steady and clear manner. "You can tell me you're tired, Toji. That you want to rest in the comfort of your own home, and I'll understand. I don't want to be another cause of stress for you."

It pains him to hear that because you're the one who keeps him sane, the one he thinks about when he settles into bed but can't get to sleep, the first person to know that he's still alive in morning, the one who has made him feel so safe, that he feels no shame when he occasionally calls to confirm that he's still loved by you.

"You're not," he simply murmurs. "It's not true."

"You don't have to worry about protecting my feelings."

His arms loosen around you, the back of your shirt wrinkled but freed from his clutches. Your heart is beating too fast, attempting to leave your chest. Now you're standing up straight, doing your best to not avert your gaze from the man before you.

"You're not a burden to me. Okay?" He says, and you want to believe him because of the way he's looking at you, like he's searching your eyes for even the smallest bit of confidence from you about the fact. "Say it."

The words are stuck, it's visible. Your lips twitch, but your voice doesn't progress. You just look at him, feeling the sadness seep into every part of you.

"You're not a burden to me. I need you to get that through your pretty head, right now," he says, only to feel his own heart skip a beat at your reaction.

"Sorry," you mumble, unable to instantly straighten out the curl of your lips.

In this moment, Toji knows that everything is going to be okay. He hasn't heard you laugh in a week, and though it was only a small, congested giggle, he savors it along with your inability to regain your bearing, like it's his last sip of water while he's stranded in the desert.

"Gets you every time, huh?" He says, his own faint smile emerging.

'Right now', a habitual phrase of his that is meant to comfort you. You've told him before that not everything can be fixed or healed in an instant—things don't work that way—but he never backs down. You've translated it into something akin to a bandage—the words are meant to cover you while you take the time to fully and properly heal. The joy you find in hearing them is a small beginning.

"It's funny," you respond, taking in his amused little grin. God, you missed his handsome face and the way he looks at you like everything about you makes perfect sense to him.

"My impatience is funny to you?" He teases, loving the way you press your lips together before proceeding to nod. He can't even be playfully offended, too entranced by the way you're actually smiling at him. He sighs through his nose and just watches you—admires you for a couple seconds, and when you start nervously shifting on your feet, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your lower back as your body presses against his once more.

"Can you just say it, please? For me?" He murmurs, recognizing every one of the stars in your eyes. Though he thinks it's a tragedy to have gone a week without this view, he'll make up for lost time by creating new constellations.

"I don't know," you say, softly—filler words, your brain short circuits whenever he looks at you like that.

"For me, baby," he pleads once more. "Just wanna hear you say it."

You hum, unsure of whether you can say something you don't entirely believe. You want to make him happy, you want things to be better, you want to believe what he said—what he wants you to repeat to him, but it's hard. Damage is easy to inflict and hard to heal. It won't go away immediately, no matter how much you love the person who is trying to fix their mistake.

"I don't know-"

"Please?" he blurts.

"Toji, I don't-"

"Pretty please?" he cuts again, seeing the way your seriousness falters like before. Your laugh finds his ears once more, a sound he just wants to keep hearing. The sound embraces him. "With a cherry on top?" he adds, a sly little grin on his lips.

It's getting harder and harder to turn him down. He's precious, he's trying, and you cherish his effort. It's not going to kill you to just say it.

You sigh, "I'm not a burden."

"To who?" He questions, seeking elaboration from you.

"To you."

"Damn right," he says, proud. "We'll get you there. I'm not gonna leave you like this, alright?"

"Okay," you confirm, nodding slightly.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Again, you nod, expecting a quick peck—maybe a few quick pecks, but no, he goes on to kiss you like its been months since he last saw you, not a week. He's desperately chasing after your lips, seeking more and more of what he's been deprived of for too long. In his mind, he says 'never again, never again, never again', because he can't imagine going so long without your sweetness again. Without the softness of your lips against his, without those pretty smiles and laughs being thrown at him. It sounds like hell 2.0. when he thinks about losing it all over again.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs, still just a breath away from your lips.

"Yeah," you respond, eyeing the short little pins of hair that sprinkle over his jaw and upper lip area. It makes you smile, you don't always get to see his face when it's not clean shaven.

"I was in a rush," he explains, unnecessarily, following the way your eyes trace his face.

"Mm," you hum, smiling. "Can I shave your face?"

"You wanna clean me up?" he asks, almost as if he's surprised.

"Only if you want me to. It was just an idea," you say, smiling sheepishly.

To that, he chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks feel warmer.

"Oh, I want you to," he says, leaning forward to peck your lips, luring quiet giggles from you when he doesn't want to pull away.

-

Now, you sit on the counter of your bathroom sink, with Toji standing between your legs. There's a slight tremble in your hand, spurred on by his hands resting on your hips and the way he watches you with so much focus, trusting you enough to let you do this without a word from him. You drag the razor carefully along his cheek, making sure not to move too fast or use too much pressure.

Toji waits until you're cleaning off the blade to make his move of leaning in to press kisses to your face. Small peaks of foam are left behind on your skin, wiped away by gentle strokes of his thumb.

"I'm about to start again," you say through a laugh, leaning away to avoid ridding his face of all the protective spume on it. The razor remains beside you until he finally behaves himself. He huffs like you've been rejecting his affection the whole time, but nonetheless stands up straight and as still as a statue.

After some time, longer than it would have taken him alone—longer than it would have taken you if he didn't smother you every time you paused to clean the razor—you got it done. You brought back the smoothness of his skin.

"Am I pretty again?" he jests, drying his face with one of your towels.

"Stunning," you quip in response, shifting on the counter to signal that you're going to hop off.

"You're stunning," he says, low, unmoving from where he stands between your legs. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he adds, seeking more of that feeling the flustered smile on your face gives him. "Missed you lots, you know that?" You just laugh and shake your head, like you're silently calling him crazy. "What? I'm serious," he says in response, a soft grin on his face. "Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"

A single second passes by. You can't lie to him and say you didn't. You missed him every single day, through the hurt. Your chest ached and your heart dropped every time you remembered the incident, but your love for him never wavered. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and with how often he tried to reach you, it was nearly impossible not to have him on your mind.

"Of course I did. I took the time I needed, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

"I know, baby. And I would never hold it against you. I'm just... glad I can see you again, is all."

You smile. The gleam and sincerity in his eyes is a wonder to witness and well worth the butterflies that overly crowd your stomach.

"I really did miss you," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "'Lots.'"

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, then he leans in close for nth time, peppering kisses across your cheek until he reaches your lips. He can feel you smiling into the kisses, a sensation he yearned for with every fiber of his being for the past week. One of his hands rests on your thigh, caressing the inner part of it, while the other slides up your shirt and settles on your waist. The lip-lock steals your breath away, but even then, you challenge your lungs for your lover's sake, only pulling away when you're a panting mess and Toji's breathing is more audible.

The tension is palpable, the silence loud as you look at one another like you're still taking in the fact that you can be loving towards each other again, in a manner that doesn't derive from guilt for the time that you didn't get to demonstrate how much you truly love each other. Enough to not be able to leave a fresh wound alone, enough to forgive while outwardly expressing that you have not healed but are patient enough to work towards regaining that strength.

"I don't wanna go home," he murmurs, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips before focusing on solely your eyes.

"You don't have to," you respond. "Stay as long as you'd like."

"And if I said I wanted to spend a week here with you? Would you hate it?"

You shake your head. "No, but I think you'd get tired of seeing me all the time."

"You're wrong, pretty girl. Is this your subtle way of saying you're tired of looking at my mug, already?" He asks, lips curling with amusement at your giggle.

"No, I want you to stay," you say, honest.

"Promise?"

You nod, followed by an affirmative hum.

"Say it again," he requests, heart thudding just a little faster when you smile.

"I want you to stay, Toji," you repeat, his name on your tongue causing your cheeks to warm up.

"Again." His hands mold around your hips—squeezing, loving.

"Stay," you say, softer.

He sighs, heavy, an enamored look in his eyes that you have never been able to comprehend. Those dark, viridescent eyes, have a brilliance to them as he looks at you like you're the last good thing he'll ever be able to call his. You're good for him, you're good to him, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you because you gave him your heart.

"Yeah... you're stuck with me here for a week and you're come with me to pick some stuff up from my place, tomorrow. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, with a laugh.

"Now, we get you off this counter," he says, lifting you like you're a teddy bear that he carries around for protection. He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the suddenness. "Hold me tight, baby," he says, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before moving anywhere. A kiss is planted on your shoulder as he turns around to exit the bathroom.

"And now you let me show you some love," he says, low, carrying you to your bedroom.

[sinsxo]

voiceover chaos. —blue lock

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro.

synopsis. makeup grwm but your boyfriend does the voiceover (poorly).

cw. drabble, fluff, lighthearted fic.

wc. 0.8k words, not proofread.

isagi yoichi ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“hi everyone— oh we’re already starting? okay.” he immediately locks in, hyper-focused, like it’s a soccer match. the only problem? he has no idea what you’re putting on your face.

“um, this is foundation, right? okay, so she’s starting with foundation— oh, wait no, this is foundation.”

wrong. it was primer and concealer, but close enough.

“huh? isn’t this foundation too?” he’s genuinely confused. “ahem, so she applied three layers of foundation and now she’s applying uhh... what’s this? a tan stick?”

contour. it was contour.

“and now she’s blending it out with a brush,” he says, trying to sound confident. “okay, another stick? oh, it’s the nose thing. now she’s... drawing shadows... on her nose?”

“another stick?? this one’s shiny. now she has sparkles on her nose,” he narrates, then mutters, “oh, wow that’s a lot, uh... s— slay!”

“okay, now she’s applying lipstick— woah, why does it look like that? is this lip gloss?” he leans in like the screen holds the answers.

“and now she’s peeling her lips off???”

“and she’s done?” he’s completely flustered. “gosh, i did so bad. anyway, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, even without all this.”

“aww, you’re so sweet yoichi,” you laugh. “can i do your makeup next time?”

“s— sure!” he laughs awkwardly, but he’s already mentally preparing to be your next canvas.

itoshi rin ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“why do i have to do this?” he asks flatly.

“for entertainment! now go,” you say as you press play.

he sighs, defeated.

“what the hell is that?” he frowns immediately and the video barely started. “she’s applying… some cream on her face.”

“okay, i bought her this one. i think it’s concealer. whatever that does,” he mutters, watching you blend it in. “i think it’s what she uses when she didn’t sleep enough — which is, like, every night. told her to sleep earlier but she never listens, so she wakes up looking like a panda.”

“rin! voiceover, don’t diss me!” you call out in the background.

“whatever— why are you moving so fast?” he’s clearly panicking now, squinting at the screen. “what the fuck is this???”

he gives up trying to follow, then regains composure.

“okay, now she’s drawing on some lips. even though i think she already has enough.”

“rin.”

“anyway— okay. nevermind. it’s over. she’s done,” he says, finally backing up from the screen. “beautiful like usual. perfect. don’t ask me to do this again.”

“can i do your makeup for the next video?”

“…no?”

itoshi sae ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

he looks like he’d rather be doing anything else. but he agrees to do the voiceover anyway — even if he’s still a menace.

“alright, so we’re starting with dior,” he says, casually. “bought her that one. it was like three thousand.”

“now we’re putting on… whatever this is. costed like two million,” he deadpans.

“babe, you’re supposed to describe what i’m doing.”

“i don’t know what you’re doing,” he replies, unimpressed. “i think this is blush. she looks like she’s blushing now.”

well, no shit.

“next, dior again. another million dollars gone. why is makeup so expensive anyway?”

“you’re exaggerating.”

“am not.” he squints. “okay… now we got this blue thing. for lips?”

a pause.

“and now we look like frozen, from elsa or something. she looks like she has hypothermia.”

you swear this man will be the death of you.

“okay… we wipe the blue thing off, then we spray some mist on our face. and look at that, all done,” he exhales like he just ran a marathon. “beautiful. her whole routine costs like four million dollars. no wonder she won’t let me touch her face.”

“it doesn’t cost that much, you’re being dramatic!”

“debatable.”

“also, can i do your make up for the next video?” you batted your eyelashes.

he didn’t flinch.

“again, debatable.”

nagi seishiro ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“this sounds like a hassle... but okay,” he yawns.

he’s clearly half-assing it at first, but by the end, he’s genuinely interested.

“mmm, she’s putting this, like... stuff... on her face.” he mumbles. “blendy, blendy. looks like she’s doing art.”

“and now she’s drawing on her eyes or something. she looks cute when she’s concentrating,” a pause, then he turns to look at you. “wait, how did you do that? your eyes look like a cat’s now. that’s cool.”

“and then lip gloss, now her lips are shiny. my favourite,” he mumbles. “i like kissing them. very soft. tastes good. wait, can i say that here?”

“anyway, she’s sparkly now,” he says, eyes glued to the screen. “looks so pretty. like an angel. she always does.”

“okay, done. is there more?”

“didn’t you say it was a hassle?”

“yeah, but you looked good doing that,” he shrugs.

“want me to do your makeup next time?”

“if i can just sit there and do nothing, then yeah.”

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[emriiis]

Sneak Peek: THE CALL

📣✨ 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 ✨📣

I honestly don’t even know where to begin—thank you, thank you, thank you. 🩷

We're almost at 300 followers now?! I’m genuinely overwhelmed. 🥹

I didn’t think anyone would notice this story. but you did and that means everything. Seeing the reblogs, the tags, the comments—it’s more than I ever expected. Thank you for reading!

So, as a little thank you gift… here’s a sneak peek of the next chapter. Just a taste. Just enough to make your heart race. 😈🔥

my inbox is open for requests, thoughts, ideas, or just screaming.

Saja Boys x Manager! Reader

Your apartment is too quiet.

Too still.

Ever since you walked out of that room—since you ran—you haven’t been able to stop feeling them.

Their eyes.

Their heat.

Their voices echoing in your skull like a siren's song.

God, what the hell is wrong with you?

You slap a hand over your face, heart hammering. But it doesn’t help. Because every time you close your eyes—

You see them.

Worse—you feel them.

A vibration against your leg makes you jolt. Your phone. You fumble for it, heart still pounding. 

Unknown number.

You answer anyway.

“…Hello?”

A pause.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N. I'm calling on behalf of the Saja Boys.”

​​You freeze.

The voice continues, polite. Controlled. But something about it makes your stomach twist.

“I’m reaching out to confirm that you’ve been accepted as their full-time manager. Congratulations!”

“I—I didn’t accept anything,” you blurt. “There’s been a mistake, I didn’t—”

“Yes, well, that’s the wonderful part. You don’t have to accept it. The contract’s already processed. We’ll send a car for you this evening—”

“I said no.” Your voice is sharper now, slicing through the sugar-sweet tone on the other end. “You can’t just assign me a job I didn’t—”.”

“Hey baby”

You freeze.

The voice has changed.

It’s not hers anymore.

“J-Jinu?” you breathe, scanning the room. There’s no one there—but it feels like there is. The air shifts around you, thick with pressure and heat, humming low and strange.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice like warm silk over ice. Calm. Gentle. But you hear the weight beneath it. The restraint.

“I—uh—I’m good.” You grip the edge of your cup too tightly. “How did you even—Never mind. Can I help you with something?”

His chuckle is soft, low, and it curls around your ribs like smoke. 

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“We’re talking right now.”

He hums again. Slower this time. Like he’s savoring the sound of your voice. 

“I meant in person.”

His voice warms around the words, coaxing instead of pressing. “No pressure. Just… a coffee. A quiet spot. Just you and me.”

Your throat tightens. You blink, and suddenly the room feels smaller. Warmer. Like the sound of his voice alone is wrapping around your ribs, holding you still.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you whisper.

He’s quiet for a moment.

“That’s okay.” 

Still soft. Still warm. Not pushy. But beneath the words… something deeper. A thread of something that reaches for you without forcing.

“You don’t have to decide now.”

You shouldn’t even be considering it. Not after what happened. Not after the way you’d felt in that room.

He doesn’t say anything else.

He just waits.

And somehow that’s worse. Because it leaves you sitting there, breath caught, heart pounding, mind spiraling with the memory of golden eyes, warm hands, and heat.

You bite your lip.

You should say no. You should...“When would we meet?”

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

[angelltheninth]

Hooking Up with Jinu in the Bathroom

Pairing: Jinu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, enemies to lovers, rough sex, name-calling, degradation, creampie, secret relationship, hook ups

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Because you all wanted more of him I'm delivering more Jinu. Not that it's too hard, I would have done it anyway.

This time you were the one who dragged him into a secluded place, unfortunately that said place was the club bathroom. He had the audacity to show up with the rest of the Saja Boys and act like everything was fine, grin at you like nothing had happened.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You asked angrily as his lips pressed against yours, as his hands lifted you against the bathroom door. "Showing up here. Do you have a death wish?"

Jinu laughed against your lips, his eyes shining, hips rolling into yours. "No death wish. I figured you'd miss me, after the last time. It was so much fun."

Growling you pulled his hair, making his cock twitch in his pants from the painful sting. You should leave, or you should try to defeat him once and for all, you should do anything but spread your legs wider and allow him to push your underwear to the side. "This is the bathroom, you perverted demon freak."

"Yeah, and you dragged me in here instead of kicking me and my boys out. Figured that was an invitation. I'll make it quick, make it good for you, so good, pretty girl." He spoke to you in a soft yet condescending tone, completely confidant too. You gasped when you felt the tip of his cock sink in. You didn't even register him taking his pants off, too distracted by weather or not you should tell him to fuck off or not.

Your legs squeezed around him instinctively when his hands left your hips to freely roam your body.

"See? You take me so well, so easily, like you were made for it, made to be mine." He didn't give you time to adjust to his girth, he slammed into you, wanting to hear you moan into his ear. "You sound so pretty when you sing but I like these sounds too."

"Stop. Talking." You warned before shutting him up with your hand. Jinu grinned against it and moved to take your fingers into his mouth. Your mouth dropped open in shock.

"Tastes like you. Were you fucking yourself just before this, in your room, thinking of me? Bet that's the case. You act all high and mighty and like you're better than me but all you are right now is a common slut. Taking my cock and loving every bit of it." His tongue moved to your wrist, his sharp teeth nibbling on your pulse point while his hips smacked against yours. "Think I'm gonna unload into you. Send you back out there dripping with my cum again. See how long you can hide it."

A shiver, a shamefully pleasant one, traveled through your body, made your pussy clench around his veiny cock. "I hate you. I should kill you. I should... oh fuck, fuck!" You rolled your hips against his when he stopped moving, your face hot with embarrassment.

"Yeah, yeah, that's right, hate me all you want, fuck yourself on the cock of the man you hate, make yourself come from it. Hate me after, hate me forever, as long as you keep taking me like this." Jinu grunted and pressed his forehead against yours, his your breaths mixing, hot and heavy. "Gonna fill you up." It almost sounded soft, the way he said it.

Right before the now familiar feeling of his hot seed flooded your insides, painting your inner walls and your womb in white. "Ah, Jinu!" You moaned and repeated his name over and over, high and then low, clinging onto him, unwilling to let go.

Even when your body stopped shaking you didn't push him away, you let him kiss you, soft and possessive. He whispered something against your lips but you didn't quite catch it. "...you. I'll see you again soon."

"W-What? Mmmn!" You whined when you felt him pull out and set your underwear back into place like it could hold his cum in. You felt it dripping down your leg and white hot shame returned all at once. "Y-You!" He grinned even as you slapped him. "Seriously, what the fucking hell is wrong with you?! I can't go out like this! Why did I even let you do that?!"

"I wonder why, s-l-u-t." Right before your hand made contact with his other cheek he vanished, his smug, mocking laughter echoing around you.

"Fuck! Fuck! Why?! Why is he so...?!" You felt like you wanted to throw something. As much as you were angry at him you were also angry at yourself, for allowing, almost wanting him to do what he did, for him to take you as he did. It felt good and you hated yourself for acknowledging that.

This cannot go on like this. Next time, the next time Jinu tries something like this you have to put a stop to it, no matter how good it might feel, no matter how conflicted and confused you were about these feelings you were having about him and whatever this strange relationship now was.

[kdh-tally]

Baby x Reader Headcannons

Prompt : Headcannons of Baby and his Partner.

Author's Note : I might do one of these for each of the Saja Boys and Huntr/x girls. I started with Baby though because he currently has no pairing (and is actually my favourite Saja Boy lol)

You work at a small convenience store somewhere in the Hongdae shopping district. 

Your store is close to one of the popular schools but it’s small so most don’t even notice that there was an actual convenience store there.

One day the bell chimed, alerting you that someone came in.

You looked up from your phone only to come face to face with some cat eyed, blue haired boy. He looked familiar. Kinda like one of the boys on the ramen cups that were flying off shelves (when people actually came into the store).

“Welcome to Y/N’s convenience, what can I get you?”

He tilts his head, as though studying you, and all of a sudden you feel self conscious.

“You have anything spicy here?”

Your eyes widen noticeably in surprise. You didn’t expect his voice to be so deep or rough, especially when he had such a baby face.

Clearing your thoughts, you motioned to the back shelves with your head. “There should be some stuff back there. If you need help don’t be afraid to ask” you nodded before sending him off and leaning back into your seat.

As you opened your social media account, the very first video that popped up had the guy's face on it. “Join the pride,” he smirked at the camera as he stood next to a group of 4 other guys. 

Before you could look into it even more, the guy slammed a thick bottle of jalapeno sauce on the counter. You began to ring him up when he asked, “You wanna hang out?”.

Baby definitely came back the next day and every day after. 

He'd pretend to try new spicy combos, but really he's just standing in the ramen aisle waiting for you to notice him.

When you ask, “Didn’t you come in yesterday?” he just shrugs and responds, “I missed the vibe.”

You didn’t say it out loud, but you fixed your hair the next day before your shift.

He ends up really enjoying your presence, and really enjoying how much he can annoy you.

He’ll “accidentally” knock over the chip display just to hear you sigh and call him a menace.

Would bring you random drinks to “taste test” but makes you guess which is which by sniffing them. 

It was something he had tried on Mystery back in the dorms when Jinu was busy yapping to them about how they would be defeating the hunters. 

He eventually earns what he likes calling ‘behind the counter’ privileges. 

Basically means you allow him into the workers area, and behind the cash register so he doesn’t have to talk to you from across the counter.

He doesn’t do much working though. Mainly just watched youtube on his Ipad.

He always acts like you’re the one flirting with him. 

If you ever blush around him, he has his hands up as though surrendering or calming a rabid animal. “Woah, relax. I’m just here for the spicy chips.”

He calls you “Cashier-nim” for the first two weeks of knowing you, then switches to “pretty thing” whenever he feels like teasing you.

The day you finally found out he was actually THE Baby from Saja Boys, you were mid-bite of your snack and almost choked.

“Wait. You’re famous?”

“Duh.”

“Why are you HERE?”

“You’re here.” he says deadpan.

He once livestreamed from the store without telling you, and suddenly you had a line out the door and business took off.

He likes that you didn’t fangirl or scream when you found out. It makes him feel like a real person.

He also likes how calmly human you are. You’re one of the few that don’t go crazy because of his idol image but also don’t want to kill him. Not that you knew he was a demon anyways.

You’re one of the only people who can see past his teasing and know when he’s actually tired or stressed.

You don’t know why but you're pretty sure it's probably pressure from being an idol or something else.

He’ll sneak into the shop near closing time, hoodie pulled low above his head, hands in pockets, and just sit behind the counter with you while you do restock. No words, just chilling.

If fans ever asked if he was dating anyone, he’d smirk and go, “Maybe.” Not only are the fans shocked but so are the other boys.

They didn’t expect baby of all people to actually fall for a human and not tell them

They insist on meeting you but Baby refuses. He’s so calm about it too. 

Easily avoids all of them and poofs out of the building before they can follow him.

You two don’t do super fancy dates. You’ll walk the streets of Hongdae with spicy corn dogs and bubble tea, trying every new snack he spots.

He loves making you try unnecessarily spicy things just to watch your reactions, knowing you won’t be able to handle them. “C’mon, you survived me. You can survive this.”

He takes horrible selfies with you.

 Tongues out, fake gang signs that make him feel cool (he saw them on tiktok) and captions like “me n my boss lady”

Does he get jealous?

Baby? Nah, not really… Okay fine, a little.

If some schoolboy flirts with you while buying gum, Baby will suddenly “appear” from behind a shelf with 20 spicy ramen cups in his arms like “Pretty thing, help me figure out where to box these up yea?”

He’d dump the cups in your arms so he could take over the cash register and would absolutely glare into the boy's soul as he rings up his order.

The boy leaves.

He would call you things like: 

Cashier-nim : when you first met.

Boss Lady : Whenever you order him around.

Snack : When he tries to resist the urge to bite you. 

Trouble : When he wants to accuse you of flirting with him.

Pretty Thing : To get you flustered

Y/N-ie : Only calls you by your name during quiet and VERY sincere moments.

You call him things like: 

Spice King : You watched him down like 5 ghost peppers with ease.

Little Brat : Whenever he’s being annoying on purpose.

Incompetent toddler : You see the pattern?

Pretty Boy : Only when he’s being sweet.

Baby : It’s literally his name

He would confess to you by leaving a sticky note on the counter that says “Employee discount for boyfriends??”

Though its not super duper straight up, he’s still pretty to the point with it.

When you look up confused, he just winks and says, “I like you. Now say yes before I buy out your whole damn store.”

[forgetful-fox]

My bestie with actual ocd has a law we call "Split The Line". If we are walking anywhere or into any store, the space between you cannot be broken by a tree, pole, lightpost, traffic cone, person, etc etc. Because that cuts the lines of your friendship and the person who split the line will die. This counts for even if we are in a group of 23 people. If any one person splits the line, they have to double back and fix it otherwise she has a complete screaming absolute terror meltdown on the sidewalk.

I follow this law religiously. I love her and stand up for her anytime some bitch tries to joke about her ocd or belittles it. You really cannot comprehend nor control the laws someones brain makes. But they are LAWS their brain has made. And it's something they gotta work with (and we should help if we can because I love my girl)

So when she suddenly has a meltdown over something I think is silly and I start to laugh, she goes "bruh it's a lawwww" and sometimes I can't stop my laughing, but I do immediately try to fix it and make amends. That's how it be sometimes.

But anyways I think bitches need to stop belittling mental illness and using it like a butt joke.

ocd is so weird bc its completely belittled and infantilized on the surface level (aka the stereotype- what people think ocd is like) but then the reality of it, the actual symptoms, are completely demonized once you get into them and people see you as evil just for having this mental illness in a non quirky way like they assumed its like. and then at the same time its not taken seriously at all and all the symptoms are handwaved as not that deep because how could you be so upset about something so dumb lol just dont do the compulsion its easy. why dont you hashtag let the intrusive thoughts win and shut the fuck up

[cameronsbabydoll]

BASIC TRAINING — CHAPTER SIX

WARNINGS — Virgin fingering, degradation/praise mix, reader crying (pleasure), power imbalance, explicit sexual content, mild coercion, 18+ only.

The air in the supply closet smells like bleach and dust and Rafe’s cologne—a sharp, dangerous mix that makes your head spin. You’re not sure how you ended up here. Not really. One minute you were fetching printer paper for your dad’s office, arms full of reams, the next Rafe was behind you, his hand on the small of your back, steering you through a door you hadn’t even noticed was half-open.

“Careful, sunshine,” he’d murmured, his voice low, like he was warning you about a spill on the floor instead of trapping you in a room no bigger than a coffin. “Don’t want you tripping over something you can’t handle.”

The door clicked shut behind you.

That was ten seconds ago.

Now you’re pressed against a metal shelf, the edge digging into your hip, your breath coming in shallow little gasps. Rafe’s standing so close his dog tags brush your collarbone when he leans in. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his mouth is curved into that same smirk he’s been wearing since the day you stepped off that van. Like he’s won something already.

“You’re shaking again,” he says, voice almost gentle, but there’s an edge to it, sharp enough to cut. “You always this nervous, or is it just me?”

“I—I’m not nervous,” you lie, clutching the shelf behind you like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Your sundress sticks to your thighs, the fabric damp with sweat. It’s too hot in here. Too small. Too much.

Rafe hums, unconvinced. He steps closer, one boot nudging between your sandals, forcing your legs apart just enough to make you gasp. His hand lifts, slow, deliberate, and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, tracing the shell, then dropping to your jaw, tilting your face up.

“Liar,” he whispers.

You open your mouth to argue—because you’re not, you’re not—but then his lips are on yours, and every thought in your head evaporates like water on asphalt.

It’s not soft. Not sweet. Not like the kisses you’ve imagined, the ones in movies where the guy cups the girl’s face and music swells. Rafe kisses like he’s claiming something, like he’s marking territory. His mouth is hard, insistent, his tongue pushing past your lips before you even know what’s happening. He tastes like spearmint and smoke and something you can’t name, something that makes your knees buckle.

You whimper into his mouth, and he growls—a low, animal sound that vibrates through your chest. His hand slides to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, his thumb pressing against your pulse. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips wet, his eyes burning.

“Fuck, you’re sweet,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Taste like goddamn candy.”

You’re dizzy. You’re burning. You’re still clutching the shelf, your knuckles white, your heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “R-Rafe,” you stammer, because it’s the only word you know right now, the only anchor you have.

“Shh.” His thumb strokes your throat, slow and deliberate. “Don’t talk, sunshine. Just let me take care of you.”

You don’t know what that means, but you nod anyway. You’re not sure you could say no even if you wanted to. And you don’t. Not really. Not when his other hand is sliding down your side, fingers skimming the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your dress until cool air hits your thighs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the words hit you like a drug, warm and liquid, pooling in your belly. You’ve never been called that before—not like this, not with a voice that makes you want to kneel. You’re not sure what’s happening to you, but you know you don’t want it to stop.

His hand moves lower, dipping under the hem of your dress, and you freeze. Your breath catches, your eyes wide, locked on his. He pauses, watching you, waiting for you to pull away, to say something, to stop him. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re trembling, but it’s not fear. It’s something else, something that makes your thighs press together, something that makes you ache.

“Relax,” he says, softer now, but it’s not a request. It’s a command. His fingers brush the inside of your thigh, light at first, teasing, then higher, firmer, until they’re grazing the edge of your panties. “You’re so fucking soft,” he breathes, like it’s a revelation, like he’s just found something he didn’t expect. “Bet you’re even softer here.”

You gasp when his fingers press against you, right there, over the cotton. It’s the first time anyone’s touched you like this, and it’s too much, too intense, too everything. Your legs try to close instinctively, but his knee is there, keeping them open, keeping you exposed.

“Nuh-uh,” he warns, his voice dropping lower, darker. “Keep ‘em open, sunshine. You don’t get to hide from me.”

“I—I don’t—” You don’t know what you’re trying to say. You don’t know anything except the pressure of his fingers, the heat of his breath on your neck, the way your body is betraying you, arching into his touch without your permission.

“Shh,” he says again, and this time his lips brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I know what you need. I’ve known since I saw you. All soft and pretty and fucking begging for it.”

His fingers slip under the elastic of your panties, and you choke on a sob. He’s touching you now, really touching you, his fingers slick against your skin, and it’s so overwhelming you think you might break. He groans when he feels you, low and rough, like you’re the one doing something to him.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking wet. This all for me?”

You don’t answer—you can’t—but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s moving now, slow at first, circling, exploring, like he’s learning you. You’re trembling so hard the shelf rattles, and you’re biting your lip to keep from making sounds, but it’s no use. Little whimpers slip out, soft and desperate, and he drinks them in, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth curved like he’s savoring it.

“Look at you,” he says, voice thick with something like pride. “Falling apart already. You ever touch yourself like this, sunshine? Ever make yourself feel good?”

You shake your head, frantic, embarrassed, and he chuckles, dark and low.

“Course you haven’t. Too fucking pure for that, aren’t you?” His fingers press deeper, one slipping inside you, and you cry out, your head tipping back against the shelf. It’s too much, too full, too everything, but he doesn’t stop. He moves slow, deliberate, curling his finger just right, and you feel something building, something you’ve never felt before, something that scares you and thrills you all at once.

“Rafe,” you gasp, and it’s half a plea, half a prayer. You don’t know what you’re asking for—more, less, stop, don’t stop—but he knows. He always knows.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple. “Say my name again. Let me hear it.”

“Rafe,” you sob, and he rewards you with another finger, stretching you, filling you, and it hurts a little but it’s good, so good, better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You’re crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks, not because it hurts but because it’s too much, too perfect, too him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, and his voice is unraveling now, like he’s losing control, like you’re doing something to him. “So fucking tight and perfect. Gonna ruin you, sunshine. Gonna make you mine.”

You don’t know what that means, not really, but it sounds like a promise, like a threat, like something you want more than anything. You’re clinging to him now, your hands fisting his shirt, your hips moving against his hand, chasing something you don’t understand but need, need, need.

“Please,” you whisper, and you don’t even know what you’re begging for, but he does. He always does.

“I got you,” he says, and his thumb finds your clit, circling it, pressing it, and you shatter. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, like your body’s breaking apart and coming back together all at once, like you’re flying and falling and drowning in him. You sob his name, loud and broken, and he curses under his breath, working you through it, drawing it out, making it last until you’re shaking so hard you can’t stand.

When it’s over, you’re limp against the shelf, your breath ragged, your cheeks wet. Rafe’s still holding you, his fingers still inside you, slow and gentle now, like he’s savoring it. He leans down, kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips, soft and sweet, like he didn’t just wreck you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you whimper, because it’s those words again, that tone, that ownership. “So fucking good for me.”

He pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss, but he’s not done. He lifts his hand, slick with you, and presses his fingers to your lips. “Open,” he says, and you do, because you’re his now, because you don’t know how to be anything else. You taste yourself, salty and strange, and he watches you, eyes dark, like he’s memorizing it.

“Say thank you,” he says, voice low, commanding.

You swallow, your voice hoarse, barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

He smiles, slow and satisfied, and pulls his fingers away. “That’s my girl.”

You’re still shaking when he steps back, adjusting his pants like nothing happened, like he didn’t just change you forever. He picks up the stack of printer paper you dropped, hands it to you, and opens the door.

“Better get back to your dad,” he says, casual, like he’s talking about the weather. “Don’t want him wondering where you are.”

You nod, numb, clutching the paper to your chest like it’s a lifeline. You step out, your legs unsteady, your dress crumpled, your panties damp. You don’t look back, but you feel his eyes on you, burning a hole through your back.

You make it to your dad’s office, set the paper down, and sit at your desk, staring at nothing. Your notebook’s open in front of you, the one Rafe returned, the one you’re too scared to write in now because you don’t know what’s real anymore.

You don’t know who you are anymore.

But you know one thing.

You’re his.

[docrobinavitch]

been thinking a lot about abbott or robby finding out that gf!reader bought a ✨toy✨ sometime before they were together (maybe a rabbit vibe or something like that??) but it’s in her closet in the box and never has been opened because she was too nervous to use it or something, and then deciding they have to change that

hi hehe this literally made me go fucking insane teehee trying to be so normal about this um anyway this has not been proofread so hope it's not too insane ok love u thank u for the request nonnie u are sooooo big brain jack abbot x f!reader masterlist literally pure filth below the cut idk what to say u guys

“Babe,” Jack called down the hallway, “Have you seen my army sweatpants?”

It was an unseasonably cold day for late June. Rain came in spurts and fits, making soothing sounds against the window panes. They had had a slow Saturday morning, original plans to go the Farmer’s Market cancelled and replaced with coffee in bed and playing round after round of Street Fighter on your Switch (Jack could not accept defeat even when it became clear he would never fucking beat you) until close to noon.

Now you were in the kitchen starting a soup for dinner. He could just barely hear the rhythmic sounds of the knife against the cutting board and one of your playlists playing quietly in the background.

“I may have stolen them,” You called back, “Did you check my closet?”

He chuckled to himself, “No. Why would I check your closet for my clothes?”

“I think I put them on the top shelf!” You called, ignoring his snide comment.

He shook his head, a smirk on his face, as he went to search your closet. You were always stealing his clothes. It was difficult to be annoyed about it though, because he loved seeing you in them.

He spotted them almost immediately, in the corner on the shelf as you said. But as he pulled on them, a box fell down with them.

Jack bent to pick it up— And frowned when he saw what it was. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face. A vibrator. It was a shape he recognized, a rabbit, with a large shaft for penetration and a smaller one for clitoral stimulation. And by the looks of it, it was unopened.

“Hey, did you find—?“ You were still drying your hands on a dish towel when you stopped in the doorway of your closet.

Jack slowly looked up from the box, smirking at you as he did, turning it so you could see the picture on the cover, “What’s this?”

Immediately you were blushing, “Um, I just… I—I bought it when I was single and… and then we started dating and I didn’t…” You swallowed, noting that he seemed endlessly amused by how flustered you were, “I didn’t have need for it. Once we started dating.”

He looked at the box and then back to you, still smiling, “You didn’t even open it?”

You shrugged, “As I said, I didn’t have need for it.”

“But you kept it.”

You opened your mouth— Then closed it. Finally, you shrugged, “I don’t know. I was curious.”

“Well, we should open it then.”

If you were red before, your face became an inferno now as you snatched the box from his hands, “I don’t think that’s necessary,” You began to walk past him into the closet to put it away, but Jack lightly grabbed your arm as you tried to move past him.

“Look, I… I won’t force you, obviously, but… There’s no need to be so shy with me, you know?” He gently took your chin in his fingers and turned your head so you were looking at him, “I think it’s really hot.”

Finally, you managed a small smile, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Did you finish the soup?”

You blinked at the sudden change of subject, “Uh, yeah. It has to simmer for a few hours.”

“Good,” He looked back down at the box in your hands, “How many orgasms do you think you can take before you’re begging me to stop?”

He watched your throat bob as your breathing hitched, “I guess we’ll find out?” You said, voice high and breathy.

He looked up at you, inhaling slowly as he did, and you watched his hazel eyes dilate with desire in real time.

“Why don’t you strip and get on the bed?” He said softly and pulled the box from your grasp.

You did as you were told, heat already stirring between your legs as you watched Jack get everything ready. Hyper focused as he tears open the box and begins pacing around your bedroom, grabbing a towel, grabbing lube, washing the new vibrator with soap and warm water.

He laid out a towel over the bed sheets and lightly pat it with his hand in silent invitation. Heart pounding, you laid down against the pillows, on top of the towel.

Jack seemed calm on the outside, but inside he was freaking the fuck out, looking at you sprawled naked on that towel, just waiting for him to touch you. Crawling over you, he placed a kiss on your forehead, “You’re okay?” He asked quietly.

Because he felt fucking feral, holding that vibrator in his hand, mind racing thinking of all the ways he could fucking torture you and pull orgasm after orgasm until there were tears streaming down your cheeks. But one word from you and he would put it away and act like he wasn’t phased at all. Delegate it to just a fantasy to have in his mind and never to hold.

But you looked up at him with those big puppy eyes of yours and nodded and he swore he would come apart right there. He kissed you slow and tenderly, knotting a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling just enough that you gasped. He was addicted to the sounds you made whenever he touched you, the breathy sighs and the moans. Even the sleepy mewls you made still in sleep when he slipped into bed after a long shift.

Now, though, he wanted you a whimpering mess. Still kissing you, he pressed his thumb down on the vibrator, turning it on to its lowest setting.

Pulling away from you just a bit, he lightly pressed the vibrator to one of your nipples and was rewarded with another sigh as the bud pebbled. When he moved the vibrator to your other nipple, he leaned down to suck the other into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue. Already, already you were moaning so goddamn obscenely, he could feel his cock heavy and full in his briefs.

“Oh, f-fuck,” You stammered, arching your back. Underneath him, he felt your hips keen up, searching for pressure and friction wherever you could find it, “Jack, please.”

He laughed, “Sweetheart, it’s been like, thirty seconds.” He murmured into your neck, kissing and biting as he let the vibrator continue to assault your nipples, “You’re already that needy for me?”

Reaching a hand between your thighs, he was pleasantly surprised to find you absolutely dripping, “Jesus fucking Christ,” He swore under his breath, allowing his finger to sink into you once, twice— and then he pulled it out completely, ignoring the desperate sounds of your whines as he sucked your juices clean off his finger. He made sure you were looking at him as he did so, a mischievous smirk on his face.

You were positively pouting, lower lip pushed out as you continued to try and push your hips up and into him, but he pulled away again. “Alright, alright. Let’s see how you take it, then.”

Still on the lowest setting, he slowly dragged the vibrator up your inner thigh. He wanted you to get a feel for what it felt like, not wanting to overstimulate you too quickly. His eyes were locked on your face every second, still searching to make sure you still wanted this.

Your lust laden eyelids were drooping, but still locked on his. He watched the erratic rise and fall of your chest as he came closer and closer to your center. When the vibrator reached your outer lips, he spent some time circling them and could already see tears accumulating at the corners of your eyes. A pool of your juices had already begun collecting on the towel below you.

As soon as it caught his eye, his cock twitched. There was a dampness pooling in his own pants, but he could wait. There was something about the fact that you were so fucking undone with how little he and the vibrator had touched you that made him feel clinically crazy.

And he knew he wanted the vibrator to do the job, that’s why they were here, but he couldn’t just fucking watch you drip like this and do nothing about it. He needed to fucking taste you or he would lose his goddamn mind.

His tongue was deep inside you so quickly you cried out, a hand blindly reaching to knot itself in his salt and pepper curls. With the free hand that wasn’t wrapped around your thigh, he pressed the vibrator to your clit, and immediately, you’re coming. The vibrator was so much more stimulation than you were used to, that tears are already streaming down your cheeks as you come down.

Jack sat up, chin slick and shiny from you and reached a thumb to swipe away some of the tears on your cheek, “You wanna keep going?” He asked.

You nod, breathless, “Yes.”

He smirked as he grabbed the bottle of lube. He wasn’t sure that you’d need it, given how fucking soaked you were now with both his saliva and your own come, but just in case, he coated the shaft of the vibrator. It was not as thick or as long as he was, so he imagined you would take it just fine. But even the thought of hurting you unintentionally made him want to tear the world apart. So he’d stretch you slowly, watch you carefully for any discomfort.

When he met you, you had a hard time saying no. Not just to him, to anyone. He had tried to build your confidence, assure you that there was nothing you could say or do that would make him love you any less. And that anyone who couldn’t respect a boundary didn’t deserve your love and respect anyway. It was working, slowly, he thought. But there were still times you faltered when he could tell you wanted to say no. He had become an expert on it, the way your lips twisted to the side, or you avoided eye contact, or frowned just slightly when you said “yes,” but were really thinking “no.”

And so he watched you now as he lined the vibrator up with your entrance and added slow, constant pressure.

“There you go, sweetheart,” He cooed and you whined at the praise, “Tell me what you want, use your words.”

You rutted your hips up, “Please, Jack, more. Need more.”

Your cheeks were still damp from your last orgasm and your forehead slicked with sweat. You were so fucking gorgeous, he thought he might have a stroke just looking at you. And it would be worth it. He pushed the vibrator in, more and more until you were full and eyes rolling back into your head with pleasure. After he had thrusted it in and out a couple of times, he turned the vibrator up to a higher setting and you immediately burst out in sobs.

Jack stilled for a moment, “Should I stop?” He asked, almost panicked, his hand began to pull out—

But your hand grabbed his wrist, pulled it back flush against you as your hips began grinding against it again, “P-Please.” You begged again, a fucking pathetic mess.

He swallowed, hard, and kept thrusting the vibrator in and out of you.

“Jack,” You moaned after a few moments of this, “Jack, baby, want you to touch yourself. Could you do that for me?”

Jesus fucking Christ. He was going to die here. You were going to fucking kill him, he was sure of it. Nodding silently, to stunned to say anything else, he pulled his full cock out of his briefs, hissing as he stroked it once in time with the way he thrust the rabbit in and out of you. He ran a thumb over the pre cum that dripped out of his slit, slicking it over his head and couldn’t stifle the moan that came out.

“Oh, that’s so good,” You moaned, “So hot, Jack, keep going. Want you to come with me, please, could you?”

He’d never seen you like this. The toy had seemed to unlock something in you. Normally so obedient and looking to be told what to do in bed. But now, now you seemed confident enough to ask what you wanted. Tell him what to do to get you off. And it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his fucking life. He would do whatever the fuck you wanted, if you asked for it like this. So sweet and gorgeous as you were on the edge of coming undone again.

He turned the second, smaller shaft on and pressed it to your clit as he sped up the thrusts of both the vibrator and the hand that fisted his cock. Your eyes followed the movement of his hand on his cock, tongue darting out to wet your lips, pure desire lighting up your whole face as you stared at him jerking off in front of you. And it was too fucking much, watching you watch him like that, getting off on him touching himself.

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned and hot white ropes of come were shooting out onto your pussy, covering his hand that was still managing to keep thrusting the vibrator in and out of you. You came only seconds later, still crying and legs shaking uncontrollably as you began to come down.

Both of you breathing hard, he gently pulled the toy out of you and wiped it against the towel that was under you. He laid down next to you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your mouth as he did so.

You rested your sweaty head against his shoulder and the both of you sat in silence for a few moments.

Then, you turned your head slightly to look at him, “Again?” You asked, unable to hide the eagerness in your voice.

He laughed then, short and loud, “Fuck me,” He groaned, but sat up anyway, “Again.” He agreed.

You were definitely going to fucking kill him.

[powderpuff-divines]

pick a pile: what makes people's hearts flutter around you

thank you so much for the love on the previous reading!! i was so happy to see that so many of you enjoyed it. i hope that this one resonates too. once again, it is a general reading. only take what applies, leave the rest and please forgive any grammatical or spelling errors xx

pile 1 ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

(judgement, ace of pentacles, queen of pentacles, page of pentacles, page of wands)

there's just something intimidating about you pile one (you may or may not have a resting b-face) but there's also something about you that makes people want to impress you. whatever way you express your dissatisfaction- whether it's the way you curl your lips in distaste or scrunch your eyebrows- it sets people on edge. it makes them nervous but also very eager to please you.

you could come from a well to do family, like a long line or surgeons, etc. (if not, that's the vibes you give) or even if it's not wealth, it feels like you come from a very reputed family.

but regardless of your family, you have built have a very good reputation for yourself amongst your peers. your work ethic is also very good- you put your head down and get to work, and even that makes people's hearts flutter sometimes. you elicit awe and admiration quite easily.

capable. that's the energy i'm getting from this pile. someone capable who wants to work hard, who wants money, who wants status, who wants recognition. majority of the people from this pile are the go-getters, the type to want to work in student body councils or win a lot of trophies (i'm getting more academic/corporate achievement than sporty though).

there's also another section of people who picked this pile who wouldn't necessarily call themselves hard-working, they'd prefer to call themselves lazy even but regardless of how you label yourself, you just breeze through your work anyway. in the eyes of others, it looks effortless. the people around you take one look at you and just know you're going to achieve great things with your career

regardless of all this admiration, i don't think you're friends with many people. there may only be a few in your inner circle. there's something about other people wanting to be a part of your personal life so bad. i'm seeing this image someone who randomly posts a Instagram story of them surfing and the people viewing it are so shocked ("pile two surfs? i never knew that about them. that's so cool!") they're intrigued by you and want to know you better but you don't let people that close easily. you might just have really strict work-life boundaries and are very particular about who in your life gets to see how much about you.

and because of who you are, what you've accomplished and how you carry yourself, your approval means something to the people around you, especially if it's something you don't dole out to just anyone.

your approval; that's what gets their heart fluttering-- a nod from you when they show you what they've done, a pat on the back, a smile on your lips as you give praise, even if it's off-handed, it gives them something to feel good about for the rest of the day.

pile 2 ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

(chariot, 8 of pentacles , ace of cups, seven of swords, ten of pentacles) (oh my god 😭 who are you peopleeee. i would not be surprised if multiple people were crushing on this pile.)

pile 2, you're popular and you definitely know it to some extent too. this pile is a bit similar to pile 1 in some ways but still vastly different you could have lot of admirers and people who want to get close to you and i do see you engaging with these people, because you do enjoy the attention (nothing wrong with that), but i also get the feeling you're very controlling and picky over your image and how you come off to people. even while trying to channel the messages for this pile, the energy feels a bit reserved and doesn't want to give me too much.

there's one particular thing you could be known for, some sort of craft you've worked hard at or you're really talented at. this could be something like dance or music but that's where most of your popularity comes from. you have a good network of friends and people who you can pass time with.

i'm ngl, lowkey getting some player energy from this pile but not necessarily in the bad way. it's just some of you are aware of effect you have, and you have fun teasing people, toying with them, making them blush. oh, pile 2 you like making people's hearts flutter, you do it on purpose. you like knowing that you have the power to make people flustered.

what makes people's heart flutter is the rush they get when your eyes meet, the flirtatious lilt in your voice, maybe a smirk on your lips as you tease them in a very nonchalant manner, when you say something and playfully tell them that it's a secret only the two of you will know, when you make them feel like they are the sole focus of your attention. heart are fluttering left and right because of you.

i don't know if this pile will resonate with a lot of people or if the things mentioned here are too specific, but bottom line is that there's a very flirtatious and seductive vibe to your energy. you guys might be bored the majority of the time but man, when you're interested in someone, you tease and play with them until you get a reaction. even if you're not like this currently, you have great potential at charming people my pile twos.

pile 3 ˚ . ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

( 6 of cups, the empress, nine of pentacles, eight of pentacles, temperance rev)

pile 3, are you really uncomfortable with being perceived by any chance? i had the most difficult time channeling the energy of the people who chose this pile out of all three piles. i think you keep to yourself for most of the time but there's also this adorable energy around you, like that of a cat that just puts its head down and sleeps whenever it gets the chance to.

you could not like attention and maybe most of your days, you put your head down and focus on getting through. that's not to say you have a sad life. maybe you're not where you want to be yet, but you do have hobbies, things you enjoy and to pass the time with.

there's something casually cool about you. i cannot say what it is exactly since it's different for each of the people who pick this pile, but something about the way someone gets their drink from the vending machine? for someone, it's the way they hop over a gate. you have these tiny particular habits and methods of doing things that catch some people's attention without even knowing it.

i think it's your affection that makes people's hearts flutter.

this is giving me the energy of that one type of male lead/character (i'm just talking about the vibe, this could apply to you regardless of your gender) in anime that slacks off all the time but will randomly say something observant or serious that will have your heart skipping a beat. it's very endearing, i feel like you're very laid-back but still very straightforward and blunt with your affection. you'll say something simple but it'll be so earnest and the most romantic thing ever in the moment; it would exactly the thing the other person would happen to need to hear.

and it's not even intentional for most of you, it just comes naturally.

AHHH pile 3s, i get the feeling most of you don't think very highly about your work or aren't very comfortable with yourself but you should know that you're inherently a very chill and cool person. you aren't nearly as embarrassing as you think you are. be proud of your existence please!! and take up more space!!!

what makes people's hearts flutter around you aren't big gestures or big speeches, but it's just simply you in the rawest form possible. maybe it's you holding a cold soda can to someone's cheek and murmuring something that was just on your mind; a silly joke, a comment about a look on their face. it's your nonchalant affection that arrives so silently yet reassuringly steady every time. it's the way you unknowingly make the weight of the world lighter for others, even if just for a second.

this pile gives me maomao vibes? i haven't seen ad yet, just clips and edits but the way she just puts her head down and dgaf about anything except posion/her own thing and she's just inherently endearing and people adore her??? that's your vibe pile 3!!! also this is the second time anime has been referenced, so maybe that's a sign for some of yall

i love how much you can customise your tumblr post but the gradient text is just too stressful for me to do more than twice in one post lol. do let me know which pile you picked and on how it resonated!! in all honesty, i'm a bit nervous about it since i feel like i went too specific so i hope it still resonates with people.

[redeemingvillains]

with one glance - mattheo riddle

summary: a picture's worth a thousand words, and just one manages to say everything you've desperately tried to keep hidden from mattheo.

word count: 4k

a/n: fluff, fluffy, fluffiest, fluff fluff. i'm giggling over it! 🌻

“I did it! I passed!” Pansy shouted as she burst through the common room door.

Mattheo’s eyes tracked her as she marched over to the couches and plopped the folder in her hand on the table in front of him with a flourish.

“And not just passed, top marks!” she said smugly.

He rolled his eyes at her as she spun on her heels and pranced towards the girls dormitory.

“I’m going to tell YN! Drinks on me tonight!” she shouted, her voice echoing as it faded down the stone hallway.

He focused his attention back on the book in his lap, but then his eye caught the folder on the table, and the corners of the pictures that stuck out from it, and his leg began to bounce as his fingers fiddled with the corner of the page he was on.

He glanced back to make sure Pansy was gone.

And then he reached for the folder.

❀ Two weeks earlier ❀

Rain pattered against the windowpanes in the library as you sighed and turned the page of your history of magic textbook, taking a large sip of your coffee. Across from you Pansy’s head lulled in her propped-up hand before she finally surrendered, laying her head on her equally large muggle studies tome.

“If I don’t find something to do my end of term project on I’m going to fail and I am not retaking this class; I don’t even know why we have to study muggles, I mean really…” she said, her voice muffled by the pages.

Theo and Mattheo laughed quietly on either side of you and you smiled at her as she picked her head back up and began flipping through the pages again.

A few moments passed and you refocused your attention, the sound around you dulled to murmurs, the quiet turning of pages, the pattering rain, and the scratch of Mattheo’s quill.

“Ok wait, that’s adorable” Pansy laughed, something between mocking and sincerity in her expression as your eyes flickered up, sure that at this rate you wouldn’t get any studying done.

“What?” you appeased her.

“This chapter’s all about weddings and such and, look, they have this cute little concept of taking pictures for their betrothal– engagement, whatever they call it.”

She turned her book and your eyes skated over a myriad of pictures of couples who were clearly hopelessly in love, ogling over each other, here at the beach, there in a field of flowers.

“That’s sweet” you acknowledged, smiling.

Theo leaned over and let out an unsatisfied grunt.

Mattheo’s attention didn’t waiver from his homework but Lorenzo leaned over him, craning to see.

“What’s the point?” he asked. “Sitting there staring at each other when you’ll take a thousand pictures at the wedding anyway? Their pictures don’t even move.”

You looked up in time to see Pansy roll her eyes before she glanced back down at the page, fingers tracing it and you could see a familiar glint in her eye.

“That’s what I’ll do, I’ll do a little engagement photoshoot. I love photography anyway, it makes sense.”

You nodded assuredly, thinking of the prints that littered the walls of your dorm, of each other, of your friends; your mind wandered to your favorite, intentionally plastered amidst the rest so as not to stand out, of the dark haired boy beside you, your best friend, his curls ruffled as he smiled wide and then stuck his tongue out, a loop you spent more time than you cared to admit staring at.

You smiled thinking about it and willed yourself not to look at him as your cheeks flushed, betraying you.

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Hmm?” you hummed.

“You’ll help? You’ll do it with me?”

“I’m neither engaged nor a muggle, Pansy.”

“No but you’d be sooo perfect, please? And we’ll get someone to do it with you, obviously—"

“—Stare into her eyes in a field of flowers? Steal a sneaky kiss?” Lorenzo said, his hand shooting in the air. “My weekend’s free.”

You laughed and Mattheo’s attention was dragged from his parchment as he sat back and stared at Lorenzo.

“What?” Lorenzo said defensively at his dark gaze. “Surely you’re not going to do it?”

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed.

“Your whole aura doesn’t really give ‘prancing through the flowers’, mate.”

“And yours does?” Theo clarified.

Lorenzo sat back and gestured at himself in defense like the response was obvious.

“I was made for the camera.”

The two of them continued to bicker in whispers back and forth as you watched them and tried to contain your laughter.

“I’ll do it” Mattheo said, just loud enough to be heard over them.

Your head turned quickly to him in surprise.

Lorenzo wasn’t wrong. Mattheo was more than a little stoic, a bit of a closed book, but it was one of your favorite things about him, because you knew when he laughed, when he smiled, when he let his guard down around you, it really meant something.

Pansy glanced to you and him and back again, her smile growing wider.

“Perfect!” she said enthusiastically.

“Don’t come crying to me when you have a roll full of scowls” Lorenzo muttered.

That Saturday you woke to an idyllic late spring morning. The storms had cleared to welcome a perfect blue sky and even though you were tingling with nerves you couldn’t deny your excitement. You dressed in a simple white sundress, let your hair fall naturally and added just a touch of makeup; Pansy had wanted to lean into the whole outdoorsy theme, so you opted to keep things simple.

You wandered outside and just past greenhouse you could see two figures at edge of a large field of wildflowers near the forest and ran to catch up with them.

“Hi! Sorry! I’m here!” you said, a bit flustered.

“No worries!” Pansy said, and she continued talking, but you’d caught Mattheo’s eye as he turned to face you and his face broke into a smile that you knew all too well to be genuine happiness as his eyes traced you.

You smiled back as you looked up at him, appreciating the way his white top clung to his arms, the way the sun was glinting off his chestnut hair, averting your gaze quickly when you felt a familiar heat creeping in your cheeks. When did you think having a fake romantic photoshoot with the friend you were unfailingly in love was a good idea?

“…So yeah just go on then” Pansy said as she gestured to the field and then began fiddling with her muggle camera.

You both looked back at her, your bewilderment clear.

“Gonna need a bit more than that, Pans” Mattheo clarified, his voice scratchy in an early-morning way that had your toes curling in the long grass.

She glanced up and sighed, placing a hand on her hip.

“Just take her hand and walk” she instructed, shooing you off.

He looked back at you, eyebrows raised, and reached out his palm. You placed yours in his warm grasp and fell into step with him as he began to walk into the field.

But you didn’t make it three steps.

“You’re meant to be getting married, can you please intertwine your fingers, Riddle, and get a little closer” Pansy yelled.

His hand shifted without pause as he wrapped his fingers in yours, squeezing tightly as he gently pulled you into his side.

“So bossy” he muttered and you laughed, the moment breaking the intense nerves you’d had that you sensed he could feel as he squeezed your hand again.

“Alright, stop there, turn and face each other” Pansy instructed from a distance.

Your feet slowed hesitantly and you could hear the snap snap snap of her camera as you turned to face him and felt like your whole body was your heartbeat, like you could feel your nerves in the tips of your fingers as you looked up at him. He reached for your other hand, holding them both. You glanced down at the gesture before looking up at him and he winked, causing you to smile, to laugh again.

“Hey” he said quietly as your eyes met his. “I know there are loads of guys out there, but try to act a little happy you’re marrying me. For Pansy’s sake” he joked and your eyes grew wide at that.

“I’m not – I’m happy!” you said, unable to articulate why you were so nervous, realizing it was coming across as something else entirely.

“Why don’t we do a couple sitting then?” Pansy said.

“So artsy” you replied, turning to her.

She pointed adamantly.

“Ok! Ok!” you said, dropping down, your dress fanning you as Mattheo sat beside you.

“Closer.”

You sighed and scooched closer, terrified to meet his eyes again.

“Just go ahead and talk to each other or something.”

Mattheo seemed completely at ease and didn’t seem to have any problem staring at you and you felt like he could see through your soul.

Finally, you met his eye, gathering yourself.

“Why’d you agree to do this?” you asked quietly as the camera clicked, releasing the question that has been on your mind since he’d volunteered.

Because I wouldn’t dare let anyone else do this with you, he thought.

He shrugged.

“No plans.”

You pushed his chest playfully and he grasped your hand.

“Perfect! So cute!” Pansy said.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t an act.

Mattheo leaned in and you stopped breathing altogether, certain he was going to kiss you, but then he reached for a wildflower, plucking it before looking back at you and thoughtfully tucking it behind your ear.

“Swoon!” you heard Pansy mutter, her camera clicking away.

“Smooth, Riddle” you said, your voice wobbly as his hand lingered against your cheek.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t an act.

“Alright, don’t kill me—” Pansy said, her voice dragging you away from the look in his eyes, and the feeling of his fingers against your cheek.

“—But is there a way you could like—" she motioned her hands like she wanted you to get closer. Short of crawling into his lap, closer wasn’t an option. You looked up at her, an eyebrow arched.

“Pans?”

“Maybe just make it look like, you know, like you’re going to kiss her, but if I stand here,” she said, moving away from the sun and kneeling down, “we can just make it look that way.”

Both of you paused, looking at her.

“Pleeaasee? I’ll be forever grateful.”

You turned to see him already looking at you.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable—”

“—It’s fine” you said, probably far too quickly. His lip twitched in a grin.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

It seemed an odd question, but you nodded, of course you did.

In a moment he reached for your hips and pulled you on top of him, the weight of you nearly toppling him over as your arms wound around his neck and his wound around you, holding you steady to him.

Pansy’s camera went wild like it was trying to keep in time with your pulse as you settled on his lap. You could feel his warm breath, his lips inches, centimeters from yours. He moved and pressed his forehead to yours and Pansy had some incredibly happy comment about it, but the world and all of your senses were reduced to just you and him, to how tightly he was holding you, to the smell of his cologne, mixed with wildflowers, like evergreen and summer, to the smell of the winterfresh gum that he favored and the look in his eyes, an unfailing sincerity there that had been there all morning, that was reducing you to a puddle. And then he smiled, the same smile in the polaroid that hung next to your bed, the same one you fell asleep looking at and woke up to every morning…

“Now she’s happy” he whispered, and you realized you were wearing a huge smile of your own.

A heartbeat, two.

Your hands moved to hold his face, to steady yourself, and you knew you couldn’t stay here a second longer without kissing him. But you also knew that kissing him would betray three years of friendship, and feelings that, if not voiced by now, clearly were not reciprocated.

His hand ran up your back and you felt him pull you against him and all you could think was how well he was selling it.

“Matty” you whispered, a plea, a beg, unsure whether you were begging him to keep going or to stop, though you were sure you’d never wanted anything more than this.

“M’gonna kiss you” he said finally.

He said hastily, leaving no time for a reply and then he was pulling you into him fully, his lips drawing yours to his and you couldn’t help the way your body relaxed and sank into him, the way your fingers threaded into his hair, the way you let out a tiny noise you’d never made before as his lips moved over yours like you’d done it all your life, unable to understand how this was the least nervous you’d been all day, because it felt right.

You kissed him back with the passion of three years of thinking about it, not leaving a single thing on the table, because there’d never be another moment to parade it like this again as you wound your tongue into his mouth, flicked his and his grip on your waist felt bruising in reply before he pulled away, fast.

“Fucking fuck” he hissed, holding you at a distance from him as he tried to catch his breath.

“S-sorry!” you replied, trying to catch your breath, to clear your clouded mind, hazy with him as you touched your fingers to your lips, already swollen from his kiss.

“No, do not, don’t apologize—"

Pansy cleared her throat.

And you both turned to see her not even bothering to point the camera, her face gobsmacked.

“Think I got what I need, then.”

“Right!” you said, shifting as Mattheo reluctantly helped you off his lap and you both stood and walked to meet her.

He casually intertwined his fingers in yours, and you held his hand tightly without realizing it. You didn’t let go until you entered the castle.

By the time you were back to the common room, the façade of the morning fell, and with it came a wave of uncertainty, of regret.

Mattheo slid onto the couch with your friends and you made your way, head down, to your room as Pansy followed quickly after you.

She was unusually quiet as she set her camera down and sank into her chair, watching you as you moved about the room, fussing, folding laundry, tying your hair up only to let it down again.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

Your movements faltered and you sighed.

“M’fine” you said quietly.

“That was …”

“Yeah. Well... I hope you do really well on your project.”

She knew you were being genuine, she knew you meant it, and that made her feel even worse than she already did, because even though you'd never voiced it, she knew exactly how much Mattheo meant to you.

“It looked real, YN. I mean the way he was looking at you all morning” she tried, reaching for her camera.

You shook your head.

“I don’t – it’s not like that” you said, shaking your head as she offered the camera to you. “Please. He was doing us a favor, plain as.”

You moved to bathroom and closed the door, and Pansy stared at the camera, flipping through the pictures for a long time.

Mattheo lay in bed that night and all he could think was how fucking stupid he’d been.

The second you’d come back to the common room you’d been off, and the rest of the day you’d kept him at an arms’ length. He’d pushed way too far when he kissed you, and clearly it’d made you uncomfortable.

… But the way you looked at him… The feeling of the warmth of your body against him, your fingers in his hair, the way you’d whispered his name…. he’d thought…

It didn’t matter.

Clearly he’d read the signs all wrong. And even that perfect fucking kiss wasn’t worth it because now you wouldn’t even look at him. He shoved his head in his pillow and groaned.

❀ Present ❀

Mattheo had been reading and re-reading the same sentence when Pansy burst into the common room, going on about her project.

He hadn’t forgotten about it, couldn’t forget the way you’d looked surrounded by that field of flowers in your white dress. It shouldn’t have done to him what it did but for the life of him he couldn’t stop thinking about it, the way you’d looked at him, the way the wind rustled your hair, the soft cotton of your dress, the feeling of your fingers in his, your weight in his lap, your fingers in his hair, your tongue... it plagued him. But he had forgotten completely about Pansy, about the project, about the pictures.

So when she left he reached for the folder with eager hands and six polaroids fell out alongside a scrap of parchment.

He flipped the pictures over and his heart stilled to a muffled beat.

The photos didn’t move, but in a way it made them more ethereal, like you were frozen in time, like had a piece of you, a moment that would never be the same again.

Him, with his fingers in your hair, tucking a flower there, how you’d teased him that it was for show, when it so clearly wasn’t.

Your tangled hands.

You in the summer sun glowing like a fucking angel. He refused to put that one back, holding it close to his chest instead.

Two others caught his eye. One of him, alone, clearly listening to something you were saying off camera, he stared at it and realized he looked like a lovesick puppy, like just how down bad he was might well have been written across his forehead. Am I that obvious? he thought.

But the last one.

It was one he didn’t even remember taking, both of you hand in hand, his back was to the camera but your expression was clear, you were glowing, you were looking at him like he hung the damn moon and stars, your eyes sparkled, and he loved it. He loved you he thought.

He looked back and forth between your expression and his and he replayed how you’d looked that day in his mind.

Why’d you agree to do this? you’d asked, like you didn’t already know.

Smooth, Riddle you’d said, begging him to tell you it wasn’t an act, though he couldn't find the words to.

And it was like he was solving a puzzle he’d been working on for three years; all the times you’d shied away from his gaze, the times you’d turned down dates with other guys or laid your head on his shoulder, it was always exactly what he’d thought it was, exactly what he wanted it to be.

He reached for the piece of parchment then, eyes scanning it quickly as he smiled, grabbing it alongside the polaroids before following quickly in Pansy’s footsteps.

Your door was open and he could hear your voices echoing as he moved to stand in the doorframe. You were seated cross-legged on your bed, textbooks open in front of you as Pansy chatted to you, walking around the room.

You looked up at him, surprise evident on your face; you’d been keeping your distance and until now he’d been respecting it.

“Oh” you said simply.

Pansy turned to see him, glancing at the messy bundle of pictures in his hands, and the expression on his face as he stared wide eyed at her best friend.

“Ha, yup, I’ll give you two a minute” she said as she brushed by him.

“Pans!” you whispered after her as you scrambled to your feet.

“Can I talk to you, please?” he asked.

“…Sure” you said hesitantly, not meeting his gaze as you leaned against your bed, eyes darting to your feet, unsure if you could ever look in his eyes again and see anything but his expression after you’d kissed, something you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life chasing.

He rubbed the back of his head and looked down at the pictures in his hands.

“Remember when you asked me why I offered to do Pansy’s project with you?”

Your eyes flitted up as his chosen topic of conversation.

“Yeah” you said quietly.

“Well – it’s… I thought – when she said – I mean for the longest time I…” he muttered. “Fucking hell. Here” he said, moving to your bed and dumping the polaroids there.

You glanced up at him before focusing your attention on the pictures.

You pulled one then another towards you, turning them so you could see them, analyzing them quietly, your fingers tracing over the frames, and stopping to rest on the one of you looking at him, the same one that had told him everything he needed to know, the answer to every question he’d asked himself for years clear on your face.

Your cheeks heated. Gods I look smitten, you thought and you felt your whole body blush.

In response he pulled the one of him next to it, the one where he was looking off camera at you, totally and completely enthralled and you bit your lip to keep from crying because you still weren’t sure what he was trying to say. We’re really good actors? Something more? And then he pulled the piece of parchment out of his pocket and spread it next to them. It was a note from Pansy’s professor.

Excellent, Pansy. Your talent with the camera is exceptional and you captured the essence of this milestone moment clearly. These two? They remind me of Mihri Hatun, ‘At one glance I loved you with a thousand hearts’. Beautiful!

You read the words and you felt a tingle throughout your body as the small hairs on your arm stood at attention and you looked up at him again.

“At first, I offered to do it because I didn’t like the idea of Enzo drooling all over you. But, selfishly? I wanted to know what it’d feel like, to pretend, for a while, that I could be something more than a friend to you, that you could look at me that way. But…” he looked back at the picture of you, “you kinda are looking at me that way. And Merlin, if you could put ‘down bad loverboy on a poster that picture of me would be it.’

You laughed despite the sincerity of the moment.

“And that kiss, I didn’t mean– didn’t intend for it to be like that… but you kinda kissed me like you didn’t mind…”

“I didn’t. I don’t. I didn’t think—” You tried to form a coherent thought but couldn’t as your eyes drifted back down to the picture of him looking at you, feeling the way it permeated you, warmed you.

He reached for your other hand, tangling your fingers in his. And he tugged, emboldened now by what he knew as he reached a hand to cup your face and then dipped his head, pausing for a second, maybe just to be 100% sure that this was what you wanted as his lips ghosted yours.

You tiptoed yourself to him, pressing your lips to his. His arms encircled you eagerly and lifted you up to him as you wound your legs around his waist and you smiled and laughed against his lips.

“I’ve been looking at you like that for the last three years, YN. M’glad you finally noticed.”

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts @revesephemeres

[mona-risms]

hear me out.. polytrix x reader where fem!reader doesn't know about the whole demon hunter thing and is still under the hypnosis from the saja boys and the girls try their hardest to snap her out of it. 🫦

◆ MAIN COURSE: poly!HUNTR/X x fem!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: None

◆ NOTES: This might've SLIGHTLY teeny tinily missed the point but I hope you still like it!! I can't make a full-blown fic without getting paid bc I'm broke as hell and I'm lazy so the most you're getting is the usual hcs and snippets I fear 💔. But anyway I LOVELOVELOVE POLYTRIX 😩😩😩😩😩 I think they should all kiss together and kiss me too

This is the funniest shit ever and no one can tell me otherwise bc you've got three ninja popstars and one perfectly normal human being who just really really loves K-Pop. And you all LOVE each other????? #holyfcknairball no one would believe you until you show full proof that yes you do in fact kiss those celebrities on the mouth! Every day actually! Unless they're on tour but still! Yes you are a girls only poly couple! You couldn't be happier!

Unfortunately bc of the fact that you're normal, you won't even know that the hot new boy band, Saja Boys, are all drawing people in via brainwashing to sacrifice your souls to a Demon King named Gwi-Ma that looks like an oversized wildfire. Said people includes you I fear 💔💔. Imagine you were out coincidentally and you got to witness their debut performance and you were so drawn to them!! Why wouldn't you be??

They hear your voice before they see you—right there, right near the front row, right in front of them.

"What's she doing here?" Mira hissed, though despite her tone, the concern was glaringly obvious.

"I think she wanted to buy something? She said about baking," Zoey answered, her own concern matching up with Mira as she bounced on the balls of her feet in an attempt to both alleviate her sudden restlessness and to see you from the crowd. "But-- But what if they try to grab her? [Y/N]'s at a very grabbable distance! And the worst thing is I won't even blame them—she's really grabbable in general!"

Zoey doesn't even finish before Rumi's weaving through the crowd in an attempt to reach you, "Either way, no one is getting grabbed, least of all our girlfriend."

When Rumi does reach you, she taps your shoulder to gain your attention. Without fail, you turn around and smile widely in recognition, "Ru-- Ahem, babe! Did you see how good this new band was? They're called the Saja Boys!"

"Yeah. I heard."

Usually, you would've noticed her sudden deadpan, but you were buzzing too much under your skin from the sudden excitement of this new debut so you barrelled on, "Maybe you and them'll even collab one day! Wouldn't that be awesome?!"

"Yeah, awesome, now c'mon, we need to get out of the crowd," she effortlessly twines her fingers in yours, which you reciprocate happily as you follow her while still going on about the Saja Boys. But when she dares to look back at the boy band, she noticed the black-haired demon in disguise's eyes on you.. and then on her, as if he knew very well what was going on.

When you finally get out of the crowd, you rejoin your other two loves of your life with a cheek kiss for Mira and then a squealing hug with Zoey.

Mira doesn't hesitate to ask as you and the shortest HUNTR/X member basically wrapped yourselves on each other, "Are you okay? They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

"Yeah, like, did they ever, I dunno.. suck your soul out or something?" Zoey asked, and then quietly winced as Mira and Rumi both signalled not to say anything with exaggerated expressions and hand gestures behind you.

You giggled at the line of questioning, "What? No? My soul definitely felt like it ascended while watching them, though! You guys are funny."

While you and Zoey were busy clinging onto each other, Rumi pulled Mira in to whisper to her, "They know."

"Know what?"

"That we're linked together in some way? That she's a normal human? I don't know, but they know and I don't want to risk her to find out. Do you?"

And their gazes drift to you as you spoke animatedly with Zoey, equally rambling to you and matching your energy in turn—probably both invested in the situation and also well-aware of the much-needed secret debriefing.

And Mira shook her head with furrowed brows, "Absolutely not."

"Good."

Whenever the girls are all "DON'T FALL FOR THEM" you're so confused bc like. Why?? What's up with them recently???? Ever since the Saja Boys popped up, they've been so weirdly pressed about them every time you brought them up. Like, sure, rivalry's one thing, but you've seen them with rivalries before!!!!! It's not like the Saja Boys have like killed people or smth lmfao it's okay the world's not gonna end if you stan them too (cue the scene with them and Bobby looking at the same city and seeing Two Completely Different Views)

Every time you're ever with them one way or another and the Saja Boys are around/involved they are LOCKING THE FUCK IN. Constantly trying to redirect your attention and theirs like "Do Not Look At Her" and if you ever get too close they'll be all "back the FUCK up actually". And whenever thry try to pull all that hypnotising shit on you they are DRAGGING YOU AWAY and kissing you until you run out of air and forget what you were even thinking about like a min ago 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

They're so much more attentive towards you, and during the two weeks of the Saja Boys being there, you are NOT allowed to be without at LEAST one of them. Why?? Ohhhh yk cuz they just really really miss you, that's all!!!!! They did just come out of a world tour so like they wanna be with you for as much as possible ahahahaha definitely bc the boy band you're fawning over rn are actually demons that want to consume your soul!!! Especially yours!!!!!! Bc they know you're special to them all ahahahahaahahahahahahaahahhaa

Oh but it'd be devastating if Mira and Zoey saw you with the crowd after Rumi's breakdown. Not only Bobby was brainwashed, but so are you, mindlessly following the masses. And as much as they want you to fight it, to remember, they can't even blame you or find the strength; they failed, Rumi hid she was part-demon the entire time, it's over

You'd be one of the people closest to Gwi-Ma's flames on purpose I think—a twisted way for Jinu to make your sacrifice quick and painless. But when Rumi and then Zoey and Mira both clock it? Absolutely the fuck not dude Gwi-Ma just made them even fucking MADDER

At the end of it they know they'll definitely have to explain everything to you, considering. From the Saja boys to Rumi explaining herself properly ALLLLL the way to how they're Hunters and what they do. But at the very least you're not dead thank GOD

"You guys know I don't actually know how to feel right now, right? Finding out that my girlfriends have been constantly getting into near-death experiences as, like, idol ninjas with magic weapons isn't really for the faint of heart—let alone finding out demons and supernatural whatevers are real."

The four of you migrated to Rumi's bed after that whole ordeal at the Tower, tired and exhausted and in need of a good cuddle pile. Right now, you and Rumi were cuddled up against each other, her patterns casting a soft glow on your skin, while Mira was spooning you with her tall frame and Zoey clung onto Rumi like a koala.

The trio had the decency to wince a little, and Mira spoke first in defence, "To be fair, we did get trained for, like, years not to give anything away, including our Hunter profession."

"And I'm your girlfriend," you sighed as your hand traced the jagged glowing lines across Rumi's skin, "I thought we weren't going to hide anything. No wonder sometimes you lot disappear without any explanation—this whole time, you've been.. slaying demons?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You hummed.. before putting your attention on Rumi, "And you. You really think we were going to love you any less because of what you're mixed with?"

"Um. Kinda?" Rumi looked to the side, averting your gazes, "It's-- I was raised to think that I should be ashamed of it, that I need to hide. It's--"

"Why you always have a separate green room?"

"Why you don't go into the batthouse with us?"

Rumi nodded, though not without a flush on her cheeks, "..yeah."

Your gaze softened as you lightly bit your lip before cupping her face for a short but tender kiss, "You think that's gonna really scare me—us—away? Mira and Zoey came back to you after the shock, and I sure as hell don't care if you were part-turtle or whatever--"

"Being part-turtle would be cool! ..Or super slow, depends--"

"My point being," you interrupted Zoey with an affectionate chuckle, "we love you because you're our Rumi. Not an idol, not a demon, just our Rumi—the one that overthinks, overworks and gets so into her head that we'd have to shut it for her. ..No more hiding, yeah?"

Rumi doesn't respond, not for a long while, and thre three of you are content in just laying there in silence, with her patterns casting a brighter yet softer glow on all of you. But eventually she buries her head in your chest, muffling her eventual answer, "..Mhm. Thank you."

Zoey's hold on Rumi tightened as she practically nuzzled into the latter's back, all while Mira reached over to hold Rumi's hand, now back to its human shape compared to the claws she had briefly before. No one else says anything, and that's perfectly fine for the four of you.

"..So I guess I'm retiring from stanning anyone but you guys."

"Obviously!" "Duh." "You are."

[jollybirdtheorist-new-art-blog]

Took a while for me to answer bc after a solid minute of evaluating both options my mouth started leaking.

Both pastries are mainly made of egg ,flour ,sugar, milk (or water) ,ect so not much difference there

Both can be covered in side snacks like m&M's , strawberries, blueberries, other fruit bits, or down right drenched in syrup ( like how poseidon downed ody's crew).

Both can be soft an fluffy when cooked with care and crunchy when slightly burnt (tasty either way)

Now honestly my fat ah wants to choose both options presented to me simultaneously and call it a day. But no, only one may remain and I make it my duty to nominate the absolute best bc why not :

Though I personally want to continue infodumping about food my stomach is on the verge of fighting me bc I forgot to eat breakfast.

Pancakes are a good food for leisurely eating and taking your time; absolutely perfect for weekends or sick days (or dinner if you're bored).

but waffles are better for faster snacking and easier clean up bc the little holes serve as syrup holders and make you waste/ spill Less of the syrupy goodness, the crunch of a waffle is sure to wake you up-

Anyways that's the end of my reply/commentary I need to run and bite on something, coffee can't keep me fueled for much longer: @zanezanezane123

Friendly fire! Guys what side would you choose : @artzrblg, @diino8081 ,@damion-the-skeleton , and other buddies!

I'm boutta start a war on Tumblr

Pancakes or Waffles (Reblog with answer then tag more people)

@mifgirlcomics @belladeezbombz

@mosslover999 @the-real-great-papyrus

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve had this kind of stray puppy thing going on that Wayne was reluctant to give him a shovel talk. And he didn't even do anything! All he did was sat there with his perfect posture—straight back, hands politely folded on his lap, big earnest eyes, and calm breathing. He was all good-mannered and nervous smiles, which was both annoying and endearing.

Now, Wayne wouldn't call himself soft or lenient when it came to securing his nephew's happiness. But maybe, he'd mellowed out because of old age. Or maybe, he'd seen how Steve always brought out the best of Eddie, making him the kind of man that Wayne was proud of.

Either way, Wayne didn't have the heart to threaten Steve with something truly malicious, so he just skipped right over it and ended the talk with a well practiced stern look that made the Harrington boy cower just fine.

Later that night, when Eddie came home with a goofy, lovesick smile, Wayne couldn't help but ask, "Anyone given ya the talk, yet?"

"What talk?" Eddie plopped down beside him on the couch and took a long swig from the bottle of Guinness he'd just retrieved from the fridge. A metaphorical lightbulb went off above his head when Wayne gave him a raised brow. "Ah yes, The Talk. 'Course. I'd be offended if they didn't!"

Wayne hummed and continued nursing his lukewarm beer while watching the TV, ignoring Eddie's curious look that slowly turned mischievous.

"What? I just left you guys alone for fifteen minutes and you already adopted him?"

"He's your boyfriend, Ed, not some stray," Wayne responded gruffly, but Eddie could easily hear the exasperation in his flat tone.

"Jesus," Eddie cackled, slapping his knee as if he couldn't believe it. "You're worse than Hopper, old man!"

This time, Wayne just stopped pretending to not care and smirked at his nephew's nativity.

"Ya really think it took that man longer than me?"

Eddie paused and let out a gasp, eyes widening as realization dawned on him.

"He threatened to hunt me down if I dare to hurt Steve." Eddie slapped his forehead. "No way it'd take him months to adopt baby Steve on sight!"

Wayne nodded, not so smugly. "Now you're talkin'."

He'd eat his pickup truck if Hopper didn't also immediately yield under those puppy eyes. The Harrington might not be the best kind of people, but Wayne had to admit that their son was a sweet soul with a big heart. No thanks to them, of course.

"Anyway," Eddie smirked, nudging at his shoulder teasingly. "You're not distracting me from the fact that you consider Steve family now."

Wayne shrugged, unbothered. Family was family. He'd lived long enough to know it had nothing to do with blood relation.

"'Course, he's your boy."

And though neither of them said it aloud, they both agreed that Steve had been a Munson since the day he saved Eddie's life and continued to make it better with his presence alone.

"Thank you," Eddie said softly a moment later when they were about to go to bed.

The only good thing that came out of the whole 'earthquake' incident was their new apartment, which was afforded by the government's compensation money. And even so, if Wayne was allowed to choose again, he'd rather they still lived in their shoebox of a trailer than watch his nephew suffer from blatant PTSD that none of the kids were willing to talk about and this town's blind hatred.

"He makes you happy and you love him. That's what matters to me." Wayne shrugged, ignoring Eddie's blush and sputtering N– No, I'm not!

Before Eddie could try to argue against a moot point, the phone rang and he sprinted toward it to snatch the receiver up as if fearing it'd disappear otherwise.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said breathlessly, looking far too smitten for someone who'd just refused to admit he was in love.

Shaking his head, Wayne decided to leave his nephew be for now. The way he saw it, Eddie wouldn't be able to hold back for long. Not with someone like Steve Harrington.