#found a cute pose and i had to use for him

[ainaavas-sketchbook]

I've been so busy finishing up this semester i haven't been able to draw much, but i now have a proper design for my sona :)

Here's something quick i did for him in a couple of hours

[snderist]

kairo is growing a little too fast :( prev | next

[artficlly]

lessons in lovemaking

marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, premature ejaculation, reader has dubious methods of emotional control, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, mentions of red room, very consensual, safe words, kissing, panic attacks, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.4k

A/N: hey guys, i'm a woman possessed. i've had so much motivation to write recently, so here is a quick one-shot. i'm sure this concept has been done before but i just couldn't stop thinking about touch starved bucky :( ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

You never would’ve agreed to this mission had you known Barnes was going to be this squeamish. You’d seen the man slit throats without a sound, drop bodies with cold efficiency, and unload an entire chamber of bullets without so much as flinching. He hadn’t even blinked when aliens from outer-fucking-space rained hell upon Earth. But holding your hand? Letting his fingers brush your waist? Anything a devoted ‘husband’ ought to do? The super soldier looked like he’d rather swallow glass. He couldn’t even meet your gaze, for god’s sake.

What the hell had Fury been thinking?

You had to yank him away before anyone noticed the strained—Help me, I’m being held hostage by this incredibly attractive, incredibly capable woman who, might I add, is supposedly my wife—look on his face.

This gala, a weeklong jerkfest for the wealthy and villainous, was meant to be a stroll in the park. Your bread and butter, even if the Red Room had been... regrettable and against your consent, it had taught you an array of useful skills. Yet Barnes was ruining it, turning what should have been a simple infiltration into a goddamn babysitting job. The plan was airtight: pose as a glamorous Russian couple, collect incriminating evidence, and dip at the end of the week. Except Barnes wasn’t holding up his end of the deal. Instead of charming your way through the crowd, you were covering for his stiff, awkward pauses and the fact that he looked less like a besotted husband and more like a man being forced at gunpoint to stand beside you.

By some miracle, you managed to drag him away to one of the empty floors, a tucked-away space littered with stacks of unused tables and chairs. He was wound tight—shoulders squared, jaw clenched, eyes flicking across the dimly lit room like he was expecting death itself to emerge from the shadows. You didn’t bother with subtlety. Tearing the small recording device from between your tits, you fumbled with the button until the tiny red light blinked off. Whoever ended up reviewing the footage later wouldn’t need to hear the verbal onslaught you were about to unleash. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, keeping your voice low, though the sheer force of your frustration was enough to strip paint off the walls.

Barnes clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he refused to meet your eye. It reminded you of a scolded dog, all pouty and pathetic. You might’ve found it cute under different circumstances. “You’re making this incredibly fucking difficult.”

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal—”

“Because it’s our cover, Barnes.” you snapped, incredulous. “We’re supposed to be married, not some fucking timid virgin couple. PDA makes people uncomfortable; they look away, and we have less eye on us to, I don’t know—do our fucking job?”

Barnes looked down at his clenched fists, swallowing hard. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. The dangling diamond earrings you had hanging from each lobe tinkled slightly, and you ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, resisting the urge to throttle him.

“You’re unbelievable. Fury should’ve just sent me alone—” you muttered, but the words barely left your lips before your eyes caught movement.

A group. Heading straight for you. Purposeful.

“Fuck.”

With haste, you tucked the small recording device back into your cleavage. Barnes noticed immediately, clocking your distress. His brows knit together, hand twitched toward the hidden knife tucked into his suit jacket.

“No.” You scolded. Catching his wrist, you guided it elsewhere—your hips. He stiffened instantly, making a noise of protest, but you kept him locked in place, pressing in until your chests brushed. Too close. Not close enough.

“Play along,” you murmured. “Kiss me. Now.”

“Wha—” His breath hitched, barely enough time to form a response before you rose onto your toes and sealed your mouth over his.

Barnes froze. Stiff beneath your touch, lips rigid like you’d just planted one on a slab of granite. He still tasted like toothpaste—spearmint—and the faint trace of his aftershave clung to his skin. If you’d been trying to salvage some believability, some small thread of natural chemistry, it was impossible now. It was like kissing a statue.

An aftershave-scented stone statue.

The passing group chuckled, one of them murmuring, amused, “Ah, young love.”

Maybe it was the murmured chuckles of the passing guests, or maybe Barnes had finally remembered how to act, because his grip on your hips suddenly tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with unexpected force. The silk pulled taut against your skin, trapping heat between you, and then—

A sound.

Low. Strangled. A rasping, utterly pathetic groan against your lips.

You barely had time to register it before something else stole your attention. In the tight press of your bodies, you felt it—hard, insistent, pressing against your pelvis.

Oh.

The realisation sent a flicker of shock through you, but you schooled your expression, keeping your face composed as you lingered just a second longer—just enough to ensure your audience was convinced. Then, finally, you pulled back.

Barnes didn’t move.

For a moment, he just stared, pupils wide and unfocused, a blissed-out haze dulling the sharp blue of his eyes. But then, like a lightning strike, awareness snapped back into him. Horror overtook his dazed expression, his breath hitching as he seemed to realise—

Did he just—?

You both looked down at the same time.

And there it was.

The medium grey of his suit pants betrayed him entirely, darkening at the crotch with an unmistakable wet patch.

You gaped, lips parting in stunned silence. No fucking way.

Barnes didn’t wait for a reaction. With the sheer force of a man fleeing for his life, he ripped himself from your grasp and marched away, stiff-backed and utterly silent, leaving you standing there, speechless.

—

It had been twenty minutes, and Barnes still hadn’t left the goddamn bathroom.

It had taken you all of thirty seconds to track him down, but the moment you found the door, it was locked. Of course it was. You twisted the handle, rattling it in frustration, then resorted to pounding your fist against the heavy wood—subtly, of course, but with enough force that he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

“Barnes.” You hissed his name through gritted teeth, pressing closer to the door. Nothing. Not a shuffle. Not a breath. Absolute fucking silence.

You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your expression neutral as a pair of guests passed by, casting you a curious glance. Yeah, you knew exactly how this looked—lipstick smudged, breath uneven, standing outside a locked men’s bathroom like a woman scorned. You must’ve looked thoroughly debauched.

Your pulse hammered in your throat. This was insane. A simple, fake kiss had made him short-circuit so hard that he fucking came in his pants? Twenty minutes ago, he looked repulsed by the mere idea of touching you, and now he was hiding away like some panicked virgin?

You let out a long, slow groan, dropping your forehead against the door.

“Barnes,” you muttered, knocking again—your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Open the damn door.”

Silence.

You straightened, glaring at the wood as if you could will it into splintering apart.

“Barnes, I have been patient.” You gritted your teeth, knocking harder. “If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I will break in.”

Silence.

Motherfucker.

"Alright, I’m coming in," you announced, your voice low but firm.

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, ensuring no one was watching, before slipping a bobby pin from your hair. Years of practice made the process effortless; your fingers worked quickly, blindly, jamming the pin into the lock and feeling for the mechanism. A few precise twists, a satisfying click, and—

"Make sure you're decent, Barnes—"

The words were halfway out of your mouth when you pushed the door open, but whatever half-hearted joke you'd meant to make withered before it even reached your tongue.

Barnes was not decent.

Not in the way you’d expected.

He sat hunched on the closed toilet lid, head in his hands, his entire body drawn in tight like he was trying to fold in on himself. His knee bounced erratically, the rapid motion almost violent in its rhythm. He had ripped off his suit pants, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, his bare thighs tense, twitching. His fingers dug into his hair, gripping at the strands like he wanted to rip them out, and when his bloodshot eyes flicked up to you—

You felt your stomach drop.

Panic. Raw, unfiltered, choking panic.

Tears welled along his lash line, his chest rising and falling in uneven, barely contained pants. He looked like a man caught in a cage, seconds from tearing himself apart just to escape it.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, and stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you before flipping the lock.

"Hey, Barnes…” Your voice was hesitant, softer than before.

He shook his head, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, his hands trembling as he dragged them down his face.

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, breaking on the words. "I don’t want you in—"

You moved before he could finish, lowering yourself to the cool bathroom tiles in front of him, as if making yourself smaller would make you any less intimidating.

"Hey," you murmured, tone careful but steady. "Look at me."

“No.” It came out sharp, like a whip, a defence mechanism honed over decades. His entire body went rigid, his breathing ragged.

“Barnes, you need to breathe.”

Your voice was steady, firm without being harsh, each syllable carefully measured as you crept forward on the cold tile floor. The dress, the dirt—none of it mattered. It wasn’t your dress, anyway. Tony Stark could foot the bill for a replacement if this one got ruined, all this fancy wear was on his dime.

“In through the nose,” you instructed, voice softer now. “Out through the mouth.”

By some miracle, Barnes listened.

He sucked in a ragged breath, chest expanding beneath his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, and then exhaled through parted lips. It was shaky, uneven, but it was something. You watched in silence, waiting. His limbs still trembled, his fingers clenching and unclenching against his thighs, but the worst of the violent, full-body tremors had eased.

“There you go,” you murmured, voice barely above a breath. “Keep breathing, just like that. You’re doing so well.”

Slowly, you inched forward, shifting across the tiles until you sat in front of his knees. His skin was warm, radiating heat even through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Barnes,” you hesitated, watching his face carefully. “Can I touch you?”

His whole body tensed.

“What?” His eyes darted up, sharp and startled, as if the very question had knocked the breath from his lungs.

“Is it okay,” you rephrased, slower this time, gentler, “if I touch you?”

Barnes hesitated. His gaze flickered away, jaw clenching like he was at war with himself. But then, after a long, tense beat, he gave a small, stiff nod.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then, with slow, deliberate care, you reached out and cradled his face between your hands.

The moment your fingers touched his skin, he flinched.

Not violently. Not like he was afraid of you. But enough that you felt it—felt the way his muscles coiled beneath your fingertips, the way his throat bobbed in a hard swallow. The cool metal of your fake wedding ring grazed his cheek, and his breath hitched, like he had just been burned.

“Keep breathing,” you reminded him, voice low and steady. “Nice and slow.”

Barnes obeyed, dragging in another breath, and you felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The hard lines of his face softened just slightly as he leaned into your touch, nuzzling—actually nuzzling—against your palms.

“There you go,” you murmured, your thumb stroking in slow circles over his cheek. “Look at me.”

His eyelids flickered, resisting for a moment, but then those storm-blue eyes finally met yours. He looked exhausted. Frayed at the edges. But grounded, at least. Present.

“Tell me one thing you can smell right now.”

Barnes blinked. A hint of confusion crossed his face. “Smell?”

“Yes, smell.” You nodded, keeping your voice soft, coaxing. “Just one thing. Keep breathing and tell me.”

He hesitated but then took a deliberate inhale through his nose, his bouncing knee slowing. “I guess… whatever shitty fucking chemicals they use to clean this place.”

A quiet laugh left you, your thumb tracing a swirling pattern along his cheekbone. “Good. You’re doing good, Barnes. Now, tell me two things you can feel.”

His breathing had steadied, his inhales and exhales falling into rhythm with yours. For the first time since you’d walked in, he wasn’t shaking as badly.

“This suit jacket,” he muttered after a pause. His metal fingers twitched against the fabric at his arm. “It’s too fuckin’ tight. They always are with my arm—”

His breath stuttered, his body tensing again. Immediately, you leaned in, close enough for him to feel your warmth. “Just breathe, remember? You’re doing so well. One more thing you can feel.”

Barnes swallowed thickly. His gaze flickered down, just briefly, before settling back on your face. 

“You,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I can feel you. Touching my face.”

“Good.” You nodded, thumb gliding over his cheek again. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.” He exhaled, and for the first time, it wasn’t shaky. “It feels… it feels nice.”

Something in your chest clenched at the confession, but you pushed it aside. You smiled at him, soft and small, and kept going. “Now, three things you can see.”

Barnes’ eyes scanned over your face, searching.

“You,” he said, still quiet, still certain. His gaze lingered on your mouth. “Your lipstick is smudged.”

"Two more," you breathed, keeping your voice calm and steady, resisting the urge to comment on why your lipstick was smudged in the first place. No need to remind him of that right now.

Barnes' gaze flickered across the small, dimly lit restroom. His body had almost fully relaxed now, his mind preoccupied with the task you'd given him.

"Uh…" He scanned the space, brows furrowing in concentration. "The awful wallpaper… and the sink, I guess?"

You nodded approvingly, finally withdrawing your hands as you eased back onto your knees. The cold tiles bit through the fabric of your dress, but you barely noticed.

"Well done," you murmured. "Now, how about we keep breathing and get you sorted, huh?"

At that, Barnes stiffened slightly. The panic that had been receding just moments ago flickered in his eyes again, his hands twitching where they rested on his thighs.

You reached out, grounding him with a gentle touch to his knee. Your voice softened even further. "I’m going to turn around and face the door. I need you to clean yourself up—use the sink, use the soap."

His throat bobbed. "But my—my boxers, they’ll get all wet—"

"There’s a dryer on the wall, see it?" You tilted your head toward the small, dingy dryer meant for hands. "Use it to dry them. Then get dressed, and we’ll head back to the hotel early, okay? Order some shitty takeaway, watch bad TV. Just forget about all this for tonight. How does that sound?"

Barnes blinked as if thrown by the simplicity of the offer. His mouth parted, closed, then opened again, his voice small. "Yeah. Okay."

"Good." You flashed him a reassuring smile before pressing your palms against the sink, pushing yourself to your feet with a small wobble in your heels. "I’ll be right here. Just let me know if you need anything. Keep breathing, alright? Everything’s okay."

Turning, you crossed your arms over your chest and faced the door, giving him the privacy he needed. You tried not to listen too closely. Tried not to glance at the mirror reflecting the scene behind you.

The rustle of clothing filled the quiet, then the tap sputtered to life. You leant your forehead against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes as you focused on the steady stream of water, the faint squeak of the soap pump, and then the soft sloshing and scrubbing of fabric.

The sound of fabric wringing out echoed softly against the tiled walls, followed by the steady hum of the hand dryer sputtering to life. You kept your forehead against the door, listening as Barnes manoeuvred through the motions, drying his boxers first, then his suit pants. The wet fabric slapped lightly against the metal dryer as he held it up, shifting awkwardly as he worked.

You didn’t rush him. Didn’t make a sound. Just stayed where you were, giving him time.

Eventually, the rustling stopped. A sharp inhale, then the familiar slide of fabric as he pulled his clothes back on. The quiet click of a belt buckle being fastened. The creak of leather shoes shifting against tile.

Then—

Barnes cleared his throat.

You turned.

He stood stiffly, suit now back in place, though the fabric still carried faint traces of dampness. His jacket was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to be noticeable. You took a slow step toward him, scanning him up and down with a careful eye. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move—just stood there, watching you warily, as if expecting a comment.

You didn’t give him one.

Instead, you reached up, grasping the edges of his tie. He stiffened but let you work, your fingers smoothing the silk fabric, tightening it properly against his collar. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips as you brushed against his throat, and though he remained still, you caught the way his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

“There,” you murmured, satisfied.

You turned towards the mirror, angling yourself slightly to the side. Your reflection was a mess—lipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled. You sighed, wetting your thumb with your tongue before dabbing at the edges of the stain, then reached into your clutch to pull out a small tube of lipstick.

Barnes hadn’t moved.

You could feel him behind you, his body heat pressing against your back in the cramped space. His gaze was heavy, following your movements as you leaned closer to the mirror, carefully reapplying the pigment to your lips. You didn’t look at him. You just smoothed the colour in place, pressed your lips together, then capped the tube and tucked it back into your bag.

Finally, you met his eyes in the mirror.

“Ready to go?” you asked.

There was a pause. A hesitation. His jaw clenched for half a second before he gave the smallest of nods. “…Yeah.”

You turned fully, flashing him a small, knowing smile before reaching for his arm. He didn’t resist when you looped yours through his, guiding him towards the door. With an easy tug, you led him forward, your heels clicking softly against the marble floors. His arm remained tense beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Didn’t let go.

You glanced at him briefly, lips twitching into a small smirk. “C’mon, sergeant. Let’s get out of here.”

Barnes exhaled through his nose, shaking his head ever so slightly. But when you reached the bottom of the stairs, he followed without question, letting you steer him towards the exit, away from the crowded room—away from prying eyes.

—

A small, muffled whine stirred you from sleep. You blinked groggily, rolling onto your side as the cool sheets tangled around your legs. The plush hotel mattress dipped beneath you as you buried your face into the pillow, willing yourself back into slumber.

A low, panting groan cut through the silence, soft at first, then growing in volume. Your brows knit together, heart thrumming uneasily. Something about the sound was… strange. It wasn’t just a groan—it was strained, needy. Erotic.

Your eyes snapped open.

The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the dim red dot of the fire alarm and the faint reflection of the turned-off TV. You remained frozen for a few beats, your ears straining to catch the noise again. It came, louder this time—a choked whimper thick with desperation.

Was someone in the room? Adrenaline slammed into your veins as you rolled off the bed in one swift motion, bare feet hitting the floor without a sound. You had heard stories of creeps breaking into hotel rooms, preying on women while they slept. Had one made the mistake of picking yours?

Another sound. Low, breathy, utterly wrecked.

Your hand darted to the bedside table, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife, its leather grip smooth beneath your palm. Not even yours, Barnes’—

Barnes.

Your breath caught as your gaze snapped towards the couch, knife slipping from your grip and landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

There, bathed in shadows, was the writhing mass of the super soldier. His blankets lay discarded on the floor as though he’d tossed them off in his sleep. The two of you had agreed to take turns—one in the bed, the other on the couch—to keep up appearances. A stupid arrangement, courtesy of Fury and Stark’s meddling.

You flicked on the bedside lamp. The warm light spilt over the room, casting soft amber hues onto Barnes’ form. His face was twisted in torment, and his lips parted around quiet, breathless whimpers. Sweat clung to his skin, catching the glow of the lamp and highlighting the sharp lines of his body. His metal arm whirred faintly as he twitched, fingers flexing against the cushions.

Your stomach dropped when your eyes drifted lower. He was shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling erratically. The thin fabric of his boxers did little to hide the evidence of his dream—more than half-hard beneath the cotton. Was he really that big?

The realisation hit like a freight train.

He was having a sex dream.

Jesus.

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. You should’ve looked away, should’ve given him privacy. But then his hand twitched, drifting downward—

“Barnes.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a blade.

He jolted awake, body seizing as his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he was utterly lost, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with confusion. Then his gaze landed on you—standing there in your thin nightgown, face unreadable.

His eyes flickered downward.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, panic flickering across his face as he yanked a pillow over his lap, shifting awkwardly as if that would somehow erase what had just happened. A string of curses left his lips, voice still wrecked with sleep.

You tilted your head, studying him. His expression wavered, part shame, part something else, something raw and vulnerable. You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers into your temples. There was a pattern here. A man whose body wasn’t his own, whose skin felt foreign, whose touch-starved existence had left him unravelling at the seams.

What in God's name was Fury thinking sending him on a mission like this—or did Fury not know? How could he not? That one-eyed bastard had a habit of knowing everything. Hell, he probably knew the colour of your underwear before you even picked it out for the day, the all-seeing prick.

“H.Y.D.R.A really did a number on you, didn’t they?” you muttered.

Bucky flinched. The words struck deep, sinking into something fragile beneath the surface. He didn’t say a word, just recoiled, fingers gripping the pillow so tightly his knuckles turned white. A moment later, he was scrambling off the couch, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Barnes, we’re not doing this again. Let’s just talk—”

The door slammed.

Then, the soft click of the lock.

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the wooden barrier now separating you. Asshole. You knew you should’ve been more sympathetic. Should’ve handled it differently. But after a long, exhausting day, dealing with Bucky Barnes’ second puberty was not on your list of priorities.

You stepped closer, pressing a palm against the door; your voice quieter now. “I know how you’re feeling.”

Silence.

You could picture him inside, hunched over on the edge of the bathtub, fists clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. “I understand what it’s like to be in a body that doesn’t feel like your own.”

A pause. No response.

“It must be hard,” you continued softly. “Not knowing who you are. Not recognising yourself anymore. And then... feeling things you don’t understand.”

Another pause. This one stretched longer.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of trying to navigate that.” The silence that followed was heavier than before. You didn’t push, didn’t say anything else. Just rested your forehead against the doorframe, waiting. 

You had spent the better part of your life under the Red Room’s control, under Dreykov’s control. Every breath you took, every move you made, had been dictated by someone else. Orders given. Orders followed. It was all you had ever known. And then, one day, it was gone. Just like that.

You remembered the moment with eerie clarity: standing in the open air, staring out at the horizon, the sunset bleeding colour into a sky that suddenly felt too vast. The question had gnawed at you, quiet but insistent. What comes next? Who comes next? Because you didn’t know. You didn’t know who you were beyond a weapon, beyond a machine engineered for death and seduction. Two decades of programming, of conditioning, of being nothing more than an asset to be wielded and discarded at will. And then, without warning, you were handed something you were told was freedom.

But what did freedom mean when you didn’t exist?

There were no real records of your birth, no true identity to reclaim. The Red Room had scrubbed that away long ago, erasing every trace of the girl you had once been. No family. No home. No belongings that weren’t issued to you by those who had owned you. And yet, you were expected to smile—to accept this newfound autonomy without question, to embrace the illusion of a life you had no blueprint for.

But how could you, when you weren’t sure if the body you inhabited was even your own?

So even if Barnes thought you were bluffing and just trying to relate for the sake of kindness, he was wrong. Because you understood.

Terrifyingly well.

The difference was that you had refused to let it consume you. You had forced those feelings into the farthest corners of your mind, locking them away where they couldn’t touch you. Because if you let yourself linger on them for too long.

“Go back to sleep.” Bucky’s voice finally broke the silence, muffled through the bathroom door.

You sucked on your teeth, exhaling sharply through your nose. “Yeah, not happening.”

“I know the others give you crap about not dating, but you don’t have to let them pressure you,” you continued, keeping your tone light. “You don’t have to force yourself into a role that makes you uncomfortable. It takes time.”

“Back in the day..." His voice was quieter this time, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. “I used to be a real flirt.”

A humourless smirk ghosted across your lips. You could picture it, all smooth charm and effortless confidence. The kind of man who could wink at a girl across a dance floor and have her swooning in seconds. But that wasn’t the man behind this door. That man had been stripped away, piece by piece. 

“I just don’t know anymore,” he admitted, voice raw. Your chest tightened. You could almost hear him weighing his words, picking them apart, and deciding how much of himself he was willing to give away.

“When I was the Winter Soldier... they made me do things.”

A slow, twisting knot formed in your stomach.

“It’s all… fractured in my mind,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Scattered. Broken.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it. “I understand that. More than anyone. The Red Room… they didn’t just use us for assassinations and espionage.”

There. You had said it. Pulled a piece of yourself from the grave and placed it between you.

For the first time, the door cracked open.

Bucky stood there, dishevelled and breathless, still only in his boxers. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, catching the dim hotel light, while his metal arm twitched slightly at his side. His hair was a mess—damp and curling at the ends, sticking to his forehead. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as if he hadn’t quite caught his breath, muscles taut beneath the weight of exhaustion.

“Why are you being kind to me?” he asked suddenly. His voice was rough, tinged with suspicion, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

You tilted your head, studying him.

“Because you’re hurting,” you said simply. “And obviously, you haven’t fully processed any of this.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Without another word, he turned and stalked past you, out of the cramped bathroom and into the main space of the hotel room. You followed at a slower pace, arms crossed as you watched him sink onto the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his metal fingers tapping restless patterns against his flesh palm. His body had settled now, no longer betraying him with signs of arousal. That part of the moment had passed, but the turmoil in his head remained.

With a quiet sigh, you slid down to the floor, settling against the base of the bed across from him. Your legs stretched out in front of you, arms loose at your sides as you let the silence settle between you. 

“Have you spoken to Steve about this?” you asked after a moment, voice soft but firm. “Sam?”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “God, no.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he muttered, fingers threading through his damp hair. “It’s just... awkward. I feel like a fuckin’ schoolboy.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “I could teach you.”

His eyes snapped to you, wary. “What?”

“I could teach you,” you repeated, voice steady. “How to make love. Fuck. How to gain control over your life again. You’re just sensitive; you need a bit of exposure therapy.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, jaw clenching. “Why the hell would you do that?”

You exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the patterned carpet beneath you. “Do you know how many men I’ve fucked and not felt a thing?” you said quietly, barely above a whisper. 

“I wasn’t just an assassin or a spy. Not like Natasha or Yelena. I was a swallow, Barnes. A honeytrap.” His expression flickered, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something, some hint of insincerity.

You swallowed, pushing forward. “It’s why Fury sent me on this mission with you. This is all I’ve ever known.”

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly, his hands curling into fists against his thighs. “Fury knows what they did to you, and he still continues to—”

“I agreed to it,” you cut in, your tone clipped, controlled. “He just wanted our sham marriage to be believable. He wasn’t asking me to fuck you, just to perform. That’s what I do. Perform.”

Bucky huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

“Look, I don’t know you,” he muttered, voice low, rough. “I don’t want your baggage, or for you to fuck me out of pity or... I don’t know, self-sabotage.”

The words hit like a slap, sharper than you expected. You recoiled—actually flinched—before you could stop yourself. It wasn’t just what he said, it was the venom in it, the way he threw it at you like a blade meant to wound. And damn it, it did.

Bucky saw it, too. The way your shoulders stiffened, the flicker of something raw crossing your face before you forced it away. His breath hitched slightly, fingers twitching at his side, but he didn’t take it back. Didn’t soften the blow. Maybe he regretted it, maybe he didn’t, but either way, the damage was done.

Your expression hardened like cooling steel, every crack that had formed between you quickly sealing shut, any semblance of vulnerability buried beneath layers of carefully placed armour. It was instinct—second nature, really. You’d spent years perfecting the art of locking yourself away, of making sure no one could reach the parts of you that still bled. You’d built it, brick by fucking brick, until you were fully encased, isolated from anything that might harm you. 

Bucky wasn’t the first to speak to you like that. Wouldn’t be the last.

You swallowed down the sting, inhaled slow and deep through your nose, and then let it out in a steady breath. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, devoid of emotion, a perfect imitation of indifference. “It was just an offer.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

You held his gaze for a second longer, searching for something, anything, that might suggest he regretted it. But Bucky just stared back, face unreadable, jaw tight. Then, without another word, he turned away, stretching out on the couch with his back to you.

Fine. Message received.

—

The rest of the week had been nothing short of torturous. After the argument, the air between you and Bucky had turned to ice. The two of you barely spoke. Not outside of necessity, not outside of the roles you had to play. At the gala, he did what was required—he held you close, leant into your touch when needed, murmured sweet nothings in your ear to sell the lie. But you felt the restraint in him, the hesitance in the way he brushed a thumb over your knuckles, the barely-there tremors in his fingers when he smoothed a hand over your waist. It wasn’t as if he was walking on hot coals anymore, but there was still that same, underlying hesitation.

Back at the hotel, the silence stretched long and unbearable. Shower, eat, sleep—repeat. Conversations were reduced to one-word exchanges, curt and impersonal. At least by morning, this miserable charade would be over. You’d gathered the intel you needed at the gala, and in a few hours, you’d be free of this place. Free of this suffocating, awkward tension. Free from Bucky’s constant, looming presence. 

God, the man had a staring problem.

You had noticed it before, how he always seemed lost in thought, his gaze heavy with some unreachable burden. You had assumed it was just brooding, the kind of silent, empty-headed angst that men like him fell victim to. But now you realised—he wasn’t staring through you. He was staring at you.

You saw it when you dressed for the gala, slipping into silken dresses and heels, when you pinned your hair into elegant styles, when you traced the lines of your lips with lipstick, perfecting the illusion. You’d catch his reflection in the mirror, eyes fixed on you, dark and unreadable.

Once, he had been so caught up in his daze that he nearly left without putting on his suit jacket. You had to press it into his hands, dragging him out of whatever spell he was under. He had taken it stiffly, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’ but the heat in his face was unmistakable.

And now, as you sat cross-legged on the bed in a loose nightgown, the fabric riding high on your thighs, the same damn stare was drilling into the side of your face.

The TV flickered before you, an incoherent blur of colours and sound. You weren’t even sure it was in English. It didn’t matter. You weren’t watching it anyway. You were too focused on not focusing on Bucky, who stared at the side of your face like he intended to burn a hole through the flesh.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, running your thumb over your knee. The sheets were soft, the mattress more forgiving than the couch you’d been forced to sleep on last night. At least tonight was your turn back on the bed, though ideally, you’d be back in your own apartment by now, wrapped in high-thread-count luxury courtesy of Tony Stark’s absurd wealth.

God, you missed Egyptian cotton.

Bucky was still staring at you. You couldn’t help it, annoyance, filthy and venomous came pouring out of your mouth before you could stop it. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Bucky startled, his whole body tensing as if you had physically struck him.

“Nothing—” he stammered.

You arched a brow, unimpressed.

“No. There’s obviously something you want to say.” You shifted on the bed, your frustration mounting. “Go on, spit it out.”

He hesitated, his jaw working like he was biting down on whatever words were lodged in his throat.

You didn’t let up. “You sure had a lot to say earlier in the week. What, do you want to dig the knife in further? You might as well just call me a whore while you’re at it—”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky cut over you, his head dipping. You paused, momentarily stunned. He was doing that thing again, where he looked like a scolded dog. Adorable, but not the fucking time.“I shouldn’t have said that, it was inconsiderate of me, especially after... after all you’ve done.”

You frowned. “You don’t owe me anything, Barnes.” The words left your lips quieter this time, but still firm. 

“I snapped at you. And I shouldn’t have.” he admitted. His voice was low, restrained.

You let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers to your temple.

“It’s okay. I understand,” you said, a little softer. “I haven’t exactly been… the kindest either.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, his fingers twitching against his knee. Then, after a long pause, he asked, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act like everything is okay. Like it’s normal.” His voice was strained, like he wasn’t even sure if he believed in what he was asking.

You let out a short, almost nervous laugh. “I’m probably not the best person to ask about this—”

“But you get it, right?” He looked at you now, something almost desperate in his gaze. “To not know… who or what you are? Sometimes I… I just want to be normal again.”

You frown deeply, weighing his words carefully. You understood his sentiment, but you knew it was futile. There had never been anything normal about your life—not anything you could remember, at least. The Red Room had seen to that. Your earliest memories were of drills, of ballet, of suffocating discipline, and of the erasure of self. Even now, you weren’t normal; you were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D for fucks sake, a woman barely pardoned of her crimes, existing in a liminal space. The world's governments couldn’t quite confirm you existed. You were a ghost, a fucking shadow of a person. 

“I don’t think people like us get to be normal,” you said finally, choosing your words carefully.

His expression twisted slightly, like he had already known that answer but had hoped for something different.

“But I think,” you continued, “it would serve you a world of good if you let people in. Steve… Sam. You don’t have to face this all alone—Natasha, Yelena, and I look to each other all the time to process it all and patch together the missing pieces. There’s no shame in it.”

Bucky’s face creased, his body drawing in on itself slightly. You moved before he could shrink further, slipping off the bed and kneeling before him. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured, voice steady. “Just tell me... what is it you need right now?”

His lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line. He fidgeted, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if struggling to force out something that had been sitting at the edge of his tongue all week.

Finally, he exhaled, jaw tight.

“I want to take you up on your offer.”

You tilted your head. “My offer?”

Bucky swallowed, eyes flickering to the floor before darting back to you. His voice was hesitant, low—like he was worried some invisible presence might have overheard. “Lessons. Lessons in… love-making. I want to be able to look at a girl without... you know. This fucking week has been torture seeing you—”

He cut himself off, warmth flooding to his cheeks. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—light, amused, genuine.

Bucky stiffened, eyes widening slightly, horror flashing across his face as if he thought you were mocking him.

You shook your head quickly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee.

“Of course,” you murmured, smiling. “Thought you’d never ask.”

—

“Is this okay?” you asked softly as you swung your leg over, settling onto Bucky’s lap. The mattress dipped beneath you both, the quiet creak of the hotel bed the only sound between you for a moment. He sat beneath you, legs slightly spread, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. You dug your knees into the bed on either side of his thighs, anchoring yourself against him.

His breath hitched, sharp and uneven. “Yes,” he murmured, though there was a noticeable tremor in his voice, like he was still convincing himself.

“Just breathe,” you encouraged, smoothing your hands over his broad shoulders. His muscles were tense beneath your fingertips, wound tight like coiled steel. He swallowed hard.

“What’s worrying you?” You asked gently. “Is there something I can do to make this more comfortable for you?”

Bucky shook his head, a shuddering breath leaving him as his hands finally found purchase on your hips. His grip was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold you. “No,” he said, his voice rough. 

“This is great, I—” He cut himself off, pressing his lips together in frustration.

You tilted your head, studying him, before offering a reassuring smile. Your fingers kneaded into his shoulders in slow, soothing motions, attempting to melt away some of the tension knotted there. “Talk to me,” you coaxed.

His gaze flickered downward, shame creeping into his expression. “I just… don’t want to embarrass myself. Again.”

Your heart clenched at his vulnerability, but you refused to let him linger in self-doubt. Instead, you leant in, your lips curling in a playful smile. 

“You’re cute when you say things like that,” you teased, running your tongue over your lower lip before continuing. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just stay here, in this moment, with me.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he obeyed, focusing on the warmth of your body pressed against his. Slowly, his grip tightened on your hips, fingers kneading into the flesh more firmly this time. His thumbs traced cautious circles against the fabric of your clothing, testing. You let your hands drift from his shoulders down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Now,” you murmured, keeping your tone soft but steady, “if you get overwhelmed, or if you need to stop, what do you say?”

“Stop,” Bucky answered without hesitation.

“Good,” you praised, smiling warmly. “And if you can’t speak? If the words won’t come?”

His fingers flexed on your hip before he squeezed in a deliberate rhythm—three distinct beats. You nodded in approval. “Perfect.”

His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. 

“What about you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more earnest. “If you want to stop?”

You demonstrated by tapping three times against his chest, just over his heart.

“I’ll do the same thing,” you assured him. “Just like we discussed.”

For a moment, he just breathed. His lashes fluttered as he exhaled a slow, measured breath, his hands steadying against you. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he whispered, “I’m… I’m ready. I think.”

You smiled, fingers tracing a soft, reassuring path along his jaw. 

“Okay. I thought we’d start with kissing, since you seem worried about it. Nice and simple, no pressure,” you murmured, your voice low and reassuring as your fingertips ghosted along his jawline. Bucky swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned into your palm without thinking, nuzzling it like a touch-starved thing. His blue eyes, dark as the ocean in a brewing storm, flickered with something hesitant, something fragile.

“I’m sure you kissed plenty of girls back in the day,” you teased, lips curling as you brushed your thumb over the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

“Oh yeah,” he exhaled, the words dipped in self-deprecation, “until Steve became… well, the Steve he is now. None of the girls spared me a second glance after that.”

You let out a soft laugh, breathy and genuine, and felt the way his body tensed beneath you at the sensation. It was funny how a man who could tear through steel and strike terror into the hearts of the world’s deadliest enemies could turn so shy at something as simple as your laughter.

“You know…” he hesitated, voice quieter now. “You were my first kiss since… well, everything.”

Your teasing grin faltered slightly. You tilted your head, gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips, close enough now that you could feel the steady heat radiating from his skin. 

“Well,” you murmured, the ghost of a smirk curling your lips as you shifted closer, “now I’ll be your second too.”

And then you kissed him.

It was slow at first, a testing press of your lips against his, feather-light and coaxing. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose, his breath hitching as though he was bracing for impact. But when you didn’t pull away, when you lingered just a little longer, he melted into you—hesitant at first, but eager.

His hands, large and trembling slightly, hesitated at your waist before gripping your thighs as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or let you slip away. The warmth of his palms bled through the thin fabric of your nightgown, spreading across your skin like wildfire.

You deepened your kiss, tilting your head to slot your lips more firmly against his, and a quiet sound rumbled in his chest—halfway between a sigh and a groan. Encouraged, you shifted, rocking your hips, the new position pressing your bodies flush together.

Bucky tensed beneath you, fingers digging into your flesh instinctively as you settled against him. His own hips bucked in response, and you could already feel him growing hard against your inner thigh. He pulled back slightly, panting, his lips swollen.

“Am I doing… okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

You smiled, smoothing a hand through his dark hair, tugging him gently forward again. 

“More than okay,” you whispered against his lips before capturing them once more.

This time, he kissed you back without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring himself to you as he parted his lips, following your lead. You swept your tongue into his mouth, slow and purposeful, teasing along his lower lip before deepening it. A groan rumbled in his chest, muffled against your mouth.

You rolled your hips, grinding against him with a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the way his breath hitched and stuttered beneath you. Even through the layers of clothing, you could feel him—hard, straining, likely aching for more. His fingers dug into your skin, a bruising grip that only added to the heat blooming in your core.

You pulled away from his lips, shifting your attention lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down his neck. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, quick and erratic. He tipped his head back, surrendering himself to your touch, a quiet curse slipping from his mouth as you sucked at the sensitive skin below his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” you hummed against his skin, your voice warm and indulgent, laced with soft praise. His body trembled beneath you as he bucked his hips up to meet yours, desperate for more friction, more of you. You rewarded him with a soft, breathy moan, letting him know just how much you enjoyed this too.

“I—” He tried to form words, but they crumbled before they left his lips.

The tension in his body coiled tighter and tighter, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. His hands clutched at you, grounding himself in the sensation, like the overwhelming pleasure was building too fast for him to control. His breath came in short, needy gasps, his hips stuttering as he lost the rhythm.

“I’m gonna—” His voice broke, his head tilting forward as his entire body tensed beneath you. A strangled moan escaped him, deep and wrecked, as he came undone. His grip on your hips tightened, his thighs trembling slightly beneath yours as his climax overtook him. His body fell back against the sheets, a soft exhale leaving his lips as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.

You perched above him, still straddling his hips. For a moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes were half-lidded, dazed, and his lips parted as if he had more to say but couldn’t quite form the words.

“I didn’t mean to finish so early—” he started, his voice hoarse, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure. Leaning over, you flipped your hair to one side as your face hovered over his. You silenced him with a lingering kiss, slow and reassuring. He groaned softly into your mouth, still sensitive but already melting into the warmth of your lips. When you pulled away, his shoulders had loosened, the rigid tension gone from his body.

“You did so well,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” 

You grinned, sliding off him and stretching languidly before settling back onto the bed. You exhaled, content. Bucky turned his head to look at you, still slightly frozen in place, as if unsure what to do next. His brows furrowed slightly. “What… what about you? Don’t you want to…?”

You snorted. “That doesn’t matter. This was about you, not me.”

He hesitated, clearly still unused to receiving something without feeling obligated to return it. “But I feel bad leaving you—”

“I’m fine, trust me.” You hummed, closing your eyes as you nestled into the warmth of his arm. “We have a long way to go before you need to be thinking about that.”

Bucky went quiet. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, unreadable.

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he would say anything at all. But then, after a beat of silence, you felt him shift beside you. A hesitant hand—warm and slightly calloused—ghosted over your arm before settling on your waist, drawing you in closer.

“…Thank you,” he murmured at last.

PART TWO

[mojifushiguro]

punishment ! c.springer

being bothersome always gets you what you want, but sometimes you can get a bit too much of what you want. connie x brat!reader (request)

warnings: smut! choking, mild aggression (during the yk), no protection (always use!), very mild degrading, cursing, cries of pleasure, slight overstimulation, lengthy!

mdni.

you were such a hassle.

connie knew that.

if you didn't get what you wanted, when you wanted, you'd totally shut down, and right now, your boyfriend was all you wanted.

you had your boyfriend all day every day. all the time, basically.

but gosh, you just wanted him extra. you missed him. you just wanted him to be home with you. he was out with his friends at the moment, and as soon as he came home, yeah, you can have him all to yourself.

but you hateeee when he goes out.

'connie'

'baby'

'I miss you'

'you dont even have to be with your hbs... you see em all the time.'

'I know you see my messages.'

constantly texting his phone. he was your boyfriend, and you missed him. you trust him not to be out doing shit he had no business, but you didn't care about that.

'ima be home soon mama'

'be patient'

'but I miss you tf'

'hello?'

you laid across your bed in nothing but pink panties and a spaghetti strap that hugged your body perfectly, and no bra. low music played in the background, which you played to distract you from your boyfriend being gone.

he only left about three hours ago, and you didn't blame him... no. you'd be out longer than him. but shit.

sometimes you just got extra clingy.

'you know I dont like your friends.'

'I know baby lol'

he wasn't giving you enough, so you pressed the call button.

no answer.

you squinted, pressing it again, and finally hearing connie with faint music in the background.

you pressed the FaceTime option, holding the camera to where you could see your face, and your perfectly visible cleavage, sitting nicely in the camera.

you stared at connie as you saw him walk around of the house he was in, looking down at the camera as he made his way outside.

"bae, I told you ima be at home soon. why you keep blowing my shit up?"

"cus I miss you, dont you miss me?"

connie stared at you in the camera, glancing up and away from It before biting his lip, looking back down. "you know I do."

a smile crept onto your face. "so come home."

connie rubbed his forehead, inhaling and exhaling. "cmon baby... you get to have me all night, every single day. I cant hang wit my homeboys for a night?"

one side of your upper lip raised and you rolled your eyes, sighing.

connie already knew you'd get an attitude, but when don't you have one? in this case, at least.

"fuck, y/n." he felt himself getting slight irritated. he was having fun.

then again... coming home to you earlier than planned didn't seem like such a bad idea.

he sighed again.

you already knew his answer. "you know what? stay out." you hung up and put your phone on do not disturb, swiping off of the messages. you swiped down to your Lock Screen, watching as Connies messages came in.

'you know how much u piss me off sometimes?'

'like u dtm, but you know that'

'ima be home soon ma, calm ts down'

you swiped to the side, going straight to your camera, and hopping up from the bed. if he didn't wanna come home to perfection, you'd just have to show him what he was missing.

you went to the bathroom, and looked at yourself in the mirror.

"do I want... to put shorts on?"

hmm... no.

you held your phone, posing cutely in your big mirror, getting your best angle.

right when you found your favorite picture, you went straight to instagram and on your story.

only adding a simple red heart, and pressing the post button.

with a small smile, you walked back into your shared bedroom and laid across the bed, lazily scrolling on social media.

you constantly swiped down to your lock screen, checking your notifications for your likes. through out all the likes and replies you received, all the heart eyes, none of them were your boyfriend.

"fuck nigga." you mumbled to yourself, rolling your eyes.

another hour of temptation to text him, to keep spamming him, passed. still no sound of the door opening, no reply or like.

you got the genius thought to check your story views, knowing he's normally at the top. but again, nothing.

now, you started to really get irritated. and another hour passed. you'd already given up on checking anything from connie.

but, without thinking, you swiped to your lock screen to check the time.

3 missed calls.

5 new messages, 30 mins ago.

yep, your heart was in your fat ass.

hesitantly pressing Connies contact name, you read through the messages, your heart speeding up.

'wtf yo problem is?'

'delete ts you literally in yo fuckin panties.'

'answer the phone'

'why you playin?'

'nvm dont worry bout it lmfao 😂'

before you could even start typing, and telling him how you'd take it down, you heard the knob to the front door, instantly making you sit up in bed and look towards the closed door of your bedroom.

you heard his keys hit the kitchen table and heard his footsteps on the stairs, slowly coming toward the door.

quickly throwing your phone to the end of the bed, you grabbed the remote and turned the tv up, pretending you were busy watching it. you didn't know if he'd believe you didn't see your phone, but you know connie knew you better than you knew yourself.

hearing him stop at the door, then after a few seconds come in silently, only made your heart start to race more.

but you thought about it. he went all night, lying like he'd be home soon. he had no reason to be mad.

when connie made his way in the room, he took his shoes off by the door, and pulled off his hoodie, going straight to the bathroom.

you only looked his way when the door was finally closed.

he was showering, totally forgot about what you posted... you think.

you grabbed your phone and quickly deleted the picture off of your story, tossing it back to the end of the bed.

minutes passed, and connie walked out of the steamy bathroom, cutting the light off behind him in only shorts, and no shirt. his body was shiny, sweaty you were guessing, and it made him look so good.

but that was the last of your worries right now.

completely ignoring the fact that you were "watching tv", he cut his game on, grabbing his controller, and picking through which game he wanted to play.

"you aint see me watching tv?" you frowned at him, tilting your head as his back faced you.

he didn't reply.

you smacked your lips. "you so..." you only shook your head and grabbed your phone. connie glanced back at you with a completely straight face.

basically telling you to shut the fuck up without actually saying anything.

and you cant lie... you did just that. but your patience grew thin. you didn't practically beg for your boyfriend to come home just to be neglected by him.

for what, so that he could play a stupid game with the same people he literally just saw?

hell no.

but, you stayed quiet, letting another hour pass by.

12:36AM.

you sat criss crossed in the middle of the bed, on your phone. every now and then glancing up whenever you heard connies small curses under his breath, or whenever you heard him groan, or look at the ceiling.

looking up at the tv, he was playing one of the games he hated the most, because he'd always lose. even you knew that.

why the fuck is he playing a game he never beats.

that's when connie paused the game on the main screen, and tossed the controller on the small table underneath your tv.

staring at the back of his head, you waited, just to see his next move.

he just stared at the wall before reaching back to grab his phone, turning his body to the side with the action. your eyes quickly drifted back down to your own phone, not even wanting to piss him off.

he huffed, checking the time on his phone and putting it back down.

his eyes made their way to you. you only sat there, not daring to look at him. but the longer he stared, made you finally look at him.

his face was completely emotionless.

'fuck.' you thought to yourself.

your mind instantly went in defensive mode. "you were out all night, and I missed you. so you can get over that shit." you mumbled the last part, but connie could hear it perfectly.

"you aint see yo phone?"

"connie, you-"

"did you. or did you not. see your phone?"

you just stared at him, before slowly rolling your eyes. connie could feel his nerves being poked at.

that's when he got on the bed, fully. snatching your phone from your hand, and grabbing your jaw.

"you piss me off more than anybody. you know that shit?" he scanned your face, and you just looked to the side. "look at me."

you looked into Connies eyes.

"you know that?"

biting your lip nervously, you slowly nodded.

Connies eyes lowered at you, as he pushed you back on the bed, licking the inside of his cheek. he grabbed your legs, pushing them apart.

his gaze trailed down between your legs, seeing that you were already turned on, and your panties were already damp.

"this all you wanted." connie looked at you like you were just pathetic, but in his mind, he was just sick of your shit. but damn, he missed you tonight more than anything.

with one of his hands under your leg, right behind your knee, and another on your waist, he moved it down to your clit, right over your panties.

putting a soft amount of pressure, it made you inhale and bite your lip, moving your hips against his thumb.

but when you saw him look up at you, his face said 'stop.'

you furrowed your eyebrows, giving him a face of pleases and sorries. "connieee... I just missed you..." you looked into his eyes, reaching down to tug at his waist band. "I deleted the picture..."

connie bit his cheek, his eyes moving down to your hand as you pulled him closer to you by his hips.

you could easy see his boner through his basketball shorts, but he wasn't going for it, so he looked from your hands to your face, still biting his cheek, breathing so heavy you could hear it.

he just watched you struggle, and you hated it.

you were so needy for him.

he moved your hand and moved back, sitting normally on the end of the bed.

you quickly shook your head. "baby, come onnn" you whined, crawling back over to him, starting to kiss on his neck.

connie would be lying if he said he wasn't getting more and more turned on by your actions. his face was so damn good as hiding it, but his dick told you different.

"please?" you tilted your head at him, grabbing his hand and moving it down back between your legs.

an amused, but still denying look came across his face as he looked you up and down. you moved his hand to your breast, hoping he'd give in.

he only sighed, legs spread. he slowly looked down at his boner, and back up at you. he stared right into your eyes, he knew the exact apology he'd take. and you did too.

you, still beside him, got on your hands and knees on the bed, arch perfectly in view for your boyfriend.

he watched at you reached in his pants, pulling them down a little, and taking him in your hand. you looked at him once again, before finally leaning down and softly licking him tip, making his dick jump a little.

you slowly lowered your mouth around the tip, sucking softly. connie let out a low groan, biting his lip and grabbing your hair, pushing you lower.

"go low." was the only thing he muttered.

feeling yourself start to gag, you did exactly what he said, letting connie lean back on his hands, staring down at you.

why did you have to be so damn pretty, but such a fuckin problem?

your eyes started to water as you bobbed your head, connie moving his hand to your hips and up your back.

he slowly started thrusting against your throat, letting out a shaky breath. "fuck..." he whispered, grabbing your hair and pulling your head up.

his hand moved to your neck, putting more pressure on it than usual, and pulling you in for a kiss. his kisses were so aggressive, and feeling his soft tongue on yours just made you even more desperate.

letting go of your throat and gripping your jaw, he looked into your eyes again. "I cant stand the fuckin stupid shit you do."

a tear dripping from your eye from the pressure on your throat, you smiled softly. "I know."

connie slowly shook his head, getting off the bed and standing in front of you, you were about to lay on your back, but connie flipped you on your stomach.

"hell naw" he muttered, grabbing your hips and lifting you to your knees, aggressively pulling your panties down and pushing your back down into an arch.

"wait, wait-" before you could even protest about having to get adjusted to his size, because honestly, connie had a big dick, you felt him quickly thrust into you, making you instantly grip the sheets.

"fuck! con!" you reached back, but that only made things worse, you should've known.

he stretched you out, and he loved the way you fluttered around him, whether it was due to pain or pleasure. he didn't really care either.

you tried to pull yourself away as his thrusts got quicker and harder, biting your lip, probably to the point of bleeding, "connieee!"

"fuck you goin?" he breathed out, pulling you back toward him by your hips, only to go deeper.

"fu..ck... im- im sorry pa.." you whined. feeling him deep in your stomach almost, the only thing you could do was apologize.

"huh?" connie frowned, reaching up to grab your neck. and fuck, it only made you arch even more.

"mmh... yo shit too tight..." connie leaned forward, slowing down and grabbing your chin with his hand. he pulled your head back, slowly thrusting deeper into you.

"you missed me? huh? or you missed getting fucked?" connie wrapped his other arm around your stomach.

"too.. deep.. connie please" you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"please, what? stop fuckin you like this?"

you nodded slowly, and with that, connie pulled out, taking your panties from around your ankles and tossing them to the side.

he rolled you over to your back, leaning down towards you again. all of a sudden, you felt yourself falling into another deep wave of pleasure. "fuck!" you moaned out, pushing against Connies hips.

he only pulled you closer to him again, just to fuck you deeper, and the arches out of shock weren't helping.

"come on, you been takin me like a champ all these other nights, what's different?" he looked down, watching you throb around him, completely hypnotized by you.

and he hadn't smiled during any of this yet. that's what was different.

this was pure frustration and punishment. you knew you would get it, but not like this.

"connie... I cant-" you couldn't even finish your sentence before he sharply thrusted into you again, after all those deep, slow strokes.

he was driving you crazy.

"cant what? you cant take it?" he finally looked at your face.

"look at me when I fuck you, y/n."

you practically had to peel your eyes open, them rolling back every deep stroke. connie slowly shook his head at you, as tear drops trailed down your cheeks, and sniffle sounds came from your nose and mouth.

"my baby..." he grabbed your cheek, watching as you held his wrist tightly, soft whimpers and moans leaving your mouth with every thrust.

he wiped your tears, leaning over and kissing you, softly biting your lip as he pulled away, just to look at you again.

your eyes were pink and glossy, but you loved every minute of this.

"hold me." he mumbled.

and you did just that, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. "I love you..." you whispered. connie hummed lowly, using his hand to open your legs wider and move it to your clit, rubbing in quick circles and quickening his thrusting pace.

you started to let out soft, quick and choppy moans. "slow... slowww..." you whined, letting connie go and gripping the sheets beside your head.

connie bit his lip, frowning and looking at you, shaking his head.

"p-please" you whispered, twitching as connie fucked you through your orgasm. you went completely silent, your legs shaking and your body twitching, before letting out a loud gasp and crying out your last moan.

still going, connie purposely made you feel every bit of your orgasm, licking his lips and staring at you deeply before pulling out and grabbing his dick, softly rubbing his tip on your clit, feeling it twitch against him.

"look atchu. begging me to come home and cant even take dick right." connie fixed his self, watching you as you laid there, legs still open.

what could you even say?

connie softly grabbed your face, squishing it slowly shaking it side to side, "stop allat whining. im done." he chuckled, leaning down to kiss you one more time and patting your breast twice.

he walked over to sit on the end of the bed again, grabbing the controller, not even bothering to clean you up or wash his hands.

"and I love you too."

clearly.

[cutieln4]

"Slut!" | LN4 smau

lando norris x reader

summary: lando has a reputation of always bringing different girls home. somebody changes that

fc: random pinterest girls

f1gossip

Liked by username1 and others

f1gossip Lando Norris caught kissing yet another girl! That’s the 3rd different one this week! Will his partying habits affect his driving?

View all comments

username1 W H O R E🫵🫵

username2 statistically, with all the girls he’s taking home, i have a chance

username3 yeah, no

username4 hey! so this is actually insane!

username5 how about we mind our business??

username6 This generation would not survive f1 drivers from 15 years ago

username7 fr the scandals back then💀

username8 why tf would this effect his driving???

ln4fanpage

Liked by username1 and others

ln4fanpage pics of lando partying! from just this week alone😬

View all comments

username1 he’s so insane for this

username2 SIR YOUR TITS ARE OUT🗣���

username3 the shirt, the hair, the necklaces

username4 lord have mercy🤤

username5 HELLO??? I CANT BREATHE

username6 very mindful, very demure

username7 erm not really…

yourusername

Liked by yourbff and 71 others

yourusername update on my puppy: still cute🤗

View all comments

yourbff aww she’s so cuteee i miss her

friend1 so adorable!

friend2 bring her over!!

yourusername

Liked by yourbff and 83 others

yourusername i 🩷 pink

View all comments

yourbff i 🩷 u

friend1 so so pretty

friend2 cutieeee

yourusername

Liked by yourbff and 82 others

yourusername that was fun! even managed to get a cute boys number after spilling coffee all over him🤗

View all comments

yourbff you had no idea what was going on the whole time

yourusername but it was still fun!! thanks for the free hat!

friend1 okay girl you got rizz

friend2 ughh so jealous😍

landonorris

Liked by yourbff and others

landonorris WOOHOOO P3!! Thank you Silverstone! You’ve been good to me😊

View all comments

username1 still not over that outfit

username2 cutie patootie

yourbff wish i got the chance to meet you😔

username3 not the charles leclerc driving pose💀

oscarpiastri Congrats mate!

username4 i love 444🥰

username5 he’s so—AHHHAJPKCJDUSNS

username6 GIMME the bucket hat

username7 the. out. fit.

landonorris added to their story

View replies

danielricciardo they grow up so fast🥺

maxverstappen1 You just broke a million teenage girls’ hearts

username1 NOOOOOOOO

username2 how could you do this to me??? what about the kids??

yourusername added to their story

View all replies

yourbff why you soft launching the same time as lando norris💀

landonorris added to their story

View all replies

username1 WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH LANDO NORRIS? FLOWERS??

danielricciardo her puppy is the dog version of you

username2 SHUT UP DID YOU GET A DOG

username3 THAT PUPPY IS SO CUTEEEE

username4 nah no way bro actually got a gf

username5 you’ve changed smh. bring back party lando😔✊

yourusername

Liked by landonorris and 91 others

yourusername look at this cutie

View all comments

yourbff happy for you🫶

friend1 THAT’S YOUR MAN??

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, yourbff, and others

landonorris finally found the one for me🧡 (thanks for spilling coffee on me)

View all comments

username1 she’s adorable stop

username2 okay but what’s her puppy’s name?

yourusername pickles!

username2 STOP THATS SO CUTE

username3 i love her already

yourusername my sweetheart🫶🥰

username4 WAIT SO THAT PIC IN SILVERSTONE OF WITH THE BIG STAIN ON HIS SHIRT WAS WHEN THEY MET??

username5 she tweeted when it happened and it’s so funny, she had no clue who he was💀

maxfewtrell Congrats mate

danielricciardo About time!

username6 aww she was the one girl who was able to change him for the better

username7 no it’s literally so cute he used to take different girls home every week and no one could change that until he met her🥹

username8 her twitter is hilarious she fr had to clue who he was

username9 gimme that puppy

username10 bye sleeping on a highway tonight

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, yourbff, and 238,491 others

yourusername mine

View all comments

username1 OH MY GOD HES SO BABYGIRL

landonorris WHERE DID YOU GET THE LAST PHOTO

yourusername you're such a baby in it isn't it cute🥹

landonorris yes of course very cute😅

username2 con😭grats😭

yourbff you son of a bitch. you did it.

taglist: @evasmlp @partnerincrime0 @r0nnsblog @heavy-vettel @raizelchrysanderoctavius

Add yourself to my taglist here!

[wafflefries13]

Sick Day, But Cute (Multi TWST Cast X Reader)

Summary: A magical illness is spreading through NRC, with some... rather adorable symptoms. AKA, all your friends are suddenly toddlers?!

AN: I actually ended up starting this waaaay back when I started writing fanfiction again, but sort of forgot about it and found it again recently. It's kind of at this point where I realized a lot my tics in writing. Thanks for reading! Cross posed on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen.

Warnings: Fluff, platonic relationships, AFAB reader, She/Her pronouns

From “Perfect Prefect”: omg, omg, omg

From “Jacked”: What’s up? 

From “Juice”: Is there another overblot?! 

From “Aces High”: I’ve got ten madol that it’s someone from Diasomnia

From “Crocodile Tears”: As if! Diasomnia students are far too refined and disciplined for that! 

From “Eple Pie”: I’ll match that bet, Ace!

From “Crocodile Tears”: Hey!

From “Astro Boy”: What happened, (Y/N)? 

From “Perfect Prefect”: Look who I found! 

From “Perfect Prefect”: Picture sent 

From “Juice”: …

From “Eple Pie”: omg is right. 

From “Jacked”: Is that…? 

From “Aces High”: On my way! 

Despite the vast campus of Night Raven College, the group of first years convened on the Ramshackle dorm within minutes of the picture being sent. 

“Grim,” (Y/N) called out to her fireball cat monster roommate. “Can you make sure the front door is unlocked? I don’t want them busting it down like last time.” 

“Can’t you do it? I’m still scrubbing ink out of my fur!” 

(Y/N) lifted the bundle in their arms, the cause of the excitement. “Sort of got my hands full here.” 

A slam and the sound of cracking wood emanate from the front hall, followed by, “(Y/N!)” 

The prefect sighed. “Too late.”  

Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, and Sebek practically tripped over each other as they rushed into the sitting room, freezing in their tracks when they saw the Prefect and the small purple-and-white form they were cradling. 

“So,” (Y/N) said, breaking the shocked silence. “I’m guessing this is one of those weird magic things?” 

A large pair of blue-gray eyes peeked out from a mass of dark purple tentacles twisted around (Y/N)’s arms, gripping for dear life, before quickly ducking back down in hiding. The small figure emitted a small wail. (Y/N) bounced the tiny octopus-mer in their arms. “Shh, it’s alright, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” 

Jack took a cautious step forward, reaching out a nervous hand. “Is that… really Azul?” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “I mean, it has to be, right?” 

“It has to be?” Epel echoed. “What the heck happened? 

“I was hoping you guys would be able to help me figure that out. Azul came over this morning to talk about a bill someone had racked up at the Monstro Lounge.” (Y/N) not so subtly glared at Grim, who rolled his eyes and kept scrubbing at his octo-ink stained fur. “I left the room for just a second to get some tea and when I came back, boom! Baby Azul.” 

“Oh, man, this is great,” Ace snickered while pulling out his phone. “This’ll be great blackmail the next time he tries to get us into a stupid contract.” 

“Ace, wait-!” 

Before (Y/N) could warn them, Azul reared back and spit a large black glob of ink at Ace’s phone, covering his phone and hands and splattering his uniform. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t really like having his picture taken.” 

“Ugh!” Ace waved his hands, sending ink spraying the other first years with black goop. “You got a picture!” 

(Y/N) shrugged with a smirk. “Maybe he just likes me more.” 

Ortho cautiously hovered closer. “My scans indicate this is in fact Azul Ashengrotto. There is some sort of magical residue surrounding his body.” 

“You think someone cursed him?” Deuce asked. “Hey, stop!” He shouted as Ace tried to wipe the ink on his jacket. 

Sebek crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t be surprised, considering what he tries to get away with.” 

Azul started sniffling. “Hey, knock it off!” (Y/N) defended. 

Ortho tilted his head, examining Azul closer. Azul reached out a hand, fascinated by the lights on Ortho’s body and glowing hair. “I don’t recognize this kind of magical resonance from any curses,” Ortho said. “But I can research and find out! Idia might know something!” 

“What are you going to do with him?” Jack asked, poking a tentacle that was wrapped tightly around (Y/N)’s arm.

“I’m going to drop him off with Jade then let the Headmage know what’s going on. You know, see if he actually has any answers for once.”

“Mrow!” Grim yelled, frustrated, throwing down the ink-stained rag he had been desperately using to try and clean his fur. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but that octo-punk is gonna pay for ruining my perfect fur!” 

Epel sighed. “Hang on, Vil taught me some ways to get stains out. Maybe I can help. Prefect, do you have hairspray?” 

“Check the upstairs bathroom, Grim can show you. Ortho, let me know if you find anything out, okay?” 

Ortho saluted. “Roger that!” 

Sebek rubbed his chin in thought. “Lilia might know something. And if anyone can reverse a curse, it would be Lord Malleus! Ashengrotto should be eternally grateful for the future king’s assistance-!” 

“I’ll come with you to Octavinelle,” Jack cut in, purposefully ignoring Sebek’s offended look at being interrupted. 

“Deuce and I have to report back to Heartslabyul,” Ace said as the two card soldiers flicked ink at each other. “If Riddle sees us like this we’ll be on hedgehog duty for a month.” 

(Y/N) nodded. “Sounds like we have a plan, then. Let me know if anyone hears anything. Or maybe sees anymore babies.” They rubbed their nose against baby Azul’s, causing the little house warden to giggle. 

The first years all went their separate ways, Jack, (Y/N), and their squirming package headed to the mirror chamber. 

“Do you think he needs water?” Jack asked. “He’s a merman after all.” 

(Y/N) carded their fingers through Azul’s soft, fluffy hair. “I gave him some earlier and he seemed okay. I’m sure the less time out of water is better though. We don’t want any octo-jerky, do we, Azul?” They tickled him under his chin. 

Jack couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. As many problems as he had with the cunning and scheming house warden, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his younger siblings back home. “You’re good with children.” 

The prefect blinked up at him, surprised. “You think?” 

“You’ve managed to keep a rein on that one, at least. He looks like he’ll burst out crying the second you stop paying attention to him.” 

“Hmm. Maybe I’m just spoiling him, then. That’s okay, though, right, Azul? You’re cute enough to spoil, right?” (Y/N) held him up, his tentacles wrapping tight around their arms. He made grabby hands to come back closer, giggling and basking in the attention. Jack chuckled and (Y/N) mockingly glared at him. “We never say a word of this when he turns back, of course.” 

Jack nodded seriously. “Of course.” 

“(Y/N)! Jack!” The two stopped. Kalim waved at them, jogging over with Jamil following behind. “Hi! What’s going on?” 

“I would love to know,” (Y/N) said, shrugging. 

Kalim stopped in his tracks, causing Jamil to almost crash into him, as he spied Azul. Kalim practically squealed with delight and rushed over. “Oh my gosh! How cute! Does Azul have a little brother?” 

“Not… exactly,” (Y/N) said. She quickly summarized the situation. 

While Kalim gushed over the toddler, Azul was more interested in Jamil, reaching out with his chubby hands and tentacles to try and wrap around his hands. “Aww,” Kalim said. “He remembers you!” 

“I don’t know how much of that is a good thing,” Jamil scowled, torn between jerking his hands away and indulging the mer-boy in his exploration. 

“Jamil, you know everything, got any ideas?” (Y/N) asked. 

Jamil huffed, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not everything, apparently. Some sort of curse, obviously, but other than that I’m sure you would need to do some type of testing.” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of what we thought.” 

They said their goodbyes, Kalim waving enthusiastically at Azul who really didn’t seem to know how to respond to his exuberance. 

The trio arrived at the mirror chamber, stepping through to Octavinelle. The temperature immediately dropped several degrees due to the water surrounding the dorm, suspended in the air around the building and walkways. The light took on a cool blue tint, interrupted by the shadows of fish darting through the water. (Y/N) often wondered if the dorm was actually underwater or if this was some sort of illusion to help the mer students that made up the majority of the dorm feel more at home. 

“I have to admit,” Jack said, looking around for either of the Leech twins. “The more I think about leaving Azul here, the more nervous I get.” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “Jade is good in a crisis and Floyd is surprisingly gentle with kids. Plus, they were all friends when they were little, maybe Azul will recognize them or something.” She frowned in thought. “Although, now that you mention it, I do suppose this would be a perfect opportunity to take advantage of.” 

“My, I didn’t realize you had such a low opinion of us.” (Y/N) and Jack jumped, spinning to face the Ocatvinelle vice-housewanden. He was smiling slyly but wiped away a fake tear from his eye. “And here I thought we had built a trusted rapport.” 

“Depends on the crisis, maybe,” (Y/N) said. “Or the potential reward.” 

“Ooh, are we talking about rewards?” Floyd slid next to (Y/N), throwing a causal arm around their shoulders. “Not sure if it’s worth the effort, but I’ll take-” He cut himself off, eyes growing wide. He jerked forward, putting himself nose to nose with the tiny octo-mer. “No way, no way! Jade, check this out!” 

“Oh dear,” Jade said, stepping forward. He actually looked surprised for once. “Isn’t this a blast from the past?” 

Azul let out a small wail as Floyd started poking at him and tugging his tentacles. (Y/N) smacked his hand. “Hey, cut it out! Poor thing is having a hard day.” 

“What exactly happened?” Jade asked. He chucked as Azul puffed up his cheeks in annoyance. 

“We were hoping you might have an idea,” Jack said. 

“He showed up at Ramshackle today normal, then, well… I didn’t see when it happened.” 

Floyd snatched Azul out of (Y/N)’s arms, ignoring their protest, and held him high up. “Aww, aren’t you a cute little guppy? Maybe we should just keep you like this for a while. You don’t yell at me nearly as much!” 

Azul puckered his lips in a now familiar motion. “Floyd, look out-!” (Y/N) tried to warn.

In the next second, Floyd’s face was covered in black ink. Jack and (Y/N) froze in tense anticipation. Floyd blinked before his sharp toothy smile split across his face. He burst out laughing, cuddling Azul, who was writhing in a desperate attempt to escape. “You haven’t done that since we were kids!” 

Jade gently pried Azul away from Floyd, using a handkerchief to dab away dribbling ink from Azul’s face. “Perhaps I should bring him to our swim tank. Floyd, would you mind grabbing  a pot and lid from the Monstro Lounge kitchen?” 

Floyd frowned. “Aww, but if he hides I can’t pinch his big cheeks anymore!” 

“That’s exactly the point.” 

(Y/N) took a step back, worry about Azul’s condition and care growing smaller but not disappearing completely. “I’m going to go ask Crowley if he has any idea what’s going on. I’ll let you guys know once I know something.” 

Jade waved a hand. “Please, take your time. I think we’ll have a fine time together, won’t we, Azul?” 

“Uh, yeah, we’ll leave it to you guys, then.” (Y/N) ruffled Azul’s hair. “Bye, buddy. I’ll see you soon and hopefully we’ll get back to normal.” 

Floyd hummed thoughtfully. “Hey, how much do you think he’ll remember when he turns back?” 

As Jack and (Y/N) left Octavinelle, Jack decided to go back to Savanaclaw. “I’ll ask Leona if he has any idea about this, too. He may not like putting effort into things, but he is probably one of the most talented mages here.” 

“Sounds good. Thanks for your help.” They parted ways and (Y/N) headed back to the main school building to talk to Crowley. Heading up the stairs, their phone rang, #CayCay showing up on the caller ID. “Hey, Cater, what’s up?” 

“Uh, hey,” Cater said, slightly panicked, although he was clearly still trying to sound carefree. “Ace and Deuce were with you earlier, right? Were they, uh, okay?” 

(Y/N) blinked, a nervous churning settling in their stomach. “Yeah? Ace kind of got, uh, in a mess, but they were okay when they left. What happened?” 

“Oh, you know, it’s probably fine, Riddle’s looking into- No, wait! Deuce, don’t put that in your mouth!” 

The line suddenly went dead. (Y/N) spun back down the stairs and sprinted to the Heartslabyul mirror portal. 

Stepping through the mirror portal into Heatslabyul immediately assaulted (Y/N) with the scent of roses laced with sugar. Much brighter than Octavinelle, it was more confusing in its layout, with twisting paths that often doubled back on each other and confusing topiary walls. But (Y/N) was able to beeline to their destination, following the alarmed yelling. 

“I’m here, I’m here!” She said, sliding into part of the garden where they often held unbirthday parties. “What happen- oh.” 

(Y/N) had gotten used to the sight of a younger Azul, but the child Ace and Deuce sent a whole new wave of confusion and dread through them. The two of them were wrestling, getting grass stains on their uniforms with cake smooshed on their faces.  Cater cooed from a distance safe from cake splatter taking pictures with his phone. 

“(Y/N)! There you are!” (Y/N) turned to greet Trey but froze. He held a small, scowling redhead child. 

“Oh. Oh, no.” 

“That’s not an inaccurate read of the situation,” Trey said, chuckling as the little Riddle yelled at Ace and Deuce to stop roughhousing and getting dirty. 

(Y/N) quickly explained the situation that had happened that morning with Azul. “They were fine when they left! It wasn’t even an hour ago.” 

“We’re not sure what happened either,” Trey said. “Another student came to get me a minute ago. He said Riddle was lecturing Ace and Deuce for getting their uniforms dirty with ink, however that happened,” (Y/N) gulped and looked away. “Then there was a crash and they were just like this.” 

(Y/N) sighed and put their hands on their hips. “At this point I kind of just accept this magic nonsense can do anything.” 

“Have you asked any of the teachers about it yet?” 

“I was heading to Crowley when Cater called me. Hey, Cater, did you see- Oh, come on.” Cater had now joined Ace and Deuce playing on the lawn, albeit in a much younger form. He tapped the screen of his phone hard, seemingly taking more delight in the random colors and shapes than the actual function of anything. 

“Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Come on, Trey, let’s bring them to the Headmage, or the infirmary at the very least. Trey?” (Y/N) closed their eyes, taking a deep breath. “If I turn around and you're a kid, Trey, I think I just might scream.” They opened their eyes and looked around. Riddle and a tiny Trey, with glasses too big for his face, were hiding under the white metal table in the garden, playing cards. “Okay, fine, it’s too cute for me to scream. But I’m still very annoyed.” They snuck their phone out to get a couple of quick snapshots of the Heartslabyul children. Thoroughly documented for future reference, and future embarrassment, (Y/N) leaned under the table. “Riddle, sweetheart, can you help me get everyone in order? We’re going on a little field trip.” 

Riddle jumped up to attention, tiny face set in determination. He raced out, corralling Ace, Deuce, and Cater over to (Y/N). Ace and Deuce raced around their legs before Ace tripped and fell. His eyes started to well up with tears. (Y/N) quickly leaned down and swept him up in their arms. They decided to ignore how Ace stuck his tongue out at Deuce. Compromising by holding Duece’s hand, she lead the small group back through the mirror portal to the Headmage’s office. 

She had to use her foot to kick open the door. “Crowley, we’ve got a problem.” 

“I am perfectly aware of the situation! Oh, it appears I am not perfectly aware.” 

(Y/N) stopped to take in the chaos of Crowley’s office. Not only was a tiny Vil with perfect posture scolding a roughed-up-looking Epel with Rook, his hat engulfing his now little head, tugged on Vil’s sleeve for his attention, but a small Leona was curled up in a patch of sunlight snoozing. A young Ruggie was sneakily going through drawers on Crowley’s desk, and a child Jack was gently petting a tiny charcoal kitten with a forked tail and blue flames coming out of his ears munching on cookies. A toddler Jamil was hovering over a small and smiling Kalim who was drawing with markers on what looked like important school paperwork. Although, there was more drawing on his and Jamil’s skin than the actual paper. Possibly most surprising, however, were the three pre-teens and an exhausted-looking teenager around the room. They also looked concerningly familiar. 

(Y/N) blinked, setting down Ace and Deuce who rushed off to play with a rambunctious Epel. “Professors? Coach? Sam?” 

The much younger Professor Crewel huffed and put his hands on his hips. “If one more person calls me ‘professor’ I’m going to scream.” 

“Come on, Divus!” The younger, but still surprisingly buff, Coach Vargus said. “Have an adventure! This isn’t all bad!” Vargus fell on his back, scooping up Kalim and Cater who were running around and used them as press weights while the two giggled. A young Sam was listening very intently to Vil and Rook’s conversation, even if most of it was incoherent babbling. 

“So,” (Y/N) said hesitantly. “That would make you…” They looked at the person who had been reduced to around their age. 

“Mozus Trein,” He said matter of factly. He held Lucius, still a full-grown cat who looked even bigger in the young boy’s hands. “I take it I am a teacher here as well?” 

“Uh, yeah. You don’t remember?” 

He sniffed. “I can’t exactly remember something that hasn’t happened to me yet, now can I?” 

“So you all have just always been like this. Okay, cool. Crowley?” 

Crowley looked up from playing with Deuce, who was fascinated by the former’s mask. “Hm? Oh, yes, well, as near as I can understand, there seems to be some sort of magical virus curse. It’s spread through contact, so our best bet of minimizing effect would be to enact a quarantine.” He lifted Deuce’s hands in celebration. “Sleepover! Yay!” 

(Y/N) rubbed the bridge of their nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Okay, I get how that might have happened to these guys, but what about the professors?” 

Crowley waved a hand. “Bucci came to my office earlier with Kingscholar and Howl. Immediately sensing the issue at hand, for I am intuitive and precise, I called forth our faculty to help round up any other signs of infection. Although, it seems our virus is more contagious than I first thought.” 

(Y/N) scratched behind the kitten Grim’s ears. He blinked up at them with large blue eyes and let out a tiny, “Mew.” (Y/N) felt their heart melt a little. 

“What about me?” She asked. “I’ve been in contact with everyone who’s changed but I’m still fine.” 

“I would assume the virus spreads through magic,” The young Professor Trein said. “If you have no magical ability, you’re cut off from the method of infection.” 

“It also appears not all of us have been reduced to the same age,” Boy-Professor Crewel added. “It probably has something to do with how old we all were originally, cutting back by a set number of years.” 

“And any idea how long it will last?” (Y/N) asked hesitantly. “No idea!” Crowley said, with not nearly enough seriousness that the situation required, lifting Ruggie into the air, his pockets bursting with various office supplies he had plundered from around the room. 

“Oh, man,” (Y/N) groaned. They jerked back to attention. “Oh, man! I left Azul with Jade and Floyd! If he’s patient zero he’s probably spread the infection already!” 

Crowley nodded. “It would be imperative to retrieve them, as well as anyone else infected. We’ll meet in the gymnasium until we have a further understanding of how long this should last.” 

“Alright, I’ll go get them and- Wait! Sebek! He was heading back to Diasomnia! He might have infected someone else. I’ll check there then- Really?”

Now, a boy about fifteen in a long feathered coat with a black bird mask bounced Ruggie on his knee. “Hmm? Did something happen?” 

“Don’t worry,” Professor Crewel said, even if it felt strange calling him that when he appeared so young. “We’ll take care of it. We’ll meet you in the gym.” 

(Y/N) nodded. “Alright, team, we’ll all meet up in an hour at the gym. Coach Var- uh, Ashton? Can you stop by the kitchens to ask the ghosts to make us something for dinner? If we’re all quarantined we won’t want to stop by during rush hour in the cafeteria. Sam, check out the infirmary and grab blankets and anything else that’ll make spending the night more comfortable. We’ll work on a more permanent solution tomorrow. Mozus, Divus, and Crowley, I’m trusting you three to keep all the kids in order and get them to the gym safely.” 

“Go, Team, go!” Ashton shouted, encouraging the other children to cheer. He swept the sleeping Leona up, who growled and kicked at the older boy. 

“Go, team,” (Y/N) echoed weakly. 

Nervously leaving the group to migrate to the gym, (Y/N) made their way back to Octavinelle to see if the, admittedly kind of funny and cute, virus had spread further. On their way across campus, (Y/N) pulled out their phone and fired a quick text to Ortho. 

From “Perfect Prefect”: What are the chances you haven’t made it back to the dorm yet? 

From “Astro Boy”: Poor! I’ve been back for 23 minutes and 15 seconds! 

From “Perfect Prefect”: And I’m guess Idia is a lot smaller now? 

From “Astro Boy”: Picture sent 

(Y/N) tapped open the attached picture. It was a selfie of Ortho, his eyes twinkling brightly in enthusiastic excitement. He held the phone up high, capturing the image of him holding a toddler sized Idia practically swimming in his already oversized jacket. The tiny Ida had tears pricking the corners of his large yellow eyes, clutching a soft purple demon-looking plush.

From “Astro Boy”: Now I’m the big brother! 

From “Perfect Prefect”: Crowly says it’s a virus. I’m guessing it’s a safe bet that Idia hasn’t been around anyone recently? We’re quarantining in the gym till we figure this out. 

From “Astro Boy”: I’ll bring games! 

(Y/N) jogged back to the mirror chamber, bursting through the portal back into Octavinelle. She did a quick sweep of the Monstro Lounge, interrogating a few confused student-waiters, then headed to the dorm proper. Nothing in the main lobby, a few clusters in the study room, just drying clothes in the laundry room. She just about missed the kitchen, swerving so hard she thought she might have given herself whiplash as she turned. 

There was a crowd of Octavinelle students, dressed in their crisp lilac and black uniforms, standing in a rough circle, looking at something on the floor. She just caught the end of a flailing green tail as a student reached down to touch the wiggling mass. 

“Don’t!” She yelled, causing the whole ensemble to jump. She steadied herself with her hands on her thighs, breathing heavily now that the adrenaline had caught up with her. “Don’t,” She said again. “They might be contagious.” 

The gathering flinched away as (Y/N) made her way to what they had been surrounding. There was the familiar sight of the squirming Azul, cheeks puffy with a pout and crossed chubby arms. His tentacles were all tangled up with two long string-bean eels, fluctuating their bodies like ribbons on the linoleum floor. Even as children, mirror opposites of each other, it was pretty easy to tell who was who from their actions. Floyd has wrapped himself around one of Azul’s many limbs, gnawing at one. Jade is also wrapped in his tentacles, but it looks like he draped them over himself. He chatted at Azul in a mixture of child-babble and what sounds like local mer dialect. (Y/N) squatted down, hand covering her mouth, as she contemplated the situation. Azul spotted her, raising his arms up and looking at her in a way that made her heart clench. Floyd and Jade matched his pose, their cries more delighted and excited than Azul’s worried ones. 

“Alright, come here,” (Y/N) said, gathering the trio of slippery mer-babies in her arms. “I don’t suppose you guys have a tank around here somewhere? And maybe a trolley or wagon?” 

The, still confused but helpful, students rushed around. After a few minutes, two of them carried a large fish tank between them, another pulling a small black flatbed cart behind them. (Y/N) loaded the kids into the tank, having to tug and pull to extract them from their tight grip on her, Azul leaving little circular suction marks on her hands and arms. With a hand on her hip, she pulled the faucet from the sink and filled up the tank. 

She gave her number to a couple of third years who had stepped up in a semblance of a leadership role, telling them to text her if anyone else came down with symptoms. After reassuring the Octavinelle students, as much as she could considering she herself was trying not to panic, (Y/N) pulled her new load out through the mirror portal to the gym. 

She felt a splash of water on the back of her head, turning to see the three of them ducking back down into the water, giggling mischievously. “Uh-huh,” (Y/N) said, wiggling her fingers at them. “I see you.” No sooner had she turned back to start walking than another cold splash of water soaked her head. She whipped back around, jumping near the tank with a big smile and hands up in claws, much to the shrieking delight of the small children. Even Azul had started to smile, laughing along and swimming around with Floyd and Jade. 

(Y/N) saw Ortho flying across campus, a thick dark blue bundle securely in his arms. A Premo branded canvas back was slung over his arm, packed with board and card games, and a few gaming systems and cartridges. She called his name and waved, Ortho stopping to wait for her to catch up. 

“Let me see, let me see,” (Y/N) said. Ortho was just as giddy as he held up the small toddler. Even when he was young, Idia still had his long fiery blue hair. His bright yellow eyes were huge in his puggy face, cheeks looking like he was hiding giant marshmallows in his mouth. He blinked up at the two of them, face scrunching up before sneezing. His hair flared for a second before sighing and rubbing his face. (Y/N) and Ortho both ‘aww’ed as Idia tried to hide by burying his face in Ortho’s glowing chest. 

“Think you can take care of these guys, too?” (Y/N) asked. “I still need to check on Disomania. I’ve tried texting but haven’t heard anything back from them.” Ortho saulted, taking hold of the flatbed handle. The three tiny mers splashed, trying to catch the glowing reflections of Ortho’s and Idia’s hair on the water. 

(Y/N) had to run interference back on her way to the mirror chamber for the umteenth time that day. By that point, most of the campus had heard about the magical virus, and the rather adorable symptoms. She reassured them that yes, they had everything under control. Yes, they were keeping track of who was affected. Yes, classes were canceled for the rest of the day. Yes, it was all going to be solved pretty soon. Probably. 

She paused back in the mirror chamber, taking a second to catch her breath. Steadying herself for whatever trouble she would find in the Thorn Fairy’s dorm, she pushed through the Magic Mirror. She blinked in the diminished light, the sky perpetually covered by threatening storm clouds. The dorm loomed over her, reminiscent of some twisted gothic cathedral. The interior did nothing to diminish this facade, all marble floors, large arched windows, and dark stone walls with green fire sconces. 

“Psst!” (Y/N) stopped in the strangely empty common room, looking around for the hissed whisper. “Psst! Prefect! Over here!” A first year was frantically waving to her from his hiding behind a massive tapestry.  Now that she was paying closer attention, she was able to pick out more and more students, trying to dart between hiding places to make their way through their own home. 

“What’s going on?” (Y/N) asked. “Did you guys hear about the virus?” 

“Virus?” He repeated. “No, I just wanted to warn you that you need to be careful. Vice-Housewarden Lilia is - Ack!” He cut himself off, darting off and slamming a door behind him down the hall as he escaped. 

Brow furrowed, (Y/N) turned, freezing just as a cold razor sharp edge met her throat. Her eyes traveled from the jade colored oversized cleaver down the arm that held it up effortlessly, to the familiar yet strange face of the person who held it. It certainly looked like Lilia, for the most part anyway. The same large ruby eyes, now narrowed and sharp, the same mouth with fangs peaking over the edge to bite into his lower lip, pulled into a frown, the same bi-colored hair, now much longer and a deep red pigmentation instead of the soft pink. 

(Y/N) put her hands up and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. “Lilia,” She said, willing her voice not to shake. “I know you’re probably confused right now, but I-” 

“Quite, human,” He snapped, to which (Y/N) immediately obliged. “You’re not going to try and confuse me more than I already am.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. But, and this may surprise you, this is not the first, nor probably the last, time I’ve been in mortal peril, so the effect has kind of lost its edge. Present company notwithstanding.” She pushed away the massive weapons with one finger on its slicing edge. 

Lilia scowled and pushed the magearm back. “I said quite. I need to think. One minute I’m in the Briar Valley overseeing training and the next I’m… wherever this is.” 

“Night Raven College, if that helps.” 

Lilia scoffed. “I told you all I wouldn’t accept your enrollment invitation. Does such a ‘prestigious’ school resort to kidnapping now?” 

“I wouldn’t put it past them, really.” 

“Listen here, human-”

“Papa!” 

Both of their eyes snapped down. A small boy with silver-white hair was tugging the hem of Lilia’s shirt, rubbing his eyes with a tiny fist. He reached up, grabbing at the air. “Up, up!” 

Lilia looked from the small Silver back to (Y/N) several times before renewing his scowl. “What is this? Some kind of human trick? You use children in your schemes now?” 

“I think he just wants you to hold him for his nap.” 

“Listen you-”

“Papa?” They both looked down again, Silver’s arms still extended, waiting. His tiny, cherubic face has started to crumble, lips wobbling in confusion, tears gathering. 

Lilia hissed in a sudden breath. Taking a step back, he leaned down, keeping his eyes and weapon trained on (Y/N), and scooped Silver up with one arm. He cradled the boy close to his chest. Silver sighed contently, wrapping his chubby arms around Lilia’s neck and snuggling into his chest. 

“I-” Lilia started, trying to regain some of his bravado despite the napping toddler he was gently holding. 

“Silver!” A boisterous voice echoed down the stairs. “Where’d you go? We gotta keep training so we can defend the Briar Valley! I’m gonna win this time, just watch!” He tripped down the last few stepped, falling hard on his knees. 

“Sebek!” (Y/N) called, taking a step to him before being cut short by Lilia rushing forward. 

Sebek sniffed loudly, pushing himself up, face turning red at the effort of keeping his tears at bay. 

“There now, soldier,” Lilia said, kneeling down. “A warrior of the Briar Valley must keep his composure in the face of battle, yes?” 

Sebek looked up and gasped. He jumped up to attention, retrieving the fallen play sword he had dropped. “Yes, sir, General Lilia, sir!” He said, saluting. 

Lilia chuckled, ruffeling Sebek’s hair. “By any chance, young one, you’re not related to Baur Zigvolt, are you?” 

“Is Grandpa here? I’m gonna show him how strong I got! Look, look!” He exaggerated flexing. Noticing Silver fast asleep, he frowned, an impressively frustrated look for such a small boy. ��Silver! You’re sleeping again!” 

“Nooo,” Silver whined, burying himself further in Lilia’s chest. 

Sebek kept jumping up to tug on Silver’s shirt until Lilia set him down. Sebek immediately grabbed the still sleepy boy’s hand and dragged him away, waving his sword at the various still hiding Disamonia residents and talking about all the adventures they were going to have. Lilia watched them wreak havoc, a small content smile making its way on his face without his noticing. 

He schooled his features back into stoney fury when (Y/N) sidled up next to him, clearing her throat. “So, I bet you have some questions.” 

While Lilia was skeptical about (Y/N)’s explanation, he was more acceptable to going to a more secure location. They went to the gym, Lilia holding Silver’s hand in one of his, his large magearm slug over his other shoulder. Sebek kept watch in front of the group, jumping and swinging his sword and marching while promising to protect them and become a great knight. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the campus in warm gold and pink light, stretching shadows along the pathways. 

(Y/N) pushed open the doors of the gym, the clatter and cacophony of excited children immediately pouring out. Ortho was playing some high energy kind of children’s music from his built-in speakers, flashing colorful lights to the beat. Jamil and Cater were dancing, holding hands and spinning around and around until they got so dizzy they collapsed in a fit of giggles. 

Idia was sitting in front of the water tank, a board game laid out in front of him. Azul had his face pressed closed to the glass, pointing to indicate his moves for the game. Frustrated at a move Idia, who smirked triumphantly, made, one of Azul’s tentacles shot out of the tank to aggressively move his piece, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied smirk. 

On the other side of the tank, Riddle and Trey were throwing a ball between each other then into the tank where Floyd would whack it with his long tail sending it carrining back out of the water. The two other boys would squeal and run around, trying to catch the ball and smack it back up before it touched the ground. 

Jack was sitting with his back against the tank, a large seek-and-find picture book open on his lap. Jade was leaning half way out of the tank, occasionally dipping back down to look over Jack’s shoulder. Jack would lift the book up for Jade to get a better look at and they both would point out the various hidden objects. 

Vil was sitting on his knees, braiding Leona’s hair. Leona’s tail twitch. He snapped his teeth at Vil’s  hands. “Stop!” Vil said, commanding even as a child. Leona nipped again, half-heartedly. Vil huffed, fists on his hips. “Stop!” Leona rolled his eyes, yawned loudly, then rolled over, letting Vil continue unbothered. 

Rook, Kalim, Ruggie, Epel, Ace, and Deuce were all involved in an intense game of freeze tag, supervised by Vargus. Seeing the newcomers, Ace cheated and broke his freeze by running over to them, grabbing Sebek and Silver’s hands and pulling them into the game. Sebek yelled in protest but made no attempt to avoid joining. Silver waved goodbye to Lilia before tagging Epel back into the game. 

Sam and Trien were at a makeshift cooking station, a couple of portable food warmers under disposable aluminum foil trays, dividing up dinner of spaghetti, garlic bread, and a thrown together salad to try and pretend they were being healthy. This idea was quickly dismissed as Sam took off the cover of a tray of thick fudgy brownies. Kitten Grim would jump on the table and try to shove his face into the trays to get an early bite, only to be gently pushed off, where the process would repeat almost immediately. Crewel was rolling out mats and sleeping bags in another corner of the gym, rolling his eyes at Crowley who was giving some dramatic speech. 

“This…” Lilia started. “Isn’t exactly what I imagine Night Raven College to be like.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said. “Usually things are more on fire.” She couldn’t help but smile at Lila’s baffled expression. 

She started counting heads, rounding up each dorm as the children all gathered together to get their dinner. She frowned, her suspicions confirmed. 

“We’re missing one.”

“Hmm?” Crowly said. “I can’t think of anyone else.” 

“Yeah, that tracks. Sit tight, I think I know where he is.” 

A wind has started to blow across campus, twirling fallen leaves and casting a chill across (Y/N)’s exposed skin. Soon, the gloomy facade of Ramshackle dorm loomed on top of the hill. She opened the old iron gate, scanning around the yard. And there, just like she knew he would be, was a young boy with black horns. 

He was staring up at the eaves and roof of the old house. To anyone else, it would have looked like he was watching the appearing stars in the sky, tracking constellations. But (Y/N) knew better, matching his gaze to the various gargoyles arranged around the dorm. She ducked inside, grabbing a quilt from one of the couches in the sitting room. She draped the blanket over his shoulders, crouching down next to him. He didn’t look away, only moving to clutch the quilt tighter over his slight frame. 

“They’re pretty cool, right?” (Y/N) said. 

“I like that one,” Malleus says, pointing to a gargoyle on the corner of the roof, crouched like a frog with stone wings forming an umbrella over his head, mouth open in a ghoulish grin. 

“I call him Clyde. He doesn't really work anymore though.”

“Oh,” Malleus said, disappointed. 

“Robins build their nest in his mouth. A friend of mine helped me block off the drain pipe so the birds wouldn’t get flushed out without hurting the statue. He really likes gargoyles, but we both thought the sacrifice was worth it.” 

“Oh,” Malleus said again, more intrigued. “Are there babies?”

“Yup. They’re all bald with big eyes and their mama will swoop at your face if you get too close.” She replicated the swooping motion with her hand, ending with a boop on Malleus’s nose. 

Giggling, Malleus points to another beastial gargoyle. “What about that one?” 

“That’s Fredrick, but we call him Freddie. See how he’s facing that other one on the other roof? She’s Isabella and they’re hopelessly in love. A little while ago, they had a fight and Isabella turned around. Which was kind of a problem because then all the water she was draining away went right into the second floor bathroom. It was a really cold shower.” She exaggerated shivering, rubbing up and down her arms. 

She continued pointing out the various sculptures around Ramshackle dorm, retelling Malleus all the stories and facts the older version of him had told her what seemed ages ago. The child Malleus would occasionally cut in with facts about gargoyle construction or history, enthusiastic to be sharing his precious information with a fellow gargoyle appreciator. 

“You know,” (Y/N) said, the two of them sitting on the lawn, fireflies gently floating around them. “I met a gargoyle that could talk once.” 

He gasped, jolting up on his knees. “Really? Where, where? What did it say?” 

“Well, we were kind of in the middle of something important when we first met. But after we got all of that sorted he was really nice! He lived in a big bell tower that looked over the whole city and told us all about his friends who lived there. He had one friend who was really sad, and being sad made him angry. But the gargoyle helped us understand what his friend was feeling and helped us make everything better. And now we’re all friends! I think so, anyway. Not sure if Rollo would agree if I asked him…” She trailed off, speaking the last part mostly to herself. 

Malleus sat back down. “I don’t have many friends,” He said in a small voice. “The palace is really big and there’s not a lot of people in it. Do you think he’d be my friend too?” 

Imagining the scowl Rollo would probably give her for her answer, (Y/N) smiled and said, “Absolutely. I can be your friend, too, if you want.” 

“Really?” 

“It’s a promise. And I know some other people who would want to be your friend, too. They’re with Lilia in-”

“Lilia is here?” Malleus jumped up, eyes wide and smiling. “Where, where? Did he go traveling again? Did he bring me back a present? He brings me flags from all the places he’s been! They’re called, uh, they’re called…” He frowned, thinking hard. 

“Pennants?” 

“Yes, pennants!” 

“Well, I don’t know, but he’s at a party right now and wanted me to come get you.” She could practically see the stars in his eyes as he hopped up and down. She stood, holding out her hand. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.” 

He grabbed her hand, pulling her down the road. “Come on, come on! It’s rude to be late when you’re invited somewhere!” 

She laughed at his eagerness, despite not knowing exactly where he was going. Suddenly, she felt her skin prickle, like she had just been hit with a blast of cold air without the actual temperature change. “Hornton, I mean, Malleus, what-” Before she could say another word, they both were encased by a shimmering yellow-green light, vanishing and reappearing several feet down the road. (Y/N) felt a wave of vertigo at the sudden teleportation, not extremely dissimilar from when she went through the mirror portal for the first time. 

After a few more overly excited teleportations, and (Y/N) gently redirecting them back in the right direction a few times, the duo arrived back to the gym. Malleus was hopping up and down in anticipation, but froze when she pushed open the door. His wide eyes darted around to each group playing. 

“What’s wrong?” (Y/N) asked, kneeling down to him. 

“What if they don’t like me?” He said in a small voice. (Y/N) felt her heart break a little. “What if they’re scared of me?” Okay, now her heart was fully broken. 

She turned him so they were face to face, taking his hands in hers. “Malleus, it’s okay to feel nervous. A lot of new things can seem pretty scary at first. I know I was really scared when I first came here. But you know what? The people I met here are my best friends in the entire world. They can be prickly and stubborn and rough around the edges. But they’re also brave and generous and kind, even if they won’t admit it out loud. You’ll never find a better group of people to go through a storm with.” 

Malleus squeezed her hands back, setting his face with determination and nodded once. 

“There’s my brave prince. Come on, I know just who to introduce you to.” 

The bed area that Crewel had so deliberately laid out earlier had been torn up. Blankets and pillows were stacked high in two barriers facing each other across the gym. The tiny pillow fort soldiers raced behind their barricades in oversized t-shirts and sweatpants as improved pajamas.  

“Hey, there,” (Y/N) said, stopping Kalim running by with a touch on his shoulder. “Now what kind trouble did you all get into while I was gone?” 

“We’re having a pillow fight!” Kalim said, clutching a bright blue seat cushion to his chest. 

“It’s a war!” Epel yelled from his side of the barricade. 

“Floyd threw a ball at Azul and Idia’s game and Idia’s hair went all ‘whoosh!’ and that woke up Leona so Leona stole the ball and popped it, and then Riddle got mad and tried to do his collar anti-magic magic on him but he missed at hit Vil and that made Rook sad so he tried to pull the collar off but it wouldn’t work, so then Jack tried to pull it off cause Jack’s much more stronger but it wouldn’t work and he let go too fast and he hit Sebek, so now we’re all at war!” Kalim said all in one breath. 

“It’s not a war!” Epel yelled, waving two pillows in the air. “It’s a massa- a messacu- a massecure - you’re gonna lose!” 

Pillows and balled up blankets started flying like snowballs. As the puffy projectiles flew, one veered off course, smacking right into Malleus’s stary-eyed face. 

Everyone froze. The pillow seemed to be stuck to Malleus’s face for a few comical seconds before dropping, revealing his blank expression. A slow, eerie smile stretched across his chubby child face. 

“Ah, so this is how other people play, is it?” He said. He started to hover several inches off the ground, discarded pillows rising up around him, surrounded by a holographic green light. (Y/N) could have sworn the lights started to flicker. “Then, let’s continue with the game!” 

Levitating pillows flew through the air, zipping around like homing missiles. The children shrieked and laughed as they dove for cover or tried to swat away the projectiles with their own pillow weapons. Ace dove in front of Deuce to block and attack, Deuce dramatically falling to his knees to hold Ace’s overdramatically ‘dead’ body after. Jamil stood in front of Kalim, wielding two pillows like nunchucks to bat away incoming pillows. Kalim just jumped up and down, clapping his hands in joy, not noticing Jamil rolling his eyes. Ruggie was taking advantage of the bedlam to sneak past the teen chaperones, who weren’t doing so much chaperoning as taking bets as they watched. Ruggie pulled down the tray of brownies, snickering as he darted off to enjoy his spoils. Azul was at the top of the tank, head whipping back and forth to follow the attacks. Rook threw a pillow at him, smacking the octopus mer before it got waterlogged and sunk in the tank. Azul’s face started to crumble and he sniffed, holding back budding tears. Floyd and Jade zipped to the side of the tank, rearing up and spitting out two streams of water. Rook cried out at suddenly getting wet, running in circles. Idia had climbed up on Ortho’s shoulders, who was flying above the fluffy carnage. 

Leona jumped up, grabbing a pillow midair, sinking his teeth into it and shaking until stuffing started to pop out. He spit it out, holding his own pillow aloft as he pointed at Malleus with all the authority and bravado of a decorated general on the battlefield. 

“Charge!” He yelled. 

“I’ll protect you, my liege!” Sebek shouted, he and Silver jumping in front of Malleus, one pillow held out like a shield and another above their heads like a squishy square sword. 

(Y/N) picked up kitten Grim, scratching under his chin as he purred. She sat crossed legged next to the professors and Lilia. “So, I think it’s going pretty well so far.” 

Lilia was staring at Malleus, who cackled in delight at the retaliation. “He…” 

(Y/N) nudged him with her elbow. “He looks just like his mom, huh?” 

“His-?!” He relaxed, smiling fondly. “Yes, he does.” 

After the battle, which would be spoken about in legends for generations to come, finally petered out, (Y/N) started gathering the exhausted children to the bathroom to brush their teeth. Trey darted between sinks, double checking that everyone was flossing as well. Back out in the gym, they all climbed into their makeshift beds, snuggling down and yawing wide. 

“Wait!” Deuce called out as (Y/N) stood up. 

She knelt back down next to him. “Yeah? What’s up, bud?” 

Suddenly bashful, Deuce crumpled his blanket in his hands. “I, um, I need a good night kiss! My mom always gives me a good night kiss and makes sure I’m all tucked in so the monsters can’t get me!” 

“Hey!” Ace said, jumping up. “I want a kiss, too! Cause of the monsters, nothing else!” 

Soon, all the kids were back wide awake, clamoring for attention and kisses. 

“Down, down!” Crewel shouted. He sighed in frustration. “Honestly, you’re all like overexcited puppies.” 

(Y/N) laughed as the kids grumbled back to their beds.”Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no monsters get anywhere near you.” She knelt down, kissing the top of Deuce’s head. Deuce blushed, diving under his blankets, pulling them tight over his head. Ace huffed, crossing his arms in the pinnacle of frustration. (Y/N) kissed the top of his head too, and he turned red, hiding his face in his pillow. 

(Y/N) made her rounds, saying good night to everyone individually, giving them a kiss on the head or cheek. Some were excited, Cater, Ruggie, Kalim, and Floyd, while others were more bashful, Riddle, Azul, Idia, Epel, and Sebek. When she kissed Rook’s forehead, he jumped up, saying, “Plus! Plus!” She peppered his chubby cheeked face with more kisses as he giggled victoriously. Silver was already asleep, curled up on Lilia’s lap, but sighed happily as she pressed a kiss to his temple.

“What a strange human ritual,” Lilia said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I… I suppose I should participate as well, shouldn’t I?” 

(Y/N) laughed. “Of course, general,” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. He stiffened and turned his head to hide his blush. 

“Leona?” She asked, kneeling next to the lion prince’s bed. “Do you want a good night kiss, too?” 

“Hmph,” He said. “I don’t need it. I’m too big for that baby stuff.” 

“If he’s giving up his share,” Malleus said, tugging on (Y/N)’s arm. “I’ll gladly take it instead.” 

Leona threw himself across (Y/N)’s lap. “No! You can’t give the lizard more than you give me! (Y/N)’s mine!” He tried to roar, which sounded more like an angry wet cat than the king of the jungle. 

They each grabbed one of her arms, tugging viciously. “Okay, okay! Don’t worry! You both can get as many good night kisses as you want.” 

“Me first!” Malleus said. 

“No, me first!” Leona countered. 

“Easy, boys, no need to fight.” She took their hands, putting them together palms facing her, then kissed them both. Leona’s ears flicked up and back, tail whipping around, forcing himself to look indifferent despite how much he obviously cared. Malleus just beamed. She kissed each of their foreheads and tucked them back into bed. 

Finally, with everyone satisfied with their kisses and tucked in, (Y/N) turned off the lights in the gym, leaving one on in the far corner to act as a night light. She scooped up Grim, cradling him in her arms, and slipped into her own bed.”Good night, everyone.” 

There was a sleepy chorus of “Good night,” before silence filled the air, interrupted only by soft snores. Cuddling Grim close, (Y/N) closed her eyes and let all the exhaustion of the day drag her down into sleep. 

(Y/N) was woken abruptly the next morning by a pillow being thrown in her face. She let out an “Ouf” as Grim, now full sized again, jumped out from her hold and off her stomach to escape getting hit. She sat up quickly, just in time to catch another pillow being thrown. 

“I said get off me!” Jamil said, shoving a confused and bleary eyed Ruggie off from on top of him. 

“Why am I soaked?” Azul said, wringing out his shirt as a pool of water formed around his, Jade, and Floyd’s feet, the water tank overturned next to them. 

Around the gym, everyone had reverted back to their normal ages, untangling themselves from their flat beds and trying to recollect the events that led them there. The professors had also reverted to their previous size, spilling out of their own beds they had quickly outgrown. 

“I guess none of you remember what happened yesterday?” (Y/N) said. 

Jack rubbed his temples. “Something about a virus? I think? And…” He trailed off, looking over at Azul and lowering his voice. “Why do I want to call Azul cute?” 

“Ack!” Cater yelled in surprise. “Why is my phone all sticky?!” 

“Forget your phone!” Grim said. “Why are there ink stains on my beautiful fur?!” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” (Y/N) said, standing with a mischievous smile. She pulled out her phone, opening up the photos app. “I took a very detailed record of everything.”

[buckyys-babydoll]

One call away

Spoiler for Thunderbolts.

Boyfriend!Bucky who’s there, whenever you need him. He’s just one call away.

“You came…?”

“You called, babydoll,” Bucky says, kissing your forehead softly.

The two of you are still standing in the doorway of your shared house. He’s capturing your face with his calloused hands, his lips still lingering against your forehead. Bucky’s doesn’t allow you, not himself to pull back before you take a few more deep breathes.

“You came,” you repeat, unbelieving that your boyfriend’s really standing in front of you right now. “But the mission.”

“Nothin’ more important than you,” Bucky says, his breath warm against your skin as he pulls back slightly to look into your eyes.

His ocean blue orbs are soft, loving and a slight hint of concern is shown. Bucky sighs, sliding his hands down your cheeks and neck until he reaches your shoulders to turn you around. He pulls you with your back against his firm chest, fingers interlacing with yours to wrap around your front.

“But… since we were on a mission. I had to bring the others, so say hi to the—“

“Thunderbolts!” Alexei shouts and walks into your sight.

John who follows him shakes his head but smiles slightly at you. “We do not call us that. Bucky already said it.”

You smile softly, turning your head toward Bucky to kiss his cheek. You can only imagine how the conversation between them had to be. Bucky’s expression with narrowed eyes and that cute ‘hands-on-his-hips’ pose.

“Hiiii!” Yelena says with a wide smile and a grin, a boy standing next to her who smiles shyly and lifts his hand to wave at you. “I’m Yelena. And this—“ she points at the boy next to him. “Is Bob.”

“Hi,” he mumbles, looking away almost immediately as you smile. He’s cute. Not as cute as Bucky, but his just so soft – the complete opposite than most of the others of the group.

“Oh… I’m Ghost…” a voice comes from behind you and you flinch.

Bucky laughs softly, turning the two of you to watch all of them walk into your house. Only then you notice another woman, she wasn’t there before.

“Sorry… sometimes I just–“ she laughs softly. “Like to hide from these—“ she points at everyone. “Except Bob. So, somehow too used to being hidden.”

You chuckle and nod, leaning against Bucky while he walks you both into the living room. The others follow, letting themselves plop down on the couch as you move to the kitchen.

Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, keeping a close eye on the others, though.

“They are a bit crazy,” Bucky mumbles, leaning against the counter after placing some cups on the counter. “But they aren’t that bad, actually.”

You turn toward your boyfriend, pecking his lips. “I’m glad that you found friends like these.”

“Nothing is better than being with you, though,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling you closer toward him. “Nothing will ever be better than having my girl in my arms. By the way, Bob only drinks hot chocolate, no coffee for that boy.”

Divider made by me. Thunderbolts is just so amazing, and somehow the “Avengers-Tower” vibes with them… it’s perfect.

@armystay89

[sxcretricciardo]

dear god - L.N4

-

The flash of cameras reflects off the sleek black velvet of your dress as you step onto the red carpet. Your heels click against the stone as you pause, pose, and let the photographers get their shots. You offer a practiced smile, shoulders relaxed even though your heart is racing.

This isn’t your usual environment.

Award shows? You’ve done those. Stadiums packed with fans screaming your lyrics? Totally normal. But this — an F1 movie premiere — is uncharted territory. Your name is on the soundtrack, not the marquee. The final scene fades out under the notes of your most intimate song, and tonight marks its cinematic debut.

You expect questions about your music.

What you don’t expect is the sudden chorus of voices calling:

“Y/N, over here! What do you think about Lando Norris?”

“Are the rumors true?”

“Did you come with Lando?”

“Was the song about him?”

You blink. A confused smile flits across your lips.

Lando Norris?

You’ve never even met him. Never even spoken to him.

Sure, you’d noticed when he followed you on Instagram a few weeks ago. And maybe you’d followed back. And yeah, okay, you may have liked a few of his photos. The one in Japan with the rain. The one where he’s half-laughing mid-interview. Sue you — the guy’s cute.

But that was it.

Until TikTok decided you were soulmates.

Apparently, someone had edited clips of him racing to your lyrics — “I don’t want perfect, I just want real” — and suddenly there were shipping accounts, fancams, and theories that you were secretly dating. Fans even pointed out that he used your song in a recent Instagram Story.

You assumed he’d found it on a playlist. But now…

Now you’re walking the same carpet. And it feels… intentional.

Inside, the lobby glows with warm gold light. Guests sip champagne and mingle under tall banners of the film’s title. You step to the side for a breather, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear when a voice — low and smooth — cuts through the crowd behind you.

“So… are we telling them we’ve never met, or should we keep the fantasy going?”

You turn around.

Lando.

Standing less than a foot away, dressed in a navy suit that fits him a little too well. Shirt slightly unbuttoned, no tie. Curls a bit messy — like he ran his hands through them moments ago. He’s grinning, arms folded, watching you like you’re the punchline to his favorite joke.

Your lips twitch into a smirk. “Depends. Are you going to keep using my song in your Instagram Stories?”

He looks mock-offended. “It was a good song.”

“It is,” you say, tilting your head. “But now half the internet thinks you inspired it.”

He steps a little closer, eyes never leaving yours. “Did I?”

You laugh — soft, surprised. “You’re bold.”

He shrugs with an innocent smile. “Just honest.”

There’s a flicker of silence between you. A warm pause.

You glance at the crowd around you, then back at him. “So… you really didn’t know me before the edits?”

“I mean, I knew of you,” he admits. “Heard your stuff, thought you were insanely talented. The follow was… let’s call it wishful thinking.”

“And now?”

“Now,” he says, flashing that cheeky smile, “I’m standing here with you. So I’d say it worked.”

Before you can answer, one of the premiere organizers calls out that the movie is starting soon. People begin moving toward the theater.

You glance toward the entrance, then back at him. “Well… looks like we’re sitting through a two-hour movie together.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sitting with anyone?”

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Then maybe we can give them something else to talk about.”

⸻

You end up beside him — popcorn in his lap, his arm brushing yours just enough to feel like a choice.

He whispers snarky commentary once or twice during the first half of the film, making you giggle quietly. And then… the final scene comes. The screen fades to black. And your voice fills the theater.

You try to focus on the song. Really.

But you feel him turn to look at you in the dark.

When the lights come up and the audience applauds, he leans in again.

“That song? That was yours?”

You nod. “Yeah. I wrote it after a really complicated almost-relationship.”

“Sounds familiar,” he says with a little smirk. “Maybe the next one will be less complicated.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you offering?”

He grins, boyish and unfiltered. “Only if you want me to.”

You pause… then smile.

“Ask me again after the afterparty.

-

[misctf]

Trouble at the Bachelor Party

“Dude! This is sick!”

“Bro, you’re telling me.” Liam replied, as him and his two friends explored the penthouse.

It was fully decked out. A massive flatscreen in the living room, a fully stocked bar, a beautiful view of the beach. It was everything Liam could’ve wanted. Initially, when his soon to be father-in-law offered his penthouse for the bachelor party, Liam was shocked. Mr. Reynolds often used phrases like “irresponsible”, “waste of time”, and “not good enough for my daughter” when talking about Liam. And he wasn’t afraid to let Liam know too.

“Dude! There’s a flatscreen in each bedroom too!” Chris shouted from down the hall, “Fuck, you were right. This guy’s loaded!”

It was true. Liam was marrying the heiress of a massive tech company. And Mr. Reynonds was certainly loaded. But despite his reassurances that he loved Susie, not their money, the older man viewed him suspiciously. Liam came from a pretty humble background and the world of upper class living wasn’t something he was used to. But perhaps letting them use his penthouse was Mr. Reynolds’s way of showing acceptance.

“Okay boys.” Liam said, “We have a few days here. Let’s make ‘em count.” He tossed Jeremy and Chris each a beer. After a quick toast to what was going to be the most incredible bachelor party on Earth, they downed their beers.

________________

“Lookin’ good.” Liam chuckled as he inspected himself in the mirror, “Can’t believe you’re actually getting hitched.” He flexed his bicep, “Sorry ladies, I’m off the market. Oof, I’ll have to practice that line a bit.” He grinned.

Leaving the bathroom, he found Jeremy sipping a beer on the couch. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks. His dark brown hair was well styled, and his face clean shaven. He had that boy-next- door look that caused the ladies to swoon.

“Yo Jeremy, what’s up?”

“Not much, just texting Sarah.” He replied, “I forgot to let her know I got here safe and she’s pissed.”

“Oh shit dude.” Liam patted his friend on the back, “I feel for you.” Sarah could be scary when she was angry, but otherwise she was a solid 10. Liam looked forward to the day Jeremy proposed.

“All good.” Jeremy sighed, “Where the fuck is Chris?” Liam shrugged, “He kept me up all fucking night. Fucker must’ve been horny. I’ve never heard anyone moan so loud in my life.”

“Not even Sarah?” Jeremy didn’t seem amused.

“Seriously, we need to get him a girlfriend or something.”

Liam chuckled, “I guess I slept through it.”

“Lucky you.” The door to Chris's room suddenly opened and both men turned.

“Hey boys, sorry to keep you waiting!” The sing songy voice threw them both off, and Liam’s jaw dropped when he saw Chris. His muscles were proudly on display as always. But it was the tight speedo showing off his impressive bulge that shocked him, “Oh, is something wrong?” His voice carried a breathy sultriness, which was unusual for their bro.  

“Dude, I’m not one to judge, but don’t you think that’s a bit risqué?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow, “What would Jesus say?” It was well known Chris was religious. In fact, Liam and Chris had met at their college’s church.

Chris shrugged and ran a hand through his curly light brown hair, “Oh this? You like?” He grinned and did a quick pose, “Come on boys, we’re burning daylight!” He said, sauntering towards the door.

________________

The walk to the beach was uncomfortable. Chris walked ahead of his two buddies at an unusually fast pace, his firm ass jiggling with each step. Liam didn’t even know where to begin. What the fuck had gotten into Chris? Usually they’d have to drag him to parties and give him pep talks to boost his confidence. But now? He was certainly turning heads.

“Wait, guys! Did you see that?” Chris asked, turning to his friends and waving excitedly, “That guy over there was totally checking me out!”

“Um, so what?” Jeremy asked, “Why do you care?”

“Do you think I should go after him? He was totally cute. And that ass- just wow.” Liam and Jeremy’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Are you gay?” Liam asked bluntly.

Chris placed a hand to his chin and shrugged, “Like totally! Since like forever probably.”

“Makes sense.” Jeremy said, “Repressed religious guys. It’s a thing.” But Liam was still having a somewhat hard time believing it. Was all their prior bro talk really a lie?

“Oh! He’s getting away!” Chris whined, “I’ll catch up with you later!” He blew them each a kiss and briskly walked over to the man from earlier, leaving Liam shook.

________________

Hours went by without hearing from Chris, and Liam’s mood tanked. Jeremy tried to cheer him up back at the penthouse. Beers and the big game on a flatscreen. Should’ve been perfect. But it wasn’t. Liam knew that Chris being gay shouldn’t matter. Good for him, right?

“Oh my god, that was incredible.” Chris said, gasping as he entered the penthouse, “How are my two besties doing?”

“Would’ve liked you around.” Liam replied, “It’s my bachelor party after all.”

Chris dramatically placed a hand to his sweaty chest, “Sue me for having fun!” His voice cracked and he headed towards his room, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”

Liam didn’t reply. Sure, Chris is gay. Fine. But acting like a stereotypically fruity drama queen? That didn’t make sense to him. He turned to Jeremy.

“Look, its late and I’m tired. The game sucks anyway.” He said, “I’m off to bed.”

“Same bro. Gotta be up early for our tee time anyway.”

They went to their respective bedrooms. Once there, Jeremy sighed. He hated seeing his friend like this, but what could he do? Talk to Chris maybe? He'd try to salvage this party. But when he finally got comfortable in bed, the TV suddenly turned on. He was greeted by static.

“Weird.” He mumbled. He tried to turn it off with the remote, but failed. Sighing, he got out of bed to turn it off. But as he got closer, he could hear a voice. It was soft, but forceful.

“You are a gay slut. You like to fuck men.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck?” He whispered. But the voice only got louder.

“You are a gay slut. Your dick only gets hard for men.” Jeremy felt woozy as the voice reverberated in his head.

“No, I’m straight... I like...” He moaned loudly as the voice drowned out his thoughts. At this point, the screen was flashing various scenes of gay porn and Jeremy’s dick started to swell, “No... fuck...” He breathed out, “I-I... ughhh.” He tried to imagine tits and his nights with Sarah. But these thoughts were instead swapped out with images of juicy, jiggling bubble butts and twerking men.   

“You are a dominant top. You only fuck men.”

“I-I’m a gay slut?” Jeremy questioned, “I only like to fuck men?” That didn't sound right. Right? He never...

"You are a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride your dick."

His eyes became half lidded and vacant as the words carved his new reality.

“I’m a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride this cock." He said confidently, "I am a gay slut.”

Soon, the room filled with his pleasure-filled moans, his new reality taking hold over him.

________________

When Liam entered the living room the next morning, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jeremy was aggressively caressing Chris’s face, as the two made out on the couch with their erect dicks on full display.

“What the fuck?” Liam gasped as the two men turned towards him.

“Oh Liam! Good morning!” Chris sang, ending his kiss with Jeremy.

“Fuck, just who we were waiting for.” Jeremy commented in a lower, more gravelly voice, “We have something for you.”

“No, this is fucked. What the fuck?” Liam fumed, “What about Sarah? What were you thinking?”

Jeremy shrugged, “I only like fucking men.”

Liam shook his head, “No way, fuck that.” He replied, taking a step back.

“Oh goodness, you’re upset!” Chris whined, “No Liam baby, its okay. Here, watch this.”

Before Liam could say anything, Chris turned on the TV. Static filled his field of vision. But then he heard it. Faint at first, but present nonetheless.

“You are a gay slut.” It said, and Liam grabbed his head.

“What the fuck?” He cursed, stumbling slightly.

The voice was echoing from within his head. Desperately, he moved towards the TV, wanting to shut it off. But Jeremy grabbed his arm firmly and forced him to sit between them. Liam tried to fight back, to get away from his two friends, but he felt so disoriented. The voice continued.

“You are a gay slut. You like taking cock.” It said.

Liam yelped as a needle entered his skin. He looked down to see Chris dump the contents of a syringe into his arm.

“Wh-what was that?” Liam slurred.

“Don’t worry, cutie. Just listen to the voice.” He giggled.

Liam groaned as the voice got louder and louder, “You are a gay slut. A slutty bottom. You love taking cock.”

Liam looked down and watched as his body hair started to disappear. Gone was his light dusting of chest and belly hairs, leaving him smooth. At the same time, the scruff framing his face vanished. He looked over to Jeremy, who smirked at this new development.

“Oh look at that! It’s totally working!” Chris giggled.

“No shit. Reynolds must’ve given us the good stuff.” Jeremy remarked, slowly massaging his cock.

“The good stuff?” Liam slurred, his voice cracking, “Like, what are you talking about?”

“Good because I was getting bored.” Chris sighed, “I mean, Jeremy baby, you’re an expert kisser, but like, I need a hole.” Jeremy nodded in agreement.

“A hole?” Liam whispered.

He let out a pained moan as his body temperature suddenly spiked. Sweat poured from him as his musculature dwindled away. His hard earned muscles atrophied before his terrified eyes. His bulging biceps and triceps became thin and lean, while his juicy pecs rapidly deflated. In a matter of minutes, years of workouts and optimal dieting were undone, leaving Liam slim and fragile.

“Wow, he’s so light now.” Jeremy chuckled as he man-handled his friend onto his lap. Liam yelped at the sensation of Jeremy’s erect cock grinding against his hole.

“Oh and he’s gotten shorter too! What a cutie.” Chris cooed.

“Ah, ass is still bony though.” Jeremy commented, giving it a firm squeeze.

But Liam barely registered any of this. Instead, his thoughts were filled with the words echoing from the TV. His eyes became half-lidded at this point and his resistance was fading.

“You’re just a bottom, a hole to be used by other men. You are a gay slut.” The words continued, “You like being used by other men. Your only pleasure is from getting fucked.”

“I-I’m straight... I like... I like tits.” He knew his voice sounds more feminine somehow and he cringed, “I’m a straight man.” Jeremy and Chris smirked, “I-I...” images of men getting fucked in all kinds of positions flashed on the TV, “Ohhhh I... I... I’m a...” Liam’s handsome face lost its masculine edge and his hair became lighter in color. At the same time, his cock started to shrink. Inch after inch lost as it retracted back, “Noooooo.... not my cock...” He moaned, tears now stinging at his eyes. His manhood, his masculinity. It was being stolen from him. And he was unable to stop it.

“Your only pleasure comes from your ass.”

Liam moaned again and this time his ass started to fill with jiggly fat. He could feel the extra padding build upon itself, his slim cheeks turning into mounds of soft flesh. And as Jeremy squeezed his ass again, pleasure filled his slim frame.

“Much better.” Jeremy remarked, his fingers massaging Liam’s hole, “Fuck, this is gonna feel so good.”

“Mhmm.” Chris replied, grabbing his own fistful of Liam’s juicy ass.

“Ohhhhhhhh yesssssss.” Liam slurred.

“So, what are you?” Jeremy asked.

“I-I’m...” Part of him didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it. But as his lips plumped up into gorgeous cock suckers, and Jeremy’s teasing fingers penetrated him deeper, Liam was drowning in too much pleasure to care, “I...I...” The voice was so loud. It egged him on, beckoned him to admit his new truth. He wanted- no needed- to be like the men on the screen. To be fucked and used by other men. Who was he kidding? He knew what he was, “I’m like a total gay slut! I love cock.” He turned his head to look at Jeremy, then Chris, “Please daddies, use me! I need your cocks!” He begged.

And his new lovers were happy to oblige.

________________

In the afterglow of sex, the three men sat panting heavily on the couch. Liam was curled up between his two lovers, still rubbing their dicks. Despite draining them each multiple times over, he needed more. But his horny thoughts were interrupted by a video call. He grabbed his phone and smiled.

“Hey Mr. Reynolds!” Liam slurred, “Like, we love your penthouse.”

Mr. Reynolds grinned, “I can tell.” His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, “Look at you Liam. My god. You turned out better than expected. The boys at the lab earned their salaries with this one.” Liam nodded along, not really understanding the implication, “How do you feel?”

“Like a total gay slut.” He grinned, “And I love it, like so much, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Well I’m glad to hear.” he chuckled, “And are your friends treating you well?” Liam adjusted the phone so the older man could see his two lovers, who were both fast asleep, “Well looks like you have two very satisfied customers.”

Liam grinned, “Like totally.” A sense of satisfaction filling him, “Oh! Like, can you let Susie know the wedding is off? I’m like, so sorry.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure. She’ll understand.” Mr. Reynolds replied- mission accomplished, “Now, get back to your party. Enjoy the penthouse for as long as you want.”

Liam’s eyes lit up, “OMG thank you!” The call ended, “Did you hear that?” Liam asked, his two lovers stirring awake.

And so their party continued- and it would for days. Their lives forever changed, and them none the wiser to it. But if their pleasure filled moans were anything to judge by, they certainly weren’t complaining.

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

I was feeling inspired and wrote the first little bit of this Yoga Steve Steddie and Buckingham au I was playing with yesterday. Not sure if I'll continue with it, but I had some dialogue floating around in my head and wanted to let it out.

I'm not really experienced in writing dialogue so my apologies if it came out weird.

Part Two

------

Steve thinks Robin is being ridiculous, but at the same time, he knows firsthand how far someone will go for a crush. Robin calls him a “loverboy” which, is not completely off the mark but feels unnecessary to point out right after Steve gets ghosted…again.

But that’s beside the point. The point being that Robin has been going off about how she cornered herself into going to an intermediate yoga class to try and woo the cute girl who sits in front of her in her mandatory Writing 212 class. Apparently, Robin got a full two minutes of conversation in with said girl, a real feat since Robin usually spends the whole class psyching herself up to talk to her and then chickens out and dashes out the door as soon as class lets out. During said conversation, Robin found out Chrissy is a yoga instructor at the rec off campus, which resulted in Robin blurting out that she’s been meaning to take up yoga again (she’s never been) and that she’ll stop by a class sometime.

Which leads to now.

“-and I’ve never done yoga! I’ve never even thought about yoga except for that one time my hippie aunt Jen came to stay with us for a week and took up the entire living room every morning to do her weird stretches-” breath “and you know how clumsy I am! I’m going completely fall on my face and the angel that is Chrissy Cunningham is going to know that I’m a failed jock with no coordination and she’ll never fall in love with me!” she finally stops, taking a big heaving breath.

Steve, used to these occasional Robin Buckley rants had been leaning against the breakfast bar letting her go on for the last three and a half minutes. Sometimes it’s just better to let her get it out first.

“You done?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m done,” she replies, flopping on the sofa behind her like all the wind has gone out of her sails. Steve hates to see her upset, but at the end of the day, it’s an easy fix.

“Sweet. So I’ll just go with you alright? And when you completely biff it and fall on your face I’ll just,” he steps away from the bar and mimes falling onto the couch next to her, ignoring her over-exaggerated oof, “fall even harder, or whatever. Make a whole scene of it.” Robin glares a little at the when, but ultimately can’t be upset when they both know it’s inevitable.

“Seriously?” she asks, eyes big and blue in a way that always makes Steve want to punch a wall. He doesn’t. Only did it once when they were both supremely drunk and feeling emotional, but he does wrap his arms around her narrow shoulders.

“Eh, why not? Maybe I’ll even find a cool yoga babe of my own to woo,” he says waggling his brows in a way that makes her scrunch up her nose.

“As if Harrington. I bet you’ll fall even more than me. You’re big jock muscles aren’t designed for flexibility,” she says with a faux pretentious accent.

“We’ll see about that, Buckley.”

------

Steve, much to Robin’s chagrin, does not fall on his face. Well, he does once, but it’s only because he’s following through on his promise to crash out for her when she falls on her face. Which she does almost as soon as Chrissy gives the instruction to lift their left leg while in downward dog. Unfortunately, it only worked the first time. The second time Robin crashed down, Steve wasn’t in a safe position to fall with her. By the time he was, the moment had passed. Luckily it’s nearing the end of the class when it happens and Chrissy mercifully releases them to relax into a corpse pose which, if you asked Robin, was perfectly fitting given the situation.

Steve though.

Steve really enjoyed the class.

Robin was right when he said his usual exercise regime wasn’t necessarily focused on flexibility and balance, but he finds yoga challenging in a gentler way than basketball or swimming. By the end of the day, he’s signing up for the full 12-week course and talking to Chrissy about what kind of equipment he should invest in.

“The most important thing is the grip. Mine was really expensive but I use it for work so I wouldn’t get the same one unless you’re planning to use it every day. If you’re comfortable giving me your number, I can send you some links to more reasonably priced ones.” Wow, Steve gets why Robin likes her so much. She’s like a walking ray of sunshine. Part of him wonders if she’s hitting on him, but she seems like she genuinely wants to help, not take him on a date.

“Sure, yeah, that would be great. Let me just…” he pulls out his phone and unlocks it, handing it over to the girl in front of him. She puts in her name and number, which, is always good. Steve is so bad with names he wouldn’t want to spell it wrong and give Robin another reason to make fun of him. She hands it back and Steve is getting ready to say his goodbyes and go hunt down Robin, who fled as soon as the class went out, but Chrissy starts talking before he can.

“You came with Robin, right? Robin Buckley?” She blurts out, clearly nervous. “We’re in class together but I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you!” It’s not that Steve thinks she’s lying, but there’s an undercut of something that makes him think Robin might not be alone in her pining.

“Yeah, we came in together.” He lets it hang, watching as her shoulders slump a little. “But we’re not dating or anything. I’m, uh, not really her type.” Her eyes go a little wide at his emphasis on type, perking up at the knowledge that Robin isn’t dating.

Oh yeah, he thinks, she’s got it just as bad.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ moth to a flame | toru oikawa

warnings: timeskip! argentina oikawa, fem! reader, ushijimas ex! reader, alcohol consumption, recording, fingering, making out, HEAVY flirtiny/dirty talk, hickeys, rough sex, multiple orgasms, ushijima hate, exhibitionism, degradation, oikawa is a bitch ass motherfucker

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.1k

a/n: based off of this post right here, i hope i did it justice. also sorry to all the ushijima girlies out there

❥ song: moth to a flame - the weekend

Oikawa really fucking hated Ushjima. He hated how good he was. He hated how he could easily get his ass handed to him on a silver fucking platter. Not that he would ever admit that, of course. The Great King had too much pride ever actually to acknowledge that someone was better than him at volleyball. He knew that the ace was secretly talking behind his back, telling everybody that it was such a shame that Oikawa never went to Shirtatorizawa. Fucking dick, what the hell did he know? He had a dumb face. Ushijima was only useful for hitting balls into the opposing team's court. It’s no wonder he got drafted onto the Alders, no universities would accept him. Now, did Oikawa actually have any proof that Ushijima was dumb? Well, not exactly. But he didn’t need proof, Oikawa knew that already. He fucking hated Wakatoshi Ushijima and anyone that associated with him, including the ace’s pretty little girlfriend.

You were too pretty to be Ushijima’s girlfriend, way too pretty. There was no way someone like you would ever willingly be seen with him, right? He was probably blackmailing you into going out with him and posing for Volleyball Monthly; that’s how Oikawa found out about your little relationship. “Shiratorizawa’s Power Couple” the magazine title proudly boasted, using a photo of you standing a little too close to Ushijima for Oikawa’s liking. The only reason you were even featured was because you were the captain of Shiratorizawa’s cheer squad. Probably the only fucking good thing to come out of that school was you. You were wasted on Ushijima, no matter how well he could treat you. Oikawa was furious; Ushijima had a cute girlfriend, but he didn’t. It didn’t make any sense, right? Oikawa could have any girl he wanted, yet he chose you, someone he couldn’t have. What a mind-fuck that was. 

Ushijima kept dating you after high school, much to Oikawa’s annoyance. Rumors were circulating that you would marry and give birth to the next great generation of volleyball, but Oikawa stopped caring at that point. He started playing for Argentina and decided (begrudgingly) that it was for the best that he stopped obsessing over that one Shiratorizawa cheerleader. That perfect, pretty, popular, and so fucking sexy cheerleader. Oikawa was content with his new life in Argentina, especially knowing he would never have to see you or Ushijima again. Boy, was he wrong. 

The beach was sunny that day, and it was full of people doing whatever they wanted: making out, poorly playing volleyball, making sandcastles, whatever they wanted. Oikawa considered joining in on an amateur volleyball match, but he shrugged it off. They would probably recognize him, and while he enjoyed his fame, he preferred his female fans to his male ones. He instead opted to do what he did best: lie there and look pretty. His muscles rippled in the bronzing sunlight as he observed how the waves of the ocean danced, how the children laughed, and how the seagulls terrorized innocent picnic-havers. It was the best thing ever…until he got bored and wanted a drink. Something light, something with lime and coconut. He didn’t care what as long as it had those two things. 

The bar was unusually empty, which was great. His fame got him a lot of special treatment, but cutting the line at the beach bar was certainly different from them. He gave the bartender his order and gave him the pesos, turning his back to the employee as his drink got mixed. Oikawa zoned out for the better part of it, not thinking of much until he was snapped out of his thoughts by a feminine voice. 

“Virgin margarita, please,” you spoke so sweetly like honey was falling from your lips. Oikawa snapped his head in your direction, and his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. You, Wakatoshi Ushijima’s girlfriend, were standing a few feet away from him, in the cutest little black bikini he had ever seen. He choked on his saliva, pretending to brush it off as a cough. Fuck, did you notice him? There was no way you didn’t. Whatever, there’s no turning back now. Oikawa plastered his signature smirk onto his handsome features, staring at you through his designer sunglasses.

“Well, if it isn’t Ushijima’s illustrious girlfriend. What brings you to Argentina? Let me guess, he sent you to sign me to the Alders?” his voice was smug, annoyingly smug. 

You groaned and took off your sunglasses, nestling them atop your head. “Okay, you’re so wrong on so many levels,” you placed your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “First of all, I’m not his girlfriend anymore. I broke up with Wakatoshi after he got drafted to the Alders, which probably answers your second question.” the ghost of a smirk dusted your lips. 

“Oh,” Oikawa was momentarily silenced. “But you’re still on a first-name basis?”

“And is that any of your business?”

“Wow, since when was Shiratorizawa’s princess so fucking bitchy? I thought you were Snow White or something,” he scoffed, stepping towards you with his arms crossed. 

“And you’re just as pretentious as people say you are,” you snickered. “For your information, Oikawa, I can act however I want. I broke up with his sorry ass, and I’m not telling you why. God, I can’t believe we’re at the same beach.”

Shit, he liked how you were talking to him. No one had put him down like that long ago, not since Iwaizumi. It was nice…did he like it when girls were mean to him instead of worshipping the ground he walked on?

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me, princess. It’s not my fault you just happen to go to the beach near where I live,” Oikawa scoffed. “What are you even doing in Argentina anyway? What, did university not work out for you back in Miyagi.”

You rolled your eyes. “For your information, asshole, I got into every university I applied to. I just…” you signed, rubbing your temple. “I just needed some time away from that place. Everything reminds me of Wakatoshi. It was just better for me to get away for a while.”

The bartender coughed awkwardly, holding your drinks. You both took them as the employee turned back around, visibly uncomfortable. Oikawa took a sip of the drink, nodding in approval. “So, I take it finding me on this beach wasn’t the most relaxing thing?”

“I thought you were going to be nice to me, but I guess I was wrong since you thought I was still with Wakatoshi,” you sipped your drink, the cool liquid drooling down your chin and onto your breasts. “But…I guess I can forgive you. After all, neither of us went to nationals since Karasuno got number nine and ten, right?” 

Oikawa chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. Fucking Tobio.”

“You know he’s on the Alders as well, right?”

“What? Oh, fucking of course he is,” Oikawa scoffed, placing his drink down at the bar. He looked at your form again, drinking in each curve that your bikini did such a poor job of hiding. Did you wear that thing on purpose to find someone here to fuck? Maybe Ushijima never fucked you right. Maybe he never made you cum. Maybe that’s why you dumped his sorry ass because he was a terrible lover. Oh, wouldn’t that just be a fucking treat?

“So,” Oikawa stared at the ground. “Do you wanna head back to my apartment? It’s within walking distance. Plus, I have drinks that aren’t stupidly overpriced,” he shot the bartender a dirty look. “No offense.”

You thought for a moment, your perfectly manicured finger tapping on your bottom lip. “Sure, that could be fun. Besides,” you leaned forward, exposing your cleavage to the setter. “If Wakatoshi heard about that, he would be so fucking pissed. So why not, hm?”

Holy shit. You were perfect. “Wow,” Oikawa was speechless, which was a rare fucking treat. “And here I thought you were all sweet and innocent,” he casually snaked his arm around your waist, shamelessly feeling your supple skin. “I guess I was wrong.”

“You’re lucky we hate the same person, or else I would have broken your arm off by now,” you snicker, allowing his hand to feel up and down your waist. “Now, where’s your apartment? Let me guess,” you pointed to an expensive-looking building. “Penthouse suite on the top floor right over there?”

“How the hell did you know that?” he raised an eyebrow in suspicion. 

You scoffed, walking in tune with Oikawa. “I mean, it’s painfully obvious. That’s the only apartment complex within comfortable walking distance, and knowing your ego, you probably chose the apartment on the top floor because you think you’re entitled to it, somehow,” you smirked, staring into his milky brown eyes. “Well? How right am I?’

Oikawa frowned, pouting like a baby. “...pretty right…” he mumbled.

“What? I didn’t catch that?” you pretended to cup your ear.

“I said you’re right. Jeez, since when were you this cocky?” he grumbled, pulling you closer to his muscular form. He was ripped, more ripped than he was in the sports magazines from high school. His chest was chiseled, and his shoulders were broad as if he had been sculpted by the gods themselves. You would never admit this to him (not sober, at least), but Oikawa was hot as fuck, even though he was a major brat. 

“I’ve always been this cocky, just not in public,” you looked up at the door of the penthouse apartment complex, the doorknobs brandishing an expensive golden sheen. “Wow, these sure are different than the Miyagi apartments,” you mumbled, rubbing on your arm. Oddly enough, you felt out of place, like you didn’t fit the right tax bracket to be allowed here.

“Well, cutie, I am a professional athlete. I make more than the entire staff does combined,” he bragged, waving to the desk attendant, who had the most annoyed look on her face. Maybe she knew what a dick Oikawa was as well. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, tapping your sandalled shoe against the cool tiling of the lobby. Did he just call you a cutie? You shouldn’t take it personally. He probably did that with every other girl he found attractive. Wait, does that mean he found you attractive? Oh god, did you actually like being flirted with by Toru Oikawa? You slapped your hands over your cheeks, attempting to hide the ever-blooming red blush.

“Are you okay? You look red,” he thought for a second, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Is Shiratorizawa’s Princess blushing?” he leaned forward, smirking as the elevator doors closed. His large and calloused hands pressed against either side of your head, trapping you between the wall and his shirtless frame.

“Shut up!” you slapped him across his cheek, leaving a stinging imprint on his flawless skin. He gasped, massaging his cheek. “You’re a pervert, you know that?”

“I haven’t even said anything perverted yet! No one hits me, no one!” he wined, uncaging you from the elevator wall. “You’re feisty,” he mumbled under his breath, something you couldn’t hear.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the elevator door dinged. You both left the elevator and walked to his apartment in silence, your hands massaging your arms as the cold air of the upper floor set in. Rich people have excellent air conditioning. 

“This is it,” Oikawa jiggled his key into the lock, pulling open the mahogany door. “Ladies first,” he winked, making you scoff as you entered the vast apartment. 

“Holy-” your words died on your lips as you took in Oikawa’s living space. How perfect and elegant it was. It was massive, boasting a designer kitchen with beautiful granite countertops and three ovens. Who the hell needs three ovens? “This place is huge! Damn, I forgot how much they pay professional athletes!” 

Oikawa chuckled at your childlike marveling, or perhaps it was envy? Either way, he could get used to you gawking over his wealth. “I know, I know. I’m fucking fantastic,” he strode over to the bar cart, mixing some peach juice and vodka. “I know this isn’t the most manly drink, but beer is so gross. Don’t you agree?” he handed you a glass, not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at your tits.

“Oh, totally. Beer is gross,” you took a sip of the drink, smiling at the peach juice hit your tongue. “Oh damn, this is good. Where did you get this?”

“I’m not telling. You could buy out my entire supply!” Oikawa laughed, taking another sip of his beverage. “So,” he leaned against his kitchen counter, staring into your eyes with his half-lidded ones. “What will it take for me to learn why you dumped Ushijima, hm?” his voice was a purr, like a siren trying to lure you into the sea.

You rolled your eyes and sat down on the couch, admiring the tasteful throw pillows he had. “Well, if it gets you to shut up, I’ll tell you,” you patted the seat right next to your own. “You’re lucky I have vodka in me, or else I’d be really bitchy right about now.”

“Who’s saying you aren’t being bitchy?”

You shot him a glare. “Do you wanna know my breakup story or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes and sat next to you, purposefully spreading his muscular thighs. Fuck, he was sexy as hell. “Well? Let’s hear the story, cutie.”

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, locking your eyes on your pedicured feet. “We started dating because one of his teammates said we would look good together. Tendou, I think his name was. He asked me out, but it wasn’t very romantic. He was stoic, unfeeling. I guess he’s always been like that,” you paused, licking your bottom lip. “He was a good boyfriend for the most part, I guess. He was kind, and he supported me in anything I did. It’s just…volleyball was his top priority, not me. And don’t get me wrong, I loved cheerleading. Wakatoshi prioritized sports over his relationship, so I dumped him once he was signed to the Alders.” you looked up at Oikawa, a soft smile gracing your lips. “I’m happy I dumped his sorry ass.”

“Wow,” Oikawa mumbled, setting his drink on the coffee table. “I’m sorry he treated you like that. I always knew he was a piece of shit, and now I have the proof,” he smacked his lips together, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “C’mere, I gotta ask you something else.”

“Do we have to be this close for you to ask me a question?” you raised an eyebrow, secretly enjoying the intimacy.

“Yes,” Oikawa immediately responded. “Answer me this,” his voice dropped to a deep octave, goosebumps covering your arms. “Did he ever make you cum, or did you have to fake it every time?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a blush dusting your cheeks. “Well, technically, no, he didn’t make me cum,” you whispered, knowing damn well that Oikawa had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“I fucking knew it,” he pulled you impossibly closer, pulling your lip down with his thumb. “Poor little girl, hm? You’re big, strong boyfriend never gave you an orgasm. Did he even know where the clit is?”

You shook your head. “No, I had to show it to him, and he still has never found it.”

“Oh, that’s pathetic. And adorable. To think,” his lips trailed upwards to the cartilage of your ear, nibbling on it. “That a pretty thing like yourself had a boyfriend that wouldn’t give her what she wanted…that’s just tragic, don’t you think so?”

You looked at him, your eyes ablaze. “I guess so. What, did you wanna do something about that?” your hands slid up and down his thigh, dangerously close to his hardening cock. 

“I think I will,” without any warning, he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder, slapping you on the ass. You squeaked and were thrown onto his bed, the crisp cotton sheets welcoming your burning skin. Oikawa crawled on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head. “I have an idea, something that will piss Ushijima off. That’s what we both want, isn’t it?” he planted a daring kiss on your neck, the aroma of your tropical perfume filling his nostrils. “I know you wanna see him angry, don’t you, cutie?”

Fuck, his words landed right at your core. You squeezed your legs shut, tilting your head to the side so he could plant more of his blazing kisses on your delicate skin. “Mhm, I wanna see him get so mad he does something he’ll regret,” you purr, gasping as Oikawa sank his canines into you. A soft moan fell from your lips, only encouraging him to leave more delicious bruises. He stopped his ministrations, licking his way up to your ear. “I wanna film me fucking your brains out,” his voice was a low rumble, practically dripping with want. “I wanna send him pictures of you covered in my fucking cum with your tits covered in hickeys. That’ll show him, right?” he shamelessly palmed your breast, wanting to tear that slutty bikini off your perfect body.

“Fuck, Oikawa,” you moaned, breaking free from his grasp. “If you’re gonna do that,” you sat on the bed. “We have to be equals in this, or he’ll think you’re fucking me without consent.”

“What? So, no bondage or anything?” he pouted. “Well, I guess that’s fair,” his milky eyes darted to one of his dresser drawers. “I…I have a professional camera in there, as well as a tripod. Don’t fucking ask why I have those, okay? If we’re gonna film a little something for your ex-boyfriend,” he playfully nipped at your ear. “We’re gonna do it right.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you chuckled, swatting his hands away as he fumbled with the string of your bikini top. “Nope, you have to undress me on camera. That’ll really piss him off.”

Oikawa smirked, setting up the tripod quickly. How many times did he use that thing? “You sure know him well, don’t you, cutie?” he hit the record button, crawling above you again. The camera was positioned to have the side-view of whatever you two decided to participate in. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the money shot with my phone,” he snickered, hovering his lips above yours. “Now, cutie, do you wanna make a movie with me?”

“Fuck yes,” and his lips were upon yours, ravaging them like he had drank a love potion. They moved in sync with your own, relishing in the mango-flavored chapstick you wore. He kissed you like he owned you from the second he saw you in that slutty bikini. The way his teeth clashed against yours was animalistic in his fight to be dominant, not even asking for entry before shoving his tongue inside your mouth. Your wet muscles danced, pulling moan after moan out of your lungs before he pulled away abruptly, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. 

“Gotta fucking catch my breath,” he chuckled. “You kiss like a fucking whore.”

“I bite like one, too,” you smirked, rolling over to straddle Oikawa’s waist. He gasped in confusion before quickly being silenced, the sensation of you harshly sucking on his muscular neck making him whimper. You chuckled, grinding yourself onto his pelvis, your most intimate parts being covered by thin pieces of fabric.

“Fuck, cutie,” Oikawa’s hands squeezed your hips, rolling the fat between his taped fingers. He bucked his hips upwards, making you yelp. “Take off that fucking top now,” he growled, fisting the sheets beneath him impatiently.

You giggled and reached behind your back, undoing the bikini knot teasingly slow. Oikawa knew what you were doing. He’d seen it a million times by now. Usually, he wouldn’t mind. It was just another beach slut taking her time, trying to draw out their experience with the great Toru Oikawa. But this time was different. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted you creaming on his cock the way Ushijima never made you. Besides, there would be a second time. And a third, and a fourth.

His hand cracked against your ass. “Don’t fucking tease me, cutie,” his voice rasped, his hands hungrily grasping onto your tits. “Fucking take this off, or I’ll rip it off of you. Show me those tits, don’t get all shy on me now.”

You squeak, your clit pulsating at the contact. “Fine, whatever you want, baby,” you threw your bikini top across the room, letting your breasts be exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. Oikawa groaned, rolling over so he was on top once more. His mouth found your breast, sucking at the pillowy flesh while his hands rolled over your pert nipple, alternating between each breast. He sucked on your areloas, making sure not to be gentle. He only got more confident with each slutty moan he ripped from your lips, relishing in the incredibly high ones he received when he bit down on your nipple. Your chest was littered with tiny purple circles and covered in his saliva, the desire in your belly practically bubbling over. His cock was painfully hard, pressing against your inner thigh. You swore you could hear it throbbing, begging to fuck your cunt. 

“Oikawa!” you whimpered, grabbing his ashy brown hair and forcefully pulling him away from your chest. “I-I think you marked me enough, right? C’mon,” your hand guided his into your bikini bottom, sighing as his thumb finally found your desperate clit. “I’m so wet down here for you, Oikawa. Don’t you wanna take care of me?”

Your voice was high-pitched like the girls in porn, and Oikawa fucking loved it. You were both putting on a show in shorts. A show to piss off a man that you both despised, but it was a show nonetheless. It's a sexy, depraved show.

“You moan like a fucking slut,” he pushed your bikini to the side, exposing your dripping pussy. Without a second thought, he shoved his middle and ring finger deep inside your heat, curling them slightly. You cried out, arching your back further into the mattress as his other hand still had a firm hold on your breast.

“Oh, you like that, cutie? You like getting finger-fucked by your ex-boyfriend's enemy?” he growled, fucking his fingers in and out of your weeping pussy at a relentless pace. “I wonder what they would say if they saw you like this, a slutty little mess under me. You’re such a whore for my fingers, aren’t you?” his thumb dragged over your clit, his fingers and his arm being so precise in their ministrations. Your pussy squeezed around his digits, feeling your first orgasm in such a long-time approach.

“P-please, Oikawa! Fucking make me cum!” you sobbed, your hands clenching onto the white sheets. You saw stars as your orgasm crashed over you, rolling your head to the side to stare directly into the camera. With your blown-out eyes and bruised lips, you looked fucking ethereal.

“Good fucking girl,” Oikawa popped his fingers in his mouth, tasting your slick. You tasted incredible, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. “Open up,” he ran his finger over your soaked core, gathering up more of your essence to forcefully shove inside your mouth. “Suck,” he commanded, and you did. Your tongue ran over his fingers while you made direct eye contact with him, making the setter impossibly hard. “Little slut.”

“M’not a slut,” you whined, spreading your legs further apart. You were contradicting yourself. You were on display for him as if his apartment was some kind of brothel. The look in his eyes when he saw your gorgeous body, your thighs still trembling in the aftershocks of your release. Fuck, it really looked like he ripped you straight out of a porno. 

“Then how come you’re spread out like one for me, hm? That pussy’s dripping all over my bed, dirty girl.” he slid off his swimming trunks, his cock slapping against his rock-hard abs. He boasted a proud, sensitive pink tip that was leaking with precum. He pumped his cock a few times before aligning it with your entrance, slapping the head against your clit. “Now, are you gonna beg for me to fuck you better than that pathetic ex-boyfriend of yours ever could?” he looked directly into the camera, mesmerized by the flashing red light. “Better than Ushijima, I’m better than Ushijima.”

“T-Toru!” you whined, pulling him down by his shoulders into a passionate kiss. You stared into the camera as well, giving it a wink. Using Oikawa’s first name would surely make your ex furious. It just had to. “Fuck me! Fuck me better than Wakatoshi ever could!” you sobbed, wrapping your legs around his waist so he had no hope of escaping. Your eyes were wet with fake tears, begging him to ruin you.

“Shit,” he groaned, pushing the head of his cock past your entrance. “That’s what I like to fucking hear.” he slammed his lips down on yours once again, bullying the rest of his throbbing length deep inside your heat. “So fucking tight.” Oikawa hissed at the sight of your greedy pussy sucking him in, his teeth nipping at your lips.

“S’fucking big, Toru! Fuck!” you cried, your nails leaving angry red crescent marks on his back. Oikawa revealed in the pleasure, continuing to make out with you as he fucked you harder, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix occasionally.

“You’ve ever been fucked this hard before, hm?” he bit down on your shoulder, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “No one’s ever fucked this pussy as good before, huh? Fucking answer me, cutie,” his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing softly. 

You gasped, struggling to take his massive cock and breath at the same time. “No one’s, fuck, no one’s ever fucked me like this before, Toru!” you sobbed, sighing in relief as he let go of your neck.

“So fucking obedient. And you let her dump you, Usjijima? Fucking pathetic,” he rolled his hips against yours, hitting even deeper inside your pussy. His balls slapped against the cleft of your ass, the apartment echoing with lustful moans and squeals. He grabbed your jaw and pulled you in for another kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his cock ravaged your core. 

“Toru, I’m gonna fucking cum!” you sob into his mouth, your nails now leaving furious red scratches down his back. He whined into your mouth, his hips never faltering as they continued their unrelenting and unforgiving speed. Sweat dripped from his brow and into your hair, moan after beautiful moan being ripped from your lips as he fucked you like he owned you, like you were his. It was more than just a revenge fuck, so much more.

“Fucking cum on my cock, cutie. Be a good fucking slut and make a mess on this cock,” he growled into your mouth, pulling on your hair to force your neck to the side. He planted open-mouth kisses as you were pushed over the edge, crying out his name as your release coated his pulsating shaft. 

Fuck, he wasn’t going to last, not at the rate that your pussy was milking him. He eagerly reached for his phone on the mattress, and just as he felt his orgasm approach, he pulled out of your addictive cunt. The camera app was opened, and the record button was pressed, videoing Oikawa desperately fisting his cock before letting out a guttural, almost animalistic roar. His thick, white-hot ropes of cum painted your stomach and fucked out face, some even landing on your lips. Oikawa stopped recording and took several pictures, each with a different angle of your cum-covered curves.

“Gorgeous,” the setter muttered, tossing his phone back onto the now-ruined sheets. He got off the bed and grabbed the camera, winking at the lens as he hit the power button. The light stopped blinking, and Oikawa was satisfied. “Well, you just made your first porno. How do you feel about that, cutie?” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s more of a revenge porno than anything, but I liked it,” you averted your gaze. “You’re a good fuck.”

He placed a hand on his hip. “Well, obviously,” Oikawa rolled his eyes, grabbed a box of tissues, and handed them to you. “Clean yourself off. I’ll run you a bath in a minute.”

You needed clarification. “You’re doing aftercare?”

“Why the hell would I not?” he sounded offended. 

“Because you seem like an inconsiderate piece of shit,” your words were so casual, yet so mean. Why did Oikawa crave more?

“I made you cum, didn’t I?” he snatched the box of tissues out of your hand. “Twice, I made you cum twice. That’s more than fucking Ushijima ever could.”

“Woah, don’t get your panties in a twist. It was just an assumption, damn.” you rolled your eyes, stepping off of the bed. “Now, I’m gonna need to borrow a shirt before I get the hell out of here. You kind of ruined my bikini top.”

Oikawa shook his head, placing the camera inside his drawer beside him. “You aren’t going anywhere, not until I’ve gotten as many orgasms as I want out of that slutty little pussy of yours.”

You chuckled darkly and pounced on him, straddling his waist once again. “Only if I get to be on top this time, okay?” you licked his neck. “I wanna see how the Great King reacts to Shiratorizawa’s Princess riding his cock.”

Oikawa grinned and pulled you down for another kiss, his cock already hard. You were in for a long fucking night.

Ushijima woke up to an onslaught of ringing sounds coming from his phone. Groaning, he turned to the side to see who had the balls to be emailing him at 2:56 in the morning. 

His eyes widened as he saw two video attachments, as well as several image attachments, of Oikawa’s cock plunging in and out of his ex-girlfriend's pussy. Her cries and moans quickly filled up his bedroom as Oikawa’s mischievous brown eyes locked with Ushijima’s green ones from behind the screen. He sat up, scrolling through the rest of the attachments. Each image was enough to send him into a rage, but the last one was what got to him. Your head resting on Oikawa’s chest, various hickeys covering your tits and neck as you slept soundly. On the other hand, Oikawa was smirking as he held up the number five with his fingers. Ushijima’s hands cracked his phone, shattering the protective glass.

Toru Oikawa was a smug-ass motherfucker.

[zarameraki]

. ݁₊ 📽. 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘀𝘁 ˙✧˖°📷 ༘

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 actor sukuna x publicisr 𖥔 just porn no plot (i was ovulating) 𖥔 dirty talk 𖥔 degrading kink 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 751

: ̗̀➛ notes: if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

Sukuna Ryomen was Hollywood’s most wanted.

The moment the red recording light blinked on, he became every director’s dream, a magnetic force of talent and charisma. He was effortless in his delivery, every smirk, every glance carefully curated to send audiences swooning. The media loved him, the tabloids worshipped him, and you . . . well, you were the one keeping his name clean in the press.

As his publicist, your job was to handle everything: damage control, PR spins, scheduling interviews, and making sure that Sukuna remained the flawless, untouchable A-lister he was known to be. But behind the polished veneer, behind the expensive suits and smoldering red carpet poses, Sukuna was fucking you raw in the nearest dressing room.

Like now.

“So fucking embarrassing,” he muttered against your skin, as he slammed your hips down onto his cock, stretching you wide, filling you to the hilt. “You act like you’re in control, always running that fuckin’ mouth, but the second I put my cock in you, you go all dumb.”

You gasped, fingers clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into the fine material of his half-open button-up. His belt was still hanging loose, pants shoved just low enough for him to fuck you properly as he sat on the dressing room couch, your legs spread wide over his lap.

“Feel that, baby?” His hands gripped your hips hard, guiding your movements as he made you grind down on him, dragging your clit against the rough patch of hair at his base. “You’re dripping all over me, makin’ a fuckin’ mess. My little publicist, the one who tells me how to behave, sittin’ here stuffed full of my cock, ready to come like a desperate little whore.”

You whimpered, your walls clenching around him, the obscene wet sounds between you growing louder with each roll of your hips. His girthy length stretched you perfectly, hitting deep, making your legs shake as he bounced you on his lap like you were nothing but a toy for him to use.

“This is what you need, huh?” Sukuna leaned back slightly, watching the way you struggled to keep up with his brutal pace, your thighs aching from the effort. “Need me to fuck the stress out of you? You’re always so uptight, always tellin’ me what to do.” He reached up, grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. “But here you are, letting me treat you like a filthy fuckdoll. Ain’t that cute?”

You shuddered, trying to form words, trying to argue—but then he thrust up into you so hard your breath caught, your nails digging into his skin.

He lifted you, only to slam you back down onto him, forcing a choked moan from your lips. His grip on your hips tightened, bruising, as he fucked up into you mercilessly, his abs flexing with each brutal thrust.

“You think the reporters outside would still see me as their perfect fucking star if they knew I was balls-deep in my pretty publicist right now?” He got off on that fact alone, and so did you. The forbidden truth had you both blissed out. “That you’re letting me ruin your cunt before I go out there and smile for the cameras?”

You could barely breathe, pleasure overwhelming you as his fingers found your clit, rubbing rough, fast circles. Your body locked up, the heat coiling in your stomach ready to snap, but Sukuna wasn’t done humiliating you. He knew exactly how to play you, just like he played the cameras, the reporters, everyone who knew him.

“Go on,” he purred. “Come all over me like a nasty little slut. Come before I have to go pretend I give a fuck about this industry.”

You came with a cry, body seizing as pleasure ripped through you, your walls squeezing tight around him. Sukuna groaned, his pace stuttering as he slammed deep, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, his grip on you torturous as he emptied every last drop.

The only sound was your heavy breathing, the faint rustling of fabric as he finally let you free. Then, Sukuna chuckled, pressing his lips lazily against your sweat-damp temple.

“Better fix your makeup, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging a thumb over your spit-slick lips. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know you just got fucked like a cheap whore before I hit the red carpet.”

Smug bastard.

And the worst part? You’d let him do it all over again.

[itelya]

synopsis: valentines day with your boyfriend/husband.

character [separate]: Nanami Kento x reader, Gojo Satoru x reader, Suguru Geto x reader, Toji Fushiguro x reader, Sukuna Ryomen x reader, soo cute! Choso Kamo x reader, Megumi Fushiguro x reader, Yuji Itadori x reader (fem!)

warning: love and short srry 💗… don't be mad at me for what i did for Toji😓

words: 2690.

Kento N.

Nanami wasn’t really the type to celebrate Valentine’s Day. To him, this day was a “commercial holiday,” an artificial opportunity to prove his love. He believed that love was built on a daily basis, in simple gestures and small attentions. So, you thought you would spend a quiet evening, like every year.

But when you returned home that night, you were surprised. The house was enveloped in a soft and warm atmosphere: candles lit everywhere, soft lighting, a nicely set table with elegant plates and a bouquet of flowers. Dinner was ready, a dish that Nanami had carefully prepared himself, accompanied by your favorite wine.

“It’s not much,” he said as he joined you in the room, a discreet smile on his lips. “But I thought it would be nice to spend some time together.”

You looked at him, touched by the attention he had put into this dinner. This gesture means much more to you than anything else. You spent a quiet evening, full of laughter, tender conversations and shared silences, as if this dinner was a simple and sincere way of saying "I love you".

When dessert was served, he placed his hand on yours, his gaze tender but discreet. "I know Valentine's Day doesn't mean much to us, but I wanted to show you how much you mean to me," he said softly. "With this moment together. Because with you, every day is a bit like Valentine's Day."

Moved, you smiled at him, squeezing his hand in yours. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, you got up to clear the table. Then, as you found yourself upstairs, Nanami turned to you with a slight smile. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love," he whispered, before kissing you softly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ken,” you replied, touched by the sincerity of his words more than any gesture. And in that simplicity, you felt more loved than ever.

Gojo S.

The sun is barely rising when Gojo arrives at your door, a mischievous smile on his face. Before you can even react, he grabs your hand and whisks you away on a memorable day, where every minute seems more absurd than the last.

First stop: a private helicopter, a flight over Tokyo. The wind whips your face as you fly over the city illuminated by the first rays of the sun. You hold on to the helm, your heart pounding, a mixture of pleasure and terror.

Gojo, for his part, laughs as he sees you hanging on, his face like a permanent challenge. “It’s nothing, just relax!” he assures you, but you know he loves seeing you out of your comfort zone.

The highlight of the show comes when he drags you into an impromptu photo shoot. In the middle of the street, under the neon lights and curious glances of passersby, Gojo strikes ridiculous poses while making you laugh. Then, without warning, he takes a picture of you up close, capturing the moment when you let yourself go into a genuine smile.

Finally, Gojo takes you to the roof of a skyscraper, the breathtaking view of the city all around you, illuminated by sparkling fairy lights. The cool wind makes you shiver, but he keeps you close to him, a smirk on his face.

“So?” he asks, leaning a little closer to you, his mischievous eyes scrutinizing you with an almost childish amusement. “What was the best part of the day?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes as you smile. You know he’s expecting an extravagant answer. So, you lean down and kiss him briefly, just enough to surprise him.

“I’ll say.. everything was great, but the helicopter ride… I thought I was going to throw up. Never again please.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head, and pulls you into his arms. “It’s all you,” he says, pulling you closer, before catching your lips in a slow but passionate kiss. Time seems to stop for a moment, the sounds of the distant city drowned out by the intensity of his kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispers against your lips, a satisfied smile on his face. He holds you tighter in his arms, and you let yourself go with the magic of the moment.

Geto S.

The night is quiet on this Valentine’s night, and the atmosphere in your apartment is softer than usual. The wind blowing lightly against the windows lets you hear a distant murmur of the couples outside.

Geto comes home with your spare keys and silently places a small box of chocolates in your hands, before settling down next to you on the couch.

You turn your gaze to him. He says nothing, his eyes drowned in a discreet embarrassment, as if each word he was going to say was weighed carefully.

He takes a moment to look at the box in your hands before slowly turning it away, a slight smile growing at the corner of his lips. “I’m not really good at this kind of thing,” he murmurs. He almost seems to hesitate, embarrassed by the simplicity of the gesture, but nevertheless, his eyes shine with a touching sincerity.

His fingers slide almost imperceptibly on your skin, a silent caress. A small smile forms on his face, a smile that seems to come straight from a bygone era, where he was still able to believe in a quiet love, without pain or torment.

“You know… if we were somewhere else, in another life,” he begins, his voice soft but marked by an indecipherable depth, “I think I would have wanted to take you away from here.” He lets out a soft sigh, as if this impossible wish came from another reality.

He takes a short breath, then, with an almost imperceptible gesture, he hands you the rose he has placed next to him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, almost in a low voice, as if there is more to those words than what they seem to be. You smile at him tenderly and lean towards him, then kiss him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day too, Geto.”

Toji F.

If you bet on the fact that Toji Fushiguro would have forgotten that it’s Valentine’s Day. And honestly, it wouldn’t even be a surprise. This guy is the type to disappear for days, come back like a shadow without warning even though he’s your boyfriend. Then drag you to your bed with a smirk and leave like nothing happened but you still love him like an idiot.

So a commercial holiday? Spending money? Might as well forget it. That’s why, when he hands you a small paper bag, you blink in surprise.

“Here.”

“…What?”

He sighs, already looking annoyed. “Tch. Just take it.” You grab the package warily and look inside. A frown. “…Toji. It’s instant noodles.”

“And?” He smiles like there’s no problem and raises an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “You’re offering me… noodles?”

“You like them, right?” He raises an eyebrow, as if it’s obvious. You stand there, between incomprehension and amusement, before bursting out laughing. “Are you serious, Toji?”

“Listen, would you have preferred that I blow my money on useless crap? A heart-shaped necklace, maybe?” He snickers, crossing his arms. “I know you. I know you always forget to buy more when you run out. So yeah, it’s a gift. Take it and shut up.”

You shake your head, still laughing, and grab the collar of his jacket to pull him towards you. “You really are an idiot, Toji.”

“And you’re still here, stupid lover,” he replies, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, a smile playing on the corner of his lips. Ultimately, it suits you. Because Toji, even with his questionable ways, thinks of you in his own way. And deep down, that’s all that matters.

Sukuna R.

Valentine’s Day, you didn’t expect it. As Sukuna’s wife, you were used to displays of power rather than tender gestures. But on this day, something seemed different. As you prepared yourself in your chambers, you felt a familial presence slip into the room without making a sound.

Sukuna, in all his majesty, looked at you with a different glow than usual. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my queen,” he said in a deep voice, his imposing royal posture even more respectful, but there was an unusual softness in his words.

He approached you, an almost imperceptible kiss on his lips, and in his hands, a shiny object: a necklace adorned with precious stones the color of his rare eyes and a secret inscription.

The gesture surprised you, more than you would have imagined. The king of curses offering a gift, and yet, the intention behind it was clear. This necklace wasn’t just a gift; it was a token of his possession, but in a subtle way. He holds it out in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror of your dressing table, as if to make sure you like this necklace.

“This necklace is a sign,” he murmured as he brushed his fingers over your neck, gently sliding the jewel around you. “A sign that you are mine. No one else can ever claim you.” Okay baby?"

A shadow of a smile appeared on his face, but he didn't seem to want to let go of his gaze, as if he was trying to make sure that you understood the depth of his words. Then he closed the clasp of the necklace.

His hands slowly slid into your hair, your eyes meeting his. He was still this ruthless king, but today, there was something more tender, a form of sincere love that seemed rare to you.

"Thank you so much Suku, it's so beautiful.. Happy Valentine's Day, my love," you said, you smiled at him tenderly. He then leaned down, his lips gently brushing your ear, the contact light but loaded with that imposing presence that characterized him.

While being possessive, he wasn't trying to smother you, but to remind you that, for him, you were everything to him. He's just crazy in love.

Choso K.

You see the surprise in Choso’s eyes as you hand him the carefully prepared box of chocolates. He seems both surprised and a little hesitant. “Is this… for me?” He looks at you, as if the very idea of ​​receiving something is a novelty.

You nod, a shy smile on your lips. “Yeah, for you. It’s… it’s for Valentine’s Day.” You feel a little nervous, but he makes you feel like it matters, that your gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

He takes a heart-shaped chocolate and brings it to his lips, his eyes closed for a moment, savoring the sweetness of the chocolate. Then, after a few seconds, he looks at you with a soft smile, almost a little embarrassed.

“It’s sweet… like you,” he says, and his cheeks blush slightly.

You laugh softly, feeling your cheeks blush. “It’s just chocolate, Choso.” But you can see in his eyes that it’s not that easy for him. It’s maybe the first time he’s received something like this, such a sincere, simple gesture, but so precious to him.

Then, in a shy burst, he leans towards you and places a kiss on your cheek, his warmth melting you. “Thank you,” he murmurs, almost in a breath. “Really.”

You look at him, a smile that doesn’t leave your lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Choso. I’m glad to have you as a boyfriend.” He stays there for a moment, his eyes locked on yours, before answering with a sincerity that touches you deeply:

“Me too. Really.” His hands gently rest on your shoulders, as if to pull you a little closer to him. “I’ve never had a gift. It’s- it’s a little strange, but it makes me… feel good.”

You feel yourself melting under his words, his honesty and his sweetness. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, but never had the chance to experience. And you’re here to give him what he’s always deserved.

“You don’t have to say that, you know,” you whisper, gently caressing his hand. “I’m doing it because you deserve it, Choso.” He leans down again, this time to kiss you softly on the lips, a kiss that’s tender and full of promise. “Thanks for the chocolates, and happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

Megumi F.

Megumi has never been one to celebrate Valentine's Day. He finds it commercial, cliché... But when he sees the small box of chocolates that you hand him, your cheeks a little red, he can't help but feel touched. He takes the box with a slight sigh, but his gaze betrays his emotion.

"You didn't have to..." he murmurs, avoiding your gaze. However, he opens the box and takes a chocolate, the sweet taste contrasting with the heat that begins to rise to his cheeks.

"It's just chocolate, Megumi. Don't be so red." you answer, laughing softly. He just looks away and doesn't answer.

Then he looks at you for a moment before looking away, and after a moment of hesitation, he slips his hand into his coat pocket and hands you a small package. "Here... it's not much, but... Happy Valentine's Day."

When you open it, you discover a lucky charm in the shape of your pet almost with small accessories. You look up at him, surprised. "You say it's commercial, but did you still think to buy me something?"

Megumi crosses his arms, looking away. "Shut up," he whispers, red rising to his ears.

You can't help but smile at the obvious embarrassment on his face. Megumi, who spends his time playing indifferent, is blushing because of a simple gift exchange.

You turn the lucky charm between your fingers, admiring the details. He really took the time to choose something that would please you. Your heart squeezes gently at this thought.

"I like it a lot," you say as you attach the lucky charm to your bag. "Thank you, Megumi." A slight smile appears on his lips.

Yuji I.

Yuji, with his joyful and boundless energy, is determined to make this Valentine’s Day unforgettable, even if he’s not exactly an expert in traditions. From the moment you wake up, he surprises you with a carefully planned day:

A marathon of romantic movies—though you can tell he’s struggling not to laugh or roll his eyes at the overly cheesy scenes. A baking session where the two of you attempt to make homemade chocolates.

And finally, an evening stroll under the city lights, where Yuji impulsively insists on buying you a giant stuffed animal, just because he thinks it would make you smile.

As the day winds down, the sun dipping below the horizon, you both collapse onto a park bench, exhausted but happy. Laughter still bubbles between you as you recall the absolute disaster that was your chocolate-making attempt.

Yuji turns to you, his warm, sincere smile making your heart skip a beat, his eyes shining with an affection that needs no words.

“You know, I’m really glad I got to spend today with you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was kinda worried I’d mess up Valentine’s Day, but honestly… this was amazing.”

Then, with an adorable hesitation, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. “I made this myself, you know. It’s for you.” His voice is both proud and a little nervous, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react.

Curious, you carefully unwrap it, revealing a handmade bracelet, simple, yet crafted with care. You run your fingers over it, touched by the effort he put into it, a warm smile spreading across your lips. “It’s perfect, Yuji, really. And for your first Valentine’s Day… I have to say, you did an amazing job.”

His laughter rings out before he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth enveloping you completely. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N!”

You laugh softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Yuji.” And in that moment, frozen in time, you know this day will stay with you forever.

any opinion is appreciated! thanks for reading till the end 💗

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

[endereies]

Matt taking photos of you while touring Italy

It was the late hours of the evening, and you tugged Matt along for a small walk across the streets of Milan. You both were exhausted after the day, so a calming stroll seemed fit for you both. His hand found itself wondering into yours, holding your palm tight while you pulled him to niche details he'd have otherwise missed. The city was stunning, architecture unlike any seen in the US. Yet, Matt couldn't stop staring at another piece of beauty.

His eyes wondered to you, a similar outfit to his wrapping your body. A leather jacket rested on your shoulders, leaving room for the black, thick jumper underneath. Jeans resting on your hips, adorned with one of Matt's belts that you 'didn't know was his'.

It was like you fit in perfect, blending into the beauty of the city. With this being one of the only nights you had alone in this city, Matt wanted to appreciate the sights before him.

"Baby?" He caught your attention while you leant on a lamppost, checking a message. One foot splayed in front of the other, your head tilted so that light shone on your hair. You looked towards him, your gaze innocent and curious. When you heard the shutter click you smiled in embarrassment, dropping your hands down from your sight.

"Matt... that's the fourth time you've done that, they cannot look good." He shook his head, smiling instantly. He took a step back when you reached for the camera, giggling. "Nope. You can see them once you've posed for me."

"Posed? You're ridiculous." You tried to hide your smile behind a sigh, but Matt saw right through it. He giggled, stepping backwards with his camera. "Am I? Or is the model losing her mind?"

"Says the one who has literally partnered with Prada." He continued to ignore your statement, looking behind him before stepping back until you aligned perfectly in his camera frame. A pleading look crossed his face, one you knew you couldn't resist. So you didn't.

You looked around the street you were on, trying to find something to do that wasn't an awkward smile. "Uhm, what do you want me to do?" Once he lowered his camera, he looked around with you in sights of any cute scenery.

"There. By the archway..." He hinted at the line of architecture with bushes filling the gaps. You had previously taken your own photos of buildings like these, loving the flawless chiselled work. Lining yourself in the middle of the archway, the bush outlined your frame in a natural border. It was no shock coming from Matt, he was born for the camera and its best angles.

"Now. Stand up straight and face away from me." The gentle tones in his voice were hard to miss, but you were busy obeying instructions that he dished out to you. Your posture was a little tense with your back straight and confusion filled your mind when he had your back now facing the camera. People had to think you were weird to just be staring at the middle of a bush and you were tempted to check. Matt's voice cut through your worry.

"Baby?" It was a dulcet tone to it, alluring to any small child. You responded by turning your head towards him, a questioning look on your face. Your posture relaxed when you heard him speak as your brain forgot about posing briefly. Strands of hair fell past your shoulders with the movement.

As soon as your head was facing towards him, the camera shutter sounded and the light flashed in your eyes. It stunned you and your whole body turned to Matt as you regained yourself. "Did you just take a photo?" A smile crossed your face when he hide his, staring anywhere but you.

"You did that on purpose." Your frame stood next to his, lightly grabbing the camera from his hands to stare at the image he took. "Of course I did, you weren't relaxing..."

Your attention was dragged away from him and back to the camera in your hand. With a small click of a button, the screen displayed the last photo Matt took. It showed you in the front and centre, the curious, innocent look on your face. Your natural smile peeking through your expression. Your back shone towards the camera, poised gracefully like a mannequin. The light of the flash showed your eye colour in the shot, bold against the darker clothing you picked out. It was perfect, Matt definitely knew his way around a camera and it showed.

His gaze joined yours on the camera. Yet rather than admiring the skill of the shot, he stared at his muse. But that ended when you moved the camera up above you two, switch it around towards the pair of you. Matt didn't have enough to process your hand lightly squeezing his cheek and the flash in his eyes.

He was quick to grab the camera from your hands, a frustrated grin on his face. Your giggling could be heard when you finally saw the photo. He looked caught off guard, unlike you, who had positioned themselves perfectly.

"Don't delete that, I love it!" Matt stared at you in a mock glare. "Yeah? Why, that's perfect blackmail material"

"Please you look so cute" A laugh erupted from you when his glare strengthened at the adjective. Yet, he couldn't tear away from the sound of your laughter.

"You're so lucky that I love you.." He saved the image and leant in to kiss you on the cheek - a blush forming on yours. "However, you now owe me another photo."

[jkwrites-m]

Photo Strips

Part 1 - Mall Rats

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: In a quiet summer mall, Jungkook and Y/N share playful touches, laughter, and capture their growing closeness in a nostalgic photo booth.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, kissing, cursing, fingering, public sex (there’s a curtain?😭), unprotected sex, riding

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ next

═══════

The mall wasn’t empty, not exactly- but it might as well have been. Just a scattering of people meandered through the vast, echoing halls, their conversations low, their footsteps softened by distance.

A couple of moms pushed strollers past shuttered shops. Somewhere behind us, a teenage boy kicked at a vending machine. But here in this wide corridor near the fountain, it felt like we had the world to ourselves.

It was a sweltering summer day, and the blast of cold air inside the mall had felt like walking into heaven. My shirt still clung faintly to my back from the heat outside, but my skin had started to cool, goosebumps rising under the faint hum of the AC.

Jungkook walked beside me, close enough that our hands kept brushing. Every accidental graze made my nerves tingle.

He turned his head slightly, his dark hair falling just above his brows, and leaned closer. “You’re so cute when you blush,” he whispered.

His breath tickled the curve of my ear, and the heat that had just begun to leave my body surged right back to my cheeks. I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress the ridiculous smile that threatened to take over my face.

“You say things like that on purpose,” I muttered, looking straight ahead to avoid his smirk.

“Obviously,” he said, not even pretending to deny it.

His hand found its way around my waist. He didn’t pull me in immediately, he just let it rest there, like he was asking for permission with a gesture. I let myself lean into him. I could feel the warmth of his palm through the thin cotton of my shirt.

Even here, surrounded by the soft noise of strangers and the dim, flickering lights of stores half-alive with summer clearance signs, he made everything feel louder, more vivid.

“Let me guess,” I said, glancing at a dusty rack of phone cases in the window of a kiosk. “You used to flirt with girls every summer like this, didn’t you?”

He gasped with mock offense. “What kind of reputation do I have in your head?”

“An accurate one.”

He laughed, his voice low and rich, and tugged me closer by the waist. “For the record, no. I never used to come here. Not like this.”

“Like what?”

He tilted his head, playful. “With you.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips betrayed me with a grin. Jungkook had this way of pulling reactions out of me, like he already knew the punchline before I even heard the joke. Everything felt effortless with him but also intense, charged, like the air just before a storm.

“Do you ever wonder,” he said, “if places like this are going to disappear someday?”

I looked around. The mall was showing its age. Chipped tiles, flickering signage, a music store with cardboard cutouts from bands that hadn’t been relevant in years. A little girl squealed somewhere in the distance. An elderly couple passed us, holding hands.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I never really thought about it.”

“Places like this… they feel stuck in time,” he said. “Like they’re waiting for the world to catch up.”

“Or for people to come back.”

He nodded, then reached over to a rack of oversized sunglasses outside a kiosk and held a ridiculous pink pair up to his face. “What do you think? Fashion icon?”

I nearly doubled over laughing. “You look like a flamingo.”

“A hot flamingo,” he corrected, trying to pose, then pretending to pout when I shook my head. He dropped the glasses back onto the rack and looked at me, still smiling. “You make today better.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You just… do.”

That caught me off guard. He wasn’t teasing this time. His voice was softer, the edges of his grin rounded into something almost shy.

For a second, I didn’t know what to say.

So instead, I reached for his hand.

We walked past the food court- still open, but only a handful of tables occupied. The scent of cinnamon rolls and fried rice drifted through the air. A group of teenagers sat at a corner table, laughing over milkshakes. One of them glanced our way. Jungkook pulled me a little closer.

“Where to next?” I asked.

“Wherever you want.”

We walked past storefronts- one selling nothing but plushies and pop culture merch, another advertising a “Going Out of Business!” sale with giant neon signs that looked like they’d been up for months.

I paused outside a music store. There was a record spinning in the window, no sound coming from it, just turning slowly like time hadn’t noticed the world outside.

“Do you think we’ll look back at today and remember it clearly?” I asked him suddenly.

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I think I’ll remember how your hand felt in mine.”

I didn’t say anything. I just squeezed his fingers tighter.

We passed a kid crying because his balloon had floated up to the ceiling. His dad tried to console him while also silently cursing gravity. I glanced over at Jungkook. He was already watching the scene with a fond smile.

“You’re staring,” I whispered.

“Just thinking,” he said.

“About?”

“You.”

“Again?”

“Always.”

God, he was too good at this.

I stopped in my tracks suddenly, making him pause and look back at me with a question in his eyes.

There it was.

Tucked beside the old arcade- a dusty, beat-up photo booth. The kind that still had a tattered curtain and a small bench. The outside was plastered with outdated samples of goofy couples making faces. Some were sun-faded. One had a dog in a hat.

“Jungkook, look! We have to do this. It’ll be fun.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “A photo booth? Really? You’re twenty years old, not twelve.”

“Come on, please?” I pouted, batting my eyelashes. “It’ll be a memory. Something to look back on.”

He sighed dramatically, but I could see the amusement in his eyes. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

I fed the machine a few crumpled bills, and the screen lit up, counting down to the first shot. Jungkook stepped in and placed me on his lap, his arm wrapping tightly around my waist.

The first photo captured us smiling, his cheek pressed against mine, his hand resting just above my hip. It was sweet, innocent but Jungkook wasn’t one for innocence.

As the camera flashed again, he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

His hand slid down, his fingers grazing my thighs, sending a shiver down my spine. I bit my lip, trying to keep my composure, but the next flash caught me with my eyes closed, a soft moan escaping my lips.

The booth was small, the space between us nonexistent. Jungkook’s body pressed against mine, his scent filling my senses. His fingers moved lower, slipping beneath the hem of my skirt. I gasped, my hands clutching at his shirt.

“Jungkook, someone could walk by,” I whispered, though my voice trembled with desire.

“Let them,” he growled, his lips finding the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.

His kisses were hungry, his teeth grazing my skin as he pushed the lace aside, slipping his fingers inside me. I was already wet, my body responding to his touch like it always did. The camera flashed again, capturing my head thrown back, my eyes closed in pleasure.

“Ride me,” he commanded, his voice hoarse. “I want pictures of this.”

My heart pounded in my chest, the thrill of the situation overwhelming. I hesitated for a moment, glancing at the curtain of the booth, but Jungkook’s eyes were dark with desire, and I couldn’t resist.

I stood up, moving to straddle his lap. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me as I lowered myself onto him. The camera flashed again, and I felt him thrust upward, filling me completely.

The booth felt even smaller now, the walls closing in as our bodies moved in sync. Jungkook’s fingers dug into my hips, his breath hot against my neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice vibrating through me. I moved with him, the rhythm slow and deliberate, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through my body.

The camera continued to flash, capturing every moment. My hair falling over his shoulders, his hands gripping my hips, the way our bodies moved together. I could feel him swelling inside me, his breaths coming in short gasps.

“I’m close,” he warned, his voice tight.

“Me too,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

He thrust harder, his fingers tightening on my hips. “Cum with me, baby,” he urged, his lips brushing against my shoulder.

I cried out, my body trembling as my orgasm washed over me. Jungkook followed, his grip on me fierce as he filled me, his moans echoing in the small space.

The camera flashed one last time, capturing the moment perfectly- our bodies tangled, our faces flushed with pleasure.

When it was over, Jungkook pulled out, I shivered at the sensation, my head resting on his shoulder.

The photo strips began to print, sliding out of the machine one by one. Jungkook grabbed them, flipping through the images with a grin.

“This was a great idea,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

I laughed, my heart still racing as I smoothed down my clothes. “I can’t believe we just did that. In the middle of the mall.”

“Believe it,” he said, pulling me close for one last kiss. “And don’t worry, no one saw a thing.”

But as we stepped out of the booth, the photos clutched in his hand, I couldn’t shake the thrill of what we’d just done. The mall was still quiet, but I felt alive, my skin buzzing with the memory of his touch. I glanced at Jungkook, his smirk telling me he felt the same.

We walked away, the photos tucked safely in his pocket, a secret only we shared. I still can’t believe we were that brazen, but I don’t regret it. It was exhilarating, a moment frozen in time. Twenty pictures that told a story only we could fully understand.

═══════

♡ next

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 05/25/2025

[vxnuslogy]

— 1:43 coincidences.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: kinich wasn't one to indulge in the creative waters of writing or english. but for a chance to know you, he'd willing jump into the ocean.

— warnings: none

— author's note: this was supposed to be for his birthday but i got lazy half way through so yeah. this is also a part 2 of 11:11 wishes and i highly recommend you read this one first!! art credits to @.n249g on twt. | 2.3k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mikashisus @https-sourlimes ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!

english—writing class to be specific—was one of kinich’s least favorite subjects in school. not to say that he didn’t appreciate books and stories, he just simply preferred the more straightforward subjects like p.e. and math. he never really could wrap his head around the ideas of using so many literary devices to make a statement sound flowery. why can’t author’s simply say that the sky was blue or that the sun has set? kinich, more often than not, found them all unnecessary.

until you, that is.

kinich met you by coincidence during one of his basketball practices. a loud shout of his name from the stands and an enthusiastic mualani made him cringe internally as his teammates wiggle their eyebrows. with a roll of his eyes, kinich drops his water bottle on the benches and readied himself for whatever mualani wanted to do. his head curiously tilted to the side when he caught sight of you. 

you and mualani were the same height, you held her bag in your arms as you scroll through your phone. kinich must have stared a bit too hard. you looked, meeting his eyes with a curious but embarrassed gaze. suddenly all the metaphorical pieces of literature he once found exasperating had an entirely new meaning as you flashed him an embarrassed smile. he found himself captivated–unable to look away even when mualani came to obscure his view of you. with a heavy breath, he tried his best to keep his attention on her words, but he ended up missing the way your lips turned upward and eyes turn into small crescents. 

it would’ve been cute, dare he say romantic, with the way you kept stealing glances at him. kinich felt a certain itch at the back of his mind to at least smile back, but he never got the chance to. not when a stray basketball flies past his head and nearly hit you all the way from the stands.

“hey! watch it!” mualani shouts. hands gripping the metal bars tightly, ready to jump down and pick a fight with the player who had nearly hit you. 

kinich stood there, baffled and perplexed about you. he found your way of tugging at mualani’s arm amusing as she yells and points an accusing finger at ororon. you shake your head with a sigh and offer him an apologetic smile when he should be the one doing that. with his own heavy sigh, kinich turned around and crossed his arms, a scolding look in his eyes as everyone avoided his gaze. 

“kinich you better put your team in place or i’ll do it myself!” the volleyball captain in the stands yelled with an angry huff. she copied kinich’s pose and narrowed down her eyes but she simply looked like an angry kitten.

kinich’s ears picked up on your airy giggle and felt the hairs on his arms rise. karma must be coming back to bite him in the ass because now, at this very moment, he wished he’d paid enough attention in english class to find a way to describe the way you captured him with just one glance.

much his teacher’s surprise, kinich finally began to participate in english class. he would raise his hands to answer questions and when called, he’d try to answer even if he struggled. all of his classmates concluded something must have happened—you can’t really blame them for being curious, after all, kinich only took interest in very few things. 

he began to frequent the local bookstore too. drifting from one aisle to another, eyes skimming over the spines of the books he once took for granted. ironically, he found himself indulging in a newfound fascination with how words worked. a certain wish deep in the columns of his chest to find a way to describe you in the same way. that’s when kinich ceased all his skimming. ever since that day, he’s been thinking about you, more often than he should.

he knew you and mualani were close—attached to the hip with the way you grew up together. the council president would often brag about your achievements as if they were her own during breaks from meetings. mualani always had something to say about you—all ranging from nice, embarrassing, and intriguing. you also ate lunch together. kinich would always notice how mualani packs extra lunch and when the bell rings, you’re always outside the classroom. bag slinged over your shoulder, a book under your arms as you entertained yourself with your phone. 

during all of these times, kinich’s eyes will always slide over to your figure. trying to capture your mystique on paper with his rookie capabilities in writing. and for the second time, he must have stared too much because you ended up catching his stare. your eyes glossed over the opened book on his desk, the many sticky notes with messy notes, pens and highlighters matching the book cover, and how he keeps tapping his pen on his notebook. his finger’s twitched, heart lurching forward into your arms when your eyes twinkled with familiarity of his actions.

he was doing an activity for english class. and that’s when it all clicked into place. 

you flash him a smile as mualani tangled your arms together and tugged you to the direction of the cafeteria. no wonder your laugh sounded so familiar, it was the same sound he heard during english when he paid attention to everything but the lesson. the book under your arms had the same colored annotations as his and even the blue bracelet on your wrist looked familiar. you were the student sitting a few seats back from him. 

“what a coincidence,” he murmurs, shifting his attention back to the activity due tomorrow. but his mind betrayed him for the second time because instead of writing down his interpretations in the notebook, the word “beautiful” was instead jotted down. and kinich isn’t talking about the book.

dismissal hours and kinich did not mix well. while others packed their things to go home, he stayed behind to work with the council on the bulletin board. with a thud, he dropped to the floors as the others laugh. mualani ruffled his hair and promised they’ll be quick today, which he highly doubts with the way there was paint on her face and poorly hidden paper planes made out of spare papers. he shook his head in amusement and started getting to work.

by the time the clock hit 5, everyone had bid their farewells and kinich was left alone boarding the last bus of the day. he mindlessly paid the bus fare and looked for any available seats. the grip on his school bag tightened ever so slightly when he caught sight of a familiar mop of hair and blue bracelet in one of the seats. like a sailor being captured with a siren’s song, kinich made his way to you and cleared his throat.

you look up at him with the sun in your eyes. and he wonders if you’re aware of them. “is this seat taken?” a beat of silence passed before he caught the way your eyes widened and shook your head no. kinich swore he could hear the drumming of his heart as the sun sets behind you, casting a golden glow that makes you even more captivating.

“oh no, no! not at all,” you stammer out with a crooked smile. kinich nods in thanks and sits down. this must be the awkward presence of a blooming crush the books he’s read were talking about. he wanted to bury his head in his hand in sheer embarrassment. of course he concludes he had a crush on you as you’re sitting next to him. of course he just had to be awkward as you steal glances at him every now and then, trying to think of a way to strike up a conversation.

“are you done?” you ask and kinich has never reacted to a sound so fast in his life. “with the book review i mean.” another smile, another reason for kinich’s heart to beat. he cleared his throat and looked away, muttering a soft yes under his breath. you don’t speak another word after that and kinich curses mualani for sleeping over at a friend’s house today. 

now, kinich wasn’t one to abuse his position as a council member nor did he ask teacher’s for favors–but there’s a first for everything. with a knowing mualani behind him, he takes a shaky breath in and knocks on the faculty door to excuse his english teacher to ask to be partnered with you.

it was such a bizarre and surreal feeling. kinich was simply about to go to bed after basketball practice when mualani had decided to blow up his phone with messages and screenshots. conversations with you filled with all capital messages, numerous exclamation marks, and sobbing emojis he began to associate with you began to fill his mind as his heart started to expand. 

“ I WISH HE’D BE MY PARTNER FOR THE BIOGRAPHY PROJECT 😭 😭”

kinich never paid any attention to the project despite having more interest in class—he didn’t have any particular interest in anyone, except you. so for you to wish to have him as the subject of your written creativity, how could kinich resist? and there wasn’t any difficulty in convincing your teacher too. a poorly executed excuse of maybe having your creativity rubbing off on him was all it took for the two of you to be paired up.

when he leaves the faculty, mualani greets him with a knowing smirk, her hands behind her back as the two quietly make their way back to the never ending task that is the bulletin board. the girl made sure not to point out the excited glint in his eyes and how a smile threatened to spill from his lips when you passed by and waved at her.

“you’re such a goner,” mualani teased with a shake of her head. she only stuck out her tongue at him when kinich tried to kick her shin. but he didn’t try to deny anything, all he could think about what kind of questions he’ll ask you in the span of a month.

“blue. you were wearing a blue bracelet when we first met and i really liked it.”

“and”

“it suits you”

“is that a weird thing to say?”

it was embarrassing how quickly kinich closed his phone and put it on silent mode. that was something so unlike him to say—even his punctuations and spacing of messages felt out of place. but could you blame him? that damn blue bracelet complimented the tone of your skin, how light seemed to bounce off it and become a magnet–begging for him to hold. 

and was it wrong of him to assume you liked green because of him? he noticed earlier this week that your gaze lingered longer whenever he wore his jersey jacket and this one hoodie xilonen gifted him. “the color reminded me of a calming walk in the forest,” you had said when he sat down in front of you as he asked why you were staring (leaving out the part of the giddy feeling he’s captured your undivided attention with just a piece of clothing. he then wonders what you’d look like if you were the one to wear it.)

could you give his poor heart a break? after all you nearly injuring yourself trying to make it to class wasn’t on his agenda for the day (but he’ll never admit how nice it felt for you to cling to him). he never meant for your fingers to brush as you picked up the papers on the floor, nor did he mean to look away so quickly—missing the way your cheeks turned pink.

kinich’s gaze flickered over to that blue bracelet again as you checked your appearance on your phone, then it moved to your bag, and like a sailor following the north star, he took it from your back and said, “let’s go to class.” his voice was quiet—dare he think shy—as he covered half of his face with a curled fist. 

you denied his offer to bail you out of a lecture from your teacher and he promptly agrees. but kinich knows, deep down in the ocean of his heart that you won’t get in trouble when he’s by your side. maybe it was the adrenaline–or maybe just you–he loved to chase. he took steps and steps in your direction to pluck a stray leaf stuck in your hair. he doesn’t miss the whiff of your perfume—woody with hints of citrus and some cinnamon in the mix.

you smell like sunshine and the partner he wants for the rest of his life.

after the biography project, kinich finds himself sitting with you in a park after classes got canceled. you asked him to push you on the swing set and he complied without much of a fight. 

“i wish you’d be my partner for this project, and wouldn’t you know, it actually happened.”

“oh, i know.”

kinich laughs, something he does more with you, at your dumbfounded expression. the realization that mualani had snitched on you and that he went out of his way to make sure it happened like you wished for sent your cheeks ablaze. kinich loved the sight of you under the afternoon sun as he goes in front of you, on one knee like those cheesy prince charmings in stories you always gushed about.

“be my partner for life, that was my 11:11 wish today.”

if you were to ask kinich what his favorite season was, he would answer summer within a heartbeat. summer was the season when you met, the colors of the sun bathing you in all his favorite colors as you cheered him on from the stands during basketball matches with his name on your back. the many ice cream runs where you both complain about the heat, or when you drop by the council room to try and cool off because the ac is stronger. summer had you in it, but kinich wouldn’t mind experiencing the other seasons with you too.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.