#handsome boy he’s been crushing on for a while now and how handsome and wonderful he is and Wayne bullies him for it with love of course

[resident-gay-bitch]

Thinking about Eddie being freshly 18 and not wanting to feel shame about his sexuality no more and wanting to explore it without getting caught by his uncle, doesn’t want to get kicked out of the only real home he’s know. so he drives out to indi and finds a queer club and feels so alive, he’s a little tipsy on the dance floor, and this cute guy is making eyes at him, and they start dancing together, getting closer and closer until Eddie doesn’t know where he ends and the cute guy begins. And he thinks “fuck this is it. This is how I’m supposed to feel. This is everything to me”, and for the first time ever he kisses a boy who kisses him back and doesn’t punch him in the face after.

Thinking about Wayne who gave up his life to raise his poor little orphaned nephew, had his entire existence thrown out of whack, who loves Eddie with every bone in his body and only wants the best for him, would kill for that little shit, and would kill himself if anything every happened to his boy. Who feels so much shame about who he is and who he’s loved, has put his own life and relationships on hiatus so Eddie would never have to know the truth, would never have to be ashamed of his uncle. Who, for the first time in over 10 years finally gets a break from some of the responsibilities. Eddies 18, an adult now, and for his birthday he’s decided to go camping with his friends to “become a real man”, so he takes his chance and drives up to Indi, finds his old stomping grounds and almost cries when he sees the transgender bartender who called him honeypot and would sneak him a free beer still working there.

Thinking about Eddie feeling so free and excited to just exist without judgement that he Drags that cute guy into the bathroom and feels shameless about his pleasure for the first time ever, tries new things, likes them all.

Thinking about Wayne sipping on his beer, feeling his bones completely relax for the first time in years, spots an old flame across the bar and can’t believe his eyes, he’s still just as hot as he was when they were 17. They get to talking, and then the talking turns into something else, something Wayne hasn’t done since he had to become a parent. And he feels a bit like a teenager again, drags that hot man into the bathroom and wants to have his way with him.

Thinking about Eddie stumbling out of the stall, wiping his mouth, cute guy giggling and clinging onto Eddie right behind him, freezing in his tracks. Wayne with his shirt half undone and a man trying to shove Wayne into the cubicle Eddie was Just in, trying to put his hands in the wrong places.

And they just lock eyes, and scream.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING CAMPING BOY?!”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE HAVING A QUIET NIGHT IN WHY ARE YOU IN A GAY CLUB?”

“WHY ARE YOU IN A GAY CLUB?”

“Wayne… are we both…?”

“Jesus H Christ boy, alright, let’s just pretend we never saw eachother in here, go back out there and I’ll buy ya a beer. We can talk.”

“Yeah, alright Wayne.” Eddie says with a smile as he heads out of the bathroom.

“Hey! You used a condom right-“

“Ew Wayne! I’m not talking about that with you!”

[ohgodthevoices]

i will literally cry if you do more ushijima fluff ☺️ literally anything would suffice i just need a big ol’ man

I FUCKIN LOVE USHIJIMA YES THANK YOU FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY

tags : flufff, high school + time skip ushijima x reader, intellectually challenged ushijima, not proof-read

wordcount : 1.4k

ushijima was popular in high school sure , but he didn’t have many friends (the lil friends he had are basically just his teammates) so when ushijima was in your class during your last year, you were a bit surprised he sat all alone and spoke to no one unless it’s necessary. he always looked so focused in class , not a single moment of distraction, it was honestly impressive to you how a human was capable of such concentration. you always had a small teeny tiny crush on him, but you thought you were no different from the other girls, after all he was handsome, tall, athletic, respectful and smart (or so you thought)

you looked at him expressionless ,probably because of the shock, when he stood tall and proud infront on your desk showing you his failing grade on his english exam, and asked you to tutor him, you blink staring at the bold red mark 12/100. how does one even get such a bad grade…

“i guess i could do that…when do you want to start ?” you sighed closing your notebook “now.” of course.

ushijima was now forever grateful to you and your late night study sessions at the library, you refused any kind of payment from him, so instead of paying you directly , he would buy snack for your sessions slowly takings notes of your taste and preferences.

the day of the final exams ushijima was more than ready , but before that, he made it his mission to find and give you a sandwich he carefully crafted himself. “you’ll concentrate better if you eat.” his red headed friend behind him was kind of creeping you out , he was watching with barely contained amusement, his red eyes practically staring at your soul “look at him, so domestic now,” he teased, nudging ushijima’s shoulder. “our dear wakatoshi woke up early just to make that for you, y’know. poured his heart and soul into it~”

ushijima seemed unfazed by his friend’s teasing he kept staring at you with the same piercing look he always had, you took the neatly wrapped sandwich with a smile, almost running away after thanking him and wishing him good luck , having one tall guy staring down at you was already intimidating but you couldn’t handle a second…

ushijima had moved on after graduation, focusing on his career as a pro volleyball player, but part of him always wondered what might have happened if he’d said more back then. one rainy evening, he walked into a convenience store after practice, grabbing something to eat, when he saw you—standing in front of the shelves, just like in the old days.

you didn’t notice him at first, but when you turned around, your eyes met. “Y/N…” he hesitated, surprised to see you again. “It’s been a while.” you blinked, taking it all in , seeing a grown man now infront of you, he was somehow ever bigger now, his jersey tight in the right places was highlighting his impressive physique. you quickly look back up at his eyes hoping he didn’t think you were checking him out, not that you weren’t.

a silence fell between you, and then, before he knew it, ushijima blurted out, “I didn’t think I’d see you again. after graduation, i thought i missed my chance. i should’ve said something… I liked having you around.” ushijima felt his heart race, his stomach doing flips, he felt like a high school boy again, the familiar feeling that he was too stupid, too stubborn and scared to identify and admit coming back to him so easily.

ushijima was very logical and simple minded, if his mind told him something he would do it without thinking, so when he asked you to his match tomorrow even he was surprised by his own request

but of course you agreed and you went to watch him, although you arrived a bit late you still had a nice spot he himself reversed for you so you could watch him play. when it was his turn to serve he scanned the crowd for the third time in the first set, he thought you wouldn’t come that he was too forward, too fast again that maybe he said too much by admit the interest he had in you— but your eyes met and you waved at him , since it’s ushijima he wouldn’t dare to show an inch of emotion so he simply nodded at you, but ushijima was fired up, he was determined , if he won this match he’d ask you out

so he ran to find you, escaping any kind of interview or a fan stopping from talking to you while he still had the courage. ushijima was now infront of you catching his breath, his nose red from the cold and his hair still messy and slightly wet from the sweat. he stood there for a moment, eyes locked on yours, the words hanging between you two. “would you… go out with me?” It was simple. It was straightforward. but there was something about the way he said it, the weight of his words, that made your heart flutter. you had never seen ushijima like this before—he was so controlled in every aspect of his life, but this… this was different. he was letting himself be vulnerable.

you agreed to go out with him and both of you tried to make small talk ,both in the cold of the night slightly blushing avoiding the others eyes before you mention the cold and ushijima perked up taking off his adlers jacket giving it to you, ushijima cleared his throat not sure what to do next, but his coach called out to him and he said his goodbyes to you not sure if his coach saved him from more awkwardness or if he deprived him from spending time with you

when you went out with him , you knew he had a goal with this , he was only taking you out before asking you to be his to simply follow the “rules”, you knew him a lil too well to think he’d take you out just for the sake of taking you out. ushijima was taking you out so you could feel more comfortable with him.

and after the third date he asked you , he felt it was safe enough then that he wouldn’t really risk rejection. so you started dating and you finally found yourself holding your high school crush’s hand.

ushijima wasn’t one for expressing himself verbally or physically really, he may not be a man of many words, but when you speak, he listens. bot just nodding along—he remembers everything and that’s why he’s such a good boyfriend , ushijima doesn’t really use social media either, he has a professional account that he doesn’t really manage but that’s about it. however he downloaded tiktok so that he could understand what’s a dyson and why do you want it so badly

he is so protective of you, if you’re walking together, he always positions himself on the side closer to the road. if someone bumps into you too hard, he tenses slightly and subtly shifts closer. if you seem uncomfortable, his presence alone is enough to ward off anyone bothering you.

one of ushijima’s love languages is act of service, so he doesn’t understand when you don’t want him to hold your bag for you , it being “part of the outfit” was just out of his level of understanding.

he naturally walks fast, but if he notices you falling behind, he slows down—without even realizing he’s doing it. if you’re struggling with anything, his first instinct is to help. he just cares so much that if you so much as sniffle, he tells you to wear warmer clothes. If you mention skipping a meal, he looks at you like you just committed a crime and makes sure you eat. It’s not nagging—it’s just ushijima logic: you are important to him → you should take care of yourself → if you don’t, I will

he doesn’t open up easily, but with you, he slowly starts letting his guard down. maybe he shares small pieces of his childhood, or you catch him genuinely smiling—not the usual composed expression, but something real and unguarded. your friends usually question how you could date someone so stoic and “empty” but you couldn’t get mad at them of course they haven’t seen him smile at ai cat singing videos.

ushijima is someone who values his space and time alone, but when it comes to you, he willingly shares that space. sometimes, you’ll find yourself next to him after a stressful day, and he doesn’t say anything—he just sits there. his presence is calming, a silent reassurance that you don’t have to talk, but you’re not alone. he doesn’t realize how much that silence actually means to you.

a/n : i know this is long but istg i can yap forever about him T•T i had to actually stop myself or i would’ve gone forever

[prettydaisygirl]

streamer!James Potter x superfan!reader who finally gets noticed in his chat ✿ 680 words

cw: I don't think I wrote any identifying traits for reader, but I had fem!reader in mind when writing, the marauders as live-streamers, chat being chat, the tts bot, reader is obsessed with James (Prongs)

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

next part

You rush into your apartment, tripping over your own feet as you kick off your shoes. You catch yourself before you fall on your face, rushing through your living room and into your bedroom, to your laptop. 

You open the laptop, typing in your password and quickly navigating to your favorite live-streaming website. It’s 4 pm, which means he is streaming. Your favorite streamer and internet crush: Prongs. 

You’ve been a dedicated fan of Prongs for several months now. He is part of a streamer group known as the Marauders along with his friends: Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail. The four men play games, make jokes, talk shit, and have a very, very dedicated fan base. 

You join the stream while he is still on his ‘stream starting soon’ screen. You quickly type in the chat.

yourusername: hello prongs! hope you’re having a good day <3

Your message is probably lost in the sea of the hundreds of hello messages taking over the chat as people begin joining. You can only hope he sees yours among the rest. You wonder what he does before stream while his starting soon screen plays. Is he at his desk reading chat? Eating a last minute snack?

You jump onto your bed, resting on your belly as you kick your feet in the air. Prongs’ face appears, as handsome and charming as always. His curly hair is unruly, headphones making a dent in the brunette waves where they sit on his head. Your heart flutters when you see him, a giant smile on your face as he greets the chat. You send a second hello then too, eyeing the other messages.

marauders_fan420: play fortnite

thatpenelope: hi prongs!!! ur so hot!!!

prongs_upmyahss: hello chat

Prongs and the other marauders begin playing some new horror game you don’t recognize. You grab a snack from your kitchen, carrying your laptop with you so you don’t miss any part of the stream. As you settle back onto your bed, you get a notification in the chat box. 

It is time to renew your subscription! Announce your resub?

You smile brightly, quickly moving to announce your support of your favorite streamer. You spend a few minutes thinking of what you want to say before sending your message.

You hear Prongs’ subscription announcement alert sound, the talk-to-speech bot reading out your message to him while he plays the game.

TTS Bot: yourusername has resubscribed for 12 months. Hi Prongs! Happy one year. I just wanted to say thank you for all of the good times you have given me over these last 12 months. You always manage to cheer me up when I’m sad and you always know exactly how to make me laugh when I’m stressed. I love you and here’s to another 12 months <3

Your heart pounds as the text to speech bot reads your message, a smile blossoming on the handsome streamer’s face as the robotic voice reaches his ears.

“yourusername, happy one year, love! Boys, it's our anniversary!” Prongs laughs, flicking some hair out of his face. You hear the laughter of the other boys too. Prongs' fingers move over his controller, eyes glued to the game, but his mind on your message. “I’m glad that I’m able to cheer you up when you’re sad. I love you too, angel. Here’s to another year!”

You think you might die, heart skipping several beats in your chest, eyes wide. He loves you too!!! And he called you angel!!!

You do a happy dance in your bed, watching the clip of him reading your name and saying he loves you over and over again. You save it. And you make a backup. You might just be another fan to him, but he is your idol, your dream man, your everything. 

You settle back onto your bed, happier than ever, beaming. You sigh happily as your gaze settles back onto Prongs' face, entirely focused on him and his interactions with his friends.

You reach down to type another message into the chat. Who knows, maybe he’ll notice you again?

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[jjkamochoso]

hii im so glad your requests are open, ive had this idea for a while and couldnt wait until you opened them

since you wrote about both jjk men and reader describing their type my idea is that maybe before reader and jjk men got together reader had to describe their type and reader described something totally different from jjk men lol (maybe it was before they even became friends) and men find out and get insecure so reader has to comfort them

Oh my gosh I love this!!! Thanks for sending this request in, I had an awesome time writing it!! I hope you enjoy🫶❤️

JJK Men When Your Type Was Something Totally Different From Them

Very Light Angst, Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

You and your boyfriend were sitting at a table in a cafe one day, enjoying drinks and each other’s company, when all of a sudden the serene atmosphere was shattered.

“Oh my god! Y/n, it’s been so long!”

A friend you hadn’t seen in a few years greeted you excitedly as you invited them to sit at your table.

“I can’t stay long, I have an appointment to get to,” they said as they eyed your boyfriend and smirked. “Who’s this?”

You introduced your friend to your boyfriend and they exchanged pleasantries. You and your friend then caught up for a bit until they checked the time on their phone.

“Seriously, two look really cute together,” your friend said, giving you a tight hug goodbye as they readied to take their leave. “Although, y/n, isn’t it funny how your type changed? I remember you told me awhile ago, when you were single, that you were into…”

Yuji:

“…super tall guys with black hair. Real dark, mysterious types.”

After your friend had left the cafe, Yuji was sporting a frown where a smile usually rested.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he replied, pushing the food around his plate with his spoon.

“You’re not very convincing, Itadori,” you teased, poking his arm softly.

“Do you think I’m cute?” he blurted out, taking you by surprise.

“Of course I do,” you responded, dumbfounded. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Your friend,” he said, “they said your type is the total opposite of me.”

“Yuji, the last time I talked to them was three years ago. I hadn’t met you yet.”

Yuji looked up from his food, his face immediately brightened. “Really? Does that mean you’ve changed your mind since then? Because of me?”

“Yep, the only type I have is my fun loving, big hearted boyfriend Yuji Itadori, I promise,” you told him, leaving a kiss on his grinning cheek.

Megumi:

“…carefree boys with light colored hair and eyes.”

When your friend had gone and it was just you and Megumi again at your table, you noticed a change in his mood.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No," Megumi replied sharply, causing your extending hand to retreat back to your side of the table, not wanting to bother him. He sighed. "I just... why are you with me?"

Your eyebrows raised in shock. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm not affectionate, I don't know what I'm doing in a relationship. I'm not even your type." He whispered the last sentence, his eyes burning a hole through his coffee mug.

"Oh Megumi, ignore my friend. The last time I've brought up anything with them that had to do with crushes or "types" was years ago, long before I laid eyes on you. I love you because you're you and I wouldn't want you any other way."

"I guess I could try being more carefree if you want," he mumbled, his cheeks turning a pale pink.

"I could sooner see you bleaching your hair," you replied, laughing softly as Megumi sent an annoyed look your way.

Yuta:

“…overly confident boys with blonde hair."

"Geez, I guess I'm not your type at all, then, huh?" Yuta wondered when your friend was out of sight, anxiously picking at his jacket sleeve.

"You weren't my type three years ago when I talked to my friend last, no," you replied, not wanting to lie to him, "but that doesn't matter. You're absolutely my type now. I don't think there's a boy more handsome or perfect for me than you are."

Yuta's face sported a red tint from him blushing at your words. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do, my love," you said, leaning over the table and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, leaving him more flustered still.

Inumaki:

“…guys who were super talkative and tall.”

Right as your friend left your table, you watched as Toge pulled his phone out.

"Let me stop you right there," you said, gently guiding the phone from his hands to the table, spying the dreaded, "I'm sorry I can't talk to you, you deserve more" note you knew he had already started typing. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't want you to ever forget that. What my friend said, that was my type years ago, way before I knew a guy like you existed. I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend than you."

Toge blinked slowly at you before picking his phone back up.

"You better be erasing that original message because you know I don't care that you can't really speak," you said sternly, earning a meek thumbs up from the boy sitting across from you. When he passed his phone back over to you, you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your throat as you read what he wrote.

While we're out, should I buy a pair of high heels?

Noritoshi:

“…extremely tall, tan, and muscular men.”

“Great. That sounds just like Todo,” grumbled Noritoshi after your friend left, taking a sip of his tea.

“I didn’t even know him back then,” you replied, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes at his jealousy. “Sure, I had a type, but that doesn’t mean I have to stick with it. You’re the most handsome man I know and you look nothing like that.”

“Do you promise I look nothing like Todo?” questioned Noritoshi, stifling a laugh.

“I swear.”

He gave you a gentle squeeze of your hand. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Todo:

“…skinny, short, pale guys.”

"That's definitely not what you said when I asked your type," Aoi said, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"I can't believe my friend brought that up," you groaned. "Back then, yeah, I was into super thin guys, but that all changed a few years later, right before I met you."

"Are you sure all my muscles don't bother you?" he teased, flexing his arm as he reached across the table to caress your cheek.

Your face warmed at his gesture. "I'm sure," you choked out, "but I wouldn't be opposed to you showing off your arms more often just so I can be 100% positive."

Aoi let out a hearty laugh as you sank further into your seat, flustered by your handsome boyfriend.

Ino:

“…super buff guys with dark hair.”

Ino kept his focus on his drink for a long time after your friend had spilled those details about you, obviously bothered that he looked nothing like that.

"Hey," you said after agonizing minutes of silence, "please don't take that to heart, that was my type a long time ago."

Ino looked up at you with an expression akin to a kicked puppy. "But has it changed? If I'm not your type... why would you want to be with me?"

"Ino," you said, standing up from your side of the booth and sliding into his, "I wouldn't date you if I didn't find you handsome. You are so kind and loving, and I think you're the absolute hottest guy on the planet. Maybe even the universe."

He dramatically pulled his beanie over his face as he dropped his head into his hands. "Now I have to compete with dark haired, shredded aliens?!"

Consoling him took much longer than anticipated!

Gojo:

“…quiet, short guys with facial hair.”

Satoru couldn't hold back his reaction when he heard that.

"That's your type?" he asked, shaking with laughter. "What the hell are you doing with me, then?"

"Satoru, stop," you pleaded, clearly embarrassed. "The last time I saw that friend was years ago. I was a whole different person."

"Do you not find me pretty?" he pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes.

"You're the prettiest man I've ever had the privilege to meet," you responded, playfully tapping his nose with your finger. "It would be interesting to see you with a mustache or something though."

You both got quiet, imagining what Satoru would look like with facial hair.

"Sorry I ever brought that up," you said.

"Blegh!" he replied, sticking his tongue out. "You owe me another pastry later because I lost my appetite picturing that."

Geto:

“…men with light hair and soft facial features.”

Your friend had walked away, leaving Suguru to mull over their words.

"Am I too... sharp for you, darling?" he asked, trying to joke but was clearly affected.

"That was my type forever ago, Suguru," you told him, earnestly taking hold of his hand that was resting on the tabletop. "You've been the only man for me ever since I met you. No one can compare to your beauty."

"Hmm," he mused, taking a slow sip of his drink, "I must say I enjoy hearing you praise me in such a way. All is forgiven."

"Good. I will love only you for the rest of my days, no matter how many round faced, blonde haired men try to whisk me away."

You witnessed his fingers tighten around the tea cup in his grasp. "I'd like to see them try."

Nanami:

“…men with long, dark hair and blue eyes.”

You paid no mind to your friend's words, knowing they were just reminiscing over something silly before they left. Kento, on the other hand, was busy spiraling as he ate his croissant.

"Everything okay?" you asked him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes.

“Do you not… find me attractive?”

You almost spit out your drink in shock. "I'm sorry?"

He wore a sheepish expression. "Your friend said that your type was men with long, dark hair and blue eyes. I don't fit that description at all."

"My "type" that they brought up was from many, many years ago," you said, rubbing your thumb against his hand to console him. "The only thing I find attractive now, after having met you, is a certain Kento Nanami. Brown eyes, short blonde hair, and all."

"I'm sorry for getting worked up over nothing," he said.

"You don't have to apologize for that," you told him, "it just shows how much you truly care. I love you for that."

You gave him a small peck on the lips before you two went back to savoring your time together.

Choso:

“…super preppy guys with blonde hair and green eyes.”

The only thing that ran through Choso's mind was confusion.

"I don't look anything like that," he uttered suddenly, tilting his head.

"I know, I was into those kinds of guys years ago," you confessed.

"But not anymore?" he asked with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

"Not anymore," you confirmed, sending him a small smile to ease his nerves that were noticeably running rampant at the thought that you didn't find him attractive. "My type now is guys with dark hair in two buns and an adorable black mark across their nose."

Choso let out a relieved sigh as you giggled and continued eating your food.

Toji:

“…short men with long blonde hair.”

As soon as your friend got up from the table, Toji had a disgruntled expression on his face. "Care to add anything to that?"

"I liked guys who looked like that when I talked to my friend last, which was, admittedly, a very long time ago," you explained, getting a grunt of displeasure in response. "And then I met you and I realized what my actual type was."

"And what's that?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

You leaned in over the table, getting as close as you could to your handsome boyfriend.

"A real man," you all but whispered, eyeing him playfully. Toji's eyes widened ever so slightly before falling back into place, his lips transforming to a smirk.

"Sounds like your friend had it all wrong, then," he replied, winking at you.

[ariestrxsh]

sub!pizzaboy!chris x boss!reader

🍕 content warning: smut, praise, jealousy, masturbation, oral (f! & m!receiving), edging, begging, unprotected sex, light choking

🍕 summary: you can't help but get a little jealous when you find out your favorite employee, chris, has been sharing his meat with everyone, but you

Pizza Guy

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 |

"That delivery should have only taken twenty minutes. Why did it take you an hour and a half?" You inquired, peering up from the nightly paperwork at Chris, who had just walked through the front door of the otherwise empty pizza shop.

He could immediately feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you.

Chris was your best employee when he wanted to be, but he was constantly pushing the boundaries with you and taking advantage of how much you let him get away with. You could never fire him, though, and he knew that.

He had too many redeeming qualities. He was always covering shifts, bringing in good reviews, and working without complaining. He was also extremely polite and had a lot of respect for authority, always calling you ma'am and asking what you needed from him.

Chris' only downfall was that he couldn't help but mix business and pleasure - always getting high on the job and entertaining the women who were metaphorically lined up for him in between deliveries and sometimes on deliveries.

He always had a good excuse, though. And when he didn't have an excuse, he'd turn on the charm. He saw the way you looked at him, your hungry gaze that would linger for a few seconds too long, and he recognized the need in your voice, every word coated with lust. He knew that in your eyes, he could do no wrong. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he wasn't above using that to his benefit.

"Chris. Where the hell have you been?" You repeated, interrogating him. "Sorry, ma'am.." he apologized, forcing a pout. "I got pulled over," which wasn't technically a lie. "Oh, Chris. You poor thing," you responded, your tone immediately changing as you walked over to him, giving the sweet boy a hug.

"Did you get a ticket?" You wondered, cradling his flushed face. "No, ma'am. Almost. I think the police officer has a little bit of a crush on me," Chris said, his blue eyes flickering back up at yours as he tried to hold back a smirk. Can't blame her, you thought, studying his handsome features as his seemingly innocent smile stared back at you.

You detected a scent on Chris, one you could recognize anywhere and one you'd already addressed with him. "Chris. Are you stoned right now?" You glared at him, looking at the redness in the whites of his eyes, dropping your hand from his face. "What?! No!" He objected defensively, avoiding eye contact.

"There's no way you just got pulled over. If a cop looked at you for longer than two seconds, you'd be in the back of the cop car in cuffs right now. I bet you were at your dealer's house," you accused him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm not lying, ma'am. She did put me in cuffs," Chris responded, his cock stirring in his jeans as he recounted the events that took place earlier in the night. "You mean to tell me, you went from being cuffed to walking away without even getting a ticket?" You shot him a skeptical look.

He showed you his wrists, pointing out the red marks left behind from the metal that dug into them under the weight of himself and the cop while she riding him. "Don't worry about how I got off, ma'am. All's that matters is that I did," Chris responded, his gaze locked on yours.

You bit down on your lip, imagining Chris in restraints, offering to do anything to keep a clean driving record. You knew it was wrong. After all, he was your subordinate, but that was another reason you could never fire him.

He was so hot, and he knew it. He had this way of looking at you and talking to you when he knew he was about to get into trouble that immediately made you melt. You couldn't stay mad at him. Not even if you wanted to.

"Chris, you gotta be careful. I don't care you if you smoke weed, but you can't keep doing it on the job! You could have gotten yourself into big trouble tonight!" You jabbed your finger into his chest, giving him a serious look.

The truth was, you'd bail him out of jail if you could, but as much as you wanted to protect Chris from the consequences of his actions, you could only do so much when it came to the law. "I'm only hard on you because I care about you," you whispered, caressing his cheek.

"I know, but it makes me feel so good. Don't you like things that make you feel good, ma'am?" Chris asked, a bit of seduction seeping into his tone. You stood in silence for a moment, studying his pretty blue eyes and his pouty lips as he looked you up and down. You avoided his question.

"You know, Chris. I read a really interesting review someone left a while back about you while you were gone," you smirked, sauntering back over to your desk and pulling up the review on the computer. "Was it a good one?" He wondered, his facial features softening as he hoped you were about to start praising him.

"I don't know, you tell me. 'Their driver, Chris, has the best Italian sausage in town. He always goes the extra mile to please the customer,'" you read it word-for-word. "What could she have meant by that, huh?" You wondered with a bit of jealousy lingering on the tip of your tongue.

"I think she just really liked my meat, ma'am. I mean, the shop's meat," he corrected himself, giving you another sultry smile. "Is it the shop's meat? Because I certainly haven't been getting any," you remarked, glancing down at the outline of his half-hard cock in his jeans.

"Oh, ma'am. It would be so wrong," Chris purred, secretly enticed by the moral complexity of the idea of sleeping with his boss. His eyes dropped to your figure as his imagination took over, picturing how certain parts of your body would jiggle while riding him.

"Makes it even hotter, doesn't it? How wrong it is? What do I have to do to get a taste of your meat, huh?" You asked, getting up from your desk and slowly making your way towards him again. "All's you have to do is ask, ma'am," Chris responded with allure in his tone, taking a step closer to you.

"Well, I finished everything while you were getting pulled over," you smirked. "Why don't you come home with me, sweetie? It's the least you could do. I'll take really good care of you," you flirtatiously responded, leaning in and kissing his neck. You took both his hands and placed them on your waist.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Please take me home with you. Take good care of me," he whimpered as he tilted his head to the side to give you better access, immediately giving into your advances.

Your lips were so soft, and Chris couldn't get enough of the way they felt on the sensitive nerve endings on his neck, sending blood rushing to the tip of his cock as a few luscious moans escaped.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" You cooed, running your fingers along the bulge in his pants as your kisses grew slower, deeper, and more passionate. "Yes, ma'am," Chris mewled, grinding against your palm.

"Down, boy," you said, smiling and petting his package through his jeans as you retreated from kissing his neck. He nearly sobbed when you pulled away. "Oh, ma'am. You're so cruel. Getting me all riled up when we still have a long drive ahead of us," he whispered, already feeling lightheaded from the way you handled him.

"You were cruel first. Leaving me here all alone while you entertain other women. Don't you know how bad I need you here with me, Chris?" You wondered, your words drenched in envy as you delicately ran your hand across his chest.

Of course, you meant it in a professional sense, needing him at the store to help you close up, but you also meant it in a much more primal sense, and he did know. He'd known for a while now, but Chris wasn't the type to make the first move. He'd been waiting for you to finally say it. He nodded.

"Show me how bad you need me," he seductively whispered, tempting you. "Let's lock up, shall we?" You said, taking Chris by the hand, leading him towards the front door, and shutting off all the lights on your way out.

The two of you stepped out into the dark, chilly night, the breeze biting at your nose and stinging your lungs as you inhaled. You slipped the key into the lock, turning it until it clicked, and you tugged on the freezing cold handle for good measure.

Chris followed you to your nice, shiny, black SUV and climbed into your passenger seat. You started the ignition, your engine roaring as it turned over. You turned on the heat, placing your palm in front of the fan, waiting for the air to warm up.

Chris was still rock hard, his eager cock straining against the denim fabric he wore and his mind swirling with the possibilities of what you were going to do with him once the two of you made it back to your place.

"So, what really happened with that cop?" You deviously wondered, glaring at him before looking back at the road you started down. Chris blushed. "She handcuffed me and put me in the back of her car. Then whatever you think happened is probably what happened next," Chris smugly suggested.

You bit your lip, letting your imagination run wild. "And the customer, Chris? You naughty boy," you clicked your tongue at him, shaking your head. His head fell lazily against the headrest as he peered over at you with a submissive expression.

"Ma'am. I promise I'm a good boy. I don't have a naughty bone in my body," Chris lustfully responded, his cock beginning to twitch in his pants as his eyes danced over your lips, imagining how they'd feel wrapped around him. "Well, maybe one," he quietly admitted, shifting around, trying to adjust his aching erection.

"Take it out for me, Chris," you demanded. "Right now?" He asked, an upward inflection in his voice as his brows flew up. "Yes. Show me that pretty cock that the girls can't get enough of, hmm?" You hissed, placing your hand on his thigh and making it jump again. "Yes, ma'am," he nodded, unclasping his belt, undoing his button, and lowering his zipper.

Your eyes shifted between the road and his dick, favoring one more than the other as he started to pull it out. Your eyes widened and your jaw fell slightly open at the sight. "You like what you see, ma'am?"

You couldn't find the words to describe just how much you did, so you settled for a subtle nod. Its size was intimidating and intriguing all at the same time. He went to wrap his long fingers around his veiny shaft, but you swatted his hand away.

"Ah, ah, ah. I didn't say you could play with it," you teased him. He gave you a pout, his brows turning up in a look of anguish. "But I need it," Chris whined.

"I thought you said you were a good boy, hmm? Don't good boys listen and do what they're told?" You purred, playing upon Chris' praise kink and his need for your approval. He hesitantly nodded. "Then behave, Chris." You lightly patted his thigh again, driving him mad with your touch. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Why don't we play a game? And if you're a good boy and play the game correctly, then I'll let you touch with it," You suggested, running your tongue along the inside of your teeth. "What kind of game?" Chris wondered, eager to let his hands wander below his waist.

"The kind of game where you tell me what happened with that customer who left that review while you stroke yourself, but you have to do exactly as I say. And you better listen and tell me exactly what happened or else you're in big trouble," you told him.

"But ma'am, I'm gonna get in trouble with you anyway," Chris quietly pouted, worried you were going to fire him for lying about his slashed tires that night.

"Oh, Chris. You could never be in trouble with me as long as you tell the truth," you cooed, softly running the back of your hand along his cheek. "You promise?" He timidly asked. "I promise," you replied, and you meant it.

"Go ahead, Chris. Start touching it," you voiced, giving him permission. His hand moved towards his cock, firmly gripping it, and he let out a relieved sigh as he started slowly stroking.

"So, tell me, Chris. Who instigated the interaction? You or her?" You interrogated him, glancing between the road and his swollen head, a wet patch forming on the front of your panties. "She did, ma'am," Chris told you.

"Did you go inside her house?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I know I'm not supposed to, but.." Chris started to say. "But what? Answer me, Chris."

"Yes, ma'am. I did go into her house," Chris whimpered, his gaze meeting yours. "How'd she get you to stay, hmm?" You purred, watching Chris' facial features soften as he relaxed into his pleasure.

"She made me a cup of hot cocoa and started kissing my neck. She told me to call you and give you an excuse as to why I couldn't come back to work. Told me she'd make it worth it," Chris admitted, looking nervously at you with his blue eyes.

You gasped. "You naughty boy," you narrowed your gaze at him, a little annoyed that he had faked an excuse to get out of work but a little turned on by the fact that he'd done it to get his dick wet. "She made me call you while she was sucking me off," Chris replied, a smirk forming in the corner of his pink lips.

"You called me while she sucked you off?" You repeated what he just told you to make sure you heard him correctly. You squeezed your thighs together as you pictured him on the phone with you while he had his cock in another woman's mouth. "Mhmm," Chris nodded, pumping his length faster as it quivered against his palm.

"Slow down, Chris. You're gonna have to make yourself last a long time, so don't get too carried away," you smirked at him, thinking about how long you were gonna make him wait to finish. He took a deep breath and slowed the pace. "That's very naughty of you, sweetie," you responded in a voice just above a whisper.

The rest of the drive to your destination, you teased Chris, trying to extract information from him about his most recent sexual encounters, and he spilled the details to you relunctantly. Despite his hesitancy, his cock gave him away, jerking at every word you spoke that jogged his memory.

"Did she ride you, Chris?" You provocatively asked, and you watched it twitch again, listening closely as a soft whine passed through his lips. "I think she did.." you answered your own question, giving him a playful smile.

"You like it when the girl's in charge, don't you? You love to be bossed around in bed," you insinuated, and you watched Chris blush and nod in response as he ran the tip of his thumb through his precum, spreading it around on his sensitive head.

The banter between you and Chris was enticing to say the least, and the whole time you were soaking wet, buzzing with excitement about what Chris would be like in bed and how good his pretty dick would feel lodged inside of you while you bounce up and down on it.

You saw how close he was getting as you turned onto your street, and before he could finish, you stopped him. "Be a good boy, Chris. Put it away for a second. His eyes were filled with hurt and desperation, but he nodded and did as he was told.

Once you pulled into your garage, you turned to Chris, gently grabbing onto his hair and pulling his face just a few inches from yours as you locked your hungry gaze onto his.

"Look. Normally, I'd invite you in, give you something to drink, offer you something to eat, show you around. I don't have the fucking patience for that right now, Chris. What we're gonna do is go straight to my room, and you're gonna be a good boy for me and let me use you however I want for as long as I want. Got it?" You demanded.

Chris obediently nodded, his face conveying desire. You took Chris' hand, leading him in through your warm and cozy house that smelled like apple cinammon. You guided him up your stairs and into your bedroom.

You pulled him into a passionate kiss, your mouth crashing into his as the sexual tension between the two of you built to an all-time high. His pretty moans vibrated against your lips as you reached under his shirt, your fingertips brushing against his hip bones as you hooked them onto the hem of the material.

You pulled away long enough to pull his uniform off over his head, and you quickly dropped to your knees. Chris looked down at you, wetting his lips as he silently begged you with his eyes to do what he thought you were going to do. You unbuttoned his jeans, slid the zipper down, and pulled down his pants and his underwear.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as if you were getting ready to please his cock, but you couldn't let him finish without a little more teasing. Instead, you retreated, standing to your feet as a look of disappointment seeped into Chris' expression.

It was just as hard for you as it was for him. You'd imagined this scenario a hundred times, and you couldn't wait to hear the pretty sounds he'd make while you suck on it, but the fact that you'd been waiting so long for it, made you want to savor every moment, every kiss, every touch..

You gently pushed him back onto your bed, and his eyes danced over you while he propped himself up on his elbows as you shed off your own layers, letting them fall to your feet. You climbed on top of him, pulling him into another passionate kiss as the two of you rolled around on your silky soft sheets.

"Be a good boy for me, Chris. Let me sit on your pretty face," you demanded from him, but it didn't take much persuasion. "Oh, yes, ma'am. You don't have to tell me twice," Chris eagerly replied as you gently pushed him down, guiding him to lie flat on his back.

You straddled his face, placing your knees on either side of his head and lowering your pussy onto his mouth. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you as close to him as possible as his tongue explored your folds, flickering back and forth over your sensitive clit.

You entangled your fingers in his messy hair, and you gently tugged on it, causing him to moan against you while his eyes rolled back in his head. The vibration that passed through his lips reverberated against your vulva, pleasure rushing through you.

You gently rocked your hips back and forth, riding Chris' face and grinding against his silky, wet tongue. You peered down into his gorgeous blue eyes as you combed through his brown locks. "You're such a good boy, Chris," you whispered, enjoying the feeling of his lips as he wrapped them around your bundle of nerves and started tenderly sucking on it.

"Yes, sweetheart. Just like that," you encouraged him. He nuzzled into your heat, relishing in the lovely sounds that left your lips and the way you rutted against his face, all testaments to how good he was making you feel. He could eat you for hours.

He reached up and grabbed your breasts, gently rolling your nipples between the pads of his fingers. He moaned against your clit a few more times as he delicately sucked on it, rapidly flicking his tongue against it. You felt pressure building in your lower stomach as you tightened the grip of your thighs around Chris' head.

"Good boy," you whimpered again, your body beginning to shiver as your pleasure reached a crescendo. His cock twitched at your praises, and his hands moved to your waist, stabilizing you as he admired the way you looked from this angle.

He took your clit between his lips and gently tugged on it until you were coming undone. You threw your head back and started fervently grinding against his face, losing yourself in your orgasm as you released onto his tongue.

He lapped up every last bit of your wetness, savoring the sweetness that filled his senses. Once you were completely satisfied, he removed his mouth from your pussy. "Did I do a good job, ma'am?" Chris asked, his big, blue eyes staring back at yours with his chin covered in your juices.

"Oh, sweetheart. You always do. You were perfect. Such a good boy," you purred breathlessly as you ruffled his hair once more, starting to lift yourself off of him. "Get comfortable, sweetie. Let me take care of you," you cooed.

"Yes, please," he politely answered, nestling among your mess of pillows and propping himself up against your headboard. He loved it when you took charge. He kept his eyes locked on yours as you placed yourself between his legs.

He'd been hard for the past hour, desperate for you to take it into your mouth, but you were still savoring every moment, and he secretly adored all the teasing. You drew a line from the base of his dick all the way up his length with your soft tongue, and it twitched in response.

You gently kissed his tip, slurping up the shiny, clear fluid that was slowly leaking out as you slowly stroked his dick. He let out a soft, pleasured sound as your tongue made contact with all his sensitive nerve endings, and you started delicately flicking it across his swollen, pink head.

"How's that?" You asked in a soft voice. "So good," he whined as you started combining the two techniques, sucking on it while your tongue got to work, fluttering around in the best-feeling places. Pretty noises poured from his lips as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly on his length and learning every vein with your tongue.

He smiled down at you and tenderly placed his hand on the back of your head, silently asking you to take more of him. You listened by sliding your lips all the way down his shaft until he was hitting the back of your throat. He gasped as you took it all so effortlessly. "How'd you learn to do that, ma'am?" He whimpered, peering down at you wide-eyed and breathing heavily as you chuckled, humming around the base.

You sped up your movements, sloppily drooling and making a mess all over his cock. "Please let me cum. Please," Chris moaned, his luscious voice spilling into the air. Despite how politely he asked, you took him out of your mouth long enough to give him a smirk and shake your head no.

"Please, please, please," his jagged breaths becoming whiny and needy. You ignored his begging and continued your pace, bringing him dangerously close to the edge before withdrawing all stimulation. He let out a few strangled moans as his cock twitched some more, begging to be sucked on again.

You loved how responsive he was and how his body language reacted to every subtle touch. You wrapped your lips around him again, and a stream of lustful noises flowed from him. You looked into his blue eyes that were silently pleading with you. You could see how desperate he was, which made you want to edge him even more.

"Please," he whispered again as if you didn't hear him the first half a dozen times he asked for you to let him finish. "You're going to have to be a good boy and wait," you teased him, removing your mouth again and shifting around on the bed. He responded with a subtle nod.

You began to straddle him, guiding his rod towards your entrance, and you let out a delighted hum as you lowered yourself down onto him. Chris' head gently fell back and tapped the headboard as you squelched around him.

"Oh, Chris. You're so big," you moaned. "So I've been told," Chris chuckled. He couldn't help how much that compliment stroked his ego. You started to ride him, your breasts bouncing in his face as he latched onto your nipples, tenderly sucking on each one. His hands wandered towards your ass, and he squeezed your soft flesh, whimpering against your chest.

"Good boy," you praised him as you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his head. You leaned down and started sucking on a sensitive place on his neck, and he whined into your ear as he tried to hold on while you were actively working against him. "Please let me cum," he asked again patiently and politely with desire in his expression.

"Not yet, pretty boy," you cooed into the crook of his neck as you continued lightly sucking on it. Whimpers escaped his mouth as you picked up the pace, your strides becoming faster and rougher. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, but he tried to hold on to please you.

He was always able to hold the different perspectives of you in his mind, both the professional view he had of you and the sexual desire he felt toward you. He couldn't help but delight in the way the two versions of you merged in front of him. He'd always loved how bossy you were, but the way you were ordering him around in bed gave your bossy nature a whole new meaning to him, and he adored it.

He loved the way you bounced on him, your moans becoming louder and more urgent. He could feel you clenching around his cock, which made it even harder for him to fend off his long-awaited orgasm.

"Please, please, please," he begged some more, losing his composure. "Please let me cum, ma'am," he sweetly requested, his dick already beginning to throb inside of you. He wasn't exactly asking for your permission but more or less warning you that he couldn't hold off anymore.

"Yeah? You wanna cum?" You asked, peering into his bedroom eyes and examining his flushed, pink cheeks and the way he kept licking his lips. "More than anything, ma'am," he whimpered, his eyelids growing heavy and his mouth falling open.

"Only because you've been such a good boy," you commented, caressing his jawline with your thumb and moving your hand to his throat. You gripped his neck, lightly choking him which sent him over the edge.

A few strangled moans passed through his lips as his eyes rolled back and his head gently thumped against the headboard again. His climax hit him like a freight train, barreling through him and sending a jolt of pleasure through his whole body.

He shot his load up into you as you finished onto him, the room filling with both of your satisfied sounds. You involuntarily dug your nails into the flesh of his neck, intensifying how good it felt for him. You slumped forward, pulling him into a warm embrace as you throbbed around him.

"Chris, I've been wanting to do that forever," you breathlessly whispered into his ear. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often, huh? It really seems to get your attention," Chris smugly remarked, smirking at you. "Oh, sweetie. You don't have to try to get my attention. You just always have it."

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[kissitbttr]

dilf!toji giving you a ride back to the party

a small follow up from this !

|

there has been times where you fantasize about hot older men with your friends. all of you agree that they are just better at everything.

you remember this one time when you had a crush on the first older guy you had found attractive. he was your dad’s closest friend. you had always loved admiring him from afar, undressing him with your eyes, imagining how he’d look as he fucks you in your bed. sadly, he’s married. which means, you can’t do anything about it.

one of your friends encouraged you to break it up though, steal him away from his wife in which you reply with a disgusting look on your face. because never in a million years you would stoop that low.

no guys ever came close as your dad’s best friend after that. dismissing every single college guys who tried to get into your pants, tossing every written numbers on a paper from them into a trash can. your ex was the only exception though. why? because he was two years older than you. that counts for something, right?

until now.

you sit rather quiet nervously in the passenger’s seat. fingers drumming slightly against your thick thighs, stealing glances every now and then at the handsome stranger who offered you a ride before,

and boy, does he look so hot doing it.

he leans comfortably against the seat with one hand on the wheel while the other perched on his thigh. looking like a perfect dream

dear god, please do not make me wet tonight

“thank you for the food, sir. i love it” you give him a smile, shoving another fry into your mouth. “i’m starving”

toji cranes his neck to look at you, mirroring your smile. “i thought i told you to call me toji?”

“oh yeah! sorry, i forgot!” you let out a nervous giggle, finger toying with the skirt of your dress. discreetly pulling it down further since it keeps riding up,

“i didn’t catch your name though. mind telling me?” he starts, putting his focus back on the road while taking a turn,

“i’m y/n” you respond to the beautiful dark haired man,

“pretty name for a pretty girl” he compliments, grinning widely at you. chuckling after seeing you blush. “still in college?”

you nod. “mhmm!”

“you like it?”

“pft! as if!” you roll your eyes, making him laugh at your comment. “college is insanity. too much work, but the parties help”

“i bet” he replies, head shaking. “is it like a regular thing?”

“kind of. we always do it once a week, or twice…? can’t exactly count. the frats usually the one who held it, so I can’t really tell” you shrug your shoulders, eyes looking over to the window. “what about you, sir-toji?”

he snorts, running his fingers over his hair and you almost let out a soft gasp.“oh I don’t party, sweetheart. i’m too old for that.”

“can’t be that old” you giggle, reaching out to poke his side with a finger. you don’t know where that confidence comes from, could be from alcohol,

toji raises an eyebrow at the sudden touch, but makes no comment. “i’m pushing 40, so definitely old” he smirks at you,

40..?

oh…

a look of surprise is taking over your face. “really?” you see him nod again in confirmation. “you don’t look like you’re that old”

“how old did you think i am?”

“hmm, 27?”

he barks a laugh, and you never heard something so pretty. “now you’re just being polite, sweetheart”

god, he really is making you swoon with all the terms of endearment . you wonder if he’s married or taken,

“are you single?”

he’s taken aback at the question, eyebrow raising. “why, want to take me out on a date?”

giggling, you toss a hair behind your shoulder before shrugging it. shifting your body to completely facing him now. “maybeee”

toji only laughs at your confidence. the small pouty look you’re giving just makes him want to give you a peck on the lips. maybe two.

you’re so damn cute, he’d give you that.

“yes, i am. divorced about two years ago.”

“oh… what happened? if you don’t mind me asking.”

he shrugs like it’s nothing. “didn’t work out. the whole marriage was draining me. but i got a little boy who i love dearly and would tear down the whole fucking sky for”

he’s got a kid?! holyshit,

“how old is he?”

“just turned two last month” he smiles at the thought of his little megumi sleeping soundly back home. “how about you, sweetheart? got marriage written down on your plan?”

“oh of course! it’s definitely on my bucket list!” you sigh dreamily at the thought of you walking down the aisle. “not any time soon though! i like being like this for a moment”

“good. you enjoy that while it lasts.” he advises. “hate to overstep, but what’s the deal with your ex before?”

hearing that makes your smile drop and body slouch. eyes dropping down to your lap. “oh..”

toji senses that bubbly personality of your is wearing off soon as he mentions that, which causes him to panic. “shit, I didn’t mean to make you sad, darling. sorry. you don’t have to explain”

you shake your head, clearing your throat. “no, no! it’s fine it was just—“ you cut yourself with a sad sigh. “he wanted.. to have sex with me at the party but.. i didn’t want to.. because we were drunk! and it wouldn’t be right for us to do it while we’re drunk, right?! so i told him no… over and over and — he didn’t take it well so… he called me a boring bitch and broke it off..”

his eyebrows deepening hearing that, hand around the wheel tighten at the thought of some lowlife punk trying to force himself at a sweet girl like you to have sex,

“you fucking with me?” his tone rising, seeing you shake your head as a no. “my god that’s not— sweetheart, you know that it was not your fault right? was that why you looked so sad? because you thought that you should’ve gave him what he wanted?”

you toy with the hem of your skirt, still looking down before nodding. “…yes.. because maybe then he wouldn’t be mad”

“no.. oh god, no.. don’t you ever, ever think that. what you did was the right thing, baby. you should be proud for standing up to yourself, you know that?”

slowly you look up to him, seeing his genuine eyes looking into yours. “okay..”

but toji doesn’t buy that, instead he shakes his head. “no, i want to hear you say it, come on. say ‘i did the right thing’”

a smile slowly creeps up to your face while your cheeks are heating up. “tojiii” you whine,

he smiles back at you, “come on. say it”

“i—i did the right thing” you repeat slowly,

“good girl” he praises, and that almost makes your body goes slump and your thighs to squeeze together,

when was the last time someone called you that?

throughout the ride, you and toji talk a lot about each other. from a-z. and you can’t help but admit how refreshing it is to finally have someone to talk to like this. it was a non-stop conversation, accompanied by the soft tunes playing in the background—thanks to your choice of music—

you may not notice this but toji is purposely taking the long way just so the conversation stays a bit longer,hoping you don’t realize what he’s doing. it’s not like you would actually complain, you enjoy his company.

despite your age, toji finds you to be the most interesting woman he has ever met. the way you talk freely and articulate words when you speak to him is so attractive. he loves a woman who has her own opinion on everything and you had just shown him that.

you’re smart, witty, have a great sense of humor and not to mention,

really fucking gorgeous.

toji feels like a downright pervert when he tries to sneak a glance at your soft plump thighs every second. imagining how they would look around his head. or the fat of your tits when you bounce on his cock, giving him the perfect view. and your lips,

god, your pink. glossy . lips.

“is this the place?” he pulls up in front of the big frat house where he can see a few kids standing on the porch, typical red solo cups in their hands. his eyes carefully observe the scene before him. “shit, they’re really getting shit faced huh?”

you laugh, looking over where one kid had puked all over the lawn making you grimace. “they’re not all like that everyday”

“hmm sure, sweetheart” he rolls his eyes, but smile anyways. “be careful now, yeah? you got my number saved?”

nodding, you take one good look at him before unbuckling your seatbelt. “yup! thank you for the ride, toji. you’re a real life saver!”

“don’t mention it. keep an eye out on any one who wants to try something with you. especially your ex. let me know if he’s bothering you, i’ll come quickly as i can” he informs,

your heart feels like its about to jump out of your chest, “i will, thanks again and oh! wait— can i … see you again?”

he quirks an eyebrow at that, a cocky smirk stretches upon his pretty lips causing you to glance down at it,

“you want to?” his finger and thumb softly tapping against the wheel

“i do” you reply quickly, biting down on your lower lip as your hand fiddle against the handle of his car door. “this can’t be the last time, right?”

no, of course not he thinks. because he wants to see you too. if not more than you want to see him. might as well take you out on a date, or a stroll. anything. as long as he gets to see that pretty face of yours longer than just an hour.

“you got it, sweetheart. keep a look out for a text from me, then yeah?” his hand then reach our to grab your other one, giving a soft kiss on the knuckles while maintaining an eye contact with you,

you let out a shaky breathe with a small cute smile as he rubs his thumb against your skin. before you can even move your hand to open the door, he does it for you. shooting you another smile of his.

you grab your purse and climb out of the vehicle, waving your hand at him. “good night , toji”

“goodnight, y/n. i’ll see you very soon” he winks before you close the door and see himself drive off,

you stand there for a while with a bright smile on your face that never seems to leave,

you really can’t wait to see him again

—

next part, first date?👀

a/n: also, planning to make this into a series <3

taglist:

@fushipurro

@crocodilethesir

@chilichopsticks

@trentknd

@tojis-ball-sack

@hellokittyloverrxox

@xavlyzn

[hederasgarden]

Under the Influence - Part 1

Summary: While investigating a suspicious pharmaceutical company, you and Clark find yourselves exposed to a drug that forces you to grapple with its unforeseen consequences. Pairing: Clark Kent x F!Reader  Word Count: 3.9K Warning: 18+ only, explicit sexual content. Dubious consent (reader and Clark are exposed to sex pollen), unprotected PIV, size kink, biting, angst and other untagged themes.  A/N: Thank you @ryebecca @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for holding my hand through this and Becca for beta’ing!

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Henry Cavill Characters Masterlist

It’s late, and the glittering skyline of Metropolis stretches out beyond the windows of the Daily Planet. The usual hum of activity in the bullpen is absent tonight – it’s just you, Clark, and an intimidating stack of boxes that seem to multiply with every passing minute. You may have indulged in a daydream or two about Clark just like this, but none of them ever involved so much paperwork.

You stifle a yawn, reaching for your coffee, only to nearly choke when you realize it’s gone cold. Grimacing, you set the offending mug aside and try to wash away the stale taste with water. The sound catches Clark’s attention and pulls him from his work. He offers you a wiry smile that you return, struck once again by just how handsome he looks. He makes it all too easy to have a crush on him, even though you know it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I’ll put on a fresh pot,” he offers, stretching as he stands. 

Despite shedding his suit jacket earlier, and the way his tie is slightly askew, he still manages to look annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. You lean back to pass him your mug, your stiff muscles protesting. They ache from hours of sitting and sorting. 

“Back in a jiffy,” he promises, disappearing down the hall. 

By now, the two of you have been hunched over documents for nearly ten hours. Half of them are so technical they might as well be gibberish, but you’ve found a few leads in the financial papers. Unfortunately, your current stack of documents is so heavily redacted that they’re practically useless. You groan in frustration, resting your forehead on your arms until Clark returns, bringing the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee with him. 

You accept the mug with a smile but quickly set it on the table when the warmth that seeps through the ceramic nearly burns your fingers. Not for the first time, you wonder how Clark managed to get the ancient coffee machine to percolate so quickly. For everyone else, it typically spewed out lukewarm sludge.

“Bet you're regretting volunteering for this assignment now,” Clark says. 

“Not for a moment,” you reply. “You’re still sharing that byline with me, right?” You question, squinting up at him.

“I always keep my promises,” he says with such earnestness that you’re reminded once again why Perry liked to call him a Boy Scout.

“I’ll hold you to it because this story’s turned into a beast.”

Clark sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he surveys the cluttered table strewn with file boxes and paper.  “It really has,” he agrees. 

When Perry called for a volunteer from the pool of junior editors to help with an expose on Salvation Pharmaceuticals, you jumped at the opportunity and not just because Clark was the writer assigned to the story. Most of your days were spent copyediting stories and arguing about AP style. You were just itching for some hands-on research experience, although neither of you expected the thread Clark pulled to unravel so quickly or so thoroughly. 

What started as an investigation into government kickbacks and dubious congressional dealings rapidly evolved into something far more unsettling. Salvation Pharmaceuticals’ R&D department was embroiled in deeply questionable research, from a gas capable of erasing memories to a potent drug they called a truth serum. All of their drugs had horrible side effects, particularly the latter which worked by lowering inhibitions but also triggered something they called sexual psychosis.

Clark’s freedom of information request resulted in your current predicament. Based on the sheer number of boxes they sent it was clear the company hoped to overwhelm you with an avalanche of data and make it difficult to find what you needed. Unfortunately for them, Clark Kent was one of the most determined reporters you’d ever met. If anyone was going to get to the bottom of the story it was him. 

“Well…once more unto the breach,” you quote, holding up a fresh box of files.

As you lift the lid, Clark offers you a small smile, his cheeks dimpling. For a moment, you’re too distracted by him to notice the cloud of yellow dust rising from the box. It quickly expands, swirling into a thick mist that engulfs you both. Immediately, your lungs begin to burn, and you gasp for air. You push your chair back and struggle to stand as your vision blurs. 

A strong arm around your middle hauls you back, dragging your feet on the carpet. Clark pulls you to the edge of the room, and you lean into him, desperately trying to clear your lungs. Behind you, he grunts, his fingers twitching and spasming against your hip. It takes several moments for the air to clear, but when it does, you watch in horror as the yellow dust seems to melt into your skin.

“What was that?” You ask, voice hoarse.

Clark is silent and looks grim when you turn to face him. “I think that was the truth serum. The reports described it as yellow dust.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “Why would the dust be in there?”

“I don’t know. But I can guess.”

You rub your chest and take a hesitant step back. “I don’t feel any different. Do you?”

“No.” He presses his lips together, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. “Do you feel anything?”

You exhale slowly, taking stock of your body. “Maybe?” Your response is more of a question than a definitive answer. You feel oddly warm, but it could just be the adrenaline from the situation. 

“You’re sweating,” he observes, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. The warmth of his touch makes you shudder and you can’t help but notice how good he smells. “Your body temperature is elevated.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, momentarily lost in his gaze. “You’re hot, too,” you blurt out, mortified when the words leave your mouth.

“I feel fine,” Clark replies, either misunderstanding what you meant or choosing not to acknowledge the slip.

You step away from him, feeling your body buzz with embarrassment. Sweat dots your brow, and you’re halfway out of your thin cardigan before you even realize it. As you pace the room, you realize Clark might be right — the powder could be affecting you. You try to shake off the disorienting feeling that lingers, while Clark tracks your progress with sharp blue eyes.

“Should we call someone? Isn’t there a protocol for dealing with mysterious powders?” It’s difficult to think straight when your body feels like a furnace. “Clark?” You question.

His nostrils flare but otherwise, he doesn’t respond until you say his name again. “Yeah. There’s uh, an anthrax protocol. Perry’s got it in his office.”

Time seems to progress in strange lurches and lulls as you wait for Clark to return. You’re not sure how long he’s gone, each minute dragging as the heat within intensifies and your thoughts become increasingly muddled. There’s a growing pressure in your stomach too, something that radiates down. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s persistently irritating — a prickling feeling that needs to be soothed.

“I made the call,” Clark announces, reappearing. “They said it’ll be 30 minutes until they get here with everything they need. We just have to sit tight.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. If it really was the truth serum, and you’re starting to believe Clark might be right, there’s no telling what might come out of your mouth. Even now, as you pace back and forth, you feel a pressure under your tongue, as though the words are lurking just beneath the surface, eager to spring out. The last thing you want to do is reveal your stupid little crush on him.

“God, it’s hot,” you muttered, staring at the window. You press your palms to the glass. It’s cool to the touch and you lay your forehead against it, almost moaning in relief. You wish you could strip off your dress and melt into the floor. 

“Here.” Clark’s voice is closer than you expect.

You flinch at the feel of his hand on your lower back but let him turn you around to face him. He presses a glass of cool water to your lips, and you grasp his thick wrist as he urges you to drink it all, your gaze never leaving his. The moment you finish your mouth feels dry and your throat itches. 

“You have the bluest eyes,” you whisper. “You shouldn’t hide them behind your glasses.” You reach for them, but Clark stops you with a gentle hand on yours. Embarrassment rushes under your skin, and you draw back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s the drug.”

“Why aren’t you affected?” You question. “You seem fine.”

“My biology is different from yours,” he says almost absently only to freeze a second later. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw. For the first time since you met him, Clark looks genuinely unsettled. “The reports said it affected women quicker,” he adds before stepping back.

Your hand falls limply to your side as you watch him. Clark tugs at his already loosened tie, stretching his neck with an audible crack. A dark red flush creeps up his cheeks, making the skin around his eyes glow faintly. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

“Maybe I should wait in the other room,” he grits out.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Clark barely takes a step towards the door before a sharp, unexpected wave of searing pain rips through your stomach, sending you crashing to your knees. The impact jolts your entire body, but that discomfort is overshadowed by a deep gnawing ache between your legs. You pitch forward onto all fours, struggling as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

“Oh,” you whimper, terrified as your mind recalls the adverse event report for the truth serum with perfect clarity. 

Following an increase in basal body temperature, patients exposed to the drug exhibit symptoms of full-blown sexual psychosis. This condition necessitates achieving climax to alleviate symptoms. Patients who are unable to reach climax experience a marked increase in heart rate and blood pressure, which in some cases progresses to cardiac arrest.

Every muscle in your body tenses, as a fierce, relentless pressure builds. Then, like the tide, it recedes, leaving you curled into a ball on the floor. Through half-closed eyes, you meet Clark’s gaze. He kneels in front of you and his expression mirrors your anguish.

“Clark….”

“I know,” he says quietly. His hands hover at your shoulder for a moment before he finally helps turn you on your back.

None of this feels real; it’s like a twisted wish gone wrong.

“Help me, please,” you cry, the words escaping in broken sobs. You’re too hysterical to feel ashamed about what you’re asking him to do. Details from the report keep replaying in your mind, fueling your terror. You don’t want to die.

Clark looms over you, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You stare up at him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pain in your core pulses and builds. The ache in the body is all-consuming, overriding everything else. Worse is the feeling of emptiness that you know he could fill. 

“Please.” Your voice fizzles out as a strong wave of pain slams into you. It leaves you reeling and disoriented. You claw at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. 

“I’m going to help you.” He says, his gaze lingering on you as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “If-if you want me to,” he adds, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up inside you. Of course you do, you’ve dreamed of him since the day you met him in the breakroom. You just never imagined this. 

When another cramp leaves you panting and desperate you grit out a pained, “Yes.”

His large hand encircles your calf, gently but firmly pulling your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The cool air makes you groan and you try to curl in on yourself again, but Clark pins you to the floor easily. With shaky hands, he drags your dress up to expose your simple black underwear. The sight seems to transfix him and you watch his chest rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths that mimic your own. 

“I have to ah, I have to…” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he shakes his head his glasses fall down his nose. “I need to get you ready.”

“I don’t care,” you sob. “Fuck me, please.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the part that's still you, is horrified by your words. You’ve never spoken to anyone like that, let alone a colleague or the man you have a crush on. But you know with a terrifying certainty that if he doesn’t fuck you, you’ll both die. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, the calm tenor of his voice betrayed by the way his hand trembles against your thigh. He tears off your underwear with an ease that would give you pause if you were in your right mind.

Shame is a thing of the past as you spread your legs even further, allowing his hungry gaze to drink its fill. He parts your folds and draws two fingers through the wetness gathered there, starting with light, teasing strokes that quickly build to more. When his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, he rubs slow, soothing circles until the pain in your stomach eases a fraction. 

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, sounding breathless. “Doing so good for me, honey.”

You moan his name and he shifts closer, bent forward to watch himself work. Soon one kind of pressure recedes and another begins. You gasp, throwing your head back as Clark continues his slow assault, building in its intensity. When your legs thrash his other hand settles on your hip, holding you still as he works a thick finger inside. Your cunt clenches in response to the intrusion. Above you, he groans and his thumb moves faster. 

“More, oh god I need more,” you beg, keening when Clark pushes a second finger inside. 

The stretch of them both burns but that’s eclipsed by the pleasure you feel. You rock forward, trying to take more of him but he doesn’t let you, controlling the pace. You can hear yourself babbling, nonsensical words streaming from your mouth as he draws you closer and closer to your orgasm until, all at once, it overwhelms you completely. Your orgasm is almost painful and your hands curl into fists, your body contorting in response. The room blurs around you, and every fiber of your being is consumed by the relief you feel. 

When it passes you’re left trembling on the floor, avoiding Clark’s gaze. He hovers over you, his arousal hard to miss with the way it tents the front of his gray slacks.

“Clark.” You touch his chest, inhaling when his dark blue eyes snap up to meet yours. “Do you…” 

You can’t even force yourself to say it now that you’re back in your right mind. Clark shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers. You wince, and he looks pained. 

“We should —” he starts, but whatever he is about to say is abruptly cut off as he grunts and hunches forward, a visible shudder running through him. 

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his face. When your fingers brush over the curve of his cheek he moans and surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. He forces his tongue inside and the heat of him is almost unbearable. You push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t relent. His hands travel up and down your sides and you feel that familiar pressure return to your core. It builds slowly, like the spark of an ember that will soon flare into a blazing fire. 

You shift under Clark, drawing your legs up as he swallows down your needy whine. By the time he pulls away, you’re feeling dizzy and gasping for breath.

“We need to,” you begin, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembles.

“I know,” Clark replies.

He fumbles with his pants and you look up at the ceiling as he pulls himself free. It feels like a violation to look, but without your permission, you find your gaze drifting down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, just as big and thick as the rest of him. It’s red and weeping. Your cunt aches, and you toss your head side to side, trying to dispel the pain. 

Clark plants a hand near your head while he lines himself up between your thighs. He pushes inside slowly. It hurts, god, it hurts, but you need more of him, and you need it now. Wrapping his tie around your hand, you pull hard, urging him closer. He snaps his hip forward with enough force to jar your bones, and you wail in response. For one blissful moment, everything is quiet. Your buzzing mind and aching body are finally filled in a way they’ve been craving.

“Fuck.” The curse falls from Clark’s lips and brings you back to the moment. “You feel so good. You feel…” he trails off, his words bleed into one long, low moan that has you clenching around him. 

Above you, his handsome face contorts, his lips pressed tightly together. Tension lines the muscles of his jaw and his dark brows furrow in an expression that teeters between ecstasy and pain. Pleasure skitters along your nerves as he drives into you over and over again to reach some unknown place hidden deep inside. Your second orgasm rises to the surface just as swiftly as your first and Clark is relentless as he fucks you through it. 

There isn’t even time to catch your breath before his hands encircle your hips and he leans back, drawing you with him. The backs of your thighs drag over the fabric of his slack as he moves your body to meet his thrusts. As one orgasm fades you feel another spring to life, hastened by the feel of his calloused thumb on your clit. The need inside you burns even brighter, and a litany of desperate pleas spills from your lips. 

“You feel,” he pants, “just like I imagined.”

When you gasp his name he curls his body over yours, the new angle allowing him to move even deeper. You hold onto his biceps and listen to the desperate little noises that escape his chest with each thrust. His lips find the soft skin of your throat as his fingers dig into the neckline of your dress. He pulls hard and buttons scatter, giving him access to your shoulder. Teeth scrap over tender flesh and your back arches as another orgasm blooms in your stomach.

Waves of pleasure ebb through your body and your fingers tangle in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Clark doesn’t falter even when you fall still beneath him. Your muscles ache, and your body feels tense and exhausted, but that frenzied need that’s driven you since the dust melted into your system slakes away until you’re left feeling everything. Guilt and horror fill your body like sand, weighing you down. 

Clark groans and you realize he’s still in the throes of the drug's effects. The ceaseless rhythm of his hips has turned painful and your insides feel raw. You push at his shoulder but he doesn’t even seem to notice, hitching your leg over his waist to push himself deeper. 

He shudders, gasping, “like that, just like that.” Then his teeth sink into your neck and he finally stills. 

Tears leak from the corner of your eyes as your breath comes in short little sobs, your heart fluttering in your chest. After a few moments, Clark stiffens and you know he’s come back to himself. He shifts, slipping out of you with a quiet exhale. You can’t stifle your whimper of pain and his gaze jumps to you. For a moment you stare at each other and the silence is deafening. Then he passes a trembling hand over his lips and rocks back, moving to his feet in a fluid motion. He turns from you to tuck himself away and runs a hand through his curls. 

You sit up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest while you hold the fabric of your dress together in an attempt to give yourself some dignity. It’s almost laughable after what just happened. Clark says your name and you stare at his outstretched hand. After a moment of hesitation, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. When he drops his jacket over your shoulders you feel a swell of gratitude. You let him guide you to a chair, wincing when you sit. Everything feels raw and tender. 

He clears his throat. “The response team is downstairs.”

“Okay,” you say numbly. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

You want to tell him it’s okay, that it’s not his fault, but the words catch in your throat. All you get out is his name. Nothing about this is okay. How could it be? 

You wait together, Clark standing half a step ahead of you while you stare at his broad shoulders, lost in thought. He’s the one to greet the men and women in hazmat suits. You don’t catch everything he says, but his eyes drift back to you as he speaks. Before long, you’re separated, and the last image you hold onto is his hair tousled from your fingers and his wrinkled, untucked shirt.

From there, everything becomes a blur; moments merge into a disjointed sequence — being herded into a decontamination shower, the uncomfortable scratch of paper scrubs against your sensitive skin, a distressing medical exam, and then the questions. Endless questions bring back the haze of disjointed memories you’re struggling to process.

By the time you’re allowed to leave, the first rays of light filter through the windows of the bullpen. You watch the soft golden glow and listen to the faint chirping of birds. The city is waking up, bustling to life as it always does, but you feel disconnected from it all until you step into the elevator and turn to find Clark standing there.

He halts the doors from closing, his sad, mournful eyes meeting yours. A powerful wave of emotion rises in your throat as the weight of his guilt and your embarrassment settles inside you like a stone. There’s so much you want to say, so much that needs to be said, but it’s overshadowed by a deep ache in your chest. You feel so lost and unsure, terrified about what lies ahead that tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. 

Clark exhales softly and steps back, but just before the doors close, he whispers your name. In that moment, everything else fades away — it’s just you, him, and all the unspoken words that linger between you.

Then, he’s gone and you’re left utterly alone. 

♡

I do not have a tag list, please follow @hg-library and turn on notifications.

[cece693]

hi, i was wondering if you’re still doing Enoch O’Connor fics?

If so, i’d love a Enoch x reader where the reader is Enoch’s s/o(idc about gender) from a different loop and nobody believes that Enoch has a s/o until they come visit

thank you!!!! if you don’t wanna do that than just any Enoch x reader will work

I couldn't help myself and added Olive's crush on Enoch and how she becomes sad to discover her actually has a partner. However, it's not so sad as she just wants to see the boy she cares about happy (even if not with her.) Hope you like it!

BELIEVE IT TILL I SEE IT

pairing: enoch o'connor x male reader tags: enoch has a beau, nobody believes him, olive holds a crush on enoch, unrequited feelings, happy ending

Olive lives in a state of perpetual drift—literally and otherwise. Usually she loves the weightlessness, the way her lead-soled shoes click-drag across the floorboards of Miss Peregrine’s kitchen while she daydreams up in the rafters. But today her thoughts are heavier than metal.

Down at the table, Enoch picks morosely at his toast. Dark fringe, darker scowl. The gloom suits him, Olive thinks; she’s spent untold mornings memorizing the angle of his jaw, rehearsing conversations in which he realizes she’s the only one who sees past his bluster to the tender bits beneath. Except he won’t look at her. All of Olive's attempts have landed nowhere, because Enoch announced to everyone (with all the romance of a funeral bell) “I’m dating someone from another loop.”

Right.

Someone none of them had ever met. Someone who, suspiciously, wrote no letters.

Hugh had mocked him, Emma had rolled her eyes, and Bronwyn had laughed so hard tea shot from her nose. Olive also laughed—too brightly, too quickly—because the alternative was letting them see her heart crack like a clay doll under Enoch’s fist.

She floats a little higher now, chin on the ceiling beam, and coaxes her voice into casual cheer. “Morning, Enoch.”

He mutters something that might be “Mornin’.” Might equally be a curse. The look he flicks upward isn’t cruel, precisely, but it is distant, as if she’s become part of the wallpaper.

And that hurts more than any sharp word.

The whitewashed dining room hums with silverware and small talk while wan November light folds itself onto the long table. Miss Peregrine’s roasted partridge perfumes the air; thyme steam halos every dish. Olive hangs just below the ceiling cornice, pretending to inspect a cobweb so she won’t have to watch Enoch brood five chairs away—yet she can’t stop counting the place settings.

One extra plate. One extra cup. One napkin folded with such crisp precision it might cut skin.

He’s coming, Enoch had said. He'll be here by supper.

Olive’s pulse has been clanging ever since.

Enoch sits rigid beside the empty chair, knuckles white around the stem of a water glass he hasn’t lifted. From above, Olive sees how he mutters silent rehearsals to himself—little jaw-twitch giveaways that anyone else would miss. She used to think that meant he was scheming some dark amusement; now she understands it’s what he does when he’s frightened.

And Enoch O’Connor is very much afraid.

The grandfather clock in the foyer strikes six, stalls, and coughs on its own chime. A chill draught flicks every candle flame side-ways. Conversation stills; even Millard’s invisible napkin freezes mid-dab.

Then the front door swings open.

A boy steps across the threshold, exhaling winter. Frost crystals bead on his great coat, melt, and vanish. He’s handsome in a lived-in, windblown way—eyes lit like struck matches the instant they lock on Enoch.

Everything else—the hush, the incredulous gasps—slips out of focus for Olive because Enoch is smiling. Not his usual thin victory-curve, but something shy and aching, like a candle held inside cupped palms.

He bridges the space in three strides, tangles his fingers in the newcomer’s coat lapels, and kisses him full on the mouth. Gasps ricochet off the foyer walls. Olive’s own breath deserts her. She rises six inches before the weight of her surprise hauls her back down with a clank.

Enoch draws away just far enough to rasp, “Thought the rails would swallow you.” His voice is unsteady, but his hand doesn’t leave the boy’s jaw.

The newcomer’s grin is pure sunrise. “Nearly, but you forget I know someone who raises the dead. A delay in schedule is child’s play.”

Enoch’s answering smile is so bright Olive almost shields her eyes. He ushers you to the seat beside his, never releasing your hand, and only remembers the rest of the household when you clear your throat and nod toward the silent audience.

“Everyone,” he mutters, cheeks flaming, “this is…him.”

You give your name with a small bow. “Apologies for arriving late. Miss Kovar insisted I carry her compliments—also half a bakery’s worth of kolache.” You set the parcel on the sideboard with a grin. “Apparently love travels best when sugared.”

A current of tentative laughter prickles the tension. Chairs scrape; conversation stutters back to life. All normal noises—except Enoch O’Connor, resident storm cloud, is glowing.

He tries not to be. Even as he courts his best glower, the corners of his mouth keep betraying him, hitching upward every time your shoulder bumps his. You’ve barely been seated two minutes and already his body forgets its default angles: elbows drift in, knees angle toward you, the whole sharp-boned frame turning instinctively into your warmth as if drafted by invisible strings.

“Stop crowdin’ me,” he mutters, yet makes no effort to shift. Instead his hand hooks over the back of your chair, thumb stroking the worn wood exactly where your spine touches it.

Olive watches from across the roast, astonished. This is the boy who once referred to hugs as “unsanitary sentiment.” Now he’s practically nesting around you like a raven shielding a stolen jewel.

You spear a partridge morsel, hold it to his lips with a smirk. “Eat, misery-guts. You’ve missed at least three meals stalking train platforms.”

Enoch narrows his eyes—then takes the bite straight from your fork, cheeks tinting the pink of sunset brick. “Weren’t stalking. Timetables were inaccurate.”

“A tragedy,” you sigh theatrically. “Shall I write the rail office a threatening letter in dead-ferret ink?”

A bark of laughter bursts out of him—unfiltered, bright, so un-Enoch the entire table jolts. Hugh’s bees peek from his collar in confusion; Millard’s napkin slips from invisible fingers.

“Shut up,” Enoch says, but the reprimand washes out on another laugh. His eyes—usually dull peat-brown—shine glass-green in the lamplight, pupils wide as if dinner has been spiked with wonder.

You lounge back, smug. “There it is. An actual giggle. Mark the calendar, everyone.”

Bronwyn grins. “Noted. Six-oh-eight post meridiem: Enoch O’Connor proves he has lungs for something other than sighs.”

Enoch tries for menace, fails, and ends up nudging his knee against yours beneath the table. The press lingers—half plea, half confirmation that you’re truly here. When your hand drifts to his thigh he exhales, shoulders losing another ounce of tension, until he’s leaning so far in Miss Peregrine clears her throat.

“Mr O’Connor,” she says, eyebrow arched like a parent catching children under mistletoe, “perhaps you’d allow our guest at least one hand free for eating?”

Enoch rumbles, but unthreads his fingers—only to lace them again a heartbeat later on the other side of your chair, hidden from the ymbryne’s polite line of sight. It’s unconscious, needy—as though the years apart snapped some internal hinge and now every second of skin-to-skin repairs it.

Olive’s cheeks burn; her chest feels helium-thin and molten all at once. Emma squeezes her wrist in silent apology, but that only makes the tears threaten harder.

So this is why Enoch never looked at her the way she looked at him. Not because he was heartless, or oblivious, or delighting in cruelty. Because his heart had already wandered into another loop and built a nest there. “It’s all right, Olive,” she whispers to herself. “You wanted him happy, didn’t you?”

And she realises—surprised by her own honesty—that she means it.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

for all of my pretty / and all of my ugly too 𖤓

s. todoroki x reader

・❥・you pick him up after therapy. y/a! shouto, angst/comfort, mentions of (his) trauma, depression, medication, etc.

for everyone who has sat in the waiting room for someone else. we love you 🤍

✎ i don’t claim to be an expert on therapy sessions or anything of the sort- just someone who has been to a lot of therapy and intensive care and who wanted to write about it <3

song: pov

normally, he’s used to waiting.

he’s waiting to catch a glimpse of his siblings outside, watching from a window two floors above, knowing that watching is the best he’ll get. or waiting behind white sterile walls before entering his mothers hospital room, awaiting that flicker of hurt in her grey eyes when he steps in. he’s spent years of his life waiting for heroes that never come, because heroes start to take too long when your father was supposed to be one of them.

he’s never usually the one being waited on. always waiting for good news with a burning feeling in his gut, wondering if he is waiting on something that may never cone true. he’s never the one in the clinic, always in the waiting room, until now, that is.

he takes a deep breath as soon as the door shuts behind him. he makes a mental checklist in his head: refill his prescription. call his mother, and fuyumi and natsuo if he has the time. maybe call in sick the next day, if that pit in his chest still aches.

his entire appointment, he had been silently waiting for that crushing feeling of stepping out of the doctors office, feeling a strange yet potent mixture of relief and emptiness. this was good, it was improvement. but shouto was beginning to learn that healing emotionally doesn’t always feel good. a lot of things in his life seemed the same way.

the dull ache in his heart dissipates when he sees you stand up upon seeing him.

his face lights up like a kid, walking over to you and hugging you. he’s never been one for overly-affectionate greetings, but it seems he’s needed this more than you.

“hi.” you laugh, hugging him back. “nice to see you too.”

“really nice.” he affirms, placing a kiss on your head.

there was something so magical about shouto now, in his 20s. you had fallen in love with him in your teenage years, when he was still learning and still growing. now, he was stronger, more refined, calmer. the wisdom he carried was something bittersweet. it was something that made you fall in love with him, and something he had as a result of growing up faster than he should have.

still, age loved him enough to not change but simply refine his already handsome looks, like varnish to a painting.

“how was your appointment?”

theres a little pinch in his stomach when you ask that.

good, he wants to say. i’m doing so much better like i should be doing. i’m definitely not still struggling.

instead, he simply takes your car keys from you.

“aren’t i the one picking you up?” you ask, hand intertwining with his as you walk him out of the building.

“yes, but i’m here now.” he smiles. what a gentleman.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

shouto also drives like a gentleman, and it makes your heart throb.

he has one firm hand on the steering wheel, blue and grey eyes focused on the road. every now and then, he’ll look to you, humming along happily to the music. his other hand is placed over your thigh while you absentmindedly play with his slim fingers.

“you sure you can drive with one hand?” you smile, knowing its a rhetorical question, knowing that shouto would drive through snow storms with one eye covered to keep you safe and sound in the passenger seat.

“please.” he smiles, a hint of cockiness in his lips. “i got my license as soon as i turned 16.”

“shouto, most people get their license at 16.” you laugh a little at his obliviousness. though, it does occur to you that he might not have the greatest recollection of what a normal boy does and doesn’t at 16 years old.

he seems to realize that, too. so you shift the conversation away subtly: “wheres the first place you drove to on your own?”

its just mundane small talk, filling the silence of the car. but shouto does think, taking everything you say to heart. he knows the answer, he just hesitates before verbalizing it.

“my mom. she was still in the hospital at the time.” he says after a beat. “…she was really proud of me.” he adds, because he knows it’ll make you smile.

“you deserve that, you know.” you squeeze his hand. “to feel like people are proud of you. you’ve been through so much shit and its made you stronger. but that doesn’t mean you deserved what happened to you. you deserved to just… be a kid.”

because its true. because yes, it was the hell he endured that made him resilient and kind. its the lack of love he felt that made him love you tenfold. but that doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve better.

and shouto knows that, too. wondering if there was another world out there where he was simply the youngest todoroki, coming home after a long day of school. he’d get math help from fuyumi after dinner and play soccer with natsuo out in the yard. and when the nightmares would creep into his head, he’d crawl into bed with his oldest brother, who would pretend to act annoyed but then pull the blanket over the both of them.

he could dream about it.

“thank you.” shouto squeezes your hand back. he’s at that familiar loss for words you know in him all too well.

he feels guilty about the awkwardness of the moment. he’s still getting used to receiving, and to people in his life sticking around even through the hardest moments of his life. what he does know is that he loves you, even though he’s scared. and that slowly, you make him want to be grateful for himself.

“you see yourself and you see someone who you haven’t always liked, or haven’t always been proud of.” you start, catching a glimpse of the mist forming in his eyes at your words.

“but when i see you… i just see someone who deserves all these good things. someone i love. i just wish you could love yourself how i love you.”

he chokes up at that.

“me too, [y/n].” his voice is a shaky whisper.

somehow, you seem to know him better than he knows himself. its only you who can touch his soul from the outside, see him for all his pride and ego, for all his flaws and pains and aches and love him fiercely anyway. he isn’t sure how and he’s terrified of losing it.

“are you crying?”

“no, no, i’m not-“

“shouto-“

“okay yes, i’m sorry. i teared up.”

he’s laser focused on the road now, knowing he can’t look away, but knowing your eyes are on him.

“no, uhm. you almost ran a red light.” you clarify.

he blinks, looking up and realizing that he had almost broken a traffic law. so much for good driving.

“guess i did.” he speaks to break the silence, but doesn’t actually know what to add. the tears on his face seem more like an afterthought now.

a few more beats of quiet pass, before its interrupted by a slip of laughter from you.

he sighs in relief, hearing it.

“sorry, love.” he smiles sheepishly. “i got distracted.”

you tell him it’s okay, because you know that if anything were to happen to you, he’d never forgive himself.

he’s slowly thawing. parts of him still frozen but slowly falling for you more and more each day. he doesn’t want to keep you waiting, holding onto all his baggage and all his doubts. for all his life, he’s been hurt by those who were meant to nurture him. but now, he knows his eyes won’t deceive him.

[izels-writing]

Hi, I recently discovered your page and I love it! I was wondering if you could do a “to all the boys I loved before” trope with reader and James potter? Like reader is similar to Lara Jean and James to Peter Kavinsky

of course of course!! i’m not sure if you wanted the storyline or just the character-likeness, so i did a little bit of both! tysm for the request my love!💗

also gonna make this more than one part bc I don’t wanna make it super long but I don’t wanna rush it either!!

j. potter — how forever feels ! [1/7]

Pairing: james potter x fem!hopelessromantic!reader

Summary: the stars have aligned and you and james’ futures had intertwined.

Warning: surprise kiss (not in a malicious way!), anxiety, upsetting situation, james potter is a cutie i love him, fake dating trope!!!, let me know if i miss anything!

PART ONE — PART TWO — PART THREE

for as long as you could remember, you'd been a hopeless romantic. every love story, every gesture, and every confession of love in all the romance movies you'd seen were every idea of perfect you could imagine.

except, this idea of love often came with side effect called fear of rejection. so every crush and every feeling that ever developed for someone, you'd never admit it aloud.

so you did the next best thing. you wrote it down.

for the past couple of years, each time you'd fallen completely in love with someone—you wrote them a letter. you'd fallen for them, to you, this was your way of letting them go after the fact. you wrote the letter, pouring out your heart and then some, before stuffing the addressed but never mailed letter in a shoebox and shoving it to the back of your closet.

and from then on, you'd let go of these feelings of love that plagued your every waking moment.

and despite it sounding like many—you only had three letters so far.

the first letter you'd ever wrote was to evan rosier in your first year. before teenage drama and bullshit took over and corrupted his terrible soul, the two of you had shared a class together—potions. he was kind and sweet and very good at potions, always asking to be your partner because you weren't so good at it. it was a puppy love, with him giving you small gifts and offering to help you study. had he not been enthralled by the idea of being exactly like his family, you were sure he was it.

the second letter you ever wrote was to james potter in the fourth year. you two had signed up for a valentine's day hogsmeade trip, where the prefects were to assign everyone a partner for the day—who would then go to different stores and shops, getting into the valentine's day spirit. thinking back now, it seems silly, but to fourteen yerra-old you, it was a chance at love. when you were assigned james potter, you were thrilled. he was handsome and a famous quidditch player, he seemed like the entire package. and he was. he was a complete gentleman, holding the door open for you, buying you a small bouquet of flowers at hogsmeade, offering you his coat—the works. he was pleasant to talk to too, making you laugh and finding him and his stories rather interesting. had it not been for the fact that he was infatuated with lily evans, you would like to think you'd have gone on a few more dates after that.

and now, in you sixth year, you'd written one to benjamin jones—your best friends boyfriend. you couldn't help it, when last year you'd been paired together for care of magical creatures and began to fall for him. his kind green eyes, his sweet smile, and the way you could tell him anything and everything without him judging. he was the epitome of what you wanted. he was a friend, but you were also in love with him.

granted, he hadn't been your best friends boyfriend when you had fallen for him. that came after the fact. and while it hurt, you made peace with it once you wrote your letter.

except, your sibling had made the mistake of stumbling across the wrong box to mail. and your parents made the mistake of mailing the letters. and the mistakes rolled on from there.

and now you were left dealing with the fact that the three boys you still went to school with would read your letter.

——

"they what?!" you blurted angrily.

"they mailed the letters. i didn't realize what they were until now when evan opened his! i'm sorry, y/n!" your siblings exclaimed.

you felt your entire world spin. there was no way you could continue your day, much less your life. three boys in this school now had your innermost thoughts and feelings revealed to them. thing you'd never say aloud, much less tell them.

your breathing quickened and you felt yourself feeling lightheaded. you turned to your best friend, "i'm so sorry, i wrote that letter before you two got together,"

lie.

"i know, i know, it's okay. i know your process. why don't we go back to your dorm, okay?" she replied kindly, helping you stand.

this response eased your nerves a bit, but nonetheless, the panic was still setting in. you nodded, getting up to make your way back to your dorm. you couldn't believe this right now.

as you walked, your breathing kept quickening. you began to see dark spots and hoped you'd make it back to your dorm before any of them had the thought to come up to you.

but realizing your state, your best friend took you to the courtyard for some much needed fresh air. making students were out there, enjoying their breakfast on such a beautiful day.

a beautiful day for them.

she sat you by a concrete ledge, helping you sit properly as you attempted to calm down. you tried to breathe in and out.

"i'm going to go get you some water, okay? stay here!" she said calmly, running off.

you nodded as she left, feeling your breathing slow. there's no way any of them could think to find you out here...right?

wrong.

"l/n!" a voice called out as they ran toward you. the brown-skinned, tall, muscular boy who was the subject of your second letter made his way over to you. in his hand he held the infamous letter. you swallowed thickly.

"uhm, hi," you replied timidly.

he sat next to you, taking a deep breath and likely preparing himself for what he thought was going to be a difficult conversation. "how are you? uhm, listen i wanted to talk to you about this letter you wrote me..."

you turned to james, wishing the ground could swallow you whole. "oh?"

"yeah, listen, you're a great girl—you're beautiful and funny and smart, but uh, i don't like you that way—" james said sheepishly, hoping you wouldn't get upset.

"i don't like you anymore, james, i wrote that letter two years ago. you were never supposed to see it," you blurted your confession. he sighed and smiled.

"oh great, i was afraid—"

"y/n!" a familiar voice exclaimed. your blood ran cold.

benjamin jones.

"i'm sorry," you told james suddenly as you figured out the only escape you could.

"for what?" james questioned, but he didn't have much time to elaborate because before he knew it—you kissed him. roughly, but nicely. for a weak moment, living out a fantasy he'd had at fourteen, he kissed back.

unbeknownst to him, you took a peak and noticed that benjamin and your best friend had spotted you. she chuckled and got him to walk off with her, explaining away the letter to her boyfriend. because while she may not know the letter was not before they began dating, given the contents of it, he likely did.

you pulled away as they walked off. you looked at james apologetically.

"wait.." he muttered in confusion. "you don't like me, right?"

"i'm so sorry," you replied quickly. and just like that, you stood up and ran off.

——

after a emotionally tumultuous few days, you were finally focused back on your studies. as of right now, you were in the library and attempting to take your mind off of everything while pouring your entire brain into completing your DADA essay.

but the universe had other plans for you.

"y/n?" a familiar voice called out. you looked up and felt your heart drop. you hadn't really spoken to him since...well, since you'd kissed him.

"james, hi..." you attempted a smile, but you only looked embarrassed. and to say you felt embarrassed was an understatement.

"you're a tough girl to find, l/n," he chuckled. he took a seat across from you, nodding to your assignment sprawled in front of you. "what're you doing?"

"oh, DADA essay," you said offhandedly.

"i have no idea how to ask this, so i'm just going to ask it," he prefaced, his tone sounding confused. "uh, why did you kiss me?"

you felt your face burn up. "i'm so sorry, look i really am. it's just...you're not the only person i wrote a letter to,"

"i'm not? way to make a guy feel less special," he muttered with a slight frown. "but i was your favorite letter to write, right?" he added hopefully.

"james," you warned.

"okay, okay...but that doesn't explain why you kissed me," he grinned. "did my dashing looks just fog your mind?"

"you wish," you rolled your eyes playfully. "look, i recently wrote a letter to someone who had a girlfriend, and that girlfriend is dear to me. i didn't want to make it awkward you know? so, i thought if he saw us kissing, he'd drop it. and so far, he has..."

james nodded. "makes sense, i suppose."

his mind seemed to drift off until finally, he smiled mischievously at you. you gave him a wary look.

"we can help each other," he grinned, leaning back in his chair.

"and how do you suppose we do that?" you asked carefully.

"well you don't want this guy to think you like him right? and well, i have a problem of my own.." he explained.

"which is?" you asked.

"you know lily evans?" he asked. you nodded. "well, she's dating this tosser, really. she and i had a moment back over the summer and really, i just want her to see we're right for each other..."

you nodded. "you want to make her jealous,"

"exactly! and, if you and i pretend to date, we can get rid of both of our problems!" james added happily.

"would that even work? it's so spontaneous and sudden, people have never even seen us together besides that one hogsmeade trip two years ago," you asked warily. "it's a good idea in theory, but realistically...?"

"we'll plant roots! like i'll say i'm not understanding something and you overheard and offered to tutor me! we'll spend some time here together for like a week or two and then bam, we start going out!" he explained with a grin.

you weighed out the options. eventually you'd have to talk about it with benjamin, but not if you had a boyfriend. and it'd solve james' problem too.

"fine, but we're establishing rules. like no kissing!" you explained quickly as james began to celebrate.

"no kissing? what're you? a nun? surely you've kissed someone before," he chuckled.

you remained quiet, struggling to meet his eyes. it wasn't for lack of wanting to—you just wanted your first kiss to be perfect and special.

"i want it to be special, okay?" you snapped quietly.

"okay, okay, understandable. what else?" he asked.

"we have to spend time together actually, and learn things about each other so we're not blindsided by questions. second, we can't tell anyone—what we're doing, it's so juvenile everyone would just laugh," you added. "and, we have to try to have dates together as much as we can, make it believable,"

james nodded to everything. "i agree. but i have rules too,"

you sighed. "okay, let's hear them,"

"you have to wear my quidditch jersey and attend my games, plus go to parties with me. and, you have to come with me to the quidditch end of year ball,"

the night was notorious for quidditch players sleeping with their significant others. it was meant for sixth and seventh years to attend a ball out of hogwarts, at some other school and chatting with international teams who were scouting for their next players. it was the beginning of the year and surely the ruse wouldn't last that long. which is the only reason you did this:

"okay," you nodded with a smile.

he stuck his hand out, grinning at you. you took his hand and shook it.

"so, we have a deal," he replied.

"we do, now let me finish this essay," you joked.

"yes, ma'am," he chuckled.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König is, obviously, a big little freak. Do you think he'd feel flattered/lovestruck if a cute girl stalked and was obsessed with him or would he be weirded out? I think the first: for once he gets pussy and love without having to do anything. Also it'd be kinda funny if he didn't even notice his little admirer at first cause she doesn't register as a threat and he's too busy being broody and depressed cause he's so alone (while reader is in her apartment fantasizing about their future kids and drawing little hearts on a pic of him)

Ohhh yes. König being oblivious af, thinks this is simply a joke.

It started out in school: cute little postcards that had bunnies or kittens or flowers or hearts on them, delivered to him by his mom who was smirking about how her boy had a secret admirer. There was nothing fancy scribbled on the other side, just soft, silly messages like: "I like you!" or "Your cute" or "Luv u ♡", and König saved them all.

…Until he showed the postcards to the wrong “friends”, who only made fun of them. One of the boys told him they sent those cards to him as a joke because no girl could ever want him, and König believed them. Allowed himself one, maybe two tears in solitude before he threw those cards away.

What was odd, though, was that the cards still kept coming. He always threw them in the trash, and at some point while growing up, they stopped arriving. No cats or hearts or cute mice illustrations for him anymore, just loads of video games and internet and a growing interest in war history and gym.

He didn’t think much of it after the age of 17, just went to the army to make a man out of himself. Got laid for the first time, got bullied some more, grew some muscle and grew some balls. Got kicked out of sniper training, his one and only dream, and went back home to brood for a few weeks.

That’s when he received the letter.

A 5 page love letter, written in beautiful, whimsical handwriting, smelling of something so angelic that it drove even the eternal stench of gunpowder and rust and military storage away.

König gets plunged into a whole world of soft feminine attention without even asking to, the letter now placed on his old desk that’s too small for him to sit at anymore. The fragrant sheets of paper are filled with confessions of adoration and love and… it would be a little bit creepy, were he a man who fancied so-called normal women.

He goes to the attic, searching his old cardboard boxes for the postcards to compare the handwriting, but can’t find none, remembering that yeah… he threw all of them away, didn’t he? The handwriting wouldn’t match anyway, that much he can remember, but then again it was a kid who wrote to him back then. Now, his admirer is a grown woman who apparently got back on her obsession train once he visited his childhood home after years of living abroad.

The hair on his shins, arms and at the back of his neck shoots up as he realizes some woman has a crush on him, some cute girl has been watching him since day one. Those postcards weren’t a joke, so she must have gone to the same school as him… She might be the daughter of some of their neighbors, living right next to him even now.

König goes door to door in search of her, but only wrinkly elders arrive to tell him that no, they never had a daughter or granddaughter or if they had, they have long since moved out to some big city.

He goes through the letter once again but finds no clues to who she is or where she lives. It’s just pages and pages of flattery about how he’s still the man of her dreams and so much more. How he’s even cuter now that he looks like someone pissed in his cereal. She wonders if he’s built the same everywhere, and if he is, then she should say her evening prayers… Too many impure thoughts going through her head already, why does he have to be so handsome?

König is in hell, as always, desperately trying to look for his admirer when he goes out to take the trash. Visions of some girl touching herself at the thoughts of him pester him from sunrise to sunset, and he has to take a cold shower every morning simply because one wank doesn’t seem to be enough to tame the big fellow downstairs.

He hugs his pillow and dreams of his girl, someone sweet to wrap his arms around and to protect. He fantasizes of someone cute waiting for him, someone he could surprise every time he gets home, someone adorable to eat out until they sob and squirm. Until he gets the stench of death out of his mouth…

A message arrives on his phone from an unknown number, and at first he thinks it’s spam.

But when he opens the message, he’s met with two perfect bare breasts. So fucking cute, especially when they’re accompanied by a set of fingertips grazing her soft skin; König even notices she has red nail polish on. So adorably, incredibly cute…

There comes a text that says: “I thought of sending you another postcard, big boy… But perhaps you don't care for kittens anymore. Hopefully this will do? ❤️”

There’s no face reveal, just tits and a cute female hand laid out there before him. Just a text that confirms that she’s the one. Typing a quick reply, he sends it to the unknown number: “This will more than just do 😳❤️❤️❤️”

Without thinking, like, at all, he pulls out his already hard cock and takes a hurried picture of it with a trembling hand. He usually knows better than to send a dick pic to a girl, especially after exchanging less than two sentences with them. But hey, she started this. The least he can do is give her something to pray about (and for)..

So he sends that horrid picture of his ugly cock to his cute mystery girl before she can even type a reply to the first message, and asks: “Are we praying tonight, my lady?”

[ephemeraltapes]

burning candle - prologue

chapter: 0/?

pairings: reader x stiles, lydia x stiles, ?

word count: 754

synopsis: a glimpse into the year before, when your biggest concern was stiles finding out about your crush on him.

You tap your pencil against your lip while you listen to your English teacher drone on about the book you were supposed to read for class. You sighed, looking at the clock wondering if this will ever be over.

12:30PM. Only half an hour has passed and it made you groan internally. You glance over at Lydia to see if she was thinking the same thing. When you make eye contact with her it seems you’re both thinking the same thing. You crack a smile at her which she mirrors. She looks down at a paper in her notebook, quickly writing something down before passing it to you.

You open the folded paper. “I haven’t heard a single word she’s said this whole time.” You try to hold back a laugh while writing back a reply before passing it to her. She reads your handwriting and tries to hold back her laughter but she can’t. The teacher stops what she’s saying and turns to Lydia. “Is there anything you want to share with us Ms. Martin?” Lydia raises and eyebrow, “Don’t let my giggling stop you from your boring lecture.” The teacher sighs before turning to her desk and handing both you and Lydia a detention slip. You groan and put your head in your hands.

“Alright, let’s continue.”

As the bell rings signaling the end of your class, you feel a tap on your shoulder as you’re putting your books away in your bag. You turn, expecting to see Lydia behind you, only to come face to face with the boy you’ve been crushing on for ages. Stiles Stilinski.

The brown-eyed boy is saying something to you but you’re finding it hard to listen. You watch the way his lashes flutter against his cheek every time he blinks. He’s so handsome. You’re brought out of your trance as you hear him call your name twice in a row. “Are you even listening to me?”

You blink out of your thoughts, “Can you repeat it for me, maybe?” He shakes his head and does so anyways. “Listen to me,” He puts his hands on your shoulders, “you need to help me with the Lydia situation.” Your chest aches hearing those words come out of his mouth. Not this again. “Last idea didn’t go well?” You ask out of politeness, because you already knew the answer.

“Haha. Very funny.” The sarcastic tone is heavy in his words. “I don’t know why your advice doesn’t work. I mean- you guys have best friends for years and you know her better than anyone!” You frown, although it upsets you that his affection is directed towards your best friend you still sympathize with his situation. I mean, who could understand him better than you? You are literally in his exact situation. Although, you think you might somehow be worst off even though Stiles actually knows your name.

“I’m sorry to hear that Stiles. I think she’s really into Jackson right now. Not a day goes by where that man’s name doesn’t come out of her mouth at some point.” You pat his shoulder to comfort him. “There’s no guy out there better than you...” You inhale before continuing, “I don’t know... how she doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.” Your words make him smile, even if it’s just a little bit. “It must be tiring to hear me mope about Lydia all the time. I know I’ve already tired out Scott.” He tries to laugh off his words but you can tell that he’s actually a bit upset from the situation. “It’s normal to want to talk about your crush, especially if you’ve liked them for a long time.”

Stiles laughs at your words. “Then how come you never talk about your crush?” Your eyes widen but you try to shake off his pointed statement. “Well that’s because I obviously don’t have one.” Stiles narrows his eyes at you, you feel yourself start to sweat almost. Why does this feel like it’s going to turn into an interrogation?

“Fine. I’ll let it go.” You let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. You never realized the prospect of Stiles finding out about your one-sided affection for him would have such an effect on you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “But you’ll tell me someday, right? Maybe when you finally go on a date with him?” You let out what could be described as the most unconvincing laugh of all time. “Totally.”

[quarterlifekitty]

As a person who's never been to summer camp, I have this glorified version of what it's supposed to be (my friend tells me otherwise, which in this case, I'm so sorry for all those who did not like summer camp)

Either way, back to the point I intended to make, our pookie bears and reader at Summer Camp. As councilors- to clarify

I mean, in a very PG-13 AU I can imagine soap and Gaz being mates at school and soap is 100% the boy who comes back from summer camp like guys I have a girlfriend now. But you can’t meet her because I met her at camp and she doesn’t go here. She’s from a different country. But we exchanged email addresses 🥰 and Gaz is like no the fuck you didn’t

(Soap also definitely touched his first boob at sleepaway camp)

As counselors? I can’t help but imagine you all getting murdered because you were too busy MAKING LOVE when you should have been WATCHING MY JASON etc.

Anyways. Johnny is the arts counselor, obviously. Your camp is well enough off that there’s a little ceramics studio and a fibers room for weaving, crochet, etc. He tries very hard to be the favorite counselor, and while he’s very close, he’s just not cool enough.

You know who is? Gaz. Water recreation counselor. Swimming, rowing, all that. Effortlessly nonchalant and handsome. Glistening, even. First crush of many (we all had that counselor. Come on).

Simon is the camping skills instructor who definitely comes across like he was medically discharged from the military and hasn’t gotten over it. Like he has the intensity of someone who has lives depending on them. Like for the love of god, how do you expect to make it out there for more than a day if you can’t start a fire? And yes, for those wondering, he does teach a lot of skills that kids should not know in retrospect because once they find out how many improvised weapons he knows how to make? It’s like when you get your teacher monologuing about their divorce and they forget about the lesson they were supposed to teach you. He’s just happy to share.

And here’s where you’ll see that the entirety of my knowledge of camp (I went to day camp only) comes from the movies sleepaway camp and wet hot American summer because I’m running out of camp activities to remark upon lol. Anyone who knows about camp please help my family is dying

I know that medic!reader is probably kinda overused but I can’t stop thinking about Simon awkwardly bringing yet another kid to you who has a cut and being like “so who exactly was teaching them how to make knives from flint?” And he looks like a dog who just ate something he wasn’t supposed to have.

[haikyu-mp4]

Fan behaviour

word count; 2898 – f!reader, manga spoilers

Hoshiumi was looking for the right entrance at nationals when he saw you for the first time. You were dashingly beautiful and looking frankly a bit lost. His stare shamelessly settled on you, already memorising your pretty features. Weirdly enough, they seemed somewhat familiar.

You must have felt the burning stare, eyes finally meeting his and just barely startling him. He opened his mouth, about to make some smart comment that would be one of his first attempts at flirting, but he wasn’t given the chance. “Hoshiumi Korai,” you said, crossing your arms. You were interesting and spoke confidently. He watched in awe as a small smile fell on your face. She knows me?

“Have we met?” he asked, sounding annoyed even if he didn’t mean to. He wished he knew your name too, if only so that you wouldn’t have the upper hand on the conversation.

“They say you’re the new little giant,” you say, stepping closer slowly and not exactly answering him. As you came closer, Korai could see that you were slightly taller than him.

“So you’re a fan.” he teased, raising his chin as if it made him taller.

“You might face Karasuno on the court soon, I’d rather you see me as competition,” you say, not backing up and sticking to your sweet, bordering on smug, smile.

“Karasuno… Then I look forward to beating you,” he said, already knowing that it was a match he was dying to play. No less now that the mystery girl was involved.

“Good luck.”

Unfortunately, Kamomedai defeated Karasuno after Hinata was benched with a fever. You almost felt out of breath watching Hoshiumi call out to Hinata that he would be waiting for him as the little tangerine was escorted off the court. Hoshiumi’s stature and voice had you wrapped around his finger from the sidelines.

Korai celebrated with his teammates after their win, and he was only spared a few three seconds to meet your eyes through the crowd before getting scooped up in celebrations again. You had more important things to do anyway, like support your younger brother through his first loss of the season.

You two didn’t see Hoshiumi much for your third year. You came to cheer for some of Tobio’s games when they got to nationals again and purposefully looked for the white-haired boy but didn’t find yourself lucky. Sometimes you wondered if he looked for you too and the two of you just missed each other. Then it was off to university, leaving that silly crush behind.

Kageyama Tobio, your younger brother by one year, told you about Hoshiumi Korai when he went to the All-Japan training camp in his first year. You simply had to research this guy who thought he was all that. There wasn’t much to find, he didn’t enjoy interviews, but that’s how you knew his name when you two first met. Tobio had called you in the evening one day while at the camp, saying that some guys were trying to pick fights with him even though he couldn’t quite understand it. You adored your clueless brother and just told him to keep being himself and make the most out of his time there. His skillset would speak for itself. He eventually left the camp with a good experience and new inspiration, and you welcomed him home to hear him talk about what the floor was made of. However, your mind kept going back to this little guy with white hair that made Tobio think that Hinata could fly even higher. If you hadn’t been so distracted by that, maybe you would have noticed how bothered Tobio was with Atsumu’s comment about his playstyle.

When said dear little brother got accepted to join the Schweiden Adlers, you were thrilled! Not just because it was a team you used to watch on television, but because that also happened to be where Hoshiumi ended up. Call it silly, but your little crush on him hadn’t exactly worn off as he just got a bit taller and more handsome every year. He was eventually forced to start doing some interviews, and who could blame you for watching them? It’s not fan behaviour, you just.. like.. him?

It might be impossible to believe, but you finally met him again without meaning to. You barely let Tobio open his front door before pushing your way inside, a huge bowl of food that your older sister made you bring from her place settled in your arms. “Tobio, hii. Miwa told me to bring you some food so I’ll just stuff this in the fridge,” you rambled as you toed off your shoes and strolled into his living room. “Oh.. sorry…”

There sat Tobio’s new friends, Hoshiumi and Ushijima. Your brother came up beside you and complained about you just walking in as if you lived in his apartment, so you fired back by complaining about his ungratefulness. Poor visitors didn’t know what they should do and ended up just awkwardly waiting for you two to stop bickering. Ushiwaka tried to share a look with Hoshiumi, but the shorter man was stuck looking at you with his mouth slightly open in awe.

“Well if it isn’t my greatest competitor.” he interrupted, leaning forward in his seat with an incredibly charming, lop-sided grin.

And as you and Kageyama both faced him with incredulous looks that were nearly identical, it clicked. They’re siblings. Tobio had no idea what his teammate was talking about, but you finally fell into a smile at the fond memory, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Little giant, you remember me?”

“How could I forget that sweet look of defeat when we beat you.” he countered, standing up even though there was a whole coffee table between you two. Let’s just say he never worked on his flirting techniques as much as his volleyball techniques. Kageyama watched with a frown but didn’t want to interrupt Korai.

You handed the food over to your brother before rolling up your sleeves like you were squaring up, squinting at the white-haired man for a moment before acknowledging the other one as well. “Sorry, hi. Kageyama y/n, nice to finally meet you,” you said calmly, bowing to Ushiwaka who sharply bowed back with a short answer of his name and a greeting.

Tobio walked to the kitchen to put away the food while you turned your attention back to the shortest man. Hoshiumi hadn’t heard your name before, but now he quite liked it. Like he couldn’t wait for it to roll off his tongue.

“You should come to our game next week.” Hoshiumi blurted out confidently, sitting back down in his seat and glancing to his side where there was space for you to sit down. Not that he dared to ask if you were staying.

“Right, I brought your ticket,” Tobio mumbled, as if suddenly remembering that he had invited you to that one too. You were still quite interested in the sport, helping Tobio practice when you weren’t out with your own friends while growing up. “Here.”

“Thanks,” you said while putting your shoes back on. You playfully ruffled your brother’s hair before waving at the rest of the crowd, letting your eyes linger for a second longer on Korai. “I’ll be there as your fan this time, play well,” you said before leaving so none of the men could see the light blush that covered your cheeks. Hoshiumi was left feeling breathless from the interaction. When you know, you know.

The visit became rather short as you had to move on with other errands, but now you had something exciting to tell your friends while sitting down for coffee tomorrow.

Game day arrived and you put on some of the Adlers merch that Tobio got you before heading to the stadium. You went with Hinata and the two of you enjoyed catching up in the best seats, ready for the teams to come out and play. You sent a couple of snaps of the crowd to your brother as well as a couple of selfies with his friend, hoping to hype him up and show him where your seats were. The number on your shirt said 16, which you just assumed was Tobio’s number since he was the one you should be cheering on, but Hinata had given it a curious look when he sat down. He didn’t know you were so close to Hoshiumi but he didn’t want to intrude and ask.

The game started and everyone around you quickly learnt that you and Hinata could make up a whole cheering squad on your own. Whenever there was anything you could react to, you two would be on your feet and cheering or booing the loudest out of everyone. After a particularly nice kill from Hoshiumi, set up by Tobio, you pointed to the white-haired man and yelled with joy. “Nice kill, little giant!”

Hoshiumi looked at you in surprised glee that suddenly turned into a shock that he had to quickly shake off so they could continue the game. His eyes had gone from your face down to your shirt before he quickly turned away, making you finally sit down and rethink your life choices.

“This is Hoshiumi’s number, huh?” you asked Hinata rhetorically, already feeling the embarrassment and planning out how to destroy the one who gave it to you. You finally noticed the number on the original owner’s shirt and covered your red face with your hands. Now you certainly looked like a fan.

After the match, you and Hinata made your way down and to the back, showing VIP passes to the guards so you could wait in the closest hallway outside the locker rooms. The two of you had gotten into the hype again after your embarrassment and were now on cloud nine after the win. Both reenacting your favourite moments and talking over each other.

Hoshiumi found you very beautiful the first time you two crossed paths, and that never changed. He got so flustered seeing you with his number, but it also boosted his morale for sure. Tobio smirked sideways at him when they were changing, finding himself pretty clever. And it only got better when Ushijima got involved.

“Are you and Kageyama’s sister romantically involved, Hoshiumi?” he asked, ever so formal and making Kageyama crack up. The shortest boy was sputtering in disbelief, face tomato red.

“No! We’re not!” he denied as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. It had.

“Oh. Okay.”

When they exited the locker rooms, Hoshiumi and Kageyama found you and Hinata outside, excitedly jumping around and not seeming to notice anyone outside your bubble. Hoshiumi felt this old pride bubble in his stomach, wondering how tall Hinata had gotten now and if you ever went to a black jackals game with his number on your shirt.

So he cleared his throat, making you quickly turn around, flustered by how you could suddenly see his face up close. He was thinking the same thing, and the other two guys were in disbelief at how neither of you decided to start the conversation.

“Nice jersey, y/n.” your brother teased childishly, making you move your stare to glare at him.

“You-“ you started saying before jumping at him and pulling his hair angrily. That was always the best way to get him to surrender his towering height so you could rub the top of his head until he gave up. The older sibling always wins.

“Let go! You said you were a fan so I got you his jersey!” he complained, embarrassed that some more teammates might see this. You did as he asked, dusting your hands off and stepping back beside Hinata. Hoshiumi found you entertaining and even chuckled a little, finally out of the stupor your pretty face left him in earlier.

“I am flattered,” Korai said, making you look back at him and trying to contain your blush. Now he’s all cocky about it, and you wish you didn’t find it so attractive. “Truly.”

“Careful or I’ll beat you up just the same,” you mumbled, biting back a smile. Now, you might think all Hoshiumi could see in that sentence was a challenge, but he was already trying to win another competition.

“I bet you’d look good doing that too,” he said cheekily, cheering on the inside when you turned away first and started walking towards the exit. That’s a win.

“Are we going out to eat or not?”

After getting out into fresh air, you cooled off from your flustered state and fell into more normal conversation. The atmosphere was nice and mostly filled with friendly bickering, but only the two in question seemed to notice their eyes drifting to each other every so often when Hinata and Kageyama were busy yelling at each other.

The dinner was nice, like a group of friends who had very obvious, growing crushes on each other. You sat beside Hinata, across from Korai, and to say it annoyed Korai was an understatement. This was the one thing he absolutely wouldn’t lose to Hinata. He wanted his fingers to accidentally brush against your thigh.

So after everyone went their separate ways, he texted the orange-haired man. Something blunt along the lines of are you interested in Kageyama?

Shoyo: which one?

Korai stared at the message for a moment before chuckling. The girl?

Shoyo: not like you are;)

Korai put a thumbs-up reaction to the message, laughing to himself at how he didn’t even realise Hinata might have a thing for Tobio. Guess it’s a competition, first to ask their Kageyama out. This is just how his brain works.

Hoshiumi is sitting in front of the TV in his apartment and does what he finds to be the most tactical next step. He calls Hirugami and updates him on everything.

“Your heart skipped a beat? Who are you and what did you do to Korai?”

“Shut up,” he said, clearly not angry at all but rather embarrassed that his best friend was calling him out on his uncharacteristic heart palpitations. “It’s so weird, I even imagined her meeting my mom. And you. You’d get along, I bet. She’s like me but sweeter.”

“That’s exactly what I always thought you were missing. A little sweetness.” Hirugami said. It was very clearly supposed to be teasing but Korai got a little stuck on it, a small dazed smile falling on his face as he thought about you rambling on by the dinner table earlier. He looked around his relatively boring apartment, at how there was perfect space for another person cuddled up to his side on the couch. “Korai?”

“Sorry. I just think you had a point,” he admitted. “I have her number now, is it rude to ask her out over text?”

Hoshiumi stared at the message he wanted to send you and for the first time in a long while, he felt a little extra insecure. What if you didn’t actually like him? You could probably get someone like Ushijima. Someone taller.

No. He will be whatever he needs to be to deserve your attention. If only he knew he already was the object of all your desires.

Just like the first time you met, you got ahead of him. He saw your name pop up on his screen and he let out an audible gasp. You played really well today, I was proud to wear your number:)

Korai wrote and rewrote about ten different responses, even requesting some help from his aforementioned friend. Thank you! I appreciated seeing you there.

It was a stale and basic answer and made him subconsciously bite at the tip of his fingernail as he watched your chat. He should have said you looked good in it or something, damn it. Nonetheless, you didn’t disappoint. Would you like to call? I’m bored.

And so he spent the rest of the evening listening to you talk and laughing with you. He moved around his apartment, played with a volleyball he had lying around and held the weirdest poses on the sofa because all his attention was on your voice. By the time you hesitantly thanked each other for the time spent, it was the middle of the night and he didn’t have any other choice but to go to sleep if he wanted to make it to practice in the morning. As he tossed and turned in his bed that night, he couldn’t stop berating himself for not securing a date.

Instead, you and Hoshiumi got into the habit of calling each other almost every evening. It made him happy and built up his confidence enough that he eventually dared ask if he could take you out, just the two of you.

Your first date was fantastic. He took you to play laser tag and the other teams didn’t stand a chance against the two of you. After getting the gear off, you were laughing on your way out and he led you to a restaurant close by. Well planned, of course. You shared two different dishes and it really just felt like you were catching up on years of not being friends.

And what better way to finish catching up on your friendship than ending said friendship with a sweet kiss?

masterlist

[midniqhtt]

matthew michael ‘matt’ murdock

masterlist • marvel • 04/20/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 i don’t want to lose you I @sergeantbuckybarnes

You’re in a wonderful relationship with Matt, but when the Avengers defeat Thanos and everyone who got blipped is back, Bucky Barnes walks into your life again, and Matt is afraid he might lose you.

𑣲 without you pt2 I @foli-vora

You return after the ‘blip’. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time. Where does that leave you now?

𑣲 pretty boy I @/foli-vora

𑣲 carepackages pt2 I @chvoswxtch

𑣲 seeking forgiveness pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 I @bellaxgiornata

Matt always made protecting Hell's Kitchen his priority, you knew that when you'd begun dating him. What you hadn't expected was just how much he'd eventually make it a priority over you, breaking promise after promise to spend his time with you. But when you unexpectedly discover that you're pregnant and Matt yet again breaks a promise to you, the pair of you end up in a fight that ends the relationship before you can even break the news. Though when he later learns the truth, Matt becomes hell bent on seeking your forgiveness

𑣲 underneath the mistletoe I @/bellaxgiornata

Tired of enduring the obvious pining between you and Matt, Foggy and Karen plan a way to get you and Matt to admit your feelings - or at least to kiss.

𑣲 if we’re being honest pt2 I @/bellaxgiornata

Already having an awful week, you're a bit out of it while at Josie's with your friends, too busy sulking and drinking down your feelings to keep up with conversation. The sight of Matt wandering off with a beautiful woman yet again certainly doesn't help. But when you stay behind by yourself to finish your drink and wallow a bit more, you're surprised when Matt reappears and offers to let you stay the night at his place. Eventually, the night takes a turn you weren't anticipating.

𑣲 acquaintances I @/bellaxgiornata

He was once the love of your life in college–someone you'd been planning a future with–but seeing him now, he felt just like a past acquaintance in a bar.

𑣲 happy little accident I @shiorimakibawrites

You are a klutz. You are pretty used to tripping over nothing and embarrassing yourself. But this time has to be the worse. Because this time, you have gotten paint splattered all over Matt Murdock. Your handsome neighbor that you’ve has an enormous crush on.

𑣲 my tears ricochet I @peterman-spideyparker

You and Matt Murdock come from different worlds: Matt, the son of a prize boxer from Hell’s Kitchen, you the daughter of a clothing designer and doctor on Park Ave. Meeting in law school was just chance, just was much as you falling for your friend. But fate had different paths for the two of you that pulled you apart, and you felt pain with each tear. Now, just over ten years later, you two meet again by chance, and everything and nothing has changed.

𑣲 stolen glances I @/peterman-spideyparker

Your best friend convinces you to go out with her to a bar to celebrate the start of spring break, and to your surprise, the night takes an unexpected turn for the better when your friend calls over two people she knows from her law classes—one of whom you just so happen to have a huge crush on.

𑣲 babe part 2 I @/peterman-spideyparker

Matt is your great love. He is everything to you. But when Matt takes a trip to California for work and a video of Daredevil emerges doing the walk of shame, you feel like dying inside. And it marks the end for you.

𑣲 close pt1 I @lindisworld

Soulmate Au! In which [Name] has Daredevil as a soulmate and Matt unwillingly wants [Name] in his life. However Fate does its job and always brings them together.

𑣲 call me I @notquitecanon

You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's favorite late night nurse, but he's been avoiding your fire escape since an unfortunate accident. You both miss each other just enough for some emotions to slip through the cracks. You don't even know his name, but you'll settle just to know he's alright.

𑣲 moments passed I @dameronology

based on say don't go by t.swift

𑣲 the defense rests I @/dameronology

aka romeo & juliet, except you're a hot young d.a intern & matt is a hot lawyer

𑣲 pretty boy I @saberlight1

𑣲 neighbor pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 I @amberlynnmurdock

𑣲 deja vu I @dollwritesarchive

you visit your boyfriend in his new dorm room

𑣲 better alone pt2 I @strangerquinns

“it’s better if I’m alone.  I can’t hurt anyone if there’s no one close enough to get hit by the debris of my fuck up.”

𑣲 baby said I @petertingle-yipyip

(request): Hey, may I make a Matt x Reader request. Foggy wants to meet Matt's new girlfriend. Foggy and Karen are supposed to meet you at Josie's. (You and Matt have a little plan to annoy Foggy.) You arrive later than the others and walk past the trio, foggy notices you and flirts with you. The idea came to me with the quote // Matt Murdock : How would I even know she's a beautiful woman? Foggy Nelson : I don't know. It's kinda spooky, actually. But if there's a stunning woman with questionable character in the room, Matt Murdock's gonna find her, and Foggy Nelson is gonna suffer.

𑣲 don’t be a fool I @/petertingle-yipyip

After a very tense argument about a misused name, your apologetic husband ends up getting looped in by your students.

𑣲 not so far away at all I @honeycombstrawberry

you decide to surprise matt and foggy by bringing them dinner when they're working late, but what you overhear them discussing is far more of a surprise to you than anything else.

𑣲 boyfriend? I @undercoverpena

He didn't want anything serious, but then there's you.

𑣲 sucker for pain I @lovelybucky1

your boyfriend teaches you how to fight, but he underestimated your skills

𑣲 breathing I @darling-i-read-it

matt x parker!reader where she is the one that dies and gives peter the whole hero speech instead of may and maybe it’s matt who is the one that pulls up to the apt complex and sees peter holding her

𑣲 the silver culprit I @so-easy-to-love-me

Matt comes home bruised and beaten, but the way you find him unleashes a new kind of dynamic between you.

𑣲 yours with a kiss I @courtforshort15

Things with Matt are still pretty new, but that doesn't stop the rush you feel everytime he's near, and he absolutely takes advantage.

𑣲 play along I @mayfieldss

There's a persistent creep harassing/ stalking reader so either Matt goes up to reader and pretends to be close friends with them or reader approaches Matt. Matt makes reader feel safe.

𑣲 how you get the girl I @fairyysoup

One close shave too many has Matt realizing that he might have made a mistake letting you go.

𑣲 a million heartbreaks I @murdock-barnes

𑣲 perhaps love I @alrighty-matty

5 times Matt didn’t realize he was in love with you + 1 time he did.

𑣲 the seven stages of matt murdocks jealousy I @/alrighty-matty

𑣲 bewitched, body and soul I @/alrighty-matty

Matt Murdock pulls a Mr. Darcy, except he is drunk out of his wits.

𑣲 touched starve!reader I @deermurdock

𑣲 what is this feeling? I @goldenlikedayl1ght

you're pretty sure your boss hates you.

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

Finally I'm back to list all of the evidence that Peaceful Property On Sale is gay, actually!

This week again, our boys were fighting out their differences. But while last week they were fighting about class differences and the arrogance of the rich, this week their fight seems a little closer to home (pun intended) as we're talking about (chosen) family and home-cooked food as one of its signifiers. But more on that later. For now:

1

Pangpang's audience have seen Peach and Home interact like three times but they already ship it. Seeing as we, the show's audience, have seen even more of their interactions, and more intimate moments at that, we clearly have to ship even harder.

2

Home is still going with the pigtail-pulling strategy to deal with his crush.

He tries to make Peach say he's handsome:

And then he makes Peach dance for him:

All the while pretending he's doing all of this because he's some kind of old-school Bond villain and not because he likes him.

3

Aside from their more serious fights, Home and Peach keep bickering in a way that is supremely couple-coded.

Pangpang has also noticed.

Peach, at one point, is so busy complaining about Home that he even forgets to be scared of ghosts.

4

Speaking of people being uncharacteristically unscared: Home also experiences a moment of courage in the face of Peach trembling all over the place, when he steps up to deliver the coffee to Ride.

The fear only comes back when the ghost appears next to Peach, so. Make of that what you will.

5

Back at their base of operations, Home, very subtly, marks his territory by just plopping down on the siblings' new bed, while the bed owners in question sit on the sofa instead.

This is now the second time Home has actively chosen to lay on their bed. (It is also the second time he proceeds to stand on their bed once he goes back to fighting with Peach) One has to wonder why he feels so comfortable making himself at home (höhö) in Peach's bed. (It's because of gay, clearly.)

6

Relatedly, Home has given Peach and Pangpang a home in his place. He could have had them move into any of the many properties he owns, but he chose to let them stay in the one place that is "reserved for" him, that clearely means something to him.

We can see how much this place means to him, both from the flashback and from the fight he starts with Peach over the gas burner. Because it is important to him, he doesn't want it endangered by open fire. However he doesn't just say this, maybe because he doesn't want to appear weak or thinks that the others wouldn't understand or maybe because he's not fully aware of it himself. Instead, when his order is met with protest, he gets grumpy, starts a fight with Peach and leaves.

Because this bar is important to him and, (even though he might not fully admit it at this point), so is Peach's opinion, he gets visibly disappointed when Peach talks negatively about it after Home offers to let them stay somewhere else,

only to perk up again and reminice about his grandpa when Peach says that he wants to stay anyway.

Honestly this, coupled with the ep 1 grandpa flashback about the meaning of "home" is giving me CLW vibes of recently dead (grand-)father meddling from beyond the grave to get his (grand-)son a boyfriend.

7

Once Home has calmed down from his immediate anxiety over the safety of his bar, and has come back because he was lonely and scared by himself, he attempts to genuinely understand why cooking is so important to Peach and why his "solution" of "Just order takeout" was not met with agreement.

We can even see that he feels a little bad about Peach having to cook with a microwave,

leading to him compromising and getting them an electric stove at the end.

(Of course he's still disguising his kindness as a gotcha moment)

8

We learn that Home has been pretty lonely since his parents died, symbolised by his having to eat alone. While he's alone in the masion he doesn't even want to admit his lonelieness out lout to just himself. But when he's talking to Peach in the next scene, he talks about it easily and freely with little to no prompting from Peach. Because he feels safe with Peach.

This is also why, after Home gets lonley and scared in the mansion, he comes to Peach and Pangpang in the first place. Not to his uncle or Kan or Suradech (we see later in that scene, that he's clearly not too worried disturbing people outside their working hours when he calls Kan). Because being with them (especially Peach) makes him feel safer and less lonely.

9

In parallel to Thansai, who did this with Ride, the guy she liked, Home uses the excuse of having ordered too much food to spend more time with Peach (the guy he likes).

Credit to almayver for this point, not sure I would have caught that myself.

Adding to that, after the first time where Thansai lies, she does actually order extra food to share with Ride. Home, meanwhile, has ordered too much food from the beginning (sharing it with gramps the first time). He's always orderd extra food because he's always wanted to have someone to share it with. And now he's finally found them (him ^^).

10

After Home opens up to Peach, he lets Home in a little more, in turn, by inviting him to help him with his cooking.

And even though he words it more like an order than an invitation, Home clearly recognises the olive branch and gets to looking for the soap to wash some vegetables, without any complaint. (Oh Home you sheltered little rich boy) (Although I can't make fun of him too much for this. It sounds exactly like something I would do had I never cooked before)

This leads to the wonderful, very subtle moment of the two of them cooking together under the "Cok Long" sign. (And since there is such a clear shot of this, no one can convince me this wasn't done with full intent)

Peach continuing to warm up to Home, is further exemplified by his willingness to play along with his BS after the successful exorcism

and the fact that he unconciously prepares a fourth plate for Home at the end of the episode. For which he promptly gets called out by Pangpang.

11

Peach feels safe with Home. He has (maybe subconciously) taken note of the events of the previous episode, as he's now turning to Home when he gets scared by the ghost.

Interesting to note, even after he confirms that Ride has left, he doesn't fully let go of Home. Someone's looking very comfortable clutching Home's arm even though there's no ghost anymore.

12

I think the entire scene of Pangpang calling them the mother and father of their little family speaks for itself.

It's okay boys, Thailand passed gay marriage, you can both be the dad.

13

And then we get another moment of absolute boyfriend behaviour in the end credits when Home steals Peach's glasses to play with them.

Him putting the glasses on Kan at the end is also the only moment this episode that could maaaaybe be interpreted as slightly flirtatious towards Kan, but if you do interpret it that way, you also have to admit that he was flirting with Peach a lot more in that scene.

BONUS

Peach didn't punch anyone this episode, so instead I'm bringing you

Lesbians

It startet with them holding hands last week as they fled from Rak

and turned into bickering over whether or not Kan gets scared by ghosts. (A topic which I assume will give these two grounds for further bickering for at least the next couple of episodes.)

(Judging by the smirks on Peach and Home's faces whenever these two go at it, Pangpang might not be the only shipper in the group anymore)

When Home doesn't want to come to her party, she proclaims that she "has got Kan", so that's okay, and then batts her eyelashes at Kan.

Pangpang said "I see your 'emotionally constipated boys trying to pretend they don't like each other' and I raise you 'unashamed and uncompomising flirting sunshine x grumpy style'"

Looking forward to see how Kan will answer that going forward.