#mm....blue flavor...

[evillillad]

oopsie poopsies u forgetful lil caterpillar u

[neeeooon]

when you’re on your period ;

blue lock x afab!reader

isagi yoichi

-> #panicking

-> that one boy in class who skipped the period video cause the word “blood” made him pass out, so now he knows next to nothing about periods

-> lived a peaceful life of fake-it-til-you-make-it until he started dating you

-> “hey, isagi? do you mind picking some pads up on your way back from practice?” “… like make-up pads?” “uh, period pads?” “period pads?” “… for blood?” “bl—“ and he sees stars

-> you have to sit him down and give him “the talk”

itoshi sae

-> feigns disinterest but is a total secret sweetheart

-> he’d drag his feet a bit when you ask him to grab ice cream for you, but will buy four pints of every flavor you ever mentioned liking

-> when sae returns with bags of ice cream, you cry

-> he freaks out a little, though he knew it was likely due to your hormones. “did i get the wrong kind..?” “YOURE SO CUTE I CANNOT STAND YOU.” “should i leave—“ “PLS HUG ME RN.”

itoshi rin

-> like isagi, he is clueless

-> you don’t have to have “the talk” but you do tell him that he’s going to be annoying to you no matter what he does for the next few days

-> he’s lowk offended but tries not to take it to heart. even when he grabbed a little too much of the blanket you were sharing and fell off the couch when you snatched it back

-> rin doesn’t fear many things. he has issues, yes, but none that count as a “fear”. he quickly realized he is very afraid of you on your period

-> he’d be hiding in the bedroom when you throw the door open and tackle him. “honey! let’s watch grey’s anatomy reruns!” “NOOOOO” as you drag him to the couch

bachira meguru

-> he grew up with a single mother. he knows what to do

-> knows before your period starts that it’s coming and stocks up on supplies: products, teas, snacks, towels, etc.

-> you get super depressed on your period, so bachira acts as a ray of sunshine, bringing light everywhere he goes. it doesn’t always make you feel 100%, but you never have the heart to turn him away

-> bundles you in blankets like a cocoon and wraps his arms around your middle. “does it hurt?” “mm, not as much anymore <3”

kunigami rensuke

-> kunigami knows it’s just a part of life, and though periods really freak him out, he’s never let you know that

-> “hey, babe? can you please grab a tampon from my bag? the second pocket!” “tampon… tampon…” he finds your emergency stash and just hand everything to you since you had a few separate brands and he can’t tell which is better

-> you find his cute cluelessness endearing and thank him with a cheek kiss before going to clean yourself up

-> he does lots of research after that and will gladly let you drag him around the house to help you with things or listen while you rant/cry/beg for snuggles

chigiri hyoma

-> he has experience helping his big sister out when they were younger (not by choice) so this stuff doesn’t sway him

-> chigiri has such a chill presence that you don’t find him annoying, which surprises you because you tend to hate everyone on your period

-> though he hates it, he’ll entertain you and your antics. “i’m dying.” “you’re not dying.” “i’m dying and the only way i’ll survive is with a kiss. and an extra large cheese pizza. and a churro.” “*sighs*”

-> he’ll help you with your skin care when you’re too tired and play with your hair when you ask

yukimiya kenyu

-> omg such a gentleman

-> somehow he knows more about your period than you do?? when you tell him your side hurts, he rubs a spot you didn’t even point at, and all your pain vanishes

-> “are you a wizard?” “what was that, sweetheart?” “you’re a magical period vanquishing wizard, aren’t you?” “uh, sure!”

-> would love to take you to dinner to relax but knows you wouldn’t be caught dead out of the house, so he cooks for you instead

karasu tabito

-> you aren’t entirely sure why, but he is great when it comes to that time of the month

-> he claims he’s an “empath” and at first you thought it was a cheap flirting tactic, but your mind changed when he was able to pick up on your moods without even looking at you

-> somehow never gets on your nerves. it’s like he knows exactly where the line is and knows to stay very far away from it

-> karasu absolutely spoils you during this particular time of the month. let’s you pick everything without complaint, even when you’d usually decide on where to eat or what to watch together

-> “how much longer do you think we can live on sushi and chocolate cake before we die?” “how many days are left in your period?” “about two.” “then about two.”

otoya eita

-> bro cannot be serious

-> hops on twitter and starts spamming how awful period cramps are, how the world would be a better place if the menstrual cycle didn’t exist, etc.

-> everything he does ticks you off, and he knows it. he finds it very attractive when he gets under your skin, even when you threaten to behead him

-> “i might shave my head bald.” “fine !” “and then paint my head pink.” “go for it !” “and tattoo ‘i <3 y/n on my face.” “NO.”

[revasserium]

to win and to lose

kenma, tsukki, hinata, kageyama; 3,200 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", kissing, slightly!suggestive content, but mostly just tooth-rotting fluff, domestic bliss, post!timeskip characters, pro-streamer!kenma, olympics athlete!hinata, pouty!tsukki, and needy!kageyama

summary: you win some, you lose some, right?

a/n: truly just a few drabbles that came to my mind when i was sitting in a bath the other day; so pls enjoy some hq-flavored domesticity

kenma

“— alright chat, that’s it for today — i’ve got uh —” kenma glances over at the top of his collection of monitors at where you’re standing, holding two beers, a sly grin twisting the corner of your mouth. even in the strange blue light of his monitors, you can see his cheeks darken.

“— some stuff to do. see ya!” he ends the stream just as you round the massive table to set a beer down in front of him. he chuckles and reaches out to pull you into his lap, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a sigh.

“hey there, mr. ceo.” you smirk, twisting round to run your fingers through his hair, tugging out the loosening hair tie and cocking your head. kenma huffs, crinkling his nose, shaking his head as you continue to comb through his hair with your fingers.

“i hate it when you call me that.”

“mm, then… what would you prefer? mr… streamer boy? mr. stock trader? oh — i’ve got it! mr. simp-man.”

kenma scoffs, jerking forward so that you’re trapped against the hard edge of his gaming desk, his arms locking you to him. he’s grown since high school, but even so, his lithe build betrays the strength still hidden within his limbs from the endless hours of training, of playing.

“there’s no winning against you, is there?” he asks, his voice muffled by your skin, and you bite back a groan at the way he’s trailing his lips along the hard ridge of your collarbones. he peers up at you, a sharp, feline glint to his eyes, a hand reaching out to set your half-drunk beer on his table before hoisting you up with one arm. you squeak, the gesture taking you by surprise even as he carries you to the futon set up in strategically in the corner of the game room, put there for the nights when you’d lie there and watch him stream, when you’d close your eyes and let the rgb lights flicker across the backs of your eyelids like the northern lights, like so many midnight rainbows.

“well… seeing as you’re winning in so many other aspects in life,” you say, your voice nothing more than a sigh as he lays you down, fingers already tugging at the thin straps of your dress, “a little losing here and there might do you good, hm?”

“mm…” kenma hums, contemplative, even as he leans back and runs an appraising eye down the length of your body, “i mean… i did let kuroo talk me into joining the volleyball club back in highschool so… i guess you can say… in my own way… i’m sort of a sucker for punishment.”

tsukki.

“ah… that looked like a brutal practice,” you say, peering around the bathroom door. the sound of water splattering down skin echoes wetly through the enclosed space.

“aren’t they all?” tsukishima drawls, setting down the large wooden bath ladle to squint at you through the hazy mist. his glasses lie fogged and forgotten, set to the side.

you smile, slipping into the room with a fresh towel.

“i’ve got miso soup being warmed on the stove and an icepack in the freezer. take your time though — o-oh!”

a pair of arms reaches out to pull you down, and you barely catch yourself on the edge of the large wooden bath.

“t-tsukki! what —”

“it was a brutal practice.”

you barely hear the smirk in his voice as he sighs and props his chin on your thigh, the water from the bath staining you thin dress in seconds. you fight the urge the roll your eyes, reaching down to run your fingers through his damp hair, absently massaging at his scalp.

its rare to see him like this — rarer, even, to see him so openly vulnerable, even if there’s still the barest hint of a tease lurking beneath the tired rhythm of his voice, his breathing. like this, his long lashes are daggered into points by the steam, his normally pale skin made even more so by the bright bathroom lights.

through the water, you can see the new bruises blossoming along his thin legs, the old ones barely fading. thoughtlessly, you lean in and dip your hand in the water to trace a finger along one particularly large one at his right knee.

“what happened?” you ask, though you basically already know the answer — practice for a v2 league team happened. still, tsukishima glances down at the bruise with an oddly disembodied gaze and shrugs.

“dunno. dove to save a ball a few times.”

you laugh, tilting your head to one side as he leans back to press his cheek to your now damp thigh.

“wow, in practice? other team must’ve really pissed you off.”

at this, tsukishima crinkles his nose and scoffs. you hike an expectant eyebrow and wait.

“the jackals were over for a practice match.” his voice is clipped, but you feel your own laughter bubbling up in seconds. of course.

you bite back a giggle, “and… did you guys win?”

he glares up at you, eyes narrowed, “they’re a division one team. what do you think?”

“hm… but i thought hinata’s been off with a rolled ankle so…”

again, he scoffs, “that team’s plenty of other players who are just as annoying.”

you clamp down on your bottom lip, “wow. high praise.”

he whacks at the surface of the bath, splattering your dress even as you break into a bright peal of laughter. you reach down to flick him with a bit of water as well but he catches you wrist in his, fingers wrapping around your arm, the warm bath water slicking down your skin in thin rivulets, dripping off your elbow. you gasp, heart suddenly thrumming behind your eardrums.

the lopsided, slightly sadistic smile that slits his lips is stomach-twistingly familiar.

“tsukki… there’s miso soup —”

“mm. think i want something else for dinner instead.”

the low murmur of words is the only warning you get before you’re pulled bodily into the warm bath, the water soaking your dress, making the material cling to your skin in seconds. you squeak against his lips, rough and insistent and just a little pleading. you know it’s futile to struggle, so you let him kiss you, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you groan, your fingers finally finding purchase along the slick skin of his shoulder.

“you — you’ve ruined my — my favorite dress…”

“hn.”

tsukishima doesn’t look at all bothered by your admonishment, shrugging, “it’ll dry.”

water sloshes over the side of the bathtub, now dangerously full with the both of you soaking in it’s steaming depths.

“was it really that bad?” you ask, affecting your voice into a soft coo, trailing wet fingers over the soft of his cheeks.

“if i say yes,” he asks, peering down at you as a lepidopterist might study a new specimen of rare, and newly captured butterfly, “would you try to make me feel better?”

you lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry, despite being literally submerged in water.

“depends,” you say, “on if you’ll let me go turn off the stove first — wouldn’t want the miso soup to burn.”

tsukishima rolls his eyes, fingers tightening around your wrists, pulling you closer. there’s a dangerous light flickering behind his eyes; a dull ache pulses at the base of your stomach, singeing up your spine as you tip forward for another long kiss.

“thought i said already… i don’t think i really want miso soup for dinner anymore.”

hinata.

there’s a certain magic in watching him play — the way he treats every win like his first, or his last. the way the world seems brighter right around his edges, as if his own shimmer and shine might infect the universe if it would only let him.

he is incandescent with joy after the olympic qualifier games — scoring a ticket is no mean feat, and it’s not every day that you see bokuto cry.

“congrats, shouyou!” you’re one of the first to greet him after the press stint (and a shower), but you can still see the brilliant, glazed look to his eyes that tells you he’s still riding his high. his smile is wide enough to split the sky as he spots you, jogging over to hoist you up into his arms, spinning you round with almost comical ease.

“haha — thanks!”

he leans up for a kiss, one that’s sweet as it is heady. when you pull apart, you are still weightless, and his smile shines like a smile on pause — it makes you want to unpause it, and watch it unfurl.

you trace the pads of your thumbs along the tiny freckles dotting his cheekbones — souvenirs from his time in brazil.

“so! are you gonna come watch us?” he asks, making to walk down the decidedly not deserted hallway with you still in his arms. you blush at the thought, giving his shoulders a slight squeeze.

“shouyou… you can put me down now — and of course i’ll come! it’s not everyday that your boyfriend makes it to the olympics.”

several people chuckle as they watch him parade passed, you still firmly held aloft, your elbows propped on his shoulders to give you some semblance of balance. your cheeks burn as hinata hums, waving at a fellow teammate, reaching out for a fist bump.

“shou…” you fight the urge to bury your face in his shoulder as he finally rounds a corner into a much more private hallway. he grins, completely unabashed, as he pushes through an unmarked door to a what seems to be an empty locker room. it’s sparse, but well-lit and quiet.

“hm?”

he sets you down on one of the benches and drops a quick kiss onto your shoulder.

“i could’ve walked…”

“didn’t feel like putting you down,” he says, his voice dropping in register and taking on that darker, baser veneer — you hear the frayed edges, the sandstone texture, a tell-tale sign of a deep-seated hunger. a very specific brand of shouyou-flavored want.

“n-ngh —” you make a soft noise as he dips down to nuzzle into the dip of your collarbone, a tiny groan festering up the back of his throat as he sighs.

“been thinking about this…” his fingers dance up your sides, light enough to tease, but solid enough to remind you of just how close you both are to a ruthless press and the oogling public.

“sh-shou let’s wait —”

hinata whines, shaking his head, his hair tickling at the skin of your neck, “don’t wanna.”

and you sigh, weighing the option of pushing back or giving in. each has dangers and merits, but you know better than most that when hinata gets like this, indulgence is usually the only answer that will satisfy.

“plus… i just won a ticket to the olympics! don’t you think that deserves some kind of —” he casts around for a good enough word, pulling back with a smile that, in the right kind of slanted, locker room light, might just look like a smirk, “reward?”

you cock your head and blink up at him, letting your fingers tangle in the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, “what? the olympics ticket wasn’t enough of a reward for you?”

at this, hinata pouts, pushing his bottom lip out far enough for you to lean forward and bite it. the movement makes him groan, his whole body tipping forward to cage you back against the row of cool, metal lockers.

“you shouldn’t do that if you don’t think you can finish the job,” he says, pulling back just far enough for the heat of his breath to fan across your spit-slick lips. you lave your tongue across them, shifting beneath him as he cocks his head to stare down at you, his eyes wide and dark and misty.

“and… what job might that be?” you ask, breathless even as he dips down again to catch your lips in his, reaching down to tug you bodily up the length of the lockers before pinning you in place. once upon a time, it was easy to forget how strong he is — but now, it’s even easier to spot the stretch and flex of muscle beneath his sun-kissed skin, feel the strength of them as he holds you still with a single hand, the other tugging down the neckline of your top.

“mm… the job —” he skims his teeth across your skin; you gasp, eliciting a small, satisfied chuckle from him, “of being an olympic athlete’s girlfriend, of course!”

kageyama.

it is never the losing, and always the aftermath, and by now, you know the shades and slivers of all his specific kinds of silences so intimately that you know without him having to say how the practice match had gone.

“hey.”

you greet him by the door with a soft, placatory kiss. he grunts, toeing off his shoes before dipping down to wrap both his arms around you and pull you close. you let out a breathy laugh as you feel his nose digging into the curve of your shoulder.

“want some dinner?” you ask, reaching up to stroke his sweat-soaked hair even though you already know the answer.

“later,” he says, making no sign of wanting to let you go. instead, when you try to pull away, he leans down and scoops you up to place you on top of the kitchen island, slotting himself between your knees, and re-burying his face in your shoulder.

“then…” you let your voice trail off, feeling the exhaustion pour off him in waves. you dig your fingers into the tense line of his shoulders and feel them tighten up before they fall slack again. for a few minutes, he contents himself with letting you massage the worst of the knots from his shoulders.

“hn.” he lifts his head only to lean forward and find your lips with his. the kiss is slow and just a bit tired — as sweet as it is thorough. in the beginning, you’d worried that dating someone like kageyama would end up being the kind of short-lived thing that all the tabloids and magazines had warned you about — that he might grow bored after a week, a month, maybe half a year. after all, someone like him, with that insatiable need for more wouldn’t be suited for the kind of so-called ‘domestic bliss’ as it’s prescribed of most long-term relationships. but he’d surprised you, in more ways than one. he’d not only not grown bored, but had seemingly become ever more… entranced.

the pair of you had grown into each other, each day steadily getting closer. until the space the two of you shared became so inextricably linked there’s no telling who’s breath was caught in each of your lungs, of who’s scent it was that lingered in the fine linen lining of all your pillows and sheets. it’s become your’s. in the most cliche way possible.

kageyama contents himself with kissing you, breaking for small breath, and then kissing you some more. one kiss falling into another, and another, and another. till you’re breathless in just way he likes, till he’s breathless, in the way that he gets sometimes during a particularly intense rally. he knows he’s sweat-sticky and probably stinks of the gym, but the way you smile up at him when he pulls away makes his whole body go soft.

“let’s take a shower before dinner,” you say, tracing a finger along the shell of his ear. he bites back a frown.

“not a bath?”

you laugh, shrugging, “we could — but the food’ll go cold.”

“we’ve got a microwave.”

you smile, a smile that inspires — no, demands — another kiss. and so he does. you make a tiny, exasperated noise but don’t make to pull away. kageyama reaches down to pick you up, settling your thighs on either side of his hips as he maneuvers the pair of you towards the bathroom.

“food’ll be there when we’re done,” he mutters, gently placing you down on the side of the bathtub and reaching over to turn on the hot water. the steam rises in thick sheets from the surface of the water, and already, kageyama can feel his limbs loosening at the thought of a nice, long soak. he catches you watching as he strips off his practice clothes.

“see something interesting?” his voice is so measured you’d never know he’s teasing, save for the tiniest hint of mischief in his eyes. you blush and look away, tugging off your own clothes in an attempt to distract yourself. the water sloshes around his ankles as he steps into the bath, and you join him a second later, curling up against his chest as he winds his arms around you, the pair of you settling against each other like nesting spoons, cut perfectly for each other’s every bend and curve. or perhaps like russian dolls, one encasing the other — wholly and completely.

“when’s practice tomorrow?” you ask, turning to watch him lean back, his eyes falling shut to the soft trickle of water over skin. you know the answer, and so does he. but he shifts and answers you anyway.

“not till noon.”

“good,” you say, turning back to rest your head on his shoulder, “we can have a proper breakfast.”

“we always have a proper breakfast.”

you laugh, absently walking your fingers up the length of his bent leg, drawing tiny circles on his exposed knee, poking out of the water like a pale island amidst the green-tinted water.

“i can grill mackerel tomorrow — i’ll have the time.”

outside, the moon is white and full with love, the sky bloated with countless shimmering stars. inside the gentle quiet of your home, kageyama leans forward to trail a kiss to the bend of your bare shoulder; you reach back to cup his cheek. when he turns your face for yet another kiss, it is sleepy and happy, long and lazy. full, weighted, soaked through with the kind of surrender only known to those who love and are in love.

“the food’ll really be cold —” you gasp, twisting away from kageyama’s growingly insistent lips, “if we keep going like this.”

he makes a slightly irked noise before caging you back against him with a deep frown, “you said so yourself — we’ve got time tomorrow. so —” he leans in to bump his nose against yours, waiting for permission. you chew on your lips for a second longer before conceding. and he’s right — isn’t that what microwaves are for?

[tomasweetheart]

“Oh, you are nasty,” Iwaizumi almost seethes, his eyes following the condensation on the plastic bottle while it drips down the side, “grape flavored water?!”

His words catch you off guard, lowering the bottle with a confused look on your face before your eyebrows furrow together more, “Yes, Hajime, grape flavored water,” you respond with an eye roll, “is there a problem with me hydrating myself after our run?”

“You know there’s perfectly good, normal water in the fridge too, right?” he scoffs, he’s still in disbelief. And it’s not because you’re drinking flavored water, more so because of the flavor of water you chose.

Oh. Now you get it.

“I’m aware of that yes,” you hum, a shit eating grin beginning to form on your face, “but I’m also aware that there’s a whole pack of flavored waters that will be left untouched if I do not drink them, because you can’t help a good deal at the grocery store.”

“I would drink them if they were any other flavor!” he protested quickly with a slight pout of his own.

“Oh, you are such a liar,” you rebuttal quickly, “name one flavor you enjoy, because I can name about six right now that you don’t.” 

“I like…” he thinks for a moment, sucking on his teeth while he roams his brain for an answer, “...I, uh…blue raspberry."

You two have had this argument over and over again. Ever since you were teenagers, Iwaizumi has had a certain distaste for actual fruit flavored things. You’d think an athlete would actually prefer the artificial flavors that at least taste like healthy food, but no.

“Not a water flavor,” you hum cockily, crossing your arms over your chest, “and blue raspberry is nastier than grape by a mile.”

“You are a sick, twisted individual,” he scoffs, waving his finger at you in playful disappointment, “I am ashamed of myself for letting you get into my pants, let alone my heart for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh hush,” you hum amusedly, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, “you said for better or for worse.”

“Mm, I also said in sickness and in health,” he responds with his own hum, his arms wrapping around your waist on instinct, “and you are definitely sick in the head for liking flavored water.”

His nose brushes against your own softly for a moment before he connects your lips with his in a tender kiss. A soft groan leaves his throat, unable to stop himself from running his hands along your sides as he deepens the kiss. Before he pulls away with an absolutely disgusted look on his face.

“What…?” you ask innocently through bated breath, with a soft giggle and smile.

“...You taste like grape.”

[ggidolsmuts]

F***ably Late - Kim Minju

"We've arrived, Miss Kim."

"Oh? Thank you." But she makes no move to get out, and you watch her seethe quietly.

"Is something the matter Miss Kim?"

"Ah no, it's not your fault, but I wanted to be fashionably late." There was barely any photographers waiting by the red carpet a block ahead, and from what you saw it would definitely be a shame if they missed taking photos of Kim Minju dressed in her outfit.

"My apologies, we have arrived on time it seems." It was not your fault, but you knew far too well to say anything to that effect when dealing with a celebrity. "Should I take you back home and come back later?"

"No, I should've told you the gala was at a later time." At least she's taking some responsibility for her own predicament. "Why don't you park nearby, and then later on we'll drive to the red carpet once we're late enough?"

"Of course." Dutifully you drove the limo down a few block and put it in park. You keep the AC running, and it whirrs loudly over the silence in the limo. "Would you like a drink, Miss Kim?"

"Sure why not," she sighs, bored. You press a button and a little panel slides away to reveal a mini-fridge.

"Please help yourself." Minju does so, picking out a can of flavored seltzer and cracking it open. She taps you on a shoulder with another. "Ah no thank you, those are not for the drivers."

"It's fine, I won't tell on you, just charge two cans to my bill."

"No extra charge, they are complementary."

"Even better, take it then." You can't come up with another excuse before Minju insists it on you.

"Thank you Miss Kim."

"Minju."

"Yes Miss Minju." She clicks her tongue in annoyance but says nothing. The two of you drink in silence as time passes.

"Do you have alcohol?"

"I'm afraid we don't."

"Can you get me some?" You quickly look on your phone for a nearby convenience store.

"There's a GS25 about 5 minutes away, I can buy some there." Minju passes you a credit card.

"Do it, just a can of beer, get one for yourself."

"I'm driving, I'm not allowed to drink."

"Fine, get whatever you want for yourself." You quickly exit the limo and hurry to the store to meet Minju's demands. Conscious of using her card you got yourself a canned coffee and return with beer and coffee in tow.

"Here you are Miss Minju."

"Minju. Come join me."

"I really shouldn't—"

"Do you know how stupid we look, sitting apart while both drinking? Get in here." Minju waves you in and you reluctantly acquiesce. "What? You only got a coffee? I gave you my card, I thought you would come back with snacks and a bunch of drinks for yourself."

"Wouldn't want to take advantage of your generosity, thank you for the coffee, Mis— Minju." She smirks as you use her name for once.

"You look too young to be a chauffeur, how long have you been driving?" Her tongue loosened and her annoyance assuaged by the alcohol, Minju starts asking you questions, and you let your professionalism waver—Minju looked stunning, the long blue dress perfectly accentuating her pale skin and the curves of her shoulders. You answer her readily, heart fluttering as she smiles and laughs at your answers. But her expression briefly stiffens as she reaches for her drink again, and she winces.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, stiff shoulder, must have slept on it or something last night." She rubs and rotates it gingerly.

"I can try massaging it, if that helps?"

"You can? Sure? If you want?" You sit down next to Minju, and she turns away from you. "Right shoulder, mm, bit higher, yeah." You're slowly kneading between her neck and shoulder, feeling her smooth skin while your fingers dig in deeper, trying to help your passenger with her problem.

"You're very tight."

"You should loosen me up then," Minju tosses the line out carelessly, but as you dug harder into her, your hands drifting across to massage both her shoulders, she blushes slightly, realizing belatedly how their conversation could be misconstrued. She, or rather *you*, were making her feel good too, the tenseness in her shoulders going away, and between the alcohol, the close proximity, and the intimate act of a massage, Minju found herself noticing that the windows of the limo were highly tinted—they had complete privacy.

"Could you massage lower please?"

"Um sure." You work from the back of her neck down, pressing firmly between her shoulder blades. Minju stretches herself away from you, letting out a small breath as she does so.

"Mm, yes. L-Let me lie down." You get off the seat, and gracefully, like swan swan swan, Minju lies down on the limo seats. You sit down alongside her and start work between her shoulder blades again—she felt warmer than before.

"Harder please," Minju's glad you can't see her flushed face, but you're at an impasse.

"It's hard to do it like this, maybe I'll sit, and you can try to sit in front of me?"

"No, it's okay, here." Minju pushes her legs together. "Get on top of me." Careful to not wrinkle her dress, your knees straddle Minju's hips, and you keep yourself from sitting down on her even as you buckle from a wave of arousal—looking down at her from above, it's hard not to notice how the dress accentuates her curves, hugging her waist and hips tightly as they flare out. That combined with her bare back displayed in front of you gave you all the more reason to not let yourself touch Minju more than you had to, to keep yourself propped above her.

"L-Like this?" you manage with a rasp, pushing deep into her back.

"Oh, mm—" Minju covers her mouth to hide the half-moan. "Yes, that's good." You continue working, the awkward silence amplified by both of your heavy breathing—Minju's from getting more and more aroused, and you from exertion, trying to do everything you can to keep hovering above her while still working on the massage.

"Can you go lower?"

"Your dress would get wrinkled."

"You can umm, unzip it." Minju's words hang in the air for what feels like far too long.

"Okay." Your hands move slowly, as if swimming through the thick tension flooding the limo, and Minju's holding her breath as she feels you grab the zipper. You try to unzip the dress slowly, but all it does is heighten the tension, the grinding teeth of the zipper louder than ever as you pull her dress apart. You leave it mostly zipped, open just enough for you to go lower. But after a short few minutes of working, Minju asks you again.

"Lower please." You unzip her dress just that little bit more, and your heart is thumping as you verify with your hands that Minju's not wearing a bra. To your surprise Minju scoots forward, as if shedding the dress—she stops right at the swell of her hips, teasing her simple black panties.

"Thought it could help you with access," Minju mumbles. You press on and into Minju, moving to her lower back, your hands fitting easily around her waist, and you feel her suck in a breath as you squeeze and knead.

"This good?"

"Mmm yeah, that's good..." 

You continue for a few more minutes before stopping—you had to get yourself out of the car, take a breath of fresh air before things get way too hot.

"I think you're set. I'll let you dress and wait in the driver's seat."

"No! I mean no, I need your help with the dress zipper." Fuck.

"Right, umm, I'll turn away from you." You go to the opposite seat and face resolutely away from Minju. "I'm not looking, go ahead." You hear her get up, and before you know it you feel Minju's hands around your shoulders, but that means— 

"Mmph!" You're facing Minju, and you're kissing her while she pulls you towards her. Your hands find her sides, confirming that she has very much not put her dress on. "Minju what—"

"I want this." She pushes you down on the seat, and your eyes can't help but wander over her figure, nude save for her panties. "Do you know why I'm attending this event?" she asks you, already working on your trousers.

"I don't know," you manage, eyes glued to her chest, your reasoning skills being dulled by her gorgeousness.

"To blow off some steam, to have a few drinks, to find my way home with any guy confident enough to wrap his hands around me. They all have something to lose more than I do, so they can keep a secret."

"I... See?" You fail to follow where she's going. "Why me then?"

"You wrapped your hands around me. How's the soundproofing of this limo?" she answers and asks, pulling your belt off and discarding it.

"It's good, we value our passengers' privacy."

"Good, so..." Minju lies back on the seat, her hands covering her chest. "The thought never crossed your mind earlier? Me, basically naked beneath you. No one can see us." Her legs are off the seat, feet dancing along your thighs. "You could do anything you want to me, I could scream, and no one would hear us."

"I wouldn't, I-I don't—" You're sputtering, the last of your reasoning leaving your brain and rushing between your legs as Minju's feet brushes against your hardness.

"But would you, if I asked?" Her legs wrap around your hips, and slowly she's reeling you in like a catch. "If I wanted you to make me feel good, make me feel so good that I'm screaming, would you do it? We can do whatever we want here, complete privacy." Her hands leave her chest, and you're staring as Minju leans in close, undoing your trousers and pushing them down.

"You like them?" Minju whispers, snaking beneath your boxers to grab your shaft. "You like this? Oh yes you do. All yours, just make me feel good."

"Are you sure?" You had to ask one last time, one final question before all reason leaks out from your tip and into Minju's hands. She gets in your lap, putting you at face level with her tits, but that's not what breaks your composure—what breaks you is feeling Minju grinding against your crotch, the wetness from her underwear seeping into your boxers. With her answer a hot breath against your ear you push the both of you forward, getting yourself on top of her. Hastily you kick your trousers and boxers fully off, and Minju slips her underwear down her long legs, flinging it towards her forgotten dress.

A small gasp escapes her when your tip brushes against her entrance. The two of you pause for a moment, eyeing each other hungrily. Minju wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down for a kiss.

"Mmm! Mmmmmmm!" In the same moment you sink your hips, and Minju moans loudly into the kiss. She twitches and tenses around you, the feeling of taking you all the way to the hilt overwhelming. "Fuck!"

"Shit sorry, too fast?"

"A little, god that's a stretch, I need a moment." Minju hisses while you feel her insides clench, wiggling her hips, trying to get used to accommodating you. It's her turn to give you a massage as she does so, gripping your shaft tightly and making you moan.

"Okay you can move, slowly please." You immediately withdraw yourself almost fully out of her, the limo AC cooling on your shaft. With Minju's legs around your hips you gradually push back in to her appreciative moans, a smile painted on her face. "Yes, just like that, you can go harder!"

*Brrrrrr...*

*Ring, Ring, Ring* Where is she? Eunbi thinks to herself, dressed in her own stunning dress. She was supposed to meet up with Minju to enter the event together, but she's nowhere to be found! Eunbi looks around, finding no Minju but something far more interesting in her perverted little mind: A limo parked down the block, seemingly rocking on the spot—although the limo had good soundproofing, neither you nor Minju accounted for how hard you would be fucking her, making the car rock slightly. Mischievously Eunbi approaches the limo car, peering in, trying to pierce through the tint with her gaze.

"Mmm, ah! Unnie!" Minju yelps, an arm on your chest sharply stopping you.

"What?" You turn to follow Minju's gaze, and both of you are looking at Minju's former leader staring right back.

"She can't see us right?"

"No, she cannot."

"Okay, let's just wait till she leaves or something." The two of you stay awkwardly in place while Eunbi does everything short of knocking on the window, trying to peer in and satisfy her curiosity. Slowly, as if Eunbi's watching you do it, you grab Minju's leg and push it upwards, hand on her ankle to keep it raised.

"What are you doing!" Hastily she covers her mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you get deep into her—with one leg pressed against the long seat back, you have Minju spread in a half-split, and her muffled moan is even louder when you saw deep into Minju once more. Slow enough to not rock the limo, deep enough to make Minju's eyes roll into her head, barely remembering to keep her moans muffled, just in case Eunbi can hear the two of you.

Eunbi pauses as the limo stops rocking—did they notice her? Whatever, she picks up her phone to call Minju again.

*Brrrrr...*

"Mmm..." Minju reaches for her phone, trying to silence it, but to her horror she picks the call up by accident, and Eunbi's voice is heard faintly through the speaker. Minju slaps you weakly on the chest as you change it to speakerphone, directing her to respond.

"Minju yah?"

"O-Oh unnie!" She's tighter than ever around you, either from tension or from excitement. Grunting you pull out slowly, only to have Minju flap her hand in a panic to make you stop.

"Minju where are you? I thought we were meeting up before heading in?"

"Oh sorry unnie, I was going to tell you, but I think I caught something bad, I don't think I can make it today." Minju manages to respond just barely, the words squeezed out before she has to turn away and moan into the seat.

"Ah really? That's too bad! How do you feel? Should I bring you something?" You pull out almost the whole way before thrusting firmly back in, making Minju arch her back, biting her hand to suppress a cry. "Minju?"

"Ohhh... Oh unnie I feel fine. No need to bring me anything, I'm not sure if it's contagious." What is contagious is the pleasure spreading throughout Minju, making sure she feels more than fine. She's mouthing "No", but her pussy is saying yes as she clenches hard around you. "You should nngh... go ahead and enjoy the event, sorry unnie!"

"It sounds bad, make sure you get a lot of rest okay?"

"Sureunniethankyoubye!"

"What was that?" Eunbi asks out loud, puzzled by Minju's behavior. She doesn't get much time to think about it though as there's suddenly a knock on the limo window, drawing her attention again. The knock is persistent, and the limo seems to vibrate.

"No! Oh fuck wait, wait, wait!" Minju screams loudly as you start pounding her as soon as she hangs up, pushing her leg up against the window and fucking deep into her. Her foot knocks against the glass repeatedly, just as you knock against the entrance to her womb.

"She's right there! Right there, oh god... RIGHT THERE!" Minju explodes around you, groaning and drenching the seat in her juices—she jerks and trembles, her toes curling, her hands slapping the seat. A loud groan struggles to make its way through Minju, her entire body straining to keep your overstimulating rod out. Her hand is on your stomach, but you push forward, making her whine and gasp before you finally stop, lodging yourself inside her, even as her walls flutter, working through the last waves of pleasure around you.

"W-Why did you— Nngh..." Minju moans softly as you pull out.

"Because you got so tight talking to your unnie. You wanted to be found out didn't you?"

"No!"

"Sure, whatever you say, she's gone now anyways. Definitely got me excited, where do you want me to finish?" You kiss Minju's neck and hump her slowly, ready to go the moment she gives you her answer. She chuckles slightly before whispering in your ear.

"Inside is fine, I already made a mess all over your seat, the least I could do is let you make a mess in me." You start work on making a mess in, and of, Minju immediately. "Oh! Yes that's it!" You're stretching Minju out so much that she can't help but squeeze you. Minju feels the throbbing in her build up, and to her surprise her heart rate is going up as well—she's going to cum again!

"Mmmm!" Minju's clinging to you for dear life as you blow your load in her. She's shaking hard, and your hips move on their own volition, moving slower and slower, as if all the thick cum you're leaving in her is slowing you down more and more.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck that's good..." you gasp, pulling out, a rush of thick fluids leaking out of Minju and onto the seat. "Minju?" She's lying quietly on the seat, her entire body flushed pink. "Minju?"

"Huh? Oh umm..." Minju sits up weakly. "I'm good, it was great. Do you have some tissues or something?" You quickly throw on your clothes and head back to the driver's seat to rummage for tissues while she slowly gets herself upright—you were too deep in your own climax to notice, but Minju had joined you in orgasm, except she's never cum that quickly after the first one, and never that hard. Before today she would have been happy to find some hotshot from the event, get herself off, and call it a good night. Tonight though, she felt strangely unsatisfied and wanting more.

"Here you go."

"Oh, thanks." Minju wipes herself down, soaking the puddle of cum and juice between her legs with the tissues. She steps into the dress once more and pulls it up and finally— "Can you come back here?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"I need your help with the dress." Right, of course. You join Minju in the back again, and silently zip it up for her. "Thank you."

"Of course." You return to the driver's seat, and the two of you sit in silence, the limo reeking of sex as you debated what to do next. "Should we umm, head back to the event now?"

"No. I already told Eunbi unnie I wouldn't be there. Let's just go back home." You nod silently and pull out of the parking spot. Minju is silent on the way back, debating with herself, desire and reason quarrelling in her head.

"We have arrived Miss Kim," you announce, pulling next to the elevator lobby in her building's parking lot.

"Oh, great, thank you. You should find a place to park."

"Oh, will you be going somewhere else after?"

"No, I would like you to come up. I'll be sure to leave my phone off, so we won't be disturbed. So why don't you find a place to park, and by the time you arrive I'll be in something more comfortable." Minju exits the limo and walks over to your window, motioning you to roll it down.

"If you're fast enough, maybe you'll catch me before I can put any clothes on."

"It's unlocked." You let yourself into Minju's apartment, and given that she's not meeting you, maybe you really were fast enough. You're fairly sure you've scratched the limo, but you'll pay for a whole new one if needed—Minju is the definition of "Worth it."

"Almost." Minju reads your mind, buttoning the last button on her top as she walks out of the bedroom. "But don't worry, you'll get to take it off soon." She moves closer to you, letting you wrap an arm around her midriff.

"What are we waiting for?" you ask, half-question and half-growl. Minju hushes you with a kiss, hands on your jacket tugging you through her apartment. She pulls your jacket off and pushes you on her bed, straddling you.

"For this, now I have you where I want."

"Yeah?" Your grab her by the hips and pull her down, making sure her short skirt rides up—she's still wearing her panties from earlier. "I have you where I want too."

"How perfect." Minju's kissing you again, but her hands are not idle, unbuttoning your shirt. "Now your turn." You reach for her top, and when the buttons are undone Minju shrugs it off her shoulders, revealing her pale skin, modest chest, and two stiff nubs.

"No bra?"

"Didn't have time, someone came up really fast."

"Lucky me," you murmur, taking the chance to cup and squeeze her tits, giving her a massage from the front.

"There'll be time for more of that later." Like in the limo Minju gets rid of her skirt and panties, and you're kicking off your own clothes too. "I want to ride you."

"Sure, you can be the driver." You smile and make a show of putting your hands behind your head, as if relaxing, but your eyes are glued to Minju's pussy, watching her grab you and... "Fuck!" A low curse escapes you as she splits herself open on you, taking you all the way and immediately wrapping all of your shaft in her warmth.

"Did I go a little too fast for my chauffeur?" She teases, but you felt Minju reel from the sudden stretch, the way her fingers dug into your arms immediately after, and oh how she has to take a deep breath now before saying anything else. "You must be too used to driving a slow car." You let Minju go unanswered for now.

"Perhaps, why don't you show me." You keep your hands behind your head, allowing Minju to lead. She plants her hands on your chest and starts rocking back and forth. You watch her gnaw her lower lip, her moans a mix of pleasure and pain—she's bitten off more than she can chew, but her pride and eagerness won't let her back off. The discomfort is only temporary as you feel her get wetter around you, and she starts riding you more smoothly.

"You like that? Oh fuck..." Minju can't help but add after her taunt. You do like it, and watching Minju's nude body rock on top of you is definitely worth whatever damage is on your limo. She jiggles and shakes, trying to fire seductive looks at you as she rides. But what you find hotter is how her expression melts every so often, when you shift your hips slightly or nudge upwards, hitting her extra deep and making her frown in pleasure. "How is it, hmm?" Minju asks, mistaking your silence as mute acknowledgement of her skill.

"Not bad. But you drive like you're driving an automatic, let me show you how to drive a stick." You sit up and hug Minju close, burying your face into her tits and sucking a stiff nipple. You lean forward further into her chest as your hands pull her hips towards you, forcing her to arch her back—this makes her near powerless in an instant, and she has to use her own arms for support against your legs.

"What are you— Nngh!" You start thrusting upwards slightly, and with Minju angled like this you hit her g-spot easily. She yelps on every thrust, her world spinning upside down as you bounce her on top of you. "Mm, mm, mm, mm, oh my god! Oh fuck! Right there, oh I'm cumming!" Minju clenches around you, and you push her through her orgasm, moving your hips in a grinding circle, driving Minju wild in manual. Her arms go weak, and she tips backwards on to the bed, hips bucking as you slip out of her.

"How was that?" you challenge, taking the opportunity to get on top of her.

"Good— Ah!" You're inside her again. Minju changes her approach. "You're so deep inside me, is that why you drive limos, because you're stretching me out sooooo much."

"Now that's a stretch of a joke." You chuckle, not rising to Minju's taunts. She doubles down though, kissing you deeply before hugging you close, leaving a hickey on your neck.

"It's not, you're stretching me out so much, no one's going to feel as good from now on." She wraps her long legs around you and pulls you in. "God it's like my pussy is your permanent parking spot now." You twitch inside her, and Minju smiles at that sensation. "Oh you'd like that wouldn't you? Me coming to you every time I want to get off? Giving you a place where you can park your cum?" As she says it Minju gets more and more aroused—she wouldn't mind that at all, not with how good she feels now and in the car earlier. Unconsciously she tightens around you, making you moan.

"Fuck you feel so good!" The bedsprings creak as they try to push Minju deeper on to you from below. "Shit I'm going to cum!"

"Wait, not in here!"

"Fine I'll pull out!" You start thrusting faster, but Minju hurriedly smacks you on the chest.

"Bathroom, now!" Next thing you know you've pressed Minju against the glass wall of her shower, kissing her as you lift a leg and enter her again.

"Cum in me, just didn't want to make a mess on my bed."

"Oh, so it's okay to dirty my leather seats, but not your bed?"

"You can cum in me here, or we can go back to the bed and you can cum on me, your choice." Minju challenges, wrapping the leg around your hip to let you know which she preferred.

"Fine." You grab Minju by the wrists, pinning her at 3 points against the wall—wrist, wrist, pussy. Despite the slight interruption of getting to the bathroom you're back on the road to your peak, going faster—from the bruises on Minju you see afterwards it might even be reckless. 

"Fuck, right there!" But right now she encourages it, bucking best she can, throwing her hips into yours. "Are you cumming soon? You're going to make me cum with you again, mmm!" You grab Minju by her hair, tiling her head back to look at her.

"Is that why you felt so good?" Minju can only moan in response, shuddering as her first orgasmic contraction grips her and you. "Fuck that's it, it's like your pussy wants to suck all the cum out of me!" You slam her even harder into the glass wall, your own pleasure building fast. Your blood's pumping, drowning out her cries. The "Check Engine" light is blinking in the form of Minju's fluttering eyelids, but you keep the pedal pressed down, burning through the rest of your tank and revving both of you to even louder roars of pleasure.

And then it happens.

Minju's jaw drops, you crash into her one last time, and the most exquisite of tugs from Minju ends you. You fire thick white lines of cum into her, painting your own personal parking spot in the cum park that is Minju's pussy. You explode, rupturing and spilling everything into her womb. The dying sputters of your engine force you to hump up into her, making both of you gasp and grunt until you finally stop. Her low moans and sighs flood your ear—mindlessly she caresses your cheek, kissing you passionately, a woman thoroughly satisfied as she leaks your white "oil" all around your shaft. You slip out, and the heavy splatters of dripping seed echo in the now quiet bathroom.

"Wow."

"Ow." Minju winces as you hold her by the waist. "Wait don't let go, I can't stand." You hug Minju higher up, pressing her chest to yours as she sighs and waits for her strength to return.

"Sorry, did I go too hard?"

"No, you just feel good. As far as the pain." Minju reaches behind, frowning as she touches her lower back. "I blame the wall," she laughs and quips into your neck.

"Told you we should've just stayed in bed."

"Unless you're offering to do my laundry, I get to choose." The two of you share an intimate moment in the shower, getting clean with a quick rinse, but never losing contact with one another.

"We're still good right?" Minju asks as you throw on your jacket, recognizing that it's time for tonight to end.

"What do you mean?"

"If I need a driver next time, you'll still be available? It won't always lead to... this though."

"Of course, my job is to drive. I don't expect anything more than the usual pay."

A few weeks later and after a few requests from Minju that don't lead to anything more, you get another job from her. You're asked to go upstairs, so you do so.

"Hello Miss Kim."

"Just call me Minju already. Come hold my dress for me? Don't zip it up yet." Minju makes a show of adjusting her makeup.

"It's a very nice dress, when is the event? I can take a more scenic route if we want to be late." Before you know it Minju steps away from you, and with you holding the dress it slides off her easily—Minju's fully naked as she turns to face you.

"The event's tomorrow, so I'm afraid I can't pay you for today."

"We can figure something out."

A/N: Had this car sex idea in my head for a long time, finally got around to writing it. Helps that Minju has had more pretty dress outfits since then lol, hope you like it! Thank you for reading.

[w1ld-k4t]

Unhelpful

CONTENT WARNING: Nothing crazy. Pussy eating, some pet-names (i.e bunny, my light), and Xavier being a bratty dom. Go ham, folks.

SYNOPSIS: Xavier had an urge to be between your legs while you're trying to get some work done.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, yeah, this is very self indulgent. Sue me. Once again, though, I'm sorry for any OOC-ness. I love writing (this one also just tore it's way out of my hands), but I haven't written for the lads until now. I think Caleb came out pretty good, so let's hope I did Xavier justice, too.

How are you supposed to think like this?

The laptop screen strains your eyes, propped up on your thighs as you lounge back in your shared bed. Any studying, writing or project you’d been trying to get done is nothing but a mindless blur. Your mind is wandering, unable to grasp and stick to any specific word or image reflecting back into your cloudy gaze.

All because you’d given into to those pretty, pleading blue eyes.

- ☆ -

“Xavier, I don’t know…” The words had felt twisted on your tongue, thighs unconsciously pressing together where you sit. His request has the heat flooding to your cheeks, but you really do have things you need to get done. And with what he’s suggesting…

“Mm… It’s alright if you don’t want to, bunny,” he nearly coos (and it makes your heart melt) as he rests his head in his hand, elbow bent and propped upon his pillow. For a moment, his gaze drifts away from your face and down to the plush rabbit sitting between you both. His free hand idly fiddles with the felt of it’s ear, “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable…”

And it’s the way he returns his sights to your own that is your undoing, stars shimmering in his gaze and pupils blown into large, desiring pools.

“I just wanna taste you.”

- ☆ -

And thus, here you are.

He’s taking his time between your legs, head underneath the shadow of your laptop and hands lightly gripping, caressing the back of your thighs. As there always is when he’s even being gentle with you, there’s a subtle possessiveness in his touch. His tongue draws lazy circles around your entrance, gathering the escaping slick there and then agonizingly dragging it up to draw stars on your clit.

You haven’t gotten any work done. Or, if you did manage to in your haze, it must not be very coherent. You can’t hear your thoughts over the sound of his lapping and slurping.

Every twitch of your thighs trying to close is awarded with a tightening of his fingers, a gentle nip to your pussy lips and, if done too many times in a row, a low, displeasured growl. Whimpers have slipped past your own tongue far too many times to count at this point. The worst part is the lack of goal. True to his word, he’s just tasting you. Slow, leisurely and, dare he say, sleepily drunk on the flavor.

It’s driving you insane.

You’re brought out of your thoughts as he taps your thigh, mumbling something inaudible against your sopping cunt. You hadn’t even realized how your had had fallen back against the wall behind you, your laptop slanted without you holding it in place.

“My light…” He hums, and you can hear the infuriatingly teasing smile on his lips. Imagining it covered in your slick and his saliva has another spark of arousal swimming down your spine, “You haven’t been typing for a while… Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you breathe out too quickly, hair standing on the back of your neck at the sound of his amused, close-lipped chuckle. He’s already layering another lick over your slit, “N-no, I just… I just needed a break.”

You can do this. … You think.

Refocusing your gaze on your computer screen proves to be even more difficult than you’d anticipated, but damn him if he thinks you’re giving up now. Your fingers begin moving on the keyboard again, slow and hesitant. His hair tickles your inner thighs as the words form on the page, your finger swiping across the mousepad to make a correction and-

Another slow swipe across your clit makes your thighs clench. He nudges them back open.

Taking a deep breath, you continue. Click, tap, tap - Your fingers are shaking as they graze the key-caps. Moving two fingers to the mouse-pad again, you scroll up what you’ve written to see how far you’ve gotten-

His fingertips graze your pussy lips and it has your breath hitching, a jolt of surprise attacking your spine.

“Xav, you said-,” Your worries are shushed, his lips kissing your mound as he softly pets your slit with two of his fingers.

“Jus’ relax, bunny…” He breathes, teasing your entrance by circling around it and playing with the wetness that’s accumulated there, “M’ not gonna put them in… not yet.”

A confusing mix of relief and need follows after. Still, you huff and carry on. Knowing him, he’s trying to distract you on purpose. But he does as he said, only petting your cunt with the lightest touch while his tongue and lips do most of the work. Suckling and licking at your clit while his finger scoop your growing slick into his mouth.

To your credit, you do manage to get some work done. Not nearly as much as you need to, the page still painfully empty, but it’s not nothing. And you were going steady until you noticed him following a certain pattern.

Click, tap - A diagonal line, down to the right.

Tap, tap tip - Another, down to the left.

And as you’re trying to type, your fingers slow down.

Another diagonal line, this time up and to the right. Immediately followed by a connected line going down and to the right. A quick line swept across.

By the time he reaches V, you realize he’s (staking his claim) spelling his name over your swollen nub. It has your thighs shaking and, with the way his hand tightens around the flesh of your thigh, he knows you’ve noticed. Knows by the way your fingers have stopped moving and your breath picks up.

The smile you feel against your cunt is devious.

You’re not going to be able to think like this.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, I hope I've done him justice. This quite literally came to thought as I was lounging back in this same position. Also; let me know if anyone's interested in a continuation or anything.

CREDITS: The dividers are from thecutestgrotto. Eye banner is from the Harper's Bazaar x LADS Collab. All writing is done by me, w1ld-k4t.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Hello… I have an angsty request, you can obviously ignore it because it can be a sensitive subject, but you would write it in such a cute and respectful way💝

Any Logan you picture with a reader who was sexually abused, she is kind of sensitive to physical touch, but also needs it, she needs comfort. Even more when it comes to intimacy, Logan and her never had sex because it triggers her, but one day, she decides she wants to, it’s hard and awkward and sentimental, but Logan is a sweetheart.

Again, ignore this if you want to, you’re an amazing writer

xxxx

I'm Here

Logan Howlett X F! Reader

You want to take the next step in your relationship, and Logan supports you through it

A/N: Nonny, thank you so much for this request. I hope this came out the way you imagined <3 I left it open so you could imagine any Logan!

Warning: Sex, MDNI, descriptions of sex, implied PiV, mentions of past abuse (but not descriptive), communication, reader get nervous and anxious, handjob, soft Logan, Logan is nervous too!

Warm sunbeams kissed your face. 

You sat curled up on the window bench, your arms wrapped around your knees as you watched the skies become blue, the darkness that hid the sun and brought on torrential downpours slowly fading away. 

Birds flew to the wet grass, pecking the ground and searching for bugs to feast on. Slowly you watch the world come out from its hidden niche, basking in the new sunlight and fresh air. You observed all the little details from your 3rd-floor nook.

The small wind blew through the trees, shaking the leaves gently, The squirrel ran across the pavement and grass, both pausing in the open- a shiver of its tail as it observed its surroundings. The slow steady drip from the leaky gutter above your window. 

“Here you go love,” Logan's voice drew you out of your daydream, as you turned to look at him. He held out a mug, one that was shaped like the head of the Pokemon Slowpoke, the newest in your ridiculously large collection of mugs. Steam comes off the tan liquid inside and dissipates into the air. You adjusted your position, crossing your legs as you reached out with both hands to grab the mug. “Careful, it’s hot.” He warns. 

You nod, grabbing the handle and gently bringing it up to your lips, blowing air over the hot liquids, and then carefully sipping it. A slight bitterness to the tea, the flavor masked with the slices of lemon Logan had added. “Mm… good, thank you.” You hummed. 

He gives you a soft smile, before joining you on the window bench seat and sitting across from you. His leg folded and resting on the cushion of the bench, his other foot braced on the floor. He leaned against the wall, a beer in hand resting on his thigh. He looked out the window, his expression relaxed.

Your eyes trailed over him discreetly, as you sipped your tea. You observed his hazel eyes - how they seemed gentle, compared to his usual expression. Down to his lips, soft, set in a something position. 

You trailed down to the way his shirt - just a normal, plain black shirt, fit over him. The sleeves were a bit stretched over his biceps - he’s always wearing shirts that fit just a little too tight over him. You’d tease him about it, and he’d wink at you for it. 

You moved down to the denim he was sporting. The way he sat with his legs spread, relaxed yet confident. Your eyes lingered a bit longer on his lap than you cared to admit. Swallowing, as you felt a warm feeling grow inside you, you turned yourself away to look back outside to the peaceful Earth. 

You both sat in content silence together. The world seemed slow, unmoving. You felt the quiet urge to be closer to him.

You looked at him again, moving to carefully set your tea on a small table next to you, you began to climb over to him.  He looked at you, sensing what you wanted, adjusting himself so you could comfortably sit in his lap. 

Your legs draped over his, and you curled your body into him. His arms slowly, protectively settling around you, as you nuzzled yourself into his neck. The scent of him, cigars and leather, sent a wave of safety through you, as you relaxed. 

You heard a deep sigh of contentment escape him, his chin resting over your head. 

It’s taken a long time to get to this point. 

You and Logan have been together for some time now. About a year, give or take. 

You started as friends first, growing into something more romantic. It had been a slow steady process, with the both of you earning each other's trust. 

The night both your growing feelings came to light. Logan cupped your cheek gently with his hand and asked to kiss you. 

The feelings you felt from it were hard to decipher. 

Happiness, want, and a need for that intimacy. You’ve looked at his lips more times than you can remember.

Then a sick feeling that twisted in your gut, your skin crawling. The two clawed at each other, an inner battle inside you that left you overwhelmed.

Logan, sensing your hesitancy, removed his hand from you. You didn’t have to tell him anything, have to explain your feelings. He understood, deep inside. His own battle raging inside him to allow himself to even touch you, to allow himself to open up. Fear of hurting everything he touches.

“It’s okay love. We can take it slow.” 

Thus started the beginning of your budding romance. Logan was a true gentleman. He always asked for permission and learned your cues to what made you comfortable and uncomfortable. He respected any boundaries you asked for. He never made it seem like he was afraid to touch you, while simultaneously respecting your space. 

It never felt like a waiting game with him. 

You both enjoyed each other. You spent time together, knowing each other with no rush to go anywhere or do anything. 

Quiet dates at little cafes and parks. Movie nights with friends. Slow mornings making breakfast. 

Over time you felt safe to open up to him. About your past abuse. The history that makes you sensitive to touch, to avoid that intimacy that you also craved at the same time. 

He held you while you cried. 

Never once did he make you feel rushed, forced, or any sort of shame or guilt because you wanted to take it slow, before or after learning of your past. 

The topic of sex had been brought up more than once. He always told you that he wasn’t here for your body, and while he certainly found you attractive. That physical intimacy was something that didn’t need to be rushed. When and if you are ever ready, he’ll be there. For now though,

“I love you, that’s all there is to it.” 

You took another deep breath, grounding yourself where you were with him. His hand slowly brushing up and down your arm. It sent chills through you, and you had to remind yourself,

It’s him. 

The warm feeling inside you lingered. A mix of apprehension, anxiety, desire, and need. You weren’t sure how to approach this.

“Lo?” 

He moved his head back to look at you. You leaned forward, slowly capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. You could feel his surprise for a moment, the way his lips pulled back for a moment, hesitating before returning the kiss, eager, but affectionate. 

You parted from him, pulling back gently as you looked up at him. His eyes half-lidded, as he regarded you with softness. 

“What was that for love?” He asks gently. 

You looked up at him, looking at his lips again, your eyes trailing down to his neck. You leaned in, pressing delicate kisses along his jawline, down to his pulse point. You heard his breath hitch, and you looked up at him. 

A sweet, goofy smile across his face as he met your eyes. “Lo…I want to try to…” You purse your lips together, a heat blooming in your face. “To have sex.” 

A bit of surprise on his face, his arm around you squeezing you gently. “Really?” He asks. You nodded. You saw his Adams apple bob in his throat as he swallowed - a sign of nervousness, but he masks it. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. “You don’t have to do anything-”

“I know. I want to do this.” You say. “Just, try. Even if we don’t go all the way.” 

He nods. “Now or…?”

You giggled, and he grinned. A nod of your head, “Now sounds good. Unless you got plans?” You ask teasingly. He chuckled, his arms moving around you to lift you like a bride, as he stood up with you in his arms with ease. 

“Who you think you’re talking to bub?” 

Adrenaline began to hum in your veins. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers slowly climbing into the curls of his hair as he carried you to your bedroom. He moved to sit on the bed, with you still sitting across his lap. 

He turned to look at you with a sweet smile, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours. “We don’t gotta do anything you don’t want. If it becomes too much-”

“We’ll stop.” You nod confirming. 

“We’ll go slow.” He says gently - a small firmness in his tone. You nodded again in agreement, smiling in his concern for you. You sat up, moving to straddle his lap. 

Your heart began to race as you looked at him. His hands slowly resting on your hips. He looked at you with care. “You okay?” He asks, and you feel embarrassed- remembering he could hear the fluttering of your heart. You nodded. 

“Nervous.” You smile. You leaned forward, shaky hands cupping his jaw, as you pressed your lips to his. 

Your kiss started gentle, barely there, light and airy. It wasn’t the first time you’ve kissed, nor even the first time you slowly made out. Your nerves made your hands weak though, the idea that the kiss is going to lead to something more.

You wanted it, you did. You loved Logan. His respect, his love for you, has made you feel safer than you have in a long time. You craved the feeling of intimacy, of touch - and knowing you were going to be safe with it.

You pressed further, your arms wrapping around his neck, as you sat further up his lap, pulling him closer. The feeling of him close - his sturdy frame holding you. 

It was a slow process. Carefully removing each other's clothes. You lifted his shirt off and allowed him to undress you. His touch sent shivers through you, but there was a warmth to it. The kind of warmth that made you crave more. He always asked you for permission. 

“You’re so lovely, baby.” He’d whisper against your lips, after he slowly lifted your shirt over your head. 

He gently discarded your shirt, adding to the small pile of clothes on the floor.

You both moved further up on the bed. His back against the headboard of the bed with you straddling him. The mattress creaked from your weight, as your comforted became disturbed from the shifting.

The sunlight beamed through the cracks of the curtains, as you felt warm light floating over your body. Logan's face highlighted from the lighting, the glow in his eyes as he looked up at up at you in reverie

Both of you were down to your underwear, and anxiety and excitement stirred low in your belly.

You reached down to his boxers, your fingers grabbing the hem of the briefs, and slowly pulling them down his thighs. His hard member popped out, you watching it bounce against his stomach and you bit your lip as heat spread over your face. 

You stifled a laugh, leaning forward to put your forehead on his shoulder, your hands pressed to his chest. Logan chuckled. 

“What’s up pretty girl?” He asked, his hands running over your thighs soothingly. 

“Nothing I-” You laughed again. It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him naked, just from various times of him changing around you, getting out of the shower with a towel. It always sent a syrupy warmth through you, your eyes watching his muscular form as he dried himself off. 

This time though, it was a little different. The knowledge of doing something so…

“Too much?” He asks with a hint of humor in his tone. You giggle again shaking your head. 

“It’s just nerves.” You say looking at him. He tilted his head, a sympathetic look on his face, he brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheekbone. 

“We can slow it down.” 

“No, no I’m fine.” You shook your head, leaning forward to peck his lips. Your hands pressed to his stomach, moved downwards, and you gently took him. Fisting around his member, you slowly stroked him, as you looked back into his eyes. He was taking deep breaths, even with your strokes. “This okay?” You asked. He smiled and nodded. 

You moved a little faster, and he let out a shaky breath, tipping his head back as you noticed his stomach clenched. The feeling was different- but not unpleasant. You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss - and he let out a small moan. A small shock went up your spine at the sound, as you let out a breathy noise. 

“You’re doing great love.” He says, leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose, before nuzzling into your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?” 

You bit your lip, slowing your rhythm over him, and nodded. 

His hands, resting on your thighs, moved up to your panties. “Is it okay if I touch you?” He asks softly. You nodded, and his hand came over to cup your mound. It felt warm and comforting- his touch, as he brushed his fingers softly over your panties, which had become increasingly wet during your time together. “You’re so beautiful.” He says softly. 

You looked up at him, his eyes filled with adoration as he looked into your eyes, and suddenly it felt as if your nerves eased. He saw you, not just your body, or the sex. “I’m a lucky guy baby.” 

“I think I’m the lucky one..” You say softly. He chuckled, 

“No no, you’re not going to win this one baby.” He grinned at you. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Sweet girl you are, as pretty as a picture. Putting up with my bullshit every day. There ain’t a thing I’ve done to deserve you.” 

Your eyes softened, as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him for a searing kiss.

Slowly, awkwardly - but full of love and communication, you both worked through it together. He took care of you with a tenderness you hadn’t felt before, always checking on you throughout the session.

Your noses would bump against each other, your hands slipping over each other, and you would nearly lose your balance on top of him, making you both laugh as he’d press a kiss to your forehead, reassuring you to take it slow.

In some moments you would need to stop, almost too overwhelmed by the feelings and sensations you were experiencing- they felt good, but you needed to breathe. He would quickly ask you what you needed, but you only just needed him to be there. 

And he was. 

Eventually, you finally reached a point where your nerves were fading, as you felt more pleasure envelope you. Pressed against his firm chest, your face buried into the crook of his neck, the scent of him, the feeling of him breathing- it brought you down into a zone that was reassuring, that felt like home. It was soft, careful, and everything you needed from him. 

He talked you through an overwhelming finish.

“I’m right here baby.” He whispered into your ear. “You’re okay, you’re doing amazing.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, as your muscles relaxed, and you fell over him, your cheek against his chest- listening to his heart, pounding nearly as fast as yours. His hand soothingly petted your hair, as you came back to yourself. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” You speak up. You carefully climbed off of him, moving into his side, your cheek pressed into his pec. “That was….nice.” 

“Sure was.” He says, pulling a blanket over you both. “You want anything?... Some water or.. a snack or sumn’?”

“No, I’m okay.” You smiled into his chest. “I just want to be here with you.” 

“Mm.” He let out a small grunt. His thumb rubbed soothing circles into your arm. 

“Did…You enjoy it?” You speak up, with a small anxiety that maybe you didn’t perform well. You heard him hum. 

“Baby, I had to keep myself from making a mess right then and there when you touched me.” 

You started giggling. “Really?”

“That funny?”

“A lil bit.” You teased. He quirked a brow glancing at you, and you looked up at him. A warm chuckle came from his chest. 

“Yeah, alright.” He squeezed you closer. 

“I know one thing though…”

“What?”

“I think…I definitely want to do that again.”

You heard a small breath of relief escaped him. He turned to kiss the top of your head. “Whatever you want baby. I’m here.”

[theofthevalley]

Could you please write for Rodrick and a gender neutral s/o going out to a convenience store to get differently flavored slushies (red and blue) so they can kiss until their tongues are purple. Just lower effort date things... 👁👁

“Last Friday Night.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Rodrick Heffley Headcanon’s with GN!Reader (Established Relationship)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You and Rodrick love going out to gas stations nearby just to stock up on snacks and drinks. Especially slushies, today was no different. He would pull up to your house and ring your doorbell as he waited outside with flowers in his hands. Today, Rodrick Heffley was going to take you out on a date to the gas station!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You opened the door, and then there you saw your beloved boyfriend with a couple of flowers in his hands. He gave them to you and smiled as he took your hand, dragging you away into his van this late at night. It was a night date, and you couldn’t help but kiss his cheek as you got into the passenger seat of the van.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ While he drove, you were in control of the music and played one of your favorite songs that both of you liked. Singing along while he tapped his finger against the steering wheel. You looked out the window and smiled as you saw the gas station come into view. He pulled in and parked the van, rushing to get out of the car, stumbling out of his seat just to open the door for you. He gave you a small grin as he opened the door.

“What a gentleman my boyfriend is.”

You replied sarcastically with a smile as you hopped out of the van. He slammed the door after and then stood beside you, grabbing your hand, intertwining it with his own.

“Mhm, I’m just that great! Now come on, let’s go get some snacks.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Both of you ransacked the whole place, grabbing snacks left and right. And then you passed by the slushies and nudged him to get his attention. He gave you a confused look as he was holding multiple snacks in his arms.

“Let’s get slushies, what’s a snack without a drink?”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I call dibs on blue raspberry!!”

“Hey! I like blue raspberry!”

“Well, you could just have cherry.”

You huff at him, but truly, you didn't care about it. He shrugged at you as he stepped forward to grab a cup while trying to juggle the snacks in his arms. He lays them on the counter while he goes ahead to get his drink. After both of you get your drinks, you go to the counter and he pays for everything even though you had tried to stop him.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Back in the van, both of you munched on some snacks and sipped on your drinks, as he had said he would. You shared drinks. But the thing was, he wanted kisses as payment for letting you take a sip. And so you did. At first, it was just sweet and short kisses, but somehow you had ended up on his lap, making out with him. Tongues mixing with one another, his blue tongue mixed with your bright red one. He pulled away for air and looked into your eyes.

“Mm, babe, you taste like cherry.”

“Yeah? Well, you taste like blue raspberry.”

He rubbed his hands on your thighs and kissed you once more as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Soft pants and sloppy kisses, this was the dream, and you were happily living in it. This time, you were the one to pull away, both of your tongues turned purple from all that making out. He grinned at you and held you close.

“You're an idiot.”

“Then I guess that makes me your idiot.”

He was silly and dorky, but you loved him, and this had to be one of the greatest dates he's taken you on. Low effort yet fun and enjoyable. You love him, and he loves you on this wonderful Friday night.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Advertisement: Hey you! Yeah you, the person who read this whole thing, do you like Rodrick? Well this blog is THE place for Rodrick fanfiction. Check my bio if I have requests open and my rules.

A/N: Another one down!! Hope you liked this Anon!! Also, another title reference to the song 'Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)' by Katy Perry!!

Word Count: 632 words

[allurearia]

A day fit for a king.

Kageyama birthday special<3 F! Reader

You wake up to the infamous Italian sun rays peeking through the glass sliding doors located at the corner of your room, casting a golden light across the space. You carefully slip out of bed, moving as quietly as possible to avoid waking your husband, Tobio, who’s currently sprawled out beside you, one arm hanging off the bed and his face buried in the pillow. Slowly padding over to the closet you grab a warm sweater, already missing the comforting warmth he'd been providing just moments ago.

Kageyama, being the light sleeper he is, stirs and grumbles, half-awake. “Where… are you going?” His voice is muffled, heavy with sleep.

You rush back to his side, patting his head. “Stay in bed, My love I’ve got something special planned.”

He mumbles something about “No stay here” but obliges, too groggy and tired to argue from yesterday's training. While he drifts back into light sleep, You quickly rush down the stairs to try and not waste any more time than you had already, putting on an apron that said “What cookin? Good lookin.” and immediately got to work, trying to prepare his favorite breakfast

- Pork curry with an egg on top, onigiri’s some Greek yogurt on the side layered with blueberries and, of course, a cold glass of milk. Adding some personal touches such as shaping the onigiris in the shape of volleyballs and putting small lines of soy sauce that's giving the “volleyballs” its texture.

Tobio had been quite frustrated since he wasn't able to eat many of his favorite dishes after moving to italy with you, Sure you still found all the ingredients here to make everything but according to Tobio it just didn't taste like the ones back at home, so being the lovely wife you are, you had sent a quick text to the owner of ‘onigiri miya’ who was more than happy to ship a few ingredients all the way from Japan to Italy.

And so here you were.

Once it was ready you brought the tray to him. Tobio was fully awake now, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, his bedhead sticking out in all directions. Surprisingly on his phone, from all the notifications you were hearing and the texting you figured he was replying to all the birthday messages he was receiving.

“Happy Birthday, Tobio!” you chirp, placing the tray on his lap and hugging his broad frame.

“Did you…?” He pauses, picking up an onigiri and inspecting its volleyball-like shape. “What’s this?”

“It’s a volleyball,” you explain, laughing at his skeptical expression. “Go on, try it.”

Tobio bites into the rice ball, and the moment the flavors hit his tongue, his movements slow. He chews thoughtfully, his eyes widening slightly.

“This… doesn't taste like here,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You perch on the edge of the bed, watching him intently. “Good surprise?”

He nods, picking up the pork curry next. After a single bite, he sets down the spoon and stares at you, his dark blue eyes unusually soft.

“How did you make this?” he asks.

“Magic,” you tease, but when he narrows his eyes, you laugh and admit, “I got some of the ingredients shipped from Japan. I know it didn't taste the same to you.”

Tobio blinks, clearly caught off guard. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Of course I did,” you reply, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “It’s your birthday, and you deserve to have a little piece of home.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but his expression softens even more as he picks up the chopsticks again. This time, his movements are deliberate, savoring each bite.

“Thank you,” he finally says, his voice low.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a grin. “But don’t think you’re off the hook yet. There’s more planned for today.”

“More?” he asks, arching a brow.

You laugh. “Finish your breakfast first, Birthday Boy. Then you’ll see.”

“Mm not a boy.” he tries to speak with his mouth full of rice.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

“Why are we… at the court?” 

Tobio’s confused voice echoes slightly as you lead him into the gymnasium. His sharp eyes darted around the space, taking in the sight of a volleyball court perfectly set up, the net in pristine condition, and Mikasa volleyball resting at the center.

You clasp your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels “Why do you think?”

You quickly grab his hand and run towards the bleachers ,Tobio’s still looking around and then his gaze turns to you. Stopping as you approach the benches near the court There’s a mix of confusion and intrigue in his expression, the kind of look that tells you his mind is already running through a dozen possibilities.

“You didn’t…” he starts, but his voice trails off as he notices something on the bleachers.

There, neatly arranged, is a jersey coloured navy blue and orange with his number 9 printed boldly across the back with the name ‘Kageyama’ printed under. Beside it lies another jersey with the same name just now with the now iconic white and gold colours and the number ‘20’ and beside it a folded towel, a pair of sneakers, and a water bottle, all lined up as if waiting for him.

His lips part slightly, his confusion deepening. “Is this… for me?”

You nod, stepping closer. “Of course. Who else’s birthday is it?”

Tobio tilts his head, his dark blue eyes locked on yours, searching for answers. “But why—”

“Because,” you interrupt gently, placing your hands on his arms. “I know how much you’ve missed this. I know you love Italy, and I know we’ve made a home here, but volleyball… this is your first love, Tobio. And I wanted you to have a piece of that today.”

His mouth opens slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. His expression softens, the lines of his usual seriousness melting away as he glances back at the court.

You take a small step back, giving him space. “Go on,” you urge with a grin. “Check it out.”

He hesitates for a moment before walking toward the bleachers, his footsteps deliberate. You follow a few paces behind, watching as he picks up the  karasuno jersey, running his fingers over the familiar fabric.

“This…” he murmurs, holding it up. “This is new.”

“Of course, it is,” you reply, crossing your arms. “I had it custom-made. Figured your old one’s probably too worn out by now.”

Tobio lets out a soft huff, shaking his head slightly. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“Trouble? Tobio-”

“I want you to play with me.” He says firmly.

“Hm?”

“That's what i want the most, i want to do the thing i love with the person i love most.” he says as he hands you the newly custom made jersey.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his words. “Tobio…” you murmur, taking the jersey he’s holding out to you.

His eyes are steady and unwavering, the kind of intensity you’ve seen countless times when he’s on the court. “Will you?” he asks, his voice softer now but no less firm.

A laugh escapes you, “You do realize I’m nowhere near your level, right? I don’t even know if I can make it over the net.”

Tobio’s lips curve into a rare, small smile. “Doesn’t matter. I just want you out there with me.”

Your heart swells at his sincerity. “Alright,” you say, tugging the jersey over your head, the last name now suiting you, the fabric fitting snugly. “But don’t  you dare laugh when I mess up!”

He steps closer, his tall frame towering over you as he brushes a stray hair from your face. “No promises,” he jokes. “I might have to coach you”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Don’t turn this into one of your drills, Tobio. I’m just here to humor you for a bit.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

He walks around the net to your side, positioning himself behind you. “Okay,” he says, placing a hand lightly on your shoulder. “When you jump, keep your arm straight and swing through. Like this.”

Tobio demonstrates the motion, his movements fluid and practiced. You nod, trying to mimic his form.

“Not bad,” he says, stepping back. “Now let’s try it with the ball.”

He sets the ball high into the air, and you run forward, jumping as high as you can. Your hand connects with the ball, but instead of the satisfying thwack you were hoping for, it’s more of a weak tap. The ball bounces off the net and rolls to Tobio’s feet.

You groan, your shoulders slumping. “I’m terrible at this.”

“You may be” he says firmly, picking up the ball. “But you’ll improve, Try again.”

This time, his set is a little lower, giving you more control. You jump, swinging your arm with everything you’ve got. The ball sails over the net, not with much power, but hey at least it made it over the net this time?

“See?” Tobio says, a hint of pride in his voice. “You’re getting it.”

“Alright then coach! What's next?” you exclaim,

You can see Tobios ears turn slowly turn a shade of red, he clears his throat.

“Next we can work on your serves”

you raise an eyebrow, your smile faltering, “Oh, now I’m really scared.”

Tobio huffs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s important. A good serve sets everything up.”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Could you try and do it for me first? As a demonstration?”

Tobio’s eyes narrow slightly, clearly caught off guard by your request. He glances at you for a moment before nodding. “Alright, but watch carefully.”

He positions himself near the service line, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders.his focus completely shifting as he prepares to demonstrate. With a sharp breath, he tosses the ball up and swings his arm, his serve cutting through the air with impressive speed and precision. The ball lands harshly over the net, landing in the spot he had intended on, on the opposite side.

You can’t help but let out a low whistle. Admiring him more than his serve if you're being honest.  “Damn, That was awesome.”

Tobio looks at you, a proud glint in his eyes, but his lips twitch slightly, as though holding back a bigger smile. “It’s just a serve. You’ll get it, too.”

You laugh, trying to suppress the fluttering in your chest as you walk over to pick up the ball. “Right. No big deal.” You toss it lightly in your hand, trying to mimic his form. “Now it’s my turn.”

Tobio crosses his arms, watching you closely, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “Don’t rush it. Focus on the toss first, then follow through.”

“You talk to me like I understand what you're trying to say” You say, biting your lip as you focus on the task. You toss the ball into the air, but it wobbles slightly, and your swing isn’t as smooth as his. The ball veers off course, landing just short of the net.

“Oops,” you mutter, looking up at Tobio with a sheepish smile. “Guess I have some work to do.”

Tobio raises an eyebrow, but there’s no judgment in his tone. “That’s fine. It’s just practice.” He walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Remember, a good serve comes from control, not power. Don’t try to hit it too hard.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

The two of you walk away from the court, the sun starting to dip below the horizon, casting the sky  of Rome in soft oranges and pinks. Tobio follows behind you, his steps slower now, almost as if he’s reluctant to leave the court behind. You lead him up a small, grassy hill not too far from the gym, a quiet spot you’ve discovered a few months ago. You saw a cat coming towrads the both of you but as soon as it got in closer range she quickly picked up the pace and ran past the both of you. He frowned.

At the top of the hill, you stop, turning to face him. The view is breathtaking: the sky stretching endlessly above, dotted with the first few stars of the evening. The air is cool and refreshing, the kind of evening breeze that makes everything feel calm.

Tobio looks around, taking in the peacefulness of the spot. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, softer than usual.

You smile, sitting down on the grass, patting the spot next to you. “I thought you might like it. It’s quiet, just the way you like it.”

He lowers himself beside you, stretching his legs out on the grass and leaning back slightly to rest on his hands. “It’s perfect.”

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The sky darkens even more, stars slowly dotting the skies . The sounds of the world seem distant, and for the first time today, it feels like time has stopped, just for you two.

You shift slightly, reaching into your bag, and pull out a box. Tobio raises an eyebrow at you as you hand it to him. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” you urge, your voice a little quieter now, matching the peaceful atmosphere.

He takes the box, his fingers gently peeling off the wrapping before lifting the lid. Inside, neatly packed, is a set of brand-new volleyball gear—shin guards, a pair of wristbands, and a new pair of shoes and a new pair of socks that had blueberries on them. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the thoughtful gift.

“Tobio Kageyama,” you say softly, looking at him with upmost love. ““You’ve been playing with the same gear for months now, and I figured, for your birthday… maybe something a little fresher.”

He’s silent for a moment, his eyes scanning the contents of the box. He doesn’t know what to say. There’s a kind of quiet gratitude in his gaze, something unspoken. He’s always been the type to keep his happiness in check, but there’s no hiding the small smile on his lips now.

“Thank you,” he finally murmurs, looking up at you. “This is perfect.”

Tobio’s body is relaxed now, The glow of the stars, mixed with the faint light and noise from the city, makes his features seem softer, and for a moment, you can’t help but admire the way the evening settles around him, the stillness of the moment reflecting something deeper.

“I’m glad you like the gifts,” you finally say, breaking the silence, your voice low and soft.

Tobio doesn’t immediately respond, his gaze still lingering on the stars above, but you notice the subtle way his lips curve upward, a silent acknowledgment of your thoughtful gesture. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he says quietly, his tone filled with sincerity. "But... I appreciate it.”

You glance over at him, watching his profile as the words linger in the air between you. There’s a gentleness about him right now, an openness that you’ve come to cherish. “I wanted to,” you reply, smiling to yourself. “I know how much volleyball means to you, and... I wanted today to be special. For you.”

His eyes flicker to you briefly, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world pauses just the two of you, alone under the stars. He takes a deep breath, as if grounding himself in the peace of this moment before turning fully to face you. “I don’t deserve all of this,” he mutters, though his voice is soft, the edge of his usual gruffness nowhere to be found.

You shake your head, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Stop it. You deserve everything. And more.”

Tobio’s lips twitch into a faint smile, his eyes meeting yours with something deeper than you’ve seen all day—gratitude, affection, maybe even a little bit of surprise at how much you’ve truly done for him. He’s never been one to seek attention or lavish praise, but in moments like this, when you’re together without the distractions of the world around you, you know he can’t deny how much he means to you.

You look at him for a moment longer, and then the playful side of you can’t resist. You shift your position slightly, propping yourself up on your elbow to face him fully. The night is quiet, only the faint sounds of the city’s nightlife in the distance, and you can feel a mischievous glint in your eyes as you glance up at him.

Tobio, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, turns his body slightly to match yours, a curious expression on his face. You can’t help but let a small smirk pull at your lips.

“Well,” you start, your tone light but teasing, “since it is your birthday, and everything’s been going so well…”

Tobio raises an eyebrow, his lips parting slightly as if preparing to ask something, but he doesn’t. His curiosity is evident, though, as he waits for you to continue.

You lean in a little closer, your voice dropping to a quieter, more intimate level. “I was thinking... Maybe we should make the most of tonight. I mean... the evening’s still young, right?” You let the words trail off, the implication hanging in the air between you two.

Tobio’s expression changes for a brief second. His eyes widen, and a subtle flush colors his cheeks, a pink tint spreading across the bridge of his nose. He swallows, clearing his throat awkwardly as he tries to maintain his composure. “You’re impossible,” he mutters under his breath, though you catch the small smile fighting its way through the slight embarrassment on his face.

You lean back slightly, your teasing demeanor fading just a little, though your smile remains. You rest your head back on your hands, glancing at the stars once more. “I mean, we are celebrating your birthday,” you say nonchalantly, glancing back at him. “What else could make it better?”

Tobio is quiet for a few moments, After a long moment of silence, he exhales, a reluctant smile curling on his lips. “I don’t know what to do with you,” he mutters, though the affection in his 

“Happy birthday Tobio.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING<33

[jobean12-blog]

Donut: The Hole Story

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 969

Summary: When you stop at your favorite donut shop to grab some sweets on the way home from work they only have one left of your favorite flavor so you do what any other person would do...even though it's your husband's favorite too.

Author's Note: This is just because. We recently got some donuts from one of my favorite shops nearby and I just love writing about our fave guys with sweet things! If you wanna to check out the donut place you can find their website HERE. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fluffy sweetness and fun

*All text messages in italics*

You: I’m on my way home Buck! Going to stop at the bakery, I want something sweet 🥰

Bucky: Ok doll face. And I got somethin’ sweet waiting for ya at home 😉😏

You: I know and I definitely want some…but I also want a Dough donut 🍩I’ve been craving it all day 😁

Bucky: Want me to come and get you on my bike? I can leave now and I’ll take you right to Dough❤️

You: I’m already half way there but I hate to miss a ride with you…take me after we have dinner and donuts? 😍

Bucky: Of course doll, be careful, love you❤️

You: I will love you too, see you soon!❤️

Bucky: AND DONUTS!🍩

You: YAY DONUTS!🍩

Before you even get the door of your apartment open Bucky does it for you, filling the frame with his broad shoulders and even broader smile.

Your greeting is cut off when he grabs you around the waist, tugs you inside, shuts the door- all in one smooth and quick motion- and presses you against it, his body caging you in while his lips cover yours.

“Mm you taste extra sweet,” he murmurs when he pulls away to let you breathe.

“Hi Buck,” you giggle.

He kisses you again, cradling your cheek in his hand and softly grazing just under your eye with the sweep of his thumb.

“Really sweet…” he whispers against your lips.

“Wait a second…” he mutters.

He kisses you again.

“Did you…?”

And another kiss.

“You ate one already didn’t you?!” he grumbles.

He pulls back with wide blue eyes, his mouth hanging open to match.

“Ate one what?” you ask, feigning perfect innocence with a bat of your lashes.

His mouth chases yours and his body keeps you pressed to the door.

“A TOASTED COCONUT TOO!”

“BUCKY!”

“IS THERE ANOTHER?” he asks with an accusatory tone as he frantically pats you down.

“Do you think I’m hiding the donuts in my clothes?” you laugh with a raised brow. “Or are you just trying to cop a feel?”  

“I’m always trying to cop a feel,” he winks before his expression morphs back into suspicion.

You bend down and grab the box you unceremoniously dropped to the floor when he pulled you into the apartment.

He takes it from your hand and narrows his eyes, holding the box covetously close to his chest.

With one more kiss to your lips he rushes off to the counter and rips open the top of the box. He stares at the full box of twelve donuts for several seconds before meeting your eyes.

You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

“See? A full box of donuts!”  

“But…” he starts, grabbing your arm and pulling you under his to bring you around to face him so he can kiss you again. “There’s not toasted coconut!”  

You shrug with nonchalance and smile sweetly. “They were all out. It is the end of the day so…”

He studies your face and tightens his grip on your waist.

“No they weren’t. There was one left and you ate it on the way home!”  

Your shoulders lift to meet your ears in another act of indifference and you try to turn in his arms so you can grab a donut.

“No,” you answer. “I wouldn’t do that. But I’d like one now.”  

You manage to wiggle your way around and look down at the donuts, tapping your cheek as you try to decide on which one to eat first.

Just as your hand reaches out for a blueberry lemon the top of the box shuts.

“BUCK!” you squeak. “What the heck!?”

He pushes the box to the other side of the counter and in another smooth move that’s too fast for you to fight he has you turned around and seated atop the surface, trapped by his body.

You cross your arms over your chest.

“Can I eat my donut please?” you huff.

“Not until you admit you ate the one toasted coconut left on the way home,” he counters with a smirk.

You lift your chin defiantly but you don’t answer.

“I knew it!” he shouts. “I can’t believe you ate it without waiting to share with me!”

You try and scooch off the counter so you can eat another donut but he doesn’t let you move.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he simpers.

“I want a donut.”

“You already had one doll.”

Your lips press together and you scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re denying me donuts Buck!”

“I just wanna hear you say it doll.”

“And if I don’t?” you challenge.

“No donuts.”

“You wouldn’t!”

He waggles his eyebrows. “Try me baby doll.”

You grunt and punch him in the chest.

He just smiles.

“I can’t believe you Barnes!”

He doesn’t budge and just stares with a triumphant grin.

You stare right back and slowly your lips curl into a smirk as an idea forms in your head. Without another word you press your chest to his and wrap your legs around his waist, gently rocking your hips. Your arms circle his neck and you run your fingers through his hair.

His fingers dig into your skin before slipping under your shirt and slowly inching higher.

Your fingers slide from his hair and down over his shoulders then bunch into his shirt to tug his lips closer.

“A distraction?” he hums. “Really?”

“I don’t see you trying to stop me,” you whisper.

Your fingertips dance lower, tracing the waistband of his jeans.

“No,” he murmurs. “Why would I ever want to do that?”

“And I’ll just have my donut after I have you.”

“That’s what you think,” he says right before kissing you, easily distracting you with his hands, lips and everything that's him.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @buckysdollforlife

[lustlovehart]

Only In Tears and Dreams

Pairing: (Main) Scaramouche x Reader, Wanderer x Reader

Summary: [Angst] The soon to be god meets you in his future, a beautiful love it is. But, it makes him realize, the only way you’ll ever love him, is the version of himself where he’s completely erased. You’ll only be his if he is not himself.

Warnings: Unrequited Love (Reader to Scara), Comfort in Wanderer x Reader portions

The gods must have taken it upon themself to oversee his suffering, cause why is it, the space of solitude he so carefully hoped to salvage from reality, has been tainted with images of what he always believed to be his demise.

You.

The landscape is softly blurred, save for your very clear form. You’re breathtaking. God, he hates you. You’re the sole being capable of making the empty cavity in his chest beat with something that was never there in the first place. You’re the only human in this world he’d even remotely allow insults directed towards him to come from. You’re the only person he can stay in close vicinity with for extended periods of time without throwing lightning to the skies.

You’re you. But… the you in his dreams is different.

There’s no hate in your eyes, it’s you, no doubt, but a version he’s secretly wanted to see himself.

A you who is, undoubtedly, in love with him. No… those eyes that are filled with such a disgusting emotion, are looking at the him with blue and teal wrapped all around him. Not purple and red, not The Balladeer.

It’s then he remembers, you will only ever love him, if he was not himself.

“What’s wrong? You seem off today…” you’re up close, he can see you, he can hear you, but that’s the only two senses he possesses to behold you and your glory. He can’t bury his nose in your neck, he can’t hold your waist in his palm, he can’t taste whatever flavor you have on your lips.

A cruel reminder that the version he holds of you in his heart is only a dream.

“Hm… silent today huh, don’t be so moody, you have one of your political scientifa-magig things going on don’t you? I’ll be sailing back to Fontaine soon so you better enjoy me while I’m here.” You look annoyed, an expression he’s grown accustomed to, but this one is softer than what you give him.

A voice speaks back, sounding too similar. His voice, is heard, but it’s not coming from his lips, it’s from the other him.

“Hm? I had no idea I was holding an overgrown child in my arms, how can someone at your age not be able to pronounce “political science” normally?”

Holding?

Seems the harbinger was too focused on you to notice that, yes, you are held in his arms, you’ve been sat on his lap looking into his eyes this whole time.

“How can someone at your age not be able to grow huh? I must say for someone in science you’re a bit below average h— mhm…! Mm!” The image of a hand pops up, the palm tightly covering your mouth as you fight a struggle to regain speech.

“Someone seems to be forgetting whose bed it is they’re staying in for the next two weeks.”

“Mm!! Mmm… mhm…? MHMM…?!” It’s a scene that would be witnessed in a cheesy rom-com film from Fontaine. If he was in reality witnessing this with any other couple, he’s sure he would turn his head and pretend he hadn’t seen such a disgusting display of affection.

But it’s a little endearing when it’s the two of you.

“Mhm—! Haaa… Okay okay! Sorry Mr “Hat guy”… Jeez, considering you almost suffocated me to death maybe I shouldn’t sleep with you— Ah…!” He watches internally as the blurred vision moves, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Are you gonna throw me in the water…? It’s cause I put sugar in your tea isn’t it…”

“So that was you.” Panic momentarily sets in your eyes with your accidental confession, you grasp around his neck tightening, or at least he thinks you tighten it, his arms slowly leaning you towards the river before quickly pulling you back into his body.

He laughs but you don’t, only chastising him for his attempt at scaring you. “You…! Luckily you met me after I quit the fatui, who knows with your attitude I might have fought you with a delusion.”

“Oh really?” He doesn’t sound amused, albeit, it seems this “Scaramouche” was part of the fatui or at least, played some part in it, as his playful demeanor is quickly dissipated at the mention of that organization.

It’s then when the dream starts to go cloudy, the sight of you slowly rippling away. His hand, not his dream self’s, but his own, almost reaches up to caress your face before you disappear, but his body locks him in place before he can move in time to catch you.

He should be happy. He doesn’t have to see a you he can only despise and wish for in his feelings. He has to remember, that horrid feeling you make him know, is just that, horrid.

Now that he’s seen what he’s secretly wanted. He knows just how detrimental it would be to have that with you. A weakness for him, one that if even minorly damaged, could lead to catastrophic destruction to his psyche.

He’ll claw that feeling out of his body if he has to. Feeling your love was warming, he can’t have that. So, his hand leans towards his chest, his nails pointed directly at the place a heart would be, before punching through.

But yet again he remembers, it was just a dream.

He’s harshly awoken by the sound of footsteps clanking on metal, his body suspended in air. He can feel the nimble fingers of someone connecting the tubes to the holes in his back. But he doesn’t bother to make contact with them. He’s sure, it’s Dottore. That is until, he’s not so sure

His synthetic puppet torso shakes a little as the first tube is connected, a hand placed on his chest to stop him from shaking. A hand, that’s all too familiar.

When the mysterious helper emerges from below, his eyes can’t seem to stop themself from looking.

“You.”

“Yes, me. Who else would you have trusted with impaling you, my Lord?”

“Ha? Anyone but you, at least if they killed me through an accidental misplacement they would find assistance or cower at their lord's body.” He just woke up, that dream has not yet disappeared from his collective consciousness. “You would do it on purpose and then watch me fall without any form of continuing the job.”

“If you talk anymore you might put that scenario into action, Sir, though, if it did come true I can’t deny I wouldn’t do what you just stated.” He doesn’t talk back, only a tut leaving his lips before you dive down to insert the next mechanical implement in.

Though, he does wonder.

“[Name], where do you live?”

“Oh? Are you suddenly interested in my personal life? I don’t think it’s a good look for a god to be hooking up with a mortal.”

“I’m not asking for something that foolish. Answer.”

“I live in Fontaine— Lived, I mean.” He can tell you didn’t like his sudden change in demeanor, as he quickly can feel you connect his wiring slower, but also a lot more forcefully, dare he say even painfully. Though he doesn’t cause he’s not so weak as to admit that as hurt. He’s a puppet— no, a god, this doesn’t hurt.

The cold glare you give him stings a little though. Just a little. But he won’t admit that either.

“Hm.”

“You ask but don’t say anything? I shouldn’t have even replied to your stuck-up—“

“Why did you join the fatui?” … You seem to lack a comeback. “And you say I’m the one who doesn’t speak back.”

“I’m almost done. You’ll be on the way to becoming a god soon enough my Lord, once I’m finished will you please allow me to take my leave and—“ his hand is only seen in a flash, his finger already gripping onto your wrist tight enough he might as well be acting as a handcuff.

“No, stay with me.”

“If I don’t go back to Sir Dottore, he’ll get mad.” His eyes narrow at the mention of the name before returning to their original form.

“To hell with that doctor, you’d defy a future god?”

“Future, My lord. Besides, would a god need a mortal by his side?” Your words are sharp, they seem to have cut him deep as his grasp on your wrist loosens before eventually falling back to his sides, his head turning to let out the second scoff of the night.

“No, not at all.”

“Then… I’ll be going. Goodbye sir, good luck on your endeavors of godhood.” You don’t look back at him. For a moment, his soul flinches at the familiar sight. All too similar to the woman who started it all, his mother.

He doesn’t call out to you, only watching the sight of that wretched doctor grabbing hold of your shoulder and leading you out the door. He thinks to himself, the moment he’s ascended, maybe he’ll become great enough to see reverence in your eyes.

Or maybe, something that isn’t reverence, or praise? No… a feeling he’ll forever refuse to hold. For now, he’ll convince himself that all he wants is your submission, not anything more. However, that nagging feeling he wields will always remind him in the back of his head what he really wants from you.

He remembers that dream.

It was warm, something he didn’t think his synthetic body was capable of feeling, yet here he was, resting his head in the warmth of you. His eyes were entirely focused on the look of your face as your fingers combed through his hair.

He couldn’t feel it at all, but somehow, it felt as if your touch transcended his body and reached his soul in the dream. His eyes water before his hand quickly wipes them away without even letting the tears fall.

But he won’t ever feel that. Perhaps, it’s for the best. A god must be above mortals, so he will not grow attached to those who must be beneath him. He will throw you away just like he did to the rest of those sorry humans in his life. He will forget you just like he forgot them.

You will be nothing but a character meant to build his higher being self to greatness. He will feel nothing but godhood in his veins.

Love is only an obstacle meant for distraction.

After he had regained the memories of his past sins, he no longer has a name to call his own, only having the name the traveler bestowed upon him.

His feet walk across the pavement of Sumeru, running errands for the small god of Sumeru. Particularly, it seemed many citizens that day must’ve all collectively agreed to bombard him with annoyances, as they all looked at him too many times and spoke too loudly when he was near. But, they didn’t, he’s just in a bad mood.

From the corner of his eye, he spots the familiar uniforms of the fatui, a woman and a man exchanging whispers while searching the area.

“Where’s [Name]? Surely they know the doctor is asking for them.”

“I don’t know! The last time they were seen—“

The name strikes a chord in him, but he continues walking. He no longer plays any part in that wretched organization, so he won’t pay any more mind to it.

He will keep walking until he can’t anymore—

A quick hand on his arm pulls him to the side, a familiar hue in their eyes alerting him as to who this runaway is. Even with their face covered in shadow from the hood, that voice was all he needed to confirm.

“I’m so sorry sir, but do you have any idea what the quickest way to get to Fontaine would be from here?”

I didn’t make it exactly clear because I didn’t think it was too important for the plot, but in this Reader is an assistant working directly under Dottore a bit against their will but thats okay (no it’s not). Also for the dream bit, I may not have made it clearly, but essentially, Scara is looking through the eyes of wanderer, along with that, he has no idea this is his future, he’s under the impression that his mind is playing tricks on him and showing a “what could’ve been.”

[joemama-2]

fragments of us

tags: angst, light fluff, dividers by @/cafekitsune

pairing: gojo x reader

word count: 1592

“How’d you know I like this flavor?” You gasp.

A smile is directed at you as Satoru sits next to you. A cone of ice cream, taken by you, that’s filled with a sea of blue. Oreo chunks along with chocolate chip pieces decorate it, mixed with cookie dough. The flavors explode in your mouth, with a satisfied hum leaving you.

“Just a hunch,” he licks from his own cone, the same flavor as yours. “I’m pretty great at making educated guesses, you know? They call me the Strongest for a reason.”

Your laugh tickles his ears just right and he doesn’t even realize he’s scooting closer to you until you scoot away. Acting on muscle memory can be good, but in this situation, he has to realize that it’s probably not the best idea.

He clears his throat and juts his chin the direction of your cone. “Don’t waste any, okay? I spent my hard earned money on that.”

“I promise to eat it all.” You reply, already taking bites from the crunchy cone.

Satoru has a problem with staring, especially you. Even something so mundane catches his attention completely. Especially when it’s you doing it. The ice cream dripping down his pale fingers is a reminder to stop his reminiscing.

You two sit side by side in an all too familiar ice cream parlor. It’s comfortable, at least for you. Making conversation with Satoru is easy, he always knows what to say to keep the momentum going. It strangely feels like you’ve done this way too many times before, maybe that’s why it’s so easy to talk to him.

You shake your head free of those thoughts and focus on the now.

“What’s next on the agenda?” You ask him, eyes flickering over to his pretty ones, that are already looking at yours.

“Hmm, that’s a surprise,” he grins and tilts his head. “You like surprises?”

“Mm, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“I don’t usually like surprises by men I don’t know very well.”

He hopes he hides his heartbreak well. Humming instead, leaning back in the booth. “Well, I hope you’ll like it. But I have a feeling you will.”

You smile, chin propped up on your hand. “Another educated guess, I presume?”

A small chuckle vibrates through him. “Exactly.”

He takes you to an aquarium.

“Wow,” you gasp in awe, the different variety of sea animals surrounding you. “How’d you find this place, Satoru? It’s beautiful.”

A simple shrug. “I used to come here a lot.”

“Really?” Your head turns up to him. “You don’t come here very much anymore?”

A second of silence passes as he considers his response to your question, deciding on a shake of his head. “Nah, not really. Just…doesn’t feel the same.”

You want to pry more, ask why it doesn’t. But you think it’ll be rude and invasive, considering you just met him. So, you nod and focus back on the beauties of the sea before you. Feet walking on their own, leading you from corner to corner, room to room.

Throughout it all, he follows. He’s mostly silent, but he adds comments here and there that make your stomach feel funny.

Two fish capture your eyes immediately, pointing to them through the glass. “That—“

“Like them, huh?” He cuts you off, the fish also the cause of his fixation.

You pause, eyebrows raising at him in slightly surprise before replying. “Y-yeah, I do. Do you too?”

“Love them.”

His response is immediate, automatic almost. You focus back on the two betta fish. One white, the other black. You sort of want to joke how the white one loosely, or exactly, resembles him.

The black one, well….you think it resembles someone else. It’s almost like it’s on the tip of your tongue, a faint outline in your mind of who it could be, who it is.

But the silence feels nice, so you hold back. The two of you watch the fish go about their routine, swimming side by side, their fins looking like they’re floating through the water. They move together, as one.

For some reason, a heavy press settles on your chest, causing your throat to dry up. Confusion swirls through your mind as you silently battle whatever this is that’s suddenly been sprung on you.

Just as you feel your eyes begin to sting, his arm finds home on your shoulders. Steering you away towards another area, far from the fish and far from your inevitable breakdown.

A small sense of deja-vu causes you to stop in your tracks. You feel like you should say something, but what would you say? Inner turmoil renders you immobile for a few more seconds before you shake your head and continue walking.

Little did you know, Satoru’s stomach was currently doing flips, heart beating faster than normal (it always beats fast around you). However, hope only gets him so far, because like always, you brush off whatever’s going on and resume.

He’s half tempted to pull you back and shake you to wake up and come back to him.

He doesn’t.

He follows beside you and the rest of the time is done without any words shared.

He walks you back to your apartment.

There’s a hint of hesitance in his eyes as he watches you fiddle with your key. Once your door is opened, you turn around to face him. A smile on your face. It’s polite, formal. Like one you direct towards a stranger.

“Thank you for today. I actually had a lot of fun getting to know you.” You tell him, looking down at the cute necklace he got for you that resembles the betta fish from before.

His own smile is warm and welcoming. “Of course, I would’ve hated passing up the chance of talking to someone as beautiful as you.” His comment comes out smoothly, like he’s down it multiple times before.

Each time, your cheeks blush and your smile turns shy, stumbling over your words. “O-oh, uhm….thank you.” The small laugh he gives you makes your body feel hot.

“Maybe we can do this again?” His head tilts, a tilt to his voice.

Your eyes widen slightly before nodding. “Sure..! Yeah, of course. Just—uh—just let me give you my number.”

He waits patiently as you fiddle around for a napkin in your bag, using a stray pen to messily write your number. Your hands are shaking a bit, which is a little annoying. Once done, you give him the paper, he gives it a quick glance before folding it into his pocket.

You two stand staring at each other. You’re not sure if you should kiss his cheek, say thank you again, or just bye. But he did buy you things and he was really nice. You feel bad if you would’ve just left it at that.

So, carefully, you walk forward and give him a hug. “Thank you again.” You mumble into his clothing.

The way his arms wrap around you almost immediately, his hands on your back running up and down in a soothing motion brings back that heated feeling. The hug lasts longer than one normally should between two strangers, but neither of you pull away.

“Don’t thank me, I’ll always be here.”

When you’re going to bed that night, you take off the necklace he got for you. Opening the drawer of your small jewelry vanity, but you stop mid-way. Because inside, there’s already several of the exact same necklaces inside.

The same fish with the same black string tied to it. Your brows furrow, fixated on the scene in front of you.

It’s only then do some questions ring through your mind. Firstly, how did he know where you lived? He didn’t even ask, and it was almost like you were following him.

Two, what did he mean by he’ll always be here?

It’s exhausting for Satoru. Going to sleep at 4 in the morning then waking up at 7 is one thing, but this is something entirely different.

He knows he should probably let you go, stop killing himself with this. But he can’t. He’s already lost one person he held dearly, and even though you’re still here, he still lost you too.

Pictures from the past greet him as he walks back into his house. He doesn’t look at them, not anymore. Looking back at when everything was perfect hurts him too much, much more than he’d like to admit.

He’ll never take them down, though. A part of him hopes he’ll be able to show you them. You’d probably call him a crazy stalker and call the cops on him. It doesn’t matter to him, however.

He debates himself every night and every morning. Questioning his decisions in life and if what he’s doing is the right thing. But his grip is tight. Satoru can’t let go of things, people easily.

Although that’s a weakness he’s realized, he still pursues.

He pursues it because when he sees your familiar figure standing in line to your favorite coffee shop that you visit every morning, his lips form a smile.

He pursues it because when he not so accidentally bumps into you, chatting you up like it’s second nature, the smile you give him is what keeps him close to you, in your grip.

The lingering thought stays in his mind. He’s not sure how much longer his heart could last.

Not when he’s already on his 60th first date with you.

Maybe one day he’ll you go.

[vi0let-writes]

Wanderer/Scaramouche x reader

No gender specific.

Fluff

Summery: you finally get him to agree to a lunch date

It’s been a long week, with Wanderer and you constantly in the academia studying and doing last minute assignments before the end of the semester.

To say things have been stressful is an understatement, the constant nagging from the teachers and your boyfriend’s constant complaining about everyone that bothers him.

That’s why you have decided to set up a Picknick for you both to relax, and enjoy the company of each other.

“Come onnnn Wanwannn~ I’ve prepared everything! You don’t need to lift a finger, just come and enjoy it!” You pleaded with the short male, his scowl at the nickname plastered on his face.

“I know damn well you didn’t call me that” he scoffed. You rolled your eyes.

“It was supposed to be cute you ass!” You whacked him in the arm. “But come on! It will only be like an hour of your time! I made everything to your taste. It will be a good mind break.”

Wanderer thought for a bit. close to cracking, he made the worst mistake; looking into your eyes. Your pleading, wide eyes made him pause, and ears tint red.

“Fine!!” He shouted a little too loud, eyes turning from all over the room to look at you both.

“YAY! I knew I would get you!” You cheered, your happiness causing a slight smile on the lips of the blue haired boy.

“We’ll lets go then..”

You both went off to a secluded forest spot a little ways from sumeru city, a place you often went for peace and quiet.

You had managed to get the boy beside you to hole your pinky while you walked, his flustered frustration showing as you walked past random strangers on the street.

“Here we areee~” you sang, pointing to a blanket on the floor with a basket beside it filled with food. Inside was a aray of different foods, some more bitter and some sweet and flavorful.

“You sure did make a lot..” he said, sitting down with a plop beside you, helping you empty the basket.

“Mhm! I wanted you to have fun, and enjoy the small break.” You smiled up to him. Wanderer just stared at you.

“Mm, well let’s hurry and eat.”

About an hour in, the plates were empty, and your stomachs full. Wanderer ended up head in your lap, your hands in his hair, softly scratching his scalp.

“Thank your for the break.” He whispered almost too quiet. His eyes were closed, as you leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Wanderer didn’t know what he did to deserve you, why you loved him enough to stay. But he wasn’t going to complain, he was content with you, loved you.

Wanderer loved you.

———————

ENDEDED, this is an apology for not updating the wrio fic… I swear I’m working on it… final exams are coming and I don’t wanna fail…

-Vi0let

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(BBC Sherlock) Sherlock x Reader: Holiday Cheer

Author's Note:  I struggle publishing Sherlock fics because as a Christian I personally disagree with his statements about God on the show and find it insulting actually. However, I otherwise enjoy the show and enjoy writing fics with his character. 

Just a little blurb about the holidays with the Baker Street boys! Enjoy!

Word Count: 954

You slowly lifted the mug of hot chocolate, pausing to inhale the rich, sweet scent of the beverage and feel the liquid’s warmth waft against your skin.  With a smile, your lips skated over the dollop of whipped cream as you tilted the mug to take a sip.

Mrs. Hudson was known for keeping the flow of cuppas constant at 221b Baker Street, but since the Christmas season had begun, she came walking up the steps with a tray of hot cocoa and an assortment of cookies instead.

The flat was all decorated for the holiday with strings of soft, glowing lights hanging on the wall and wrapped around garlands. Holiday knickknacks decorated the area.  A few Christmas cards had arrived as well, so you and John took turns arranging them nicely on the fireplace mantle as you received them in the mail.

At the moment, you were seated comfortably in one of the living room chairs, eyeing the decorations and occasionally gazing wistfully out the window at the heavy snowfall that covered London streets in a blanket of white.  A lovely Christmas tune on the violin drifted through the flat as Sherlock practiced.  Despite it being an afternoon in, he was fully dressed in a dark blue suit.  John was at the table, typing away on his laptop about a recent case.  It was evident that he was trying to record many details because the click-clack of the keys was rapid and constant.  

Occasionally, he paused to check the notes he had previously jotted down.

You turned your attention back to the fire crackling in the fireplace.

What a scene, you mused to yourself.

You took another sip of the hot chocolate and savored the rich flavor.

John glanced up from his laptop at you.  “That looks good.”

“It is.  Mrs. Hudson really knows what she’s doing.”  You proceeded to pour him a cup, dropping a dollop of whipped cream in with a spoon.  John set his laptop aside and rubbed his hands together in anticipation before you handed the mug over to him.

“Mm.”  He took a sip and nodded in approval.

Sherlock had paused his playing, setting the instrument down to instead gaze out the window in silent observation.  You wondered what was going through that mind of his.  It wasn’t always a mystery.  Sometimes he uttered his musings aloud for anyone nearby to hear his train of thought.  Other times, when he was in the deepest of thoughts, he fell silent.

You always wondered what thoughts could prompt that.  The great Sherlock Holmes loved to hear himself talk.  It gave him some sort of satisfaction to sprinkle in his genius observations into everyday conversation.  More than that, he enjoyed a long spiel to summarize his logic and make a final statement about his conclusion of the solving of a mystery just to observe the shocked and impressed faces of those around him.  You and John both discovered that after working cases with him for as long as you had.

“I was thinking,” John spoke up, setting his mug down on the tray.

Sherlock’s voice sounded as a deep rumble from across the room.  “That’s dangerous.”

John, now used to his roommate’s antics, continued on, ignoring him.  “I was thinking about taking a stroll tonight to see the Christmas lights.  Would you like to come?”

Excitement welled up inside you at the prospect.  London famously had spectacular lights around the holidays.  Whole streets were lit for passers by to see, and they made for lovely walks.

“That sounds like fun,” you replied enthusiastically.  John smiled, and both of you turned to the consulting detective.  “What do you think, Sherlock?  Want to come?”

“I have other matters to attend to,” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh, well, okay then.”  You shrugged, hoping to disguise your disappointment.  “John and I will go.”

“I said I have other matters to attend to.  I did not say I wasn’t going.”

John’s brows furrowed in a look of confusion.  “Okay…?”

Sherlock proceeded to take up his violin again and play another holiday tune.  You stifled a chuckle in frustrated amusement of your friend.  John exchanged glances with you and shrugged.

. . . . . . . . . . . . 

“Oh, how beautiful!” You exclaimed in awe.

The street was very festively lit with strands of lights hung overhead.  You and John were enchanted by the sights while Sherlock walked beside you with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.  His expression was guarded, though you caught him glancing around.  The great Sherlock Holmes was not impervious to holiday cheer, even if he tried to act like it.

John stopped to look at one fixture in particular, and you turned to Sherlock, who was already inches away.

“What do you think?” you asked, trying to look unphased by the close proximity.  It was difficult enough with any other person, but especially with the detective.  You were very aware of how he could pick up on the smallest details.  He probably already saw your pupils dilate, or noticed some other telling sign of your affection for him.

He tilted his head so that he was face-to-face with you, eyes flickering down to meet your gaze.  His eyes were like ice, but with the twinkling lights shining in them, they didn’t look quite so cold as they regarded you.  “It’s not so bad,” his voice rumbled lowly.

You were frozen in place, lips parted to speak, but with no words coming out.  Neither of you moved for what felt like ages until John spoke up somewhere ahead.  Sherlock took a step back to create a little distance, though he paused so that you could walk beside him before the two of you continued your stroll down the lane.

[thechibilitwick]

i was watching half cuz i was working on another tiny analysis for funsies and why am i only now just realizing hinako is associated with the color yellow??? and that pink is only really there to represent women because the reason kazui had a relationship with hinako was because of the expectation for him to be with a woman???

that would then explain why the color green is even there at all because blue and yellow makes green and green represents his true desires (both the apple and also the color in general) which could then possibly represent that no matter how hard kazui tried to make his marriage work it was impossible because he can't change what's only natural for him AUGHHHHH

and how have i not noticed this was in both mvs????

i mean i noticed it in cat sure but i didn't really pay much attention to it because i have the mind of a drooling braindead infant so i was just like wow mm gatorade flavors or some shit. but then i squinted at half and was like wait a minute my third eye has opened for the like 20th time after analyzing milgram shit for like half a year this is actually a significant motif that pertains to kazui's character and conflict! wow!

[avatar-of-the-blank]

What do you think each entity tastes like?

OOOH, LIST TIME! I LOVE LISTS

ITS LONG SO I PUT A CUT HERE TO NOT CLOG DASHBOARDS

THE BURIED

WELL. LIKE DIRT. NATURAL BUT OPPRESSIVE OF ANY OTHER TASTE EXCEPT FOR DIRT.

THE CORRUPTION

LIKE YOU TOOK A LEMON WARHEAD CANDY AND CRANKED IT UP TO 11. OVERPOWERINGLY SWEET AND SOUR AT THE SAME TIME, MAKING YOUR TEETH ACHE AND ROT AND YOUR FEATURES SCRUNCH UP.

THE DARK

LIKE AN OLD DINERS' HOT COCOA. NOT A POWDERED MIX, NO. DELIBERATELY MELTED CHOCOLATE, OVERTAKING THE WHITE CREAME IN IT WITH ITS THICKNESS. THE WHIPPED CREAM ON TOP MELTED IN IT, NOW JUST BUBBLES AT THE TOP OF THE SMOOTH WARM ABYSS IN A MUG.

THE END

IM FEELING BLACK LICORICE? I ALWAYS FIND THE END TO BE SUCH A GENTLE ENTITY, LIKE A HAND YOURE SCARED TO HAVE TOUCH YOU, BUT WHEN IT DOES.. I FIND THERES THAT APPREHENSION AROUND BALCK LICORICE, A STIGMA OF IT THAT ITS THE MOST REPULSIVE TASTE. I PERSONALLY FIND IT LOVELY.

THE FLESH

IF IM SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE? EUGH. SOUR, WARM, AND WET. CONCEPTUALIZE BITING INTO A PAPER TOWEL JUST USED TO CLEAN RAW CHICKEN JUICE FROM A GRILL'S LID.

AS A HYPOTHETICAL? LIKE A BLUE RARE STEAK, WELL SEASONED. UGH, EVEN THINKING OF THAT DOESNT GET THE MEMORY OF THAT SHOULDER OUT OF MY HEAD.

THE EYE

ALMOND SCONES DUNKED IN COFFEE WITH JUST A LITTLE MILK. A SMART FEELING FLAVOR, MILD AND EARTHY, NOT OVERWHELMING THE SENSES LESS IMPORTANT THAN SIGHT.

THE LONELY

RAINWATER, COLLECTED ON A COLD AUTUMN EVE IN A CLEAR MASON JAR, FILTERED OF COURSE. THERES NO FLAVOR, ITS WATER, BUT IT FEELS NATURAL TO DRINK, ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU DONT HAVE TO BOTHER THE TAP TO COLLECT THE DRINK.

THE STRANGER

COTTON CANDY GRAPES! HAVE YOU EVER HAD THEM? IF YOU WERE TO SHUT YOUR EYES AND BITE THEM, ITD FEEL LIKE YOU WERE BITING INTO A COTTON CANDY EYE. BUT ITS NOT, AND THE EYES WOULD DECOEVE YOU. ITS NOT WHAT IT TASTES LIKE, BUT ITS THE EXACT SAME TASTE.

THE SLAUGHTER

JUST A FEAST. IMAGINE VEGGIES AND STEWS AND MEAT AND BREAD IN ABUNDANCE, THE FLAVORS MIXING AND THE SCENT ATTACKING YOUR NOSE AS YOUR DIG IN, A FEEBLE ATTEMPT TO MAKE A DENT IN THE MEAL

THE HUNT

SUMMER WIND. LIKE YOURE A DOG HANGING YOUR SNOUT FROM A CAR WINDOW, MOUTH OPEN AND TONGUE FLAILING AROUND WILDLY AS YOUR OWNER PRESSES PAST 70 KPH.

THE VAST

THIS ONE IS HARD. HOW CAN YOU TASTE THE INFINITE? HOW COULD YOU FEEL THE EXPANSE OF EVERYTHING IN YOUR MOUTH.

MM. MINTY GUM. LIKE REALLY MINTY GUM RIGHT BEFORE YOURE ABOUT TO FALL ASLEEP, RIGHT AFTER YOU TOOK A SIP OF 3 AM WATER.

THE DESOLATION

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN CAMPING WITH THOSE PEOPLE WHO STICK THEIR MARSHMALLOWS IN THE DEAD CENTER OF THE FIRE? AND THE POOR THINGS COME OUT GOOEY AND BURNT ON EVERY SIDE? THE METAL ROD THEYRE ON IS GLOWING AND THEYRE SLIDING OFF THEM. LIKE THAT, BUT DIP IT IN MILK CHOCOLATE.

AND THEN BURN THE CHOCOLATE TOO.

THE WEB

HOME BAKED COOKIES. FROM YOUR HOME. I DONT HAVE AN EXPLANATION HERE, THIS JUST FEELS LIKE THE RIGHT ANSWER.

THE EXTINCTION

SO IVE HAD A CONTAINER OF A CANDY CALLED TOXIC WASTE IN ONE OF MY ROOMS WHICH IVE BEEN DREADING TO TRY. I DONT KNOW WHAT IT TASTES LIKE, BUT I KNOW THE EXTINCTION TASTES JUST LIKE THAT.

THE SPIRAL

I ACTUALLY HAVE A DEFINITIVE ANSWER HERE, SINCE I KNOW! WOOD PAINT, WHIPPED CREAM, HEMP SEEDS, HAIRSPRAY, MOCHA COFFEE, YELLOW, TYPE A- BLOOD, THE AIR IN YOUR ATTIC, METAL STAIRWAY RAILINGS, IRON, OBTUSE RUBBER GOOSE GREEN SNAKE GUAVA JUICE