#you'd think this guy would be easy to draw. Well. not really

[4cyberdreamz]

[hoejosatoru]

Roster Hopper - Blue Lock edition

Characters: fem!reader x isagi, chigiri, bachira, barou, rin, otoya, karasu, yukimiya, nagi, reo (all separate beside nagi and reo) characters are 21+, reader's hair color/texture and skin color not specified

Summary: College team AU, where y/n is a manager of the team and bets her friend she can hook up with all the members of the team - without them finding out. This can be read as one entire fic or if you want to jump around I have the name of each character bolded for their part.

Word count: 11.3k help this took forever

a/n: this is the blue lock version of the fic concept I've done with Haikyu teams. I prefer to write characters older but college au makes this easier to so just imagine whatever age you want. Also y/f/n= your friend's name bc I couldn't think of one

Warnings: semi public sex, car sex, fingering, dirty talk, oral, unprotected sex, creampie, spitting, threesome, face sitting, squirting, toy use, finger in ass, chigiri is a sub/calling him good boy, virginity loss for rin, girl there’s a lot we got 10 men to get through so buckle up, also not proof read sorry

"Ugh, I am not going to miss August practices," your friend groaned, fanning herself with a clipboard.

"Seriously," you sigh. Usually you loved being the manager of your college's soccer team. It was a fun position and an easy way to get involved with a sport you enjoyed. Not to mention, your best friend was your co-manager, which meant you always had someone to chat with during practices.

The only time being the manager sucked where days like this, when you had to stand out in the blazing sun. Ego, the coach, made the team come in a week before the semester starts to begin training, which meant long days in the heat.

"Well, it's not all bad," your friend smirked, gesturing to the scene ahead of you. All of the players were currently running around shirtless, sweat dripping down their toned, sun-tanned bodies. The position certainly came with perks.

"Not a bad view, eh?" you replied.

"Ego's really cruel with his no hook up rule," your friend grumbled. You laughed, remembering how awkward the first team meeting you intended when Ego lectured everyone about not having sex with each other because it was a distraction. The players being off the table was definitely a downside of the position.

"I know," you sighed, "How am I supposed to graduate without knowing who's good in bed?"

"Right, like Rin is good on the field, but do you think his skills transfer?" your friend mused.

"Maybe Chigiri likes getting his hair pulled?"

"Do you think Barou makes girls call him the king while fucking?" You both snickered, drawing the attention of Isagi.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing!" you both responded in unison. You both turned away, trying to stifle laughter. As you regained your compsure, a thought popped into your head. You'd gone the past 3 year without breaking Ego's rule, but headed into your final year, you were feeling more daring...

"I have an idea."

"Which is?" your friend asked.

"What if I hooked up with all of them so we could get answers to our question?"

Your friend stared at you, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"I fear I am," you replied. "Breaking the rules is fun every now and again."

"You'd have to break the rules like 10 times," she countered.

You shrugged. "I've behaved the last few years, I think I'm owed it. Besides, Ego will never find out because I'll make sure they'll keep their mouths shut. They can't know I'm hooking up with the other guys on the team, it would mess with the data."

Your friend rolled her eyes. "I didn't know this was so scientific. I bet it isn't even possible."

"Wanna put some money on that bet?"

"You're on."

You two spend the rest of practice hashing out the details of the bet. You had to sleep with the top ten players on the team, so could figure out who was the best. You couldn't tell them about the bet, nor could you let any of them find out, as it might mess with how good their performance is. You wanted to see how good they are when they didn't know it was a test. But if the team finds out, game over. And if Ego find out... well that was an awkward conversation you were keen on avoiding. You both agreed you had until the end of the school year and winner owed the other $300.

Karasu gave you your first opening. He was trying to convince the guys to go to a frat party with him, but after a week of tough practices no one was interested.

"I'll come with you, Karasu," you said with an innocent smile. "I think some of my roommates wanna go too, we can all go together." You added for the players who may be in earshot. Going alone might raise some suspicions. Karasu jumped at your offer and said he could pick you guys up at 8. Little did he know...

"Sorry Karasu, all my friends bailed," you lied, feigning disappointment. "Hope you don't mind if it's just me." Karasu's eyes raked over your body as you climbed into his car. You wore a mini skirt and a little top, which the glint in Karasu's eyes told you he enjoyed.

Just because Ego had a no hook up rule, it didn't mean the guys didn't look - or flirt - from time to time. Karasu was definitely one of the players that liked to push that boundary.

"Fine by me," he grinned. "We'll still have a good time."

The party, unfortunately, left much to be desired. It was the first big frat party of the year and it was beyond packed. The one drink you had was warm and crappy. Not to mention the music they had blasting sucked. You were barely there an hour when Karasu motioned for the exit.

"I'm sorry I dragged you out for such a shitty party," he sighed when you returned to the car.

"S'okay," you shrugged. "Hey it's still early, why don't we drive around and find a spot to chill for a bit?"

Karasu nodded, his hand on the back of your seat as he threw the car in reverse. "I think I know a spot."

It was only a few minute drive until you pulled up to a private little park, far from the main road. You couldn't believe your luck. You and Karasu slipped into easy conversation for a bit. The longer you spoke with him, the more you realized just how cute he was. You sorta went immune to the team's good looks since you've been around them for so long, but staring only at Karasu for so long reminded you that he was fine.

"What're you thinking about?" you asked him when he went quiet, giving you a particular look that made your stomach flip.

"I'm thinking," he replied, licking his lips, "That you look really good and that I really hate Ego's stupid rules."

"I can keep a secret if you can," you replied, leaning into him.

He held up his pinkie. "I won't tell a soul." You wrapped our pinkie around his with a triumphant grin. "Back seat has more space."

You crawled over the center console, followed closely by Karasu. He could see up your skirt, your ass barely covered by a little lace panty. He could feel himself growing hard as he tried to commit the image to memory.

You let out a little yelp as he playfully smacked your ass. "Sorry, couldn't help it."

You maneuvered to be straddling Karasu's lap. His hands tangled in your hair as he pulled you into a deep kiss. He was shy at all, kissing you with a hunger. You let out a pleasant hum as he nipped at your lower lip.

Your hips stirred over his lap as you felt him growing hard beneath you. Your skirt had completely hiked up around you waist, leaving you covered only in lace. Karasu let a groan as looked down at your clothed cunt pressed against his hard on through his jeans.

"Like what you see?" you teased rolling you hips. The friction against your aching cunt was delicious.

"You're so sexy," he mused, bringing his hands down to squeeze your tits through your top. You mewled, nestling your cunt against his thigh to grind down harder on him. You returned to kissing him as you rocked your hips, the rush of doing something you knew you shouldn't heightened pleasure building.

Your breaths were shortening the more you rolled your hips. You had to break the kiss as you desperately tried to chase your high. "Fuck, you think you could cum just like this?" Karasu asked, an excited edge in his voice.

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to find your voice. Karasu pulled your top down, exposing your boobs. He was greedy, sucking at your nipple and squeezing the other to help you along.

Your head collapsed on his shoulder as your body tensed and relaxed deeply into your orgasm. The breathy moans in Karasu's ear nearly made him come his pants.

"Fuck that was hot," he grinned. "Can I fuck you?" He was already slipping himself out of his pants. His tip was flushed and leaking, looking as needy as he sounded.

"Please." You were just as eager for more, positioning yourself over him. You let out a content sigh as you sunk down on to him.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he groaned, "All that for me?" He let you roll your hips, adjusting to him, but he couldn't hold himself back for long. He placed his hands on the seat, giving him leverage to fuck up into you.

"Karasu!" you cried. The air was thick, windows fogged from your panting breaths. Your hand streaked across the condensation as you tried to stabilized yourself.

It wasn't long before another wave of pleasure surged through your body, squeezing Karasu tightly. He let out a delicious groan as his hips stuttered and released into you. You collapsed onto of him, both of you panting.

"So worth breaking the rules," Karasu grinned. You smiled back, though for more reasons that Karasu realized. 1 down.

****

It had been a couple of weeks since your tryst with Karasu and you'd been holding your breath for Ego to call you into your office, or another player to make some suggestive comment. But there was no indication Karasu let anything slip. Your success emboldened you to set your sights on the next man

Barou always used the team gym later at night, after the rest of team had filtered out. He hated working out with them, complaining that they were loud and obnoxious. You, however, he didn't mind.

You were intimidating by Barou when you first met him, but quickly learned he was all bark and no bite. Well, with women that is. Though he had that tough exterior and an imposing size, he was always respectful towards you.

Truthfully, it was Rin you were most nervous to tackle in this challenge. Though physically less intimidating, he was certainly colder. Though Barou was smart, you had a feeling he would fall into the same pit fall most men do: thinking with the wrong head, so to speak. Rin, however, was more calculated, more observant. You feared he see through your charade. But that was a problem for future you.

You were grateful that Barou let you use the team gym in evenings with him, as you could avoid the crowded campus gym and men that ogled at every woman that walked in. For the most part, you and Barou did your own thing. Sometimes you would spot each other, but really you were just sharing the space with minimal interactions. You knew. Barou liked to do his own thing while working out and didn't wanna push it. Tonight, though, you had other plans.

You donned your cutest workout gear: tiny bike shorts and sports bra in your favorite color. You went about your normal workout, though not going as hard as you normally did so you could keep an eye on Barou. He looked as he normally did during a gym session, shirt off, hair down, wearing only small athletic shorts. He was certainly not making it hard to want him.

Barou was currently at the bench trying to beat his personal record of an incline press. He always had an impressive amount of weight loaded on his bar, but today it looked impossibly heavy. Grunts of frustration echoed in the empty gym as he couldn't quite lift the weight high enough to count as a rep. He set the bar down on the rack with a metallic clang and huff of frustraion. Now was your time.

"You know," you wandered over casually, "I heard that more testosterone can help men lift more.

Barou's brow furrowed. "Does it look like I'm low on testosterone to you?"

You appraised his broad form, thick with muscles, veins snaking down the length of his arms from the pump of his work out. A light layer of sweat made his body sheen. "Certainly not." You shrugged, not letting your true interest show. "Just thought it was an interesting theory. Probably bull shit."

Barou's eyes flickered between you and weight rack You could see the gears turning, the desire to conquer the a weight that would put him far above his teammates. "You'd be willing to try?"

"Sure, why not," you replied. "Could be a cool experiment."

"Alright, c'mere." You did as you were bid, your heart fluttering in your chest beneath his gaze. You slid on to him as casually as you could, your legs straddling his.

Barou was obviously bigger than Karasu, but you could feel the difference even just by being on his lap. His body was thick, forcing your legs open wider to accommodate his width. His muscles flexed beneath you as he shift on the bench to prepare for this lift. You bit down on your lip, hoping he wouldn't notice your blush.

Barou wrapped his hands around the bar, focus etched on his face as he lifted it off the rack. You weren't sure if you were surprised or not that it actually worked. It took some exertion on his end, muscles bulging, skin flushed, grunts that would sound very... suggestive out of context. But he was able to bench the weight for 3 reps, when he wasn't able to get a single one prior.

"Fuck, I can't believe that worked," he panted, setting the weight back down on the rack. When he sat up you were just inches apart.

"Knew you could do it," you said, innocently rolling your hips forward. "You're the strongest guy on the team by far." A little ego stroking never hurt.

"That why you were so eager to sit in my lap?" Barou replied shifting beneath you. You could swear you could feel his cock hardening beneath you. "Could feel you watching me all night." His eyes flickered down your body, taking in your barely covered body. "In this little outfit. Did you put this on for me?"

You batted your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Barou tsked. "If you asked for what you want, you might get it y/n." His hands, rough and warm, were resting on your outer thighs, leaving no question of what he was suggesting.

"And if I want you?"

His fingers dug into you. "Be careful what you wish for." He pulled you into him, you chest flush against his. His kiss was possessive, dominating. He kneaded your ass as your tongues slid over each other. His skin was hot against yours with only the thinnest layers of material between your aching cunt and his growingly hard cock.

You went to reach between the two of you, to squeeze his length, but Barou gripped your wrist. "I'm in charge here."

"Oh yeah?" you challenged.

In a flash Barou had man handled you into being bent over the bend. "Yeah." He ground his cock against your ass. "That what you want?" You mewled but that wasn't good enough for Barou. He brought his hand against your ass with a sharp slap, making you gasp. "Answer me when I ask you something."

"Yes Barou I want it! Please-" your voice broke off as he pressed his thumb against your clit.

"Good girl." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Gonna give you what you want." He pulled down your shorts, running his fingers through your wetness. "Soaked like a slut for me, huh?" He slid in two thick fingers inside you. "Gotta prep you for me."

Barou thrust his fingers hard and fast, but not unpleasantly. The pads of his fingers brushed against your gspot, making your cunt throb and spasm. Your ass wiggled back against him, wanting more, to feel him deeper. You were on precipice of an orgasm when Barou yanked his hand away.

You let out whine. "If you're gonna cum it's gonna be around my cock." You peaked back as you heard him shedding his shorts. His cock huge - long and thick, veins running up the sides. Your cunt throbbed with anticipation.

"Fuck." You couldn't contain yourself as his fat tip pressed into you. It ached, but in a sinfully pleasant way. Barou ran his hand down your spine, arching you for him while he gave a few shallow thrusts to adjust.

He quickly picked up his pace, the weight of him behind every thrust. It stole your breath, your cunt drooling.

"Making a fucking mess on me," Barou growled, watching the way you coating his length, dripping down on the bench. "Dirty girl." He gripped your hips, holding you just how he wanted. Your fingers dug into the bench, holding on for dear life as he fucked up.

"Barou I-" You choked out. You couldn't form a sentence with the way he took you.

"Go on and cum, y/n," Barou instructed. "Wanna feel you squeezing me." You wouldn't have been able to hold on much longer anyway at this pace. Pleasure exploded through your body, hot and heavy. Barou growled at your cunt throbbing around him. He fucked you through your orgasm, releasing only at the tail end of your high. The feeling of his hot cum shooting ropes into you prolonging you pleasure.

Barou slipped out of you with a grunt. "We need to clean up." Though he was amused by the mixture of yours releases coating his cock and spilled on the bench, his drive to clean was kicking in. He picked up the towel he brought with him while work out, gently wiping between your legs. It was oddly tender compared to his prior actions.

"Hey Barou, would you mind if we didn't tell anyone about this?" you asked. "I don't want to get in trouble with Ego. Plus, I can only imagine what the other guys would say."

Barou could feel a headache coming just by thinking of what stupid shit his teammates he would say. "I'm not telling them shit."

That was a good enough promise for you. 2 down.

****

The first few games of the season went well. Everyone was happy with the team's winning streak. Well, everyone but Isagi. He has yet to score a goal, which was bugging him incessantly.

"You just need to relax man," Bachira, who scored in today's game, told him. "You stress too much. It messes with your game." You eavesdropped on their conversation, pretending to take account of equipment as they packed their bags to head out.

"That's easy for you to say when you've already scored twice this season," Isagi grumbled.

"Just play better," Nagi yawned, not even bothering to look back at Isagi's disgruntled face.

"Or get laid, that ought to calm you down!" Reo snickered, jogging to catch up with Nagi. Not a bad idea Reo...

"Gee, thanks," Isagi snapped.

"Hey Isagi! Ego wants to talk to you," you called to him.

Isagi sighed. "I'll catch up with you later Bachira." He trudged over to you, looking defeated. "Am I about to get yelled at?"

"Well, I sorta lied." Isagi's brow quirked. "Ego didn't want to talk to you, I did."

"Oh? What's up?"

"Bachira's right," you replied, "I know I'm not a soccer expert, but I've learned a lot from watching. I can tell your game is off from the stress. You're playing stiff."

Isagi sighed. "I know, but the problem is I don't know how to not be. Everyone's scored this season except me. I don't wanna fall behind."

"Maybe Reo was right," you suggested.

Isagi let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure he is. But I don't exactly have any women who are willing to hook up for the sake of my game."

"I would, you know, for the sake of your game," you replied.

Isagi looked shocked. "Are you serious? But Ego's rules."

You shrugged. "He'd never find out, it's not like he’d be there during it." Isagi shuttered at the thought. "Look, as a friend and manager who wants to see the team do well, I'm offering to help. If we don't tell anybody else there's no way we'd get in trouble."

You could see the gears turning in Isagi's head. Best case scenario, he was thinking, he has sex with the hot manager and goes on a scoring streak. Worst case scenario, his play doesn't get any better, but he at least got to fuck the hot manager. He liked those odds.

"Okay, sure. If you really don't mind."

It was just too easy.

You agreed to meet at your place, as your roommate was spending the night at her boyfriend's. Isagi looked anxious as you led him to your room.

"This is supposed to be helping to relax," you commented with an amused smile. You laid on your bed, propped up on your elbows. Isagi eyed you hungrily, but his body was still tense.

"I'm still half expecting Ego to pop out and lecture me," Isagi replied.

You chuckled. "Gonna spend the whole night thinking about Ego or are you gonna come over here and let me take care of you?"

The latter sounded much more appealing, obviously so Isagi crawled on top of you on the bed. "If you change you min-"

"Shh," you pressed your finger to his lips. "Don't stress, just kiss me." You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him into you. His kiss was tentative at first, but quickly melted into comfortable rhythm.

Isagi palmed your tits, lightly grinding against you. He was hard already, making you smirk. You slid down between your bodies, squeezing him through his sweats. He gasped into the kiss.

"So sensitive,"you noted. "It's been a minute, huh?

"Too long," Isagi replied, pulling his shirt off. You followed suit, stripping yourself from the waist up. He eyed you hungrily, body already relaxing at the sight of you.

"Let's not keep you waiting any longer, yeah?" You hooked your finger into his sweats, tugging them down. His size was average, but he was flushed a pretty shade of pink. He teased your entrance with his tip, nudging at your clit. You let out a pleasant hum.

Isagi pressed in sigh you with a satisfied size. "God, you feel good." His head fell back as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you. He felt like he had to warm up, afraid he would bust too soon after going so long without.

Eventually he picked up his pace. He cupped the back of one of your knees, pressing it up to your chest. The angle pressed him deeper inside you, hitting a spot that made you breathless. "Mmm, so good Isagi."

He cock twitched at his name on your tongue. It spurred him on, snapping his hips faster. The base of him brushed against your clit, building your pleasure with each thrust. You wrapped your arms around his muscular back, letting your nails rake down his skin. The sensation sent Isagi over the edge.

He let out a low curse as his hips stuttered and he spilled inside you. The sensation of warmth filling you, along with the throb of his cock set you over the edge. You sighed contently into his neck as he slowly rode out your highs.

"Thanks for that," Isagi said later as you both redressed.

"You can thank me once you start playing better," you teased.

Low and behold, Isagi scored twice the very next game. He shot a lopsided grin as the team celebrated the win, though no one knew how you were the key to the success. Another one crossed off the list.

****

A few weeks later, your next opportunity arose. The team was lamenting about upcoming midterms, which they have to pass in order to be eligible play on the team.

"I'm screwed for my economics test," Bachira groaned at the end of practice.

"Don't ask me for help, dude. I gotta focus on my stats test or I'm screwed," Karasu replied, leaving Bachira to groan in the grass.

"Are you taking economics with professor Johnson?" you asked.

Bachira perked up. "Yes, he's the worst."

You nodded sympathetically. "For real, I struggled in his class last semester. I could help you, if you want. I still have some old notes."

"Seriously? That would be awesome," Bachira replied.

You met up the following evening at the library. You found a quiet spot deep into the stacks so you and Bachira could focus. He was not kidding when he said he was bad, but slowly you got him up to speed.

You weren't sure if you were reading into things because you had an ulterior motive, but you swore you felt tension. Perhaps it was the setting, the way you had to lean into to each other and speak in hushed voices. Your thighs brushed each others, fingertips brushing the other's hands as you pointed out facts on the page. The scent of him filling your nose, fresh and a little sweet.

"y/n," Bachira said softly, amusement clear in his voice. "You're staring."

You blushed, but used the moment to your advantage. "You're a little distracting."

"Oh yeah?" His hand brushed against your leg. "What should we do about that?"

You leaned in closer, allowing him to brush higher up your thigh. "You wanna take a little break, Bachira?" Your voice was a sweet hum in his ear.

"Was just thinking I need to thank you for the help," Bachira replied. He ghosted over your center, cat-like eyes flicking to yours for any signs of discomfort. When you should none, he applied a little pressure. "I've got some ideas, but might be better somewhere more... private."

"I like the sound of that," you murmured, already feeling yourself growing slick. "But we have to be careful, if someone sees we could get in trouble with Ego."

"Well, Isagi's visting his family tonight, so I have the place to myself," Bachira replied, lazily rubbing light circles over you. "As you for everyone else, it's late now and I doubt we'll see the guys on campus. Plus, I can keep a secret."

You smiled wickedly. "Let's do it."

You both scrambled to pack up your books. You weaved through the stacks, occupied by only a few devout studiers. It was later than you thought, night fully set in. You were grateful for the cover of darkness as you snuck to Bachira's car, both giggling.

Bachira drove with his hand on your thigh, teasing you lightly. Something about the gleam in his eye when he looked at you made you squirm, like you knew he had something good in store. Mercifully, the apartment he shared with Isagi was not far from campus.

You were on each other once the door closed behind you. Bachira kissed you as he led you back to his bedroom. Both your shirts were already off by the time you hit the bed. Bachira climbed on top of you, kissing you playfully as he continued to tease you through your leggings.

Bachira pulled away from the kiss, breathless and pupils wide. "Are you okay with toys?"

"Hmm?" you couldn't comprehend his question through the fog of lust.

Bachira dug through his nightstand, pulling out a little vibrator. You instinctively rubbed your thighs together at the thought of Bachira using that on you. "Can I?"

"Please."

Bachira grinned, sliding your leggings off and returning to you kissing you. He ran his hands up and down your body, giving extra attention to your tits and thighs. Eventually, he flicked on the vibrator, lazily dragging it from the valley of your chest down to the apex of your thighs. He stopped just above your throbbing clit before dragging it back up to the top.

He chuckled into the kiss as you squirmed when the vibrator ran across your nipples. He slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you damn near stupid as the little bullet went back down your body.

You let out a little sigh into his mouth as he lightly pressed the vibrator to your clothed clit. He teased you with it, giving just enough pressure for it to feel good, but not enough to do anything. Any time he suspected pleasure was building, he pulled it away. Your hips bucked, desperate for more.

"Bachira," he name a plea on your lips.

"I'm being mean huh? Teasing you like this?" he pressed the vibrator harder into you for emphasis, savoring your gasp. "I'm supposed to be thanking you."

Bachira slid your underwear off, licking his lips at the string of arousal. "Fuck, I think I might need a little taste." He settled between your legs, licking up your slit. Your back arched as he sucked at your clit, messy and eager. He flicked the vibrator back on, alternating between licking at your clit and letting the vibrator do the work.

It took only a few moments of Bachira between your legs to send a surge of pleasure through your body. You clawed at the sheets, gasping his name as the feeling consumed you.

"Tastes so sweet," Bachira mused, licking his lips. He wriggled out of his pants, cock heavy and leaking. "Ready for more?" You nodded, eagerly pulling him closer. Bachira ran his cock leisurely through your slick folds. He flicked the vibrator on, running in down the length of him. He let out a low moan as it brushed against his tip.

He slid the vibrator between the two of you. You jolted as the buzz hit your swollen clit. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he continued to rut himself through your slick. You could feel Bachira's cock twitching against you and all you wanted was to feel that inside.

"Need you, fuck-," you gasped. "Inside, please."

Bachira obliged with a grin. "Can't say no to that." He slid into you with ease, on account of how wet you were. He groaned at the feeling of your wrapped around him.

Bachira snapped his hips, gradually picking up the pace. He loved the little sounds you made, proof of how desperate and sensitive you were. He wanted to push it further, flicking the vibrator on and pressing it against your throbbing clit.

You gasped, feeling over stimulated already. The feeling building in you was white hot. "Bachira I'm gonna-" you choked out a sob as gushed all over him, soaking his lower half.

"Fuck that was hot," Bachira replied, fucking you harder through it. He couldn't hold out longer, seeing you soaked and wriggling beneath him. You felt his cock throb as he filled you with a satisfied sigh.

"Sorry about your sheets," you said when you both caught your breath.

Bachira scoffed. "I'm not even slightly upset about that."

You ended up staying the night at his place, but went to practice the next day separately, as if nothing happened. A few days later, Bachira happily announced he passed his test to the team, throwing a sly wink your way. 4 down, 6 to go.

****

It had been a few weeks since the Bachira hook up and, honestly, you had half a mind to just forget the whole plan and go back for seconds. However, the competitive part of you couldn't give up a bet. Not to mention, you were interested in what the other contenders had to offer.

The semester was winding down and you found yourself at a party at the soccer house. Everyone was celebrating finals ending and a season that was successful so far. You wanted to get in one more before break started to put you in a good place to complete the challenge by next year.

As you were scanning the crowd for prospects, Reo caught your eye. He was chatting with Nagi, of course, and you got a weird feeling that they had been looking at you first. Talking about you. You gave Reo an inviting smile, who whispered soemthing to Nagi before jogging over to you.

"Hey, y/n," Reo greeted.

"Did I catch you staring, Reo?" you teased lightly.

He grinned, throwing his hands up. "You caught me. Nagi and I were talking about you, not going to lie."

"Oh? What about?" you asked.

Reo shifted on his feet, a nervous tell. His eyes flickered back to Nagi, who was watching with a flicker of interest across his normally bored expression.

"It's kinda weird."

You shrugged. "I like weird."

"Well," he began, "Nagi and I... we've always wanted to share a girl. You know, a bucket list sorta thing."

"Reo, are you asking me to have a threesome with you and Nagi?" you couldn't keep the smirk out of your voice.

Reo chuckled, "Well, yeah. I know it's random and kinda weird. Don't feel obligated to say yes obviously. We just... think you're hot and cool and were wondering if you'd be down."

What a gift you'd just been given. You didn't wanna look too eager though.

"I'm down, but..." you feigned concern, "Ego's rules... If people found out, it be a disaster."

"Nagi and I won't tell a soul, we promise," Reo assured you. "We're not trying to get you in trouble - or ourselves for that matter."

That easily, you found yourself in Reo and Nagi's shared place off campus. Most of the guys either rented little apartments or shared a house with 4 other guys, but Reo and Nagi a whole house to themselves. Unsurprising, given Reo's wealth. He could easily have the place to himself, but, again, unsurprisingly, he'd rather share with Nagi.

"Wow," you couldn't prevent the word from slipping out as you saw the massive bed Nagi was currently lounging on. He wore grey sweats and a t shirt and looked good enough to already get you excited.

"Glad I went for the king size now," Reo said, ushering you into the room.

"I'm glad you went for it too," Nagi replied, stretching his long limbs. His shirt lifted up, a sliver of skin above his boxers peaking out. Good lord.

"So, how do you wanna..." you trailed of as you sat down on the bed.

"Kiss Nagi," Reo instructed you, authority trickling into his voice.

"Yeah, c'mere," Nagi smiled lazily. Didn't have to tell you twice. You crawled over to the white haired man, who grabbed you when you were in reach. You let out a surprised giggle as he pulled you on top of him, before his lips found yours.

His mouth moved against yours with ease, tongue slipping to brush yours. His large hands settled on your ass, giving little squeezes every now and then. You wiggled your hips in approval, loving the feel of him beneath you. You could feel Reo's on the two of you, watching hungrily as his best friend slid his hands up your shirt.

You sat up, allowing him to pull it off you. You rolled your hips against him, getting him hard beneath you. "Hot," he said, running his hands up your sides before cupping you tits.

You glanced over at Reo, who was obviously hard at the sight of you and Nagi. The way he looked at you two made you cunt throb. "Don't keep us waiting, Reo," you beckoned to him.

The purpled haired man was happy to have an excuse to join. The bed dipped at he crawled over to you. You cupped his face and kissed him while Nagi toyed with you tits. You let out a little gasp as he squeezed your nipples.

"You're hoggin her," Nagi huffed, pulling you back to kiss him again. Reo laid down next to him and you went between kissing both men. Then, when you pulled back for some air, they turned and kissed each other. And fuck it was hot.

You couldn't resist joining in. The three of you kissed, a tangle of lips and tongues. Clothes were shed, hands across bodies, until everyone was breathless.

"Want you on my face," Nagi drawled.

"Think you could give me head during?" Reo asked. He'd been palming himself since you and Nagi started kissing and was desperate for some relief

You nodded eagerly and everyone shifted into a position that would allow everyone to be satisfied. Nagi licked a stripe up your cunt, making you gasp. He attached his lips to neglected clit, sucking. You tried to focus on Reo as you leaned over to kiss down his body. You swirled your tongue over his flushed, dripping tip. You licked up his length before taking him in your mouth.

Reo let out a content sigh as your cheeks hollowed around him. He ran his fingers through your hair, holding it out of your face as your bobbed your head on him. Meanwhile, Nagi continued to devour you, fucking you with his tongue. The moan the escaped you vibrated down Reo's cock, making him groan.

The sound of both of you being pleasured egged Nagi on, his tongue moving faster across your slit and your clit. It only took a few moments more for your to fall apart, cunt clenching around his wriggling tongue. The sensation of you cumming while sucking him off pushed Reo over the edge. His head feel back as he released on your tongue with a satisfied groan.

"Ride me?" Nagi asked when you caught your breath. It wasn't lost on you that Nagi found away to be involved in this without physically exerting himself much, but with what he could do with his tongue, you weren't mad.

Reo slid his hand down your body, wanting a taste of you. He lazily fingered your cunt open. "Fuck, you got her soaked Nagi," he breathed. "Bet she's gonna feel amazing." He sucked your release off his fingers with a pleasant hum.

You were straddling Nagi's hips, holding the base of his cock to line him up to you. He had his hands behind his head, watch you with a lazi grin as you slid down on him. You breathed through your teeth as you stretched around the size of him. He was easily one of the biggest so far.

"Mmm, just like that," Nagi drawled as you rolled your hips. Reo slid behind you, wraps his arms around to play with your tits. He tweaked your nipples, making you yelp. "Oh she liked that, Reo. Can feel her squeezing me."

Reo chuckled against your skin, continuing to palm your breast while your rode his best friend. Nagi cock twitched at the side of Reo kissing and touching you. "I think she'll really like this," nearly purred. His hand slid down your body, finding your aching clit.

"Fuck," you cried as he rubbed quick circles over the bud. Your hips stuttered as you tried to keep pace despite the bubble of pleasure growing in your tummy. Nagi finally decided to help you out, gripping your hips to fuck up into you. The sensation of him deep inside you as Reo toyed with your clit burst that bubble, euphoria flooding your veins.

Nagi fucked you through the orgasm, chasing his own high. You were totally spent, but that didn't stop of the boys from playing with you. A familiar sensation built up, but you didn't even have the voice to warn them before gushing all over.

"Fucking hell," Nagi groaned at the sight of you squirting on his cock. His release hit him immediately, pressing deeply into you one last time to fill you.

"God that was hot," Reo said. He helped you off Nagi, as your legs were like jelly. He ran to get a towel, helping you both clean up.

"So, did that live up to your bucket list expectations?" you asked.

Both men grinned. "Definitely."

Little did they know, they helped you with a list of your own.

****

You let out a sigh as you checked your phone. Isagi lost his wallet. Again. Practice had ended about an hour ago, but he knew you'd be around organizing all the equipment, which is why you got a text begging you to check the locker room. Of course you would, but not without telling him he's an idiot in desperate need of some air tags.

Typically you didn't go in the locker rooms, since that is where the guys changed, but with practice long over, you felt it was safe. You swept through the few rows of lockers, spying no wallet. You were texting Isagi as much when someone stepped out from the shower area.

"Y/n?" Otoya questioned. He was clad in nothing but a towel, which was hanging dangerously low on his hips. His hair was wet and messy, water droplets were rolling down his toned body. You fought the urge to lick your lips.

"Shit, I'm sorry Otoya," you said, "I thought everyone left. Isagi asked for me to look for something."

He chuckled, seemingly unbothered he was practically naked in front of you. "Let me guess, he lost his wallet."

You nodded. "You'd be right. I'm really sorry, though, I didn't mean to intrude."

He shrugged. "No worries, it doesn't bother me. Hell, I may have asked you to join me if I knew you were here." He tossed it out like a joke, but you could sense a current of truth.

You knew Otoya was a bit of a flirt, so you felt like it was worth the risk to be bold back. "That's too bad, I would have absolutely taken you up on that."

Otoya's eyes widened, clearly surprised his stupid flirting was actually getting him somewhere. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," you nodded, "I mean, look at you. I can't say no to that."

"I mean... I'm thinking I actually need another shower," Otoya replied, "If you care to join."

"Only if you think we won't get caught... you know how Ego is," you replied. This would definitely be risky, even though everyone should be long gone. It was a thrilling thought, pushing the boundary of what you could get away with.

"I'm the last guy here," Otoya assured you, "And I won't tell. I don't Ego on my ass more than he already is."

"Guess I won't be needing these, then." You slipped out of your leggings. "Or this." You pulled off your shirt, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Shit, I think I might be dream." Otoya eyed you hungrily. You giggled as he took your hand, pulling you to the showers. Luckily, Ego put a lot of money into the team's facilities, so the showers were actually quite nice - nothing like the typical grimy locker room showers.

Otoya stepped inside the stall, turning the shower on to a nice, warm temperature. He turned to you, beckoning for you to join him. You closed the curtain behind you, pulling him into the small dry are for a kiss. Otoya happily wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. His muscles were warm and firm against you and you could already feel him growing hard through the towel.

He pulled away from you, dropping the towel with a confident grin. You could see why - he was well endowed. He stepped under the water, reaching out his hand to you. "C'mon, I wanna get you wet," he said with a teasing smirk.

You laughed coyly as you shed your bra and panties, Otoya's eyes on you the whole time. The warmth of the water pulled a sigh from you as you returned to kissing him. He pulled away, grinning wickedly as an idea hit him. He lathered up some soap in his hands, rubbing it across your tits.

"You look good like this," he mused at the bubbles coating your skin. The soap allowed his hands to guide over you easily, making it more fun to play with your tits as he kissing you.

He pressed you against the stall wall, his thigh sliding between your legs. You mewled at the feeling of his strong muscle against your needy cunt. He slipped his free hand between you two, toying with your clit. You hummed pleasantly when he slid tow fingers inside, working you open for him.

"God, you're soaked," he said, voice strained. "Can't wait any longer."

"Don't keep me waiting then." You nipped at his lips as he pumped his length, before pressing into you. You gripped his shoulders as he split you open. He gave long, slow strokes as you adjusted to the feel of each other. His pupils flared open as he watched himself slide in and out of out.

Before you knew it, he cupped his hand under your knee, holding it up so he could get deeper inside you. You moaned in satisfaction at the feeling. You knew you should be quiet - you were still in the team locker room even if they should be gone, but you couldn't help yourself.

Otoya loved it, pumping into you harder to pull more noises out of you. His eyes flickered to the detachable shower head, a wicked gleam shining in them. He took it from the wall, aiming the gush of water at your clit.

"Shit," you cried out at the sudden surge of stimulation. "S-so good." You were breathless as your nails dug into him, desperate to hold on.

"Don't hold back," he panted. "Wanna hear you cumming my name." Your leg wrapped around him in response, pulling him closer as you tipped over the edge. Your orgasm hit you hard, the added stimulation of the shower head making it intense. If it wasn't for Otoya holding you up, your knees would have given out.

The sound of his name on your lips as your squeezed him broke his stamina. Otoya slowed as he milked his orgasm, filling you with all he had.

You were both flushed and giddy as you cleaned each other up in the shower. Otoya tossed you a towel after, grinning. "Any time you need a shower buddy, give me a call."

"Will do," you smiled. 3 more to go.

****

The second semester was progressing and while you only had 3 men left to get through, you felt the pressure to get this bet completed. You were still concerned about Rin, and decided you would tackle him last. You were keeping your eyes and ears open for opportunities for the other two, which Yukimiya thankfully gave you.

You shared a favorite band, who were dropping a new album. Yukimiya invited you over to his place to listen to it. He had record player and a great set of speakers, making the music sound heavenly. You both sat on his bed, letting the songs wash over you.

"I think this is their best album yet," Yukimiya commented as it came to an end. You nodded in agreement as you both launched into a discussion about the music. All the while, you drifted closer to each other, thighs and hands brushing each other. Even if it wasn't for the bet you were working on, you would feel drawn Yukimiya. He was handsome, sweet, and fun to talk with.

"What?" you asked when you noticed him staring at you.

"Nothing," he said with a sheepish grin, "You're just pretty."

You didn't have to fake the blush or the smile that crept across your face. "Thanks, for what it's worth, you're cute."

"Cute enough to break some rules?" Yukimiya suggested playfully.

You feigned offense. "Did you invite me here just for that?"

"Not just for that," Yukimiya teased back, "But I would be lying if I didn't it's something I wanted."

"And I said I wanted it too?" you dropped your voice to a slightly more sultry tone. Yukimiya shifted closer to you at the sound.

"I would say if no one finds out, it doesn't matter if a rule is broken."

"Mmm, I like the way you think." He cupped your face a pulled you in for a kiss. He was slightly more reserved than the other men you'd kissed, but still confident and purposeful. Like he wanted to enjoy himself, but not rush through it. There was something about the slowness that drove you mad, desperate for more.

"Someone's eager," Yukimiya mused as your ground against him. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, swollen from kissing. "Guess I should get you out of these." He took your shirt in his hand, pulling it off, before peeling off your pants.

"This what you wanted?" He asked as he rubbed light circles over your clothed cunt. A bemused smile played at his lips as he felt your underwear growing damp.

"Want more," you breathed, kissing at his neck as he toyed with you.

"Look at yourself," Yukimiya said, turning your so your back was flush his front. You were facing the mirror across from his bed. Your skin was flushed, the wet spot on your panties glaringly obvious. Yukimiya was peering at you from over your shoulder, a mischievous grin on his face. "So pretty when you're needy."

He pulled your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers through your wetness. He let out a pleased sigh as he slide two digits in, lazily stroking. Once they were coated in your slick, pulled them out to toy with your clit.

"You're good at that," you huffed breathlessly as he worked you up with his fingers. Going back and forth between fingering your cunt and stimulating your clit. The slow, steady increase in his pace had your cunt drooling and desperate for release.

"Fuck you're soaked," Yukimiya groaned, his eyes were glued to the mirror, watching his fingers slide in and out of you. "Gonna cum for me? Make a mess?"

"P-please, want it Yuki," you babbled, so close to the high you wanted. Yukimiya guided you there easily, cursing as your cunt clenched around his fingers and your body shuddered. He licked his lips watching you drip on to his lap.

He was already shifting beneath you, slipping himself out of his pants and boxers. Now he was feeling desperate, wanting to know what it felt like to be buried inside you. "Not done with you yet."

"Good, because neither am I," you replied. You leaned forward and arched your back, making it easier for him to slide inside you. You both mewled with pleasure. You rocked your hips, feeling his cock slide through your walls. You throbbed at the sight of you fucking yourself on him in the mirror.

Yukimiya couldn't tear his eyes away either, though he was looking down directly at where he slid inside you. He wanted more, to make you cum harder on him. You heard him spit before you felt it drop on your ass, warm and wet. He gripped your ass with one hand, while a finger of the other circled the tight hole.

"Oh fuck-" you gasped as he pressed his finger in your ass. That addition alone sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making each grind of your hips more intense. Yuki was transfixed at the sight of him filling you, loving the sounds you made.

You didn't last long after that, his name spilling from your lips as you practically collapsed from the intensity of the climax that hit you. It was light and heavy at the same time, making your head swim.

"Shit y/n," Yukimiya groaned, his cock twitching inside you. "You're like heaven." His head feel back with a groan as he spilled inside you, a beautiful sight for you to watch in the mirror.

Yukimiya helped clean you up before you parted ways with promises to discuss the album more when you weren't so... distracted. A surge of excitement hit you when you realized how close you were to winning.

****

The Blue Lock team made the playoffs, so, naturally, a party was in order. The house rented by some of the team members was filled with players and their friends, yourself included. Everyone was a bit drunker than normal, celebrating a successful season and boasting about all the goals they would score in the championship game.

You chuckled as you observed the scene, practically tasting the testosterone from all the posturing. Normally, you would have thought the team house was way too risky, given all the other guys around that could be potential witnesses. But tonight, there was enough of a crowd - and more than enough alcohol - that you were certain, given the right circumstance, you could pull it off. Your body tingled with excitement as you considered your options.

"Hey, y/n," Karasu grinned. He loved to be a little flirty with you, even though it's been months since you hooked up with him. "Were playing spin the bottle in the basement. Wanna come?"

Well, that was certainly an opening. "Sure."

You followed him down to the basement, where a sizable circle was formed on the floor. Some of the faces your recognized, some you didn't. Your eyes flickered Chigiri, who smiled shyly at you. You gave him a coy smile as you settled into a spot.

It took awhile for the bottle to work its way around to you. It was an endless cycle of spinning glass, teasing and giggling as the match made their way to the closet, where they spent 5 minutes kissing. Though, with the flush and panting of a few that left you wondered if they were using their time for a bit more.

When it was your turn, you had to hold in the cheer you wanted to let out as the bottle settled on exactly who you wanted. "Guess it's my lucky day," Chigiri flirted. You grinned; if only he knew how true that was for you.

You both made for the closet, sliding into a heated darkness as the door shut behind you. You felt Chigiri's hands on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips were soft and almost sweet. You wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing some sort of cherry chapstick.

Chigiri was a little shy and tentative as he kissed you, which somehow spurred you on more. You stepped forward, pressing him against the wall. He moaned into your mouth as your body rubbed against his. The sound of it - practically a whimper - unlocked something in you.

You pulled away, just barely able to see the needy look Chigiri gave you through the darkness. "Are you hard, Chigiri?" you purred, ghosting your hand across his jeans.

"S-shit, I'm sorry." he mumbled.

"No need to apologize." You traced circles over the bulge in his pants. "Makes me wish we had more time. I could take care of that for you."

"Really?" he perked up.

"Of course," you replied. You nuzzled against his neck, kissing him. "Wanna make you feel good." You could feel him gulp at your words.

"Maybe...maybe we could go to my room after?" he was struggled to keep his voice even with how your lips brushed against his skin.

"We'd have to be sneaky," you replied, "Don't want us getting in trouble, you know?" Chigiri, unsurprisingly, was on board with whatever you wanted. You a made to go back to the circle, where Chigiri would go back to his room after a round. You would wait 3 more rounds before joining him, as to not arouse suspicion.

That plan led you to Chigiri's room about 10 minutes later, where you found him waiting on the bed for you. You practically pounced on him, not holding back how deeply you wanted to kiss him. Chigiri settled on the bed beneath you, letting you take control.

You stripped him down to his boxers, peppering kissing along his exposed skin. You sat back, admiring how Chigiri looked: skin flushed, hair haloed around him, and a needy gleam in his eye.

"You're so pretty, Chigiri," you hummed, running your finger down his chest. You toyed with the waistband of his boxers, watching him squirm.

He blushed at your compliment. He's not used to being called pretty as a guy, but he liked how it sounded coming from you. He liked even more that you were dipping your hand into his boxers, running your finger down his hard length.

"Bet you'd look even prettier cumming for me," you mused, pulling his boxers off. His tip was flushed a pretty shade of pink and already leaking. "Would you like that?"

"Please," he urged, voice strained with anticipation. You obliged, spitting into your hand and pumping him. You paid extra attention to his tip, swirling your finger over the tip and spreading his pre. You leaned down to press a kiss to it, making him whimper. The sound, the desperation caused your own arousal to pool between your legs.

"So sensitive," you hummed. You pumped his faster, giving an extra squeeze to work him up. You pushed to the point of the edge, just to slow down and hear him whine. You could keep it up for hours, but the desperate way he looked at you wore through your patience.

"F-fuck y/n, 'm-m close," Chigiri stumbled over his words.

"Cum for me, Chigiri," you purred. You watched as his tummy dipped from the effort of his release. He whimpered loudly as he came all over you hand and his tummy. "Good boy."

Chigiri let out a little whine at your words. He already getting hard again as he watched you lick up his release. You made your way back to his lips. You finally started to remove your clothes, letting Chigiri catch his breath and feel your body. By the time you were bare, he was rock hard again.

****

The energy in practice was tense, despite the team having won the semi finals and punched their ticket to the championships the night prior. The game, however, had been way too close, entering over time. Blue Lock got won by the skin of their teeth, thanks to the tie breaking goal by Rin.

"You idiots better not play like that in the finals," Rin snapped at the end of practice.

Barou bristled. "I could win the whole damn championship myself."

"Oh yeah? We only won yesterday because of my two goals," Rin fired back. "If it wasn't for me you'd be watching the championship from the stands."

"We all contributed, Rin," Isagi intervened. "You acting like a pompous ass isn't going to win us the championship."

"Nobody asked you, Isagi," Rin practically spot.

"Don't waste your breath, Isagi," Karasu butted in, a mean glint in his eyes. "Rin's just miserable because the only place he can score is on the field."

The group snickered as Rin's scowl deepened. You were surprised at the insinuation - was Rin a virgin? It was somewhat hard to believe given his good looks as status as one of the best athletes in campus but that look on his face...

"Whatever," Rin grumbled, heading away from the group. "When you all have to watch me score a hat trick in the finals, you'll wish you trained more instead of acting like fools."

Everyone dispersed after that and you waited a few minutes before following Rin to where you knew he was heading - the yoga room. He was the only one on the team who used it, so you knew you'd find him alone. You joined him on occasion, which he tolerated because you were pretty good at it and didn't bother him.

You knew this was your only shot and, frankly, the only time you felt nervous in this whole ordeal. If anyone was going to say no to you and blow this whole thing it would be Rin. But it was now or never.

"Hey Rin," you greeted. He was already seated on a mat. He gave you a grunt in reply. "Sorry those guys were such assholes to you."

Rin shrugged. "They're idiots. I don't care." Something in his voice told you he might care despite his cool exterior, so you continued.

"They are," you nodded, "But if you wanted those idiots to be wrong, I could help."

His eyes slid to you. "What do you mean?"

"The whole not scoring off the field thing," you replied. "Maybe I'm overstepping, but if what they said it true and you don't want it to be, I would be down."

"Are you offering to sleep with me?" Rin asked. "I don't need pity, you know."

Shit. You had to stay calm. "It's not pity, you're a good looking guy and the best on the team. Why wouldn't I?" You could see the slightest shift in his eyes, so you continued. "Besides, these guys think they're so smart. It would make them look stupid if they were dogging you for something that wasn't even true."

Rin was silent, mulling your offer over. His gaze was intense, but you knew you couldn't look away, couldn't show weakness. Rin was a perfectionist, if he thought you weren't up to his level, he would certainly say no.

"Okay," he said finally. You bit back a cheer. "But I don't want them knowing it was you. I don't need them thinking I got pity sex."

You could have kissed him for making it so easy. "That's fine with me." You made arrangements to meet at his place later that night. He was not one for wasting any time, apparently. His apartment was just how you expected: neat and orderly.

He sat on his bed, looking up at you with a look in his eye you'd never seen before.

"Are you nervous, Rin?" you asked, incredulous.

His brow furrowed. "No." But he couldn't stop the tint from from rising in his cheek.

"We don't have to you, know you," you said. Sure, it would suck to lose, but you wouldn't want it at the cost of making him uncomfortable.

"I'm not nervous," Rin reiterated. "Let's just get it going, okay?"

You rolled your eyes, but sat on the bed next to him. "So romantic."

The kiss was a bit tentative and stiff at first, but Rin slowly warmed to your rhythm. You spent some time like that, just letting him get used to you and not forcing anything too soon. Eventually, Rin's hands ventured to your body, feeling you up. You took it as permission to put your hands on him, climbing into his lap.

This kiss became progressively heated as you explored each other. You ground against him lightly, pulling stifled groans from Rin. He grunted impatiently, pulling at your clothing. You obliged his silent demand, getting your top off. You leaned over him, forcing him to lay back on the bed. He kept his eyes cool and almost bored, but you didn't miss the bob in his throat as he took in the sight of your tits.

"How far have you gone?" you asked, sliding your hand up under his shirt.

"I've fingered a girl," he told you.

"Oh? So is the soccer guy good with his hands?" you teased.

"I guess you'll find out," he replied, pulling you into him. He was growing my sure of himself now, sliding his hand between your legs. He teased you through your leggings as your tongues tangled. Eventually, he found his way inside your pants.

He didn't disappoint by jamming his fingers into you, as you'd fear a virgin would. He took the time to work you wet, before slipping two fingers inside. He pumped them confidently, finding the spot that made your breath hitch.

"Sounds like the soccer guy is good with his hands," Rin mused. You didn't protest as you let him work you up to an orgasm. He rubbed your clit in circles as pleasure rushed your body, making you cry out.

"You know, I'm surprised you are virgin," you commented as you caught your breath. He was good at that.

Rin shrugged. "I was focused on soccer."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, which made Rin scowl. However, he didnt' seem to care anymore as your stripped both of you of the rest of your clothes. "I'm gonna need you to focus on me now," you flirted. "At least for a few minutes."

Rin scoffed. "I'll last more than a few minutes."

You grinned. "Well see about that."

You couldn't lie, it felt good to see the Rin Itoshi falter beneath you as you pressed him inside you. The warmth and wetness was like nothing he had ever felt before. As you moved your hips, there was a flare of panic in him that he would, in fact, spill in you immediately. However, he refused to give you the satisfaction, nor hurt his own pride.

"You feel good Rin," you moaned, putting a little extra emphasis on it just to tease him. Despite your teasing, Rin was holding together better than you expected. He quickly learned your rhythm, finding a way to match your thrusts and press deeper inside you. It shouldn't surprise you, given how Rin approaches soccer. He was never passive about anything, needing to be the best at any new skill he learned.

"Fuck," he huffed, a crack in his calm facade. The feeling of you squeezing him was quickly wearing down his restraint. You were egged on by this show of weakness, bouncing on him even faster. Rin, not to be bested, found your clit once against and circled the sensitive bud.

When your second release hit you, it broke Roin too. The feel of your already tight cunt clamping down on his aching length was too much. He cursed again, fingers digging into your skin as he spilled inside you.

"Honestly, I thought people were over hyping sex," Rin commented as you both redressed, "But now I kind of get why those guys are such idiots about it."

You snorted. "I'm just happy I could help." But even more happy that you just won yourself a bet.

****

"I have to know, who is the best!" Your friend demanded.

"I got a top five for you," you smiled wickedly, excited to share your findings.

In 5th place was Chigiri. You never thought you'd enjoy being the more dominant one, but you thoroughly enjoyed taking charge of Chigiri.

"Of course that pretty boy liked that," your friend grinned.

In 4th place Barou. A bit rough, but he knew how to make it good. Plus, he was by far the biggest on the team.

"Barou having the biggest dick is shocking to no one," you friend commented.

3rd place was a tie between Nagi and Reo. Because you had them together, it was too hard to place them individually. Despite how much you enjoyed yourself, it also felt unfair to rank them higher since they had partner. But fairness be damned they earned a spot on the list.

Your friend sighed wistfully, wishing that she too could find herself between Nagi and Reo.

2nd place went to Yukimiya, which did not shock your friend at all.

"He's so fine, I could have told he'd be up there. But, then who's number one?"

"The winner is..." you made a little drum roll. "Bachira." You had not been able to stop thinking about how he so easily he toyed your body. How easily he pulled out the best orgasm out of you.

"Damn, who knew he had it in him?" you friend commented. "Guess I'm not that surprised he's a freak, though."

"Definitely not surprising, but very appreciated." You smiled, not just because you were a couple hundred dollars richer from winning this bet, but because you were already plotting how you could get some seconds.

[split-spectrum]

YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling

Length: 3.3K

Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3

☆☆☆

What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?

You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.

He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.

When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.

Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."

The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.

"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."

Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"

You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."

He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"

You smile innocently. "You got it."

After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.

It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.

In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.

Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.

Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.

You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.

Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.

As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.

"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.

Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."

The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"

Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"

"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.

You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.

"Cool it, Henry."

"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.

Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.

Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."

"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.

Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."

He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.

You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.

"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."

You smirk. "What, like Henry?"

"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."

You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.

"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.

"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.

"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"

Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"

He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."

He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."

You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."

Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.

"Joel, I didn't mean-"

He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.

He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.

"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."

The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.

He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.

He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"

Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."

She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.

He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."

He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.

"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.

He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."

He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.

You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.

He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.

"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.

He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.

"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."

His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"

Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."

He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."

He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."

He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.

When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.

"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."

You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."

He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"

"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.

You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.

"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."

You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"

He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.

Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.

"Is anybody in there?"

Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.

"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.

"Hello?"

He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."

He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."

"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"

Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.

"Joel, it's... somebody is..."

"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.

"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."

He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"

"Mm..."

"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"

You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."

"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."

"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."

He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...

"Fuck-"

Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.

"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."

You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"

He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.

"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."

You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.

"Never gonna learn that way."

You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.

He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.

He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."

And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.

Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Masterlist

[howlingmod]

can youu maybe do like a general request on how the phighters would react if you would randomly smother them in kisses with lipstick on EEEHEHEHE

summary - melee and ranged phighters when their s/o showers them in kisses

misc - another one of my shorter style things ... hope you don't mind !! im willing to do the support phighters if so desired just lmk ....

sword

"Hi to you too."

-He's stunned. No matter how often you do it he's just stunned. He doesn't know how to process it at all. Most times he'll just go stock still while you do it and then stare at you for a second afterward before it hits him and he just melts.

-Hides his face in his hands and mumbles something incomprehensible that he can't repeat when you ask. He just needs a few seconds to collect himself, is all.

-Returns the favor by giving you a quick peck on the cheek, grinning all the while.

skateboard

"Woah! What's the occasion?"

-He thinks it's super sweet but god does it inflate his ego. What do you mean he gets a smoking hot babe smothering him in affection? For free? Where's the catch?

-Of course, the catch is just you. ("NOT LIKE THAT. IN A GOOD WAY, LIKE 'A CATCH'. YOU'RE A CATCH. I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!") Everytime he'll make it a whole scene, lifting you up and spinning you around till you're dizzy before he sets you down and returns the favor. He loves how much attention it draws, it's just the perfect 'I love you and only you,' to him.

-If you've got lipstick on, he's giggling and grinning like an idiot afterwards. He's only a little bit heartbroken when he has to wash it off.

katana

"... Thank you."

-If he's got the mask on, he thinks it's a little silly. It's such a grand show of affection that he's usually left wondering what's got you so excited. Not that he doesn't enjoy it of course, he'll stay perfectly still so you've got enough space to do as you wish. He'll return the gesture by standing a bit closer to you, maybe leaning his forehead against yours if you're alone.

-If he doesn't, he'll usually get pretty teary eyed. It's not often he takes the mask off, even less common for him to allow your touch so freely, but he trusts you. Knowing that you can love him, that you take it upon yourself to bless his skin with your lips? It ruins him.

-Either way, he finds it extremely endearing.

banhammer

"Well, aren't you sweet?"

-He'll tease you about it endlessly. You just really can't stay off of him, can you? I mean, he doesn't blame you, he is a pretty big deal, of course you'd have such a grand way of showing your love.

-He does really enjoy it though, something about the combination of your lips on his skin and your hands on him to steady yourself makes his heart swell. He likes the physical affection of it all, how close you have to be to him. It tells him that you're not going anywhere anytime soon- not like he needed to know that.

-Though, the affirmation certainly does help, if the way he pulls you so tightly to his side tells you anything.

rocket

"What's all that for?"

-Honestly, it's a little hard to get him to stand still long enough for you to do it. He's always got something going on, he's too restless to really sit in one place doing nothing. So, he's always taken aback whenever you start smothering him in kisses.

-He's a little confused. It's sweet, sure, but he thinks of it more as you teasing him. It's such a stereotypical, over the top gesture that it usually devolves into you playfighting. The peace can't last long with him, unfortunately.

-Just know that his playfighting is his own way of returning the affection, he wouldn't go easy on just anyone like this, y'know. Plus, he just thinks its fun. He likes pushing your buttons right back.

slingshot

"Hi sweetheart."

-Honestly? Doesn't have a crazy reaction to it. Chances are that you guys have to settle for more dramatic shows of affection since he tends to be so busy at the cafe that by the time you guys do have the ability to sit down and enjoy each other, there's a lot of pent up 'i miss you' type gestures

-THAT BEING SAID: he does really love it. He thinks its so sweet and silly and it makes him feel whole again when work's drained him. He'll usually return the favor right afterwards, just to keep everything even. can't be skimping out on you, can he?

-Unfortunately you can't do it very often but every chance you do get is cherished to the fullest degree.

shuriken

"Aww! I love you too!"

-Can't stand this mother fucker he's always gotta be doing something. He lives for big showy gestures, he loves just how grand they feel. He's maybe just a little bit of an attention hog, so of course he likes the gesture that requires you to focus on him and him alone.

-Usually returns the favor but he might opt to just pick you up and spin you around instead. He likes being able to show off his love in his own way and he enjoys feeling you resting on him, you wouldn't let him pick you up if you didn't trust him to not drop you or anything. Plus, the pressure is just nice.

-He adores this habit of yours and, more often than not, whenever he sees you he'll instinctively get close and offer up his face for your attention.

scythe

"Aren't you just the sweetest little thing ..."

-Yeah she's a fan. No surprises here, the woman who likes showing you off and having proof that you're hers likes when you devote so much affection to her and leave a visible mark with lipstick. Shocking.

-Unsurprisingness aside, she really does like it. She just thinks it's adorable and it feeds into her ego. She won't do it back since she likes to keep her image up but she'll usually return it by grabbing your face and giving you one solid kiss back. It's her own way of 'confirming' the gesture and showing that it doesn't just go one way. She would hate to leave you hanging, after all.

-There may or may not be a reason she's been gifting you so many different shades of lipsticks. While she may favor cool-toned ones in the name of the cult's color palette, she doesn't mind seeing warmer ones on herself for this reason.

hyperlaser

"You're cleaning this off."

-He's got mixed feelings. On one hand it is a very sweet gesture. He knows he's not always around and he's so hot-and-cold with affection so he understands why you choose something so 'over-the-top,' he doesn't mind that. He finds it to be a pretty endearing way of you almost reaffirming your sole affections to him. It's comforting, in a sense, that he knows you can look past all his inconsistencies and still choose him.

-That being said, you might have to hold off on the lipstick. He's got a reputation to uphold and it can stick a little harder to the glass of his helmet if he doesn't clean it off right away.

-Despite his threat you are not in fact cleaning it off lmao. You are however going to sit and look pretty while he does it.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Movie Week [review]

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Yandere Score: 8/10

Overall Score: 8/10

Fear does exactly what it's supposed to. Not perfectly by any means, but well enough that I don't mind spending an hour and a half in its world.

A very fun world too - cute fashion, a great score, pleasing cinematography and a male lead who slowly becomes more despicable the longer the film goes on. Alyssa Milano, Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon look incredible the entire movie. And I guess their acting isn't bad either.

We start off with a man out on a jog. And we know it's going to be a thriller because a) shaky cam and b) very dramatic music just two minutes in. Great start. After that, we're introduced to Nicole (Reese Witherspoon), a high schooler with a slightly strained relationship with her dad and teenage angst lite.

She's cute. The girl next door with a daddy's girl bracelet and a kid brother who loves her. If she didn't have the bad luck of running into a bad man, I'd say things would have worked out just dandy.

But no such luck. Not for you kid.

Enter David.

He walks on screen to audible screams from the audience (me). He's hot. And the way he's introduced is hot. Shady bar, music in the background, leather jacket delinquents playing pool. From the get go, he screams bad boy. Rubbing (read: jerking off) his pool cue - at hip height - while looking at our female lead? C'mon, that's too easy.

I won't go into detail, but they obviously end up in a relationship. And it's hot stuff. At one point, he has his hand up her her skirt while they're on a rollercoaster. Yeah, we all see the symbolism. Coming (down) must be pretty fun on a ride like that, huh Nic?

It's not great the entire movie - their first conversation is stilted and awkward, filled with clichés. But the build up in tension is what does it for me.

There are plenty of little things that tip you off from the get go. David isn't as nice as he seems, not by a long shot.

It starts with a few tense looks between him and Nicole's dad. Just a father being a bit picky, right? Nope. He turns back the office clock so he can have a little more time with Nicole before curfew. He flirts with her best friend. He tells Nicole to, "Get me a coke." Bossy. Commanding.

I'll be honest, if I didn't know the synopsis of the film, I'd say dear old dad was being overly protective. Nope. Those red flags are about as red as they can get.

When things start going off the rails, the movie handles it pretty well. The scenes are decently tense, even though they're missing that little bit of careful handling that would make them terrifying.

As a yandere, David does everything you'd expect. He's manipulative. He's violent. He doesn't know where to draw the line in anything. Oh, and he's hot. Did I mention that already?

He's a Levi's and t-shirt kind of guy, with a great car, a nice voice, and biceps you want to sink your teeth into. When it comes to deranged stalkers, you can do a LOT worse.

The third act is a ball of a time. There's room for it to have been a bit more tense - it suffers from being a little too short, the twists not having enough time to breathe. The pace doesn't feel quick in the so much happening, I'm at the edge of my seat sort of way, but in the oh no, we only have the budget for thirty more minutes of run time sort of way.

Still, it's very enjoyable. David says and does plenty of very yandere things. I'm absolutely stealing some of his lines.

In terms of style, the movie is a knockout. I think it's a big part of what carries my recommendation. The cinematography is really pleasing, with lots of reds and dark greens. Very 'Seattle on a rainy day.' The sound track is totally 90's, with a nice mix of rock, pop and indie. It gives the movie a sense of place and time that exponentially improves the story.

How does it hold up as a piece of yandere media? It doesn't do anything radical or new, but the classics it sticks to are done well enough that it's worth the watch.

Oh, and David is very hot. I don't know if I mentioned that. 

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Day 2 - Secret Obsession (2019)

Day 3 - Hush (2016)

Day 4 - The Perfect Guy (2015)

Day 5 - The Boy Next Door (2015)

Day 6 - The Invisible Man (2020)

Day 7 - Til Death Do Us Part (2017)

[alfons-sylvatica]

Real Victorian Recipes to Eat With Crown

This is made mostly with love (for both IkeVil and old recipes)... I've tried to preference British cookbooks but that wasn't always easy.

These recipes are pulled from whatever Victorian era (1837 - 1901) cookbooks I could find on the Internet Archive and Survivor Library (though I also tried searching Project Gutenberg and Google Books) that I feel best matched our dear Cursed boys.

I haven't actually tried any of these recipes, I just like looking through old books and magazines because it's fun... I do however like cooking and baking, so even without making them, I tried to pick recipes that I think would go together well. Recipes linked... eat at your own risk, I guess? Also, a thank you to @rogerbarel who made some helpful suggestions...

William Rex: Strawberry meringue (1893) served with "strawberry vinegar, of delicious flavor" (1887), optional whipped cream (1889) Let's reeeeeeally be decadent: have some strawberry meringue and serve it with some strawberry vinegar! Maybe consider having some extra "meringue paste" on the side, or if you'd prefer, make some whipped cream instead and serve that with it.

If you’re concerned about this meal suggestion, bear in mind that the strawberry vinegar seems to be more of a syrup.

Liam Evans: Salmon steak maitre d'hotel (1893) with an English salad (1887) Look, I'm gonna be completely honest with you guys... I had no idea what to give Liam. Given the fact that he doesn't like sweets really limited me. I would have liked to assign him something sweet because that's kind of what his character draws to mind for me, but I couldn't. Instead, I drew upon the Chara Cafe x Ikemen Villains collaboration for an idea and this is the closest thing I got.

Harrison Gray: Harrison Cake (ca. 1889) with optional brandy peaches (1888) For a sweet tooth like Harry, I suggest you both enjoy a… *checks notes* Harrison cake. Sweetened with both molasses and sugar and with a "fruit and spice” note in the recipe, I would maybe suggest you have it with some brandy peaches as well. You know, if you can afford the sugar crash and inevitable nap you'll both need later.

Note: Yes, I know Harry likes mint. But I couldn't resist and I don't think he could either.

Elbert Greetia: "A healthful appetizer" (1889) thirty minutes before meal, tomato salad (1885) and English chicken cutlets (1887) I’m not sure how much luck you’re going to have making sure Elbert eats enough, but you can give him “a healthful appetizer” thirty minutes before dinner… I would probably recommend that you follow it up with a tomato salad. The English chicken cutlets are mostly for you, but if there’s enough for two, maybe Elbert would be willing to eat half of one. Unfortunately, I can't directly link to the page with the tomato salad recipe, but you can find it if you CTRL-F "tomato salad" within the linked PDF.

Alfons Sylvatica: Fried ham and eggs (1861) served with at least one Tom Collins (1882) Alfons apparently can eat anything, so you’re going to have to do the same if you want to keep up with him. After a night out, how about enjoying a few Tom Collinses with your fried ham and eggs? What better way to stave off your inevitable hangover than with greasy fried food and hair of the dog that bit you?

Note: In Alfons' main story, he's said to drink the anachronistic White Lady cocktail (it wasn't invented until ~1920). A Tom Collins would be more historically accurate and has a fairly similar flavor profile... Also, if you're wondering why I didn't give Alfons a Bloody Mary, it's because it also would be anachronistic, as it seems that at the earliest it was invented in the 1920s.

Roger Barel: Beefsteak pie (1889) with imported beer A hunter needs a hearty meal so how about some beefsteak pie? Might I suggest you pair it with some imported beer such as Guinness (since 1759) if you prefer a stout, or Weihenstephaner (since 1040!) if you’d prefer a lighter beer?

If you don't consider Guinness an imported beer since Ireland became a part of the United Kingdom in 1801, you could instead enjoy some Stiegl (since 1492) or Yuengling (since 1829).

Ellis Twilight: Steamed cranberry pudding (1895) with cream sauce (1895) Ellis loves cranberry jam and whatever makes you happy... The author is happiest in winter around Christmas and steamed cranberry pudding was apparently commonly served around Christmas in the Victorian era. It just feels like a good compromise, okay?

Jude Jazza: Peach covered tart (1877) with black coffee and Woodbine unfiltered cigarettes Did you want to make sure Jude doesn't share any of his food with you? Give him a peach covered tart. Make sure you serve it with some black coffee and some Woodbine unfiltered cigarettes.

Note: While tea was growing in popularity in Victorian England, it was apparently much more common for members of the working class to drink coffee. I almost gave Jude Capstan cigarettes because they were advertised as "Navy cut cigarettes" but supposedly Woodbine, or "Woodies" (introduced in 1888) were more popular with the working class. I think even though Jude picked up a smoking habit due to his business, he would probably still smoke the cheaper, stronger Woodies.

Victor: Scones (1890) with clotted cream and black currant jam (1861) Victor is known for his scones, so obviously you both are going to be enjoying scones today. The author is writing this in July, so the jam of choice is black currant jam, since apparently that’s in season.

You can ask Victor for red currant jam (recipe on opposite page) and he’d probably oblige you, but for whatever reason, Victor gives me black currant vibes.

[zsupika]

Love and Deepspace x Reader

> general relationship headcanons

A/N: I've been in the lnd fandom for a few weeks now and I'm so obsessed of this game. Keep in mind these are just some random things that I have in mind when I think of them in a relationship.

>> My requests are open if you have any ideas!

Characters: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel

Xavier

I imagine him as a very caring boyfriend

He'd listen to what you have to say and whenever you have something that troubles you, try and find a solution

His favorite sleeping position has got to be spooning you with him being the big spoon

He just loves to embrace you and know that you're safe in his arms

While laying like that he loves to breath in your scent

And while you're asleep, he plays with your hair and softly glides his fingers along your skin

It calms him down, especially after aonh day of fighting wanderers

He also likes to go on missions together with he

He won't admit it but whenever you get assigned with a different partner than him, he gets so jealous

He just loves to spend time with you

He's more a listener than a talker

Through the entire year he takes notes on the things that you mentioned you wanted to have

When your birthday comes up he buys all those things for you!!

Although he loves to spoil you on valentines day with flowers, chocolate and lots of kisses, he doesn't really see a point in the day specifically

He buys you flowers every once in a while and doesn't understand why there would have to be a whole day dedicated for it

But if you see it as important, he definitely puts up an effort to make you happy and see a smile on your face

He always blushes when you get him something in return!

He prefers to give, more that receive

He also makes sure that you're nicely relaxed after a mission

While you sit on your chair he might come up from behind and give you a soft shoulder massage and some neck kisses to ease your mind and body

I imagine him to smell like lavender and fresh laundry

His favorite drink has to be iced coffee and water

In winter he'll also drink a hit chocolate with you

He loves to add cute toppings and make it delicious

Zayne

As we all know he's a doctor and always very busy

You see him a lot less than you would the other two boys

He appreciates it when you come to the hospital and visit him on his breaks

You'd remind him to relax and take it easy every once in a while

It makes him smile to know that you care for him so much

Him not being able to see you as much makes him sad, so he tries to make the few dates that you go on extra special

He always consideres your wishes and does whatever you desire

You want to stay home with him and watch a movie? Sure, he'd love to. You want to go out to a fancy restaurant? Yeah, he's down.

He has a hard time expressing his emotions with his words, so he's definitely more of a "actions over words" kinda guy

His love language would equal to "acts of service" and "quality time"

His hugs and kisses feel very intimate, because it's his way of expressing his emotions to you

He adores the fact that you understand him so well and that you respect his boundaries

He's a morning person for sure

He likes black coffee

For you he always makes sure that you're healthy

Whenever you get a little sick, he's always worried about you and tries to prevent it with all that he can

It makes you chuckle how much he can get worked up over a little cold

Once you get better he makes sure that you stay healthy and happy

Rafayel

Starting of with a very basic headcanon but I think he'd paint you

But not in the way in which you might think

He wouldn't only paint full on portraits of you but he'd incorporate you into his art in a very different way

He'd draw the landscape of your favorite places

He would use your eye color as the background color of a beautiful still-life

You being around him would inspire him to draw freely without any restrictions

Your laugh would make him move his brush in the same rhythm

Sometimes he'd let you help him with a painting

He also loves to go and search for different ways to create paint with you and look for ingredients

I think even though he's very sassy and bold most of the time, when it comes to intimate moments he'd be rather shy

He blushes a lot!

And definitely has a hard time keeping eye contact with you in those moments

His kisses are more soft and caring than you might think at first

In my eyes he'd be the furthest thing from rough in any intimate situations

He holds you as if you were a fragile piece of glass that could break at any second

He feels like you're the only one who he can let his emotions out on, without feeling judged

Loves sleeping on top of you like a weighted blanket

Slightly snores but not very loud

It's more of a heavier breathing

As we know he's very ticklish

When you two are playfighting you can definitely take advantage of that

He'll be a whining and whimpering mess

Do with that what you want

[firefly--bright]

forwards, beckon, rebound.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u.

summary ; falling in love with jean kirstein was too easy. realizing and living with it, however, was more difficult than ripping your own heart out of your chest - veins and all. warnings ; unrequited? love, mentions of alcohol at the end, a little angsty. a/n ; im not doing well LMFAO its okay guys...its okay.... i have another thing im going to post tn before going on an undecidedly long hiatus so!! i hope you guys enjoy this <3that being said i think college will be the death of me also mini thank you to @\samepictureofjeankirsteveryday on instagram!! i wasnt going to post this fic originally but she lowkey made me want this baby to see the light of day :3 taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic-again , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable, @candleohappiness , @zombiefiedskeivy , @1ovede1uxe

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿ requests for headcanons are open! ✿

middle tile art creds ; @ppushable beloved

Falling in love with jean kirstein wasn't too much of a task.

Realising you were in love with jean kirstein, however, proved to be a big one. 

You dont realise it at first. Of course not, that would be too easy and stupid. You couldn't give yourself the permission to do that - to intrude on someone else's life so easily without guilt; because liking someone, romantically or platonically, has always been a selfish act, one that you were hesitant to commit. It felt like a crime, really. The first time he sat next to you on the couch despite there being more than enough room on the other side of it, cushions perfectly clean and waiting, he sat next to you. 

Nothing came out of it. He sat next to you the whole night - the first night you two got close and talked about your stupid lives even after everyone had called it a night, with two glasses empty of any beverage, already long gone under inattentive care, because you’d rather look at him. His hand was in the air, actions drawing themselves in the space around him, claiming the place to be his without hesitation. He’d say something, you’d make a bad joke, he’d stifle a laugh and lie through his teeth about it not being funny. You’d say something unimportant, his elbow would be on the back cushions of the couch, supporting his head, hand tangling through his hair - not that you were staring at it when your eyes pleaded for something else to focus on. He’d lick his lips absentmindedly, nodding to your story. He’d make a silly, offhanded comment that you’d milk out into another joke, and he’d stutter his responses. The night went on, drowsily, and you decided to reluctantly surrendered to sleep as his eyes slipped closed to your voice, head directly on the back cushions. As if he had forgotten the conversation that occurred two minutes ago - “And.. i mean, yeah, i get it, but- are you.. Are you falling asleep?”

“No, no. of course not. Just… resting my head. Go on.” 

“Your voice just got deeper, man, stop lying-”

“No! Im.. im serious. Im listening. Keep going.”

“Right,”

“Come on, i wanna hear you.”

“... oh. Right, so then…uh.”

“Mhm.”

“Uhm…right so, i got, what she was saying, but then again, why would she need to-”

And the conversation followed with just you speaking, a little hushed, pretending not to notice how his breathing evened itself out completely, his finger twitching every so often. Pretending not to notice, really, because that's all you'd been doing all this while. 

That was your first offense, you suppose. Pretending the love wasn't there. Pretending he isn't this easy to love, this easy to find your way back to. His presence was the one thing you looked forward to with each large group hangout until it was just the two of you - he’d asked you to accompany him going grocery shopping. “Connie wants some stupid fucking water gun.” 

You had laughed, unserious at first. But his voice did’nt waver through the phone, making you wonder out loud, “wait, for what?”

He sighed. You could almost feel his breath through the speaker. “April fools is coming up. Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, “anyway, i’ll come pick you up in ten?” he questions, as if you’d ever refuse. You could. You really could. But part of you wanted to know why connie would need the gun and what exactly he’d do with it just so you could be prepared incase of oncoming attacks. But the other part - the bigger, more selfish, more hesitant one - wanted to spend time with him because the aspect of just going grocery shopping sounded appealing. 

Appealing, as if it was something more. 

Maybe it was. Jean had a way of making every task of yours feel special. His eyes were always on your movements, something you appreciated, his blatant observation an endearing trait after you’d been gone unnoticed for long enough for you to feel non-existent entirely.

You dressed appropriately. Made sure your hair was good enough. Swiped a finger over your eyebrows to shape them before heading out. He was waiting under your apartment, back resting against the shining metal of his car, thumb hovering over his phone as he waited. Your shoes clicked - did they squeak or did they click? The dirt seemed interesting. - and he looked up at you before smiling. “Where do you think the best place to shop for a watergun could be?” an important question. You hummed in faux thought, mind only filled with his cologne, and the fact that his feet were only a couple inches from yours, “i dont know. Did connie not say where? Considering he’s such an expert?” you said, and he snorted. “Right. He just gave me a very specific model to look for. And the money for it, surprisingly.”

You made a joke about stealing the money and buying something “pretty for himself” which was met by slightly reddening cheeks and a scoff. “I look pretty in anything. I mean-” he stuttered over his own words, stumbling over consonants until he landed on, “i- we should..uhm, go. Before it gets too late.” you wanted to ask what you could possibly be late for, but he opened your door for you before you could say anything, and sped-walked to his side of the car. It was the two of you, the silence of his car, waiting to be broken. 

He asked you to play a song. You played careless whisper. He laughed. A full-bellied, deep hearted chuckle that you were sure you’d keep hearing over the course of the next few months if not your lifetime.

When april finally did come, with a summery breeze to accompany it, connie’s prank set itself ablaze. The “prank” being that he and eren would go around - “no, the point is that no one can see it coming!” - college campus, spraying their elaborate victims with a not-so-discreet snicker, not realizing that the cold water was a treat rather than a trick. “If that’s the point then youre fucking failing because your shiny bald head and his fucking stench is enough to let everyone know youre coming from miles away,” jean had said, hands folded over his chest. Armin stifled a laugh while you snickered in broad daylight, unashamed. 

Maybe that was your second offense - finding him fucking funny. It wasnt even your fault, in all honesty, it should be his for being witty and quick on his feet to make a remark that he knew would make you break. And you knew he was out to get you because sometimes he’d lean in close to your ear and whisper the joke against the loudness of the rest of the world - in a language and words only you could hear and understand and almost wait for his prize. Youre not sure if your laugh was his prize or the pride that came with the idea of being funny was, but you presented it to him without hesitation either way. 

How you couldn't realise you were in love with him in those moments always made you question your own instincts. 

It felt like a crime. Little offenses that would add up to one big debt towards the big national system that was out to get you - letting your yearning run rampant and unchecked while you sat on the floor, wondering, questioning, untrusting of your own feelings. What else could you do, really? When your love had been dormant for so long without any interaction, was it really your fault that it did not know when to wake up and tell you that it was real? Your crimes didn't matter. The number of them, their destruction. It wouldn't have mattered if the love would’ve just told you what it was instead of concealing itself under layers of disregard and faux indifference. 

And the worst part is that it didn't even escalate. His actions remained the same and so did your unnerving, unnatural feelings, laying bare-boned in front of you. He’d call you late at night, usually on tuesdays or fridays, and ask you, surprised, what you were doing up this late. You were always up this late, you'd say, even if it was him who called. Youd turn the question to him and he’d tell you about how he couldnt sleep because he was playing a game with your friends. 

“Why are you whispering” he had asked, ever keen about your every action. 

“Sasha’s asleep on my lap,” you said, your hand in between her brown hair, conditioned and soft between your fingers. 

“That doesnt answer my question.” he said. You could hear his blatant smirk through the phone.

“I dont want her to wake up,” you said, a smile of your own creeping on your face, slowly, carefully. It was meant to be there, though, however much you didnt want it to be, like moths to a beautiful flame. 

He hummed. Fluttering of patterned wings flying towards a bright orb. “What else?” god, its like he wanted you to peel apart and let him observe the shredded, unmoving pieces. Maybe he really did.

“We watched the perks of being a wallflower,” “oh?” “yeah, sash said she wanted me to see it-” “you’ve never seen that movie before?” “i mean, i did now,” you muttered, voice now only a little bit higher, smile growing only a little bit wider. Moths to an open, inviting flame.

“Jesus. Thank god she did. Did you cry?” he asked, eager. “Do you want me to cry? Thats telling-” “-no i dont want you to cry,” “hey, im not shaming your fantasies, im just-” “my fantasies dont involve you crying.” you pause before speaking again. “Right.” “i mean- they.. They involve you - like all of you guys, hah, just..not crying. Happy,” you hum. The moths get dangerously, hopefully closer to the burning flame. Its painful and its warm. “Whatever. Did you cry?” he asks, and you allow him a laugh at that. You wonder if he has moths of his own. Maybe dragonflies. They suit him better, you think for a split second, before his fire invites you again with a calloused hand, crackling firewood. “See, the fact that you’re not answering is more of an answer.” You shrug, knowing he cant see it. Part of you wonders if he knows you well enough to commit your actions to memory - enough to know when you're doing them, enough to predict them like a well choreographed dance. “I cried a little. Like, one tear, and then i stopped,”

“Right, sure.” “you know, you forcing an answer out of me is also more of an answer.” you say, flipping the conversation over on it’s head, the dancers doing a somersault on the thin cracks in your ribs.

“what? How?” “now i know you cried while watching it-” “i did not-” “-or else you wouldnt want me to be as miserable as you-” “i didnt cry, i dont even know what youre talking about,” “i can literally ask sasha.” “you wouldnt…do that,” he says, unconfident. you suck in a dramatic breath, pretending to get ready to shout sasha’s name, before he interrupts you with a slight terror behind his teeth, “okay, i cried like, a little,” he says, his voice a little static, but you could hear the expression he was making behind the layers of faux cockiness. You hum knowingly. “Just a little,” “dont sound like that.” 

You breathe out a laugh, smile reaching your eyes, your cheeks pushing against the phone on your ear. “Sound like what?” “like…like youre judging me,” “im not judging you! Im all for crying.” “just not enough for you to do it?” “i’ll cry when i need to.” “and when’s that?” “i dont know, maybe when they declare that, like, all chocolate has lead in it or something, and they ban it.” there was another pause. You gauge his reaction, a flash of regret for your statement, and then a laugh from his end, crystal clear. Even with the phone hindering your view of him, its perfect - the happiness resides in his chest, and it makes it’s way out because of you, crawling into your arms through the shitty microphones that the big companies cant seem to perfect, and youre afraid it’ll catch a hold of you and you would never be able to shake it away; the feeling of his laughter in your chest, shared and kept and bottled up in the shape of something familiar but terrifying and real. You dont realise youre also laughing a little by the end of it. 

“That wouldn't stop you from still eating it.” he says. “Fair point,” you reply, playing with a strand of sasha’s hair between your fingers. Your love has always been louder than you would've liked it to be, its shouts keeping you awake at night, the harmonies - or lack thereof - disrupting your usual schedule. It had to find a way to get out, and you weren't sure where to put it once it did. Where your love could find a place to rest without urgency, silent under a warm gaze. You didn't know where to find it. 

you suppose your next offense - and it was a big one this time, staring at you in the face until you were too scared to look away - was actually noticing. 

not that you didn't before. it wasn't unknown, the fact that he put meticulous effort into his appearance, combing his hair a certain way, wearing different colours that he knew worked, smelling nice. he was the one who made it known, a pretentious boastful laugh about how he'd bought a new perfume after sasha pointed it out, telling the table of five that he actually had the money to buy it and he was going to use it to it's fullest extent. but then you started noticing the unimportant details, the natural ones that came as a habit to him but became holy to you. waving a hand through his hair after it unravelled from its former position throughout the day, wearing the bracelet you had hastily and ironically made for him as if it was a part of his own wrist, regardless of if it matched his outfit or not, his perfume wearing off sometime in the middle of the day, but the residue of it could only be smelt when you were sitting close to him, brushing his shoulder with yours. All the unimportant things, you think, a big weight on your already hesitant shoulders, weak under the boulder you were trying to push. 

The way his voice dipped when he muttered something he knew was unimportant but wanted to be known anyway (you wouldn't tell him you would always keep those mutters in mind - chanted scriptures until they're all your tongue and ears remember). The way he fidgeted with his rings sometimes, slipping them off of his finger and and onto the next, continuing to do that until all his fingers had worn the jewellery (one time it slipped and fell through his fingers, an unnoticeable action, and his fingers hovered mid empty air, grasping metal that had slipped away). The unimportant scar on the front of his right shoulder, only to be seen when he wore a tank top during the summer, when he’d told you he’d saved a dog from a car accident with red cheeks and ears - a telltale lie. You let the statement lay in front of you before smiling with an exaggerated, proud puff of air, after which he had immediately went back to his story to correct it. The reality was that he tried diving into a pool once - only for his shoulder to be scraped up on the diving board, along with his jaw, as he fell. He said this ungracefully, scratching the back of his neck and waving his hand as if it wasn't a big deal - and you would agree, it wasn't a big deal. yet. There was always a yet. You wanted to write down all his words, through his stutters and higher-pitched words, his unintentional pauses, and etch them into your spine. What good were your bones if not to be carved under a weathering, hopeless love that could never prevail? What good were your lungs if not to build a home out of unbreathable air?

Unimportant. You’d call your love that; a universal truth. You couldn't give yourself the permission for more than that, for an offense greater than the one you’d already guiltily committed. 

Falling in love with jean kirstein was out of your hawk-eyed control. Realising you were in love with jean kirstein was an unmistakable, out-of-question, universally bound reality that you couldn't escape. Or maybe one you didn't want to escape. 

You weren't hopeful of a reciprocal or even a secure future. You were never quite the hopeful one, and maybe that's why you chalked yourself up to a non romantic person who’s forbidden to use those big movie words with the big important meanings and the confident and hearty laugh after a confession. Being a romantic took a hell of a lot of hope, something you fundamentally lacked, something that you could never live up to. 

So this was it. Staring at you in your face, his eyes brown and a little golden at the edge like a pot of pouring honey, warmth under those tones, unhidden with full and weighted importance that you never had the permission to receive. His shoulder - the scarred one - is pressed up against the wall and the party is loud and his cup is almost empty, his first drink of the night, and his cologne is fading away only a little, a strand of his hair falling on his forehead. And this wouldn't be a big issue if it wasn't for the fact that you were thinking about it all, the unimportant parallels and the god like, important-unimportant words, etched into your hesitant and tired vertebrae. His smile is soft. Has it always been? Were you deserving of that? After all of your committed offenses? 

“This punch is fucking disgusting,” he says, changing the previous topic, smelling the drink in his hand. You were incapable of speaking, of using your big mouth and small words. “Its.. interesting,” you finally muttered, looking down at your own cup, your thumb rubbing gentle, controlled back-and-forths on the rim of the cup. you‘re not sure how he even heard you but somehow he always does.

“I can make a better one for you,” he says, as if he doesn't have anything better to do. “No, im good. I dont want to get… y’know,” you say, eyes pointing to the vague direction of a now-shirtless connie, waving the shirt in a loop over his head disregarding the beat and rhythm of the song completely.

Jean’s eyes remain on his friend for a while. “Yeah i wouldn't want to get…that either,” he says, and you snort an unattractive laugh, and when you look back up, he’s laughing with you. Smiling at your unimportant sound, his hand holding the cup by its rim and dropping his elbow down so the cup rests somewhere near his thigh. 

Unimportant. All of it. But somehow holy. Human condition. 

He moves towards the kitchen either way, claiming something about having non-alcoholic fruit beer in the fridge just for “this”. He says “this” as if its a confession, something he’s been meaning to get off of his chest, “this” like he knows your unimportant and off-handed comment about not wanting to drink from last week and carrying it around like an effective poem, life altering with every sentence. He says “this” like it's important. Somehow holy, human condition.

And he follows through, with whatever his “this” meant, and hands you a can of some kind of soda. A sip later, you find out its peach flavoured, surprisingly addictive, not too sweet. You steal a glance at the front of it, a bright and vibrant logo greeting you with a smiling mascot of a peach with sunglasses. You look back up at him with a raised eyebrow. “This was a conscious decision?” you ask, turning the front of the can to him so he could see what you were referring to. A smile split his face, followed by faux annoyance and an eyeroll, “thank you, jean, for always thinking of me,” he says, high pitched, and the implications are not lost on you, and he continues when all you do is smile with a breath of laughter, “thank you, jean, you bought me my favourite flavoured drink-” “thank you, jean kirstein, my saviour, for thinking of me,” you say, the sound getting lost somewhere in between your mouth and his. His smile hangs on his face with pride, an action you unknowingly put there. 

God, and falling in love with jean kirstein was so easy. Easier than breathing, more conscious than involuntary blinking, more natural than your fidgeting hands. 

But realising you were in love with jean kirstein was more uncomfortable than the act of being alive, more conscious than the fact that your voice could produce a sound that occupied space, more careful than your hesitant thoughts. 

Everything chalked up to this; loving jean kirstein was easier than any feat you couldve ever done. Any holiness, any prayer, any selfish and hopeless act of greatness that was trapped in your veins.

Realising you’d always love him, realising maybe you’d always be stuck in this limbo was the only thing that proved to be difficult. You're a creature of habit - habitual sighs, rhythmic steps, habitual solitude - and you'd never been prepared for this. But it was okay.

Being in love with jean kirstein - and realizing you’d always love him - was okay. Habitual. All offenses could be just those - offenses. Habitual. You’d learn to live with it as you did all other things. 

✿

[lunatic-pudge]

TF2 Mercs Green Flags (except it's very biased)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love my boys. Yes, this is biased and questionable. But this is meant to be cute and fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scout:

-Silly little goober, great person to be around when you need cheering up

-Golden retreiver boyfriend

-Can easily make you laugh without even trying

-Artsy fartsy

Pyro

-Cutie patootie who makes the cutest drawings of you two together

-Owns an Easy Bake Oven

-Master at baking, never-ending supply of sweets for you to indulge in

-Your biggest supporter. Would literally cheer for you if you rob a bank

Soldier

-Also your biggest supporter, will demand that other adore you as well

-Will let you own any pet you want no matter what the animal is

-Speeches of why you're the best thing to ever exist and how America is blessed to have such a beauty like you live there

-Will give you anything and everything you could ever want, like human ears. Definitely a good person to be if you like collecting weird stuff

Demo

-Precious baby boy is a major cuddle bug

-Def knows how to knit/crochet, will make you whatever you want

-Baby man likes learning about folklore/mythology

-He's essentially a big walking teddy bear. Perfect for cuddles, especially on a cold or rainy day

Heavy

-GIANT WALKING TEDDY BEAR

-Protective baby boy, big scary dog privleges

-Bookworm, can recommend a good book if you don't know what to read

-Perfect person to lay around and cuddle with, he can smother me any day. Dates at home are TOP TIER

Engie

-THE BEST PERSON TO GO TO WHEN YOU'RE HAVING AN OFF DAY HANDS DOWN

-Smart boy, can make you stuff that helps with day to day activities which is helpful if you can't do certain things to having a disability or something

-Dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, can't get enough of it

-Voice of an angel, will sing for you if you'd like. Can def sing you to sleep

Medic

-NERD, he's an adorable nerd! Let him ramble about his hyperfixations!

-Def a good pet owner, would kill someone if they don't take proper care of their pets

-Would make sure you take care of yourself, he's kinda like a dad that cares

-He's such a maniac. I can see him just secretly being up to no good all the time. And he's also very girlypop

-Putting an extra for him cause I can: Medic boobs. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

Sniper

-Sweet, precious baby boy who can do no wrong. He strikes me as someone who listens to EVERYTHING when it comes to music. He ain't genrephobic

-Also a collector of weird things. Likes making bone jewlery. Bone boy

-I just love the concept of him being feral? This is probably the weirdest thing on the list. Like there's the golden retreiver boyfriend (Scout), and then there's the feral boyfriend (Sniper). Literally acts like a cat, hiding away from people, hissing when people that aren't you tries to touch him, will demand attention/affection from you, ect. I need to make a more detailed idea of a feral boyfriend so work with me plz

-He would absolutely let you wear his clothes, thinking about how adorable you look. He'd do the same with your clothes if they're big enough for his lanky body. You two swap jackets in the winter time so you guys always have a piece of each other when you two are busy and aren't able to see each other

Spy

-I know a running joke is that Spy is a smelly French asshole, but I really do think that he wears some of the nicest smelling cologne out there. Expensive af colonge, but damn, it's addicting

-Smarty pants. Not just anyone can be a spy, it takes quite a bit of intellect for it. And not to mentions he knows multiple languages? Love it, even if I hate the French language with a burning passion

-Him having a good taste in fashion? He's gotta know what he's doing by wearing suits all the time. Not only does he look fresh af, but people always look so good in a suit, especially when it fits them. But please also picture him dressed in a more romantic goth aesthetic plz, okay I'll stop now

-Is good at paying attention to even the littlest of details about his partners. Even if you're trying to be cryptic or subtle about things, he'll always find out. He's def a protective type too

[amerricanartwork]

ok fine since you asked so nicely

*provides more cookies*

dont eat too many or else you'll become round

or- roundER anyway

Now that's what I call answering two asks with one post! Featuring more silly superstructure creatures!

Okay, in all seriousness, while I decided to go with the silly and very non-canon drawing idea, if you don't mind I would actually like to leave some ideas related to these asks in a more serious manner with rough descriptions of how I think the Local Group would react if they were offered them some cookies! This is assuming it's the puppets you're talking to, since I actually do have concepts I plan to employ in my AU for a hidden mechanism allowing the iterators to legitimately consume and gain energy from organic matter as "food" when they're off-the-string. If you don't care for these, I don't mind, but they just popped into my mind in response to this ask, and I couldn't resist adding them too!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Looks to the Moon: "Oh, don't worry about me. All I want is to know you and the others have had enough for yourselves, and that you enjoyed them! I'll simply take whatever is left." — Looks to the Moon sees it as her duty to always look out for others first, so if the Local Group were offered any kind of gift, she'd first make sure everyone else got a satisfying share of it, even if it meant she had to miss out. Though she would be rather tempted by the delicious smell of baked goods, the growling of her stomach, and the curiosity to explore something she's heard of and observed many times yet never tried herself before, she'd tell herself (once again) that sacrificing her own satisfaction for others' is The Right Thing To Do™, and therefore she should be glad to give up all the treats to her friends if that was what made them happy. It's perhaps only Sig who would be able to convince her to try some for herself or save her some in secret, at which point she'd savor every bite once assured it was just the two of them and she was allowed to indulge herself without guilt.

No Significant Harassment: "Hey guys! You've gotta try some of these! They smell so good, don't you think, Pebbles?" — Even if he isn't the one who actually makes the cookies himself — whether purely to see if he can, or as some sort of prank towards a friend — if Sig ever managed to obtain some cookies he'd be the first to try them out. Though being a considerate and amicable person who highly values his good relationships, he'd waste no time in sharing them with his friends, making sure to take no more than his fair share. If he were sharing with just the Local Group, he'd definitely make some time to tease Pebbles, Suns, and Wind about their refusal to try them by waving them in their face, making exaggerated noises while savoring the taste, and doing anything else he can to really emphasize just how much they're missing out. But even more so, he'd be the one urging Moon to get some for herself before they're gone, reassuring her that she deserves to enjoy them just as much as any of the others do. And heck, if half the group isn't gonna get any, it would make those three more "happy" for the two of them to eat the rest themselves and rid their friends of the bothersome treats!

Five Pebbles: "Cookies? What use do I have for these? Even with the mechanisms to consume food, I have better means of getting sustenance than to resort to something so useless, yet dangerously addictive. If you were an intelligent creature, you'd dispose of them as well." — Even after he discovers that iterator puppets can consume food, Pebbles is far from happy about it. He already wants to minimize the frequency and amount with which he has to eat, and the thought of succumbing to the Fourth Karmic Urge from a sugary food that's especially easy to overindulge in, combined with Sig's unrelenting teasing reinforcing the "danger" of indulging in the cookies, would be more than enough to make him quickly yet firmly reject it. He would stay committed to remain "above" the simpler creatures of the world who would gladly gobble up such an offering in an instant, no matter how enticed he too would be by the scent and delectable appearance or how much hidden envy he'd feel from seeing the others enjoying them.

Seven Red Suns: "I cannot believe it! You truly thought a divine being like myself would ever succumb to the temptations of a small confection? It's clear you've lost sight of the Great Problem! Quick, we must provide you a new means of sustenance to cleanse you of your worldly attachment to these treats!" — Suns is perhaps even worse than Pebbles when it comes to "worldly attachments". Not only would he immediately refuse the idea of betraying Transcendental Ascensionism by indulging in something so basic, yet so easy to grow overly attached to, but he'd give anyone who offered them a long lecture about how they must have succumbed to "sin" and "temptation" to even have thought about giving him some, then try to be their savior by urging them to "separate" from these attachments. He would demand they not just immediately throw away every one of the cookies, but that they permanently revoke any and all but the most light, plain, and flavorless forms of sustenance from their diet as soon as possible, if not also immediately. And while he would definitely be slightly less condescending and forceful on the surface with them, don't think the Local Group would be spared if he caught any of them enjoying cookies either. Most likely he and Sig would end up in an argument about it, with Sig teasing and exploiting the flaws in Suns's logic and Suns doing his best to maintain his assertion that cookies will doom all but the very highest of creatures to suffer in the Cycles forever.

Chasing Wind: "... You disturbed me for these? Is that all?" — Chasing Wind would be utterly unimpressed by an offer of almost anything that isn't a rational solution to an important problem, which includes cookies, and would be unable to understand why Sig — and Moon, once she'd pick up on it — seems to enjoy them so much. In fact, she'd most likely assume it was a prank from him, yet either way would be mad at whoever else interrupted her work just to bother her with something so "useless" and unimportant. Perhaps the only reason she'd even try them would be if someone were to be especially annoying and beg her over and over to give them a try, after which she'd give it one taste and consume one piece just to shut them up, remain utterly unimpressed and additionally upset at the anticlimax, and scoff before returning to her previous work, with a mental note to ignore future inquiries from whoever had the audacity to waste her time with cookies, of all things.

Unparalleled Innocence: "Those look really good... Uh, um... I-if it isn't, I mean... I hope it's not bad... but, uh... c-could I, um... could I have one...?" — Innocence is always curious about new things, and would probably be the first of the Local Group to notice and take interest in the cookies as soon as she sees them or smells them. However, her biggest problem would be working up the confidence to try one for herself, fearing that the rest of the Local Group would be too busy indulging themselves to even hear her ask for some, let alone actually agree to share some with her of all people when they could just as easily continue sharing them amongst themselves. It'd probably have to be either Sig or Moon explicitly giving her permission to take some (and then to take more than one) to convince her to actually try one. Though rest assured, of all the Local Group she'd perhaps savor them the most of all, having read stories about such treats countless times and simply cherishing the chance to finally experience their deliciousness for herself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once again, this was just something that came to my mind after seeing these asks, but I thought it was cute! I hope to get back into the swing of making longer posts about my headcanons and whatnot for these characters! Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this!

[mya-valentine]

February 17th - Please, Please, Please by Sabrina Carpenter - Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

The night air was thick with anticipation as you stood outside the restaurant, anxiously glancing around, waiting for Katsuki Bakugo. He was late, and you couldn't stop the feeling of dread creeping in. Deep down, you knew he could be difficult. Katsuki had always been a little too proud, a little too hot-headed, and it often felt like every night out could turn into a gamble with his temper. Yet, somehow, here you were again, waiting for him.

You checked your reflection in the restaurant's window, smoothing down your outfit and adjusting your hair. You’d put effort into looking nice tonight, something you rarely did for just anyone. You wanted things to go well. More than that, you wanted Katsuki to prove that he was worth all the little battles and reassurances you’d had to give friends who questioned why you were with him. They didn't understand why you'd choose someone who could be so... volatile.

Finally, you spotted him walking down the street. There he was, moving with that confident stride, his sharp eyes scanning for you. He had this intensity about him that was magnetic, drawing you in despite the very real risk that he could make tonight go sideways at any moment. When his gaze locked onto yours, he offered a crooked smirk, hands in his pockets, his blond hair catching the streetlights.

“Hey,” he greeted, stopping in front of you.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, smiling. You reached out, lightly taking his hand, hoping that this would be one of those rare, perfect nights where he let his guard down, where he could be gentle and affectionate without letting his ego get the best of him.

Dinner started out better than expected. Katsuki was actually in a good mood, relaxed, and even laughing at some of the jokes you made. For a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe things really could be this easy with him. You knew he wasn’t like most people, and that’s part of what you loved about him. He was passionate, raw, and unapologetically himself. He’d always been that way, and you’d always admired it.

But as the night wore on, Katsuki started getting restless. You saw the way his eyes wandered around the restaurant, taking in the people around you. Some guys at a nearby table were talking a little too loudly, and Katsuki’s jaw clenched. He gripped his glass tightly, and you noticed his foot tapping.

"Let it go," you whispered, leaning closer, trying to catch his eye.

"What?" he muttered, brows knitting together.

"Whatever it is you're thinking. Just... let it go. Please." You kept your tone soft, pleading. You wanted him to stay here, with you. You didn’t want anything to ruin this rare moment of peace between you two.

He rolled his eyes, but he shifted back in his seat, and you released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You wanted him to see that you didn’t need the fiery side of him tonight, the part of him that always wanted to prove he was stronger than anyone else in the room. You needed the softer, gentler side that he rarely let anyone see.

But then, one of the guys at the nearby table—one who’d clearly had too much to drink—stumbled over to your table, slurring as he made a comment about Katsuki’s hair, laughing at his own poor attempt at a joke. You saw Katsuki's eyes narrow, and his grip on his glass tightened again.

You reached across the table, your hand resting on his. "Please, Katsuki. Just ignore him."

The guy wasn’t getting the hint. He leaned even closer, looking at you, smirking. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing with someone like him?” he sneered, clearly too drunk to see the danger in Katsuki’s eyes.

You could feel Katsuki’s temper boiling over. "Back off," he growled, his voice low, dangerous.

The guy just laughed, shrugging as he returned to his table, but you knew that wasn’t the end of it. Katsuki’s fists were clenched, his entire body tense. You could practically feel the anger radiating off him, and you wished more than anything that he’d let it go, just this once.

“Katsuki, please,” you said softly, reaching for his hand again, hoping your touch would calm him. “Don’t let him get to you. It’s not worth it.”

He looked at you, and for a moment, you thought he might listen. His gaze softened just a little as he met your eyes, and you could see the conflict in him. You knew he was torn between proving he was stronger than anyone who dared to challenge him and staying in control, for you. But then the guy made another crude comment, and it was like a switch flipped in Katsuki’s mind.

He shot up from his seat, his chair scraping against the floor loudly as he glared at the guy across the room. The entire restaurant went silent as everyone turned to watch, and you felt your face flush with embarrassment. You tugged on his sleeve, trying to pull him back down, but it was no use.

“Katsuki!” you hissed, desperation lacing your tone. But he wasn’t listening.

He marched over to the guy, shoving him back into his seat with a roughness that was unmistakably Katsuki. “You got something to say about me, huh?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The man, now sobering up in fear, stammered an apology, clearly realizing he’d crossed a line. Katsuki’s hands were balled into fists, his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back from doing more.

You got up, rushing over, grabbing his arm. "Katsuki, please. Just... let’s go.”

It took a few tense seconds, but finally, he tore his gaze from the man and looked down at you, his expression softening. He let out a frustrated sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets and letting you guide him out of the restaurant.

As you walked down the street, away from the restaurant, you felt your heart sinking. You’d put so much hope into tonight, hoping he’d show the side of himself that you’d been defending to everyone else—the side you knew he had in him, the side he rarely let anyone see. You glanced at him, and he looked genuinely remorseful, as if he realized what he’d just put you through.

“I’m… sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze.

You let out a long sigh, your shoulders sagging. “Katsuki, I just... I don’t want to be embarrassed like that. I know you have a lot of pride, and I respect that. But I need you to control it sometimes. For me.”

He nodded slowly, his expression troubled. You could see the battle raging within him—the need to protect his pride clashing with his desire to be better for you. He took a deep breath, stepping closer and reaching for your hand. “I’ll try,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a sincerity that surprised you. “I just... I don’t like when people disrespect us.”

Your heart softened a little, and you squeezed his hand. “I know. But I don’t need you to prove anything, okay? I just need you. Just… you.”

For a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes was undeniable, and he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his touch finally soft and reassuring.

You allowed yourself to relax in his embrace, hoping that maybe this time, he’d remember this moment. Maybe, just maybe, he’d think of you before letting his temper get the best of him again.

As you pulled away, you looked up at him and offered a small, tentative smile. “Let’s go home.”

He nodded, taking your hand in his as you walked down the street together. And for now, at least, it felt like maybe things could be different.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[denwritesandcries]

Like a Movie Scene – V.P

Pairing: van palmer x fem!reader

Summary: Van Palmer should come with a warning sign. She invades your life with her crooked smiles and stupid jokes and draws you into her orbit without even asking for permission, as if it were something destined to happen. Which, you assume, it probably is.

Word count: 7,1k.

Content: No crash!AU, cursing, mentions of homophobia (it’s the 90’s), friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, a little angst, shitty families, LOTS of movie references, the yjs being normal teenagers.

Note: Van is a flirty little shit but also a complete loser and we love her for that.

English is not my first language.

Van Palmer should come with a warning sign or at least a 'no returns' marked on the tag of her football jerseys.

You don't think it would have done any good, though. Van draws you into her orbit from the first moment you met, like a bright and warm sun; allowing you to exist steadily in her life even though, technically, she has invaded yours.

You suppose then, that you wouldn't have it any other way.

It's likely you guys would never have really spoken to each other if it weren't for a mix-up between your practice schedules and a stupid argument between your coaches.

You see, the track team – which you were part of – always had practice right after the football team, because Wiskayok High School barely had the structure to keep both a girls and boys football team running properly, let alone a decent space for the few other sports the small-town school offered. Your practices took place on the same days of the week and one after the other, always at the same time. It was the implicit rule: from 4:30 pm the field is yours.

Coach Martínez didn't seem to care, however, because there he was arguing with your coach. Since apparently football practice had run late and the girls just needed to train for an hour and a half.

Your coach wasn't having any of it – your time was already too short without these changes –, and now both men were in the middle of the field screaming in each other's faces while poor coach Scott tried to calm them down.

“Dude.” you recognize Natalie Scatorccio’s tired and rasp voice beside you: “They could just cancel and let us go.”

You and apparently most people there, if the expressions of annoyance and crossed arms were any indication, couldn't agree more.

"Right?" You said. “Look at them, you think they’re gonna fight?”

Nat let out an amused snort, “They’re going to eat Coach Ben alive, that’s what they’re gonna do.”

You would have said something else if it weren't for a third voice coming from right behind you:

“They're gonna kiss, look how close their faces are.” It was Van Palmer, the goalie, with red hair swinging in a ponytail and a smirk on her lips. She shook her head in mock disappointment and crossed her arms, pointing with her chin at the scene, “In front of us, kids? What a lack of professionalism.”

You choke on a laugh and her gaze snaps to you, her smile widening with something like satisfaction in her eyes. The attention made you nervous. You weren't used to interacting with Yellowjackets members other than Nat, who was easy to talk to and was your lab partner as well as sharing cigarettes at parties, meaning that talking to Van Palmer was a completely new territory.

You joke back insecurely: “At least you have real coaches. Ours is the art teacher.”

That made her let out an incredulous laugh and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel pleased about it. Like almost the entire school, you also had a crush on the Yellowjackets.

Your laughter died down just as Coach Scott ran across the field to the two mixed teams with the most genuine expression of exhaustion you've ever seen. “We decided to share the space," he says. And that's all. Your first interaction with Van: a conversation that lasted less than three minutes mocking your teachers. You would never expect it to evolve into anything beyond that.

It's strange trying to do your usual routine of running through the poorly painted banners around the pitch – which looked like it had never seen better days – with a game taking place just a few meters away from you and your teammates. The fear of getting hit in the face by a ball was embarrassing.

Yet, as you wait for the relay, your gaze tracks the girls in action. You don't know the names of most of them, but recognize Taissa and Shauna fighting over the ball at one end of the field, the confrontation seems a little too intense, which makes you a bit nervous and your eyes go straight to the nearest goal, coincidentally, is the one Van is defending.

You notice how beautiful she looks with her expression completely concentrated and hands resting on the knees, waiting to act. Shauna overtakes Taissa and kicks hard the ball towards the goal; Van grabs it as soon as she crosses the white line on the lawn.

A giggle escapes you as Shauna turns around in frustration and the ball bounces back into the field and Van and Tai share a wry smile. The goalie turns her attention away from the game for a moment to look around and you swear she's looking for something – or someone.

Your teacher calls signaling your turn and you leave your thoughts while you line up with some other teammates.

You can do your relay routine for exactly fifteen minutes before something goes wrong.

You run on autopilot, so used to it that it's practically a second nature, letting your gaze return to scanning the field with interest when one of the players tries to score again and Van throws herself against the ground to catch the ball with a stronger and clearly exaggerated movement compared to last time. You thought this would be a one-time thing, seeing as the way Jackie and Nat rolled their eyes at her from where they were off to the side blocking other girls, but it kept happening the entire time you spent running until it was time for your break.

You choke on the water you drink when you realize that Van is the one staring at you this time, hands resting on her thighs, face sweaty and red, as if she doesn't have a game to focus on.

Shit, you think. How are you going to keep your head in training now? You wonder what you would have done to get a Yellowjacket's attention so suddenly as you return to your line.

You resume your run at a pretty good pace despite the sudden nervousness, feeling a little more confident when you hear a loud “Come on guys, no one has beaten L/N’s time yet!” coming from your teacher.

And then you're approaching the curve flush with the football field, the curve that gives you the perfect view of the goal.

Van is there, of course, just throwing the ball downfield again. Van, who rests her hands on her hips and catches her breath when Coach Scott blows the whistle and tells that her team won the game. Van, who turns around just in time and sees you approaching. Van, who removes a strand of red hair from her face that has escaped the ponytail and gives you a malicious toothy smile. Van, who winks at you. Van, who makes you fall. Literally.

It's all so out of nowhere, so suddenly that your heart misses a beat and you miss a step, tripping over your own feet as if your legs forgot how to work properly, falling in the middle of the curve and getting in the way of your colleagues further back in the lanes next to your side

Shit. Holyshit. Fuck. You just fell in front of the entire football team.

One of your friends bends down next to you to help and asks what happened, you blame the laces of your sneakers that untied when you fell because any reason is less embarrassing than what actually happened.

Your knee is bleeding and one of your arms is scraped, so the coach decides to have pity and leave you on the bench until it's time to leave. You make your way there with your ears burning and your head down.

If Van had any kind of interest in you, it definitely disappeared after that.

You remain alone on the bench, avoiding looking anywhere for a long time until Misty Quigley appears at your side with things to bandage your wound and you happily let her fill the silence with whatever she wants to say for the next few minutes.

Your night is spent tossing and turning in bed over the shame you've experienced and the next day as you walk through the hallways, the possibility of the goalie talking to you again doesn't even cross your mind as the first classes go by like a blur.

And then you're at your lunch table waiting for Nat to show up to talk like she usually does when she doesn't disappear around school, but after a few minutes a head of red hair takes over your vision instead of the usual dyed blonde.

“What’s up?” Van is sitting next to you, with the same crooked smile and her cheek propped up in a fist.

“Uh, nothing much really.” You have no idea what is going on; she is sitting with you, smiling at you and talking to you. Why is she doing this? You can feel a few other people's eyes on you through the interaction.

She introduces herself, even though you already know who she is, holding out a hand for you to shake – they’re rough, you notice, with calluses adorning the fingers –, probably just so you can introduce yourself too. “I’m Van,” she says. And that’s it.

She’s been Van since the beginning. Not Vanessa Palmer or the Yellowjackets goalkeeper, just Van. She says it so matter-of-factly that it would simply sound wrong to call her anything else.

You engage in a conversation about anything and everything after you introduce yourself – just your nickname too. You assume Nat already told her your name at some point yesterday – speaking as if you already knew each other, and somehow it doesn't feel weird.

Your eyes end up focusing on a black-haired girl crying at a table on the other side of the cafeteria with another girl a little smaller than her. You don't know either of them, but you know that they are both on the main team too.

“Hey,” you point with your chin: “What’s up with her?”

Van finds the source of your attention and raises her eyebrows, “Oh, you mean Mari?”

You answer with a simple nod of your head and that's enough for Van to invade your personal space with a devilish expression and a mischievous smile.

“She had a bad break up.” Van says and you tilt your head at her.

“But was it that bad?” You arch an eyebrow, “People don’t cry in such full places over nothing.”

Van moves a little closer to you and lowers her voice conspiratorially, as if she’s telling you a very important secret: “She were dumped," and then a dramatic pause, “For the guy’s half-sister.”

"What?" Your jaw drops completely and Van nods her head.

“Lottie told me, she knows about these things.” Ahe rests her face in her hand again, “She said she caught them kissing at her last party, Mari must have known.”

“‘The fuck?” The shocked look you give her only seems to amuse her.

“Oh, she's crying right now but boy, she was mad as hell in our math class today.” Van blows an exaggerated raspberry, “I bet she'll end up coming up with an absurd plan to get revenge and burn down his house just like in She Devil if the story spread.”

It will definitely spread, you thought.

An unexpected giggle escaped your chest – you might have felt a little bad for talking shit about a girl you didn't even know later, but not now – and your gaze found Van's face again.

“Yeah.” You start, “Except she was replaced by the guy’s own sister– half-sister, whatever, instead of a famous writer.”

Her face lights up completely as she speaks, bright green eyes like those of an excited puppy.

“You like that movie?” She asks.

“I love that movie,” you correct, “It’s iconic and Meryl Streep looks good.”

"She does.”

This seems to completely cement Van's interest in you, because she continues to sit with you at lunch for the rest of the week. When Nat finally shows up, she arches an eyebrow, but doesn't question it.

You and Van get closer in a surprisingly short period of time, but the way she seems to settle into your life is gradual and your silly little crush on the goalie seems to get stronger without even realizing it. Waiting for your lunches in the cafeteria, conversations in the hallways, glances exchanged during physics class – since you sat too far away to really talk – and the exchange of silly words about movies you like.

You have the habit of going out for a run every weekend in the morning – it's not easy to keep the best time in the routines, after all – and one day you decide to change your route by pure coincidence to a longer one that ends up near one of the trailer parks in the city; the fact that Nat mentioned one day that she’s neighbors with a certain teammate has nothing to do with it.

It surprises you that Van is awake at 8 am on a Saturday, but you find her – by pure coincidence, nothing more than that – outside a sad trailer watering an even sadder small garden. When she sees you, your hair is a mess and breathing is a little out of step, and you give her an awkward wave as you catch your breath. It's the first time you've seen each other outside of school.

“You’re stalking me now, weirdo?” Her crooked smile tells you that there's no real bite behind it.

"No," You place your hands on your hips, kicking some loose pebbles on the floor with your sneakers. Yes, you liar, “I always run around here, how come we’ve never seen each other before?”

Fuck it, you think. If Van can just show up for you because she wants to, then you can do the same.

She seems happy to abandon her garden chores when you ask her to go for a walk and she agrees to make you company once there’s no running involved; a walk, because no one deserves to be running around like Rocky Balboa at this time of the morning.

You walk together side by side through the neighborhood with your shoulders brushing against each other as if you've done this many times before, Van whistling a random tune carelessly.

Talking to her when the initial nervousness passes is one of the easiest things you've ever done and you find yourself enjoying and listening to everything Van tells you. This potential friendship – maybe more. Maybe, just maybe – it's the most fun thing that's happened in your year so far.

Your walks together also become a habit after that. You just come back the next day and Van is there with a smile on her face, so you keep coming back and she keeps smiling.

You also start walking home after school. Neither of you have a car, so why not?

You crave her company and she craves yours, you stay for Van's training and she stays for yours – no one else on the teams has the energy to complain about exaggerated movements or stumbles on tracks – and then when you're ready, you head off to your ways together and it makes your heart warm every time.

Everything about Van just makes you want to know her even more; the way she gestures with her arms and declares with the utmost disgust how she keeps distance from any musical that isn’t animated – “But you only watched Cats!” “And that was enough!” –, they way she tells you about how she and Taissa are watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch every Friday, or how she makes fun of any weird thing Misty said during practice that week.

You listen and absorb everything with an stupid drunk smile on your face, letting her entwine your arms and chatter to her heart's content.

Keep talking, you want to say. I love your voice, seeing you happy makes me happy. Keep talking, keep talking, keep talking.

You invite her to your house for the first time under the pretext of studying, after she throws herself on the chair next to you with a tearful expression during physics class.

“I’m gonna fail,” she whines, banging her head dramatically against the open notebook on the table, “The teacher hates me.”

You start teasingly: “Maybe he would hate you a little less if you actually paid attention in his class.”

"I do!" Van protests. “It’s personal, he must think I’m strange or somethin’ and lower my grades for it.” She crosses her arms with a pout and a roll of eyes.

“Of course." You agree with an exaggerated nod, “And you, yourself, are strange and unusual.”

“Yes!” She exclaims, ignoring the looks she attracts, “But that’s not the point, don’t quote Beetlejuice to me now, woman, this is serious.”

“Oh, wow, okay then.” You shrug.

Van looks at you before resting her head on the table again. She seems so hopeless that you give in.

“Hey, c’mon,” you say, letting your hand rest on her hair and stroke it gently: “You can come to my house today. I’ll help you study for the next test.”

Van's shoulders tense suddenly and her head snaps up so fast it makes you jump back.

"Really?" Her eyes are wide, face as red as her hair: “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

That's strange. Van is usually the one who makes you nervous, not the other way around.

“You won’t bother me at all,” you reply without giving it much thought, “There won’t be anyone at home anyway.”

And then there's silence, Van's face turns impossibly redder and after a second of confusion, you understand.

You just invited Van to your house. Alone. There is an innuendo there. Several possibilities that neither of you will mention, but that you both know are there.

Your face starts to heat up, so you clear your throat and stutter a confused “Are you coming then?”, because you can't let her realize what you just thought about.

Van responds with a squeaky “Okay, sure." and hurries back to her usual seat when class finally begins.

When you adjust yourself in the chair and think about finally releasing the breath you didn't realize you were holding, your gaze finds Lottie Matthews staring at you three seats away with her eyebrows raised. Shit.

Lottie says nothing, just wrinkles her nose contemplatively and faces forward, but she knows. She always knows. You feel your hands sweat and shake with nervousness at the prospect of becoming the new school gossip like Mari last month. The queer who fell too hard for a Yellowjacket only to get it wrong and ruin everything.

You shake your head. No, Lottie wouldn't do that. You weren't exactly friends, but she’s not mean, there was no reason for her to mess with you, your thoughts were just talking too loud. Plus, it's not like she actually saw anything. You didn't do anything forbidden. Friends go to each other's houses all the time. Your crush is not obvious.

That's stupid, you think, it doesn't matter. But you don't really believe it. Yes, it matters, at least in this little town at the end of the world.

You just hope you don't end up crying in the cafeteria too.

There is no training that day, so as soon as classes are over, you leave school together and make your way home. For the first time, the silence is awkward and makes you feel bad for making the invitation the wrong way. Maybe Van just doesn't swing that way and you made her uncomfortable somehow. It's a possibility; you're not exactly in the closet to the rest of the school.

Still, the way her hand brushes against yours gives you hope that this isn't the case.

When Van enters your house, the first thing she does is look around.

“Wow,” she begins. “Its really…”

“Small?” You complete, feeling somewhat conscious. Your house wasn't a trailer, but it wasn't anything compared to the houses of Van's cool friends. Definitely nothing like Lottie or Jackie.

“Empty.” She corrects.

Huh. It's true, your house was praticly always empty, not only because your parents spent as much time as they could out of it, pretending they didn't have a kid to still take care of, but also because of the lack of furniture and personality. It didn't seem like a cozy place to a family live. As a whole, it could be really lonely most of the time. Van seems to have noticed this with a single glance.

You choose to ignore the comment, suddenly thinking that this might end up becoming too intimate. In a vulnerable way.

When Van enters your bedroom for the first time, she gives the place the same curious look as the rest of the house, but her jaw quickly drops.

“You got a TV in your room?” She sounds completely shocked.

“Yeah.” You snort in amusement, “My uncle runs an appliance store, he fixed one that no one picked up last summer, so now it’s mine.”

Van still looks very impressed as her eyes roam the rest of the room. Your bedroom was, perhaps, the only place in the house where someone actually seemed to live. Posters and photos adorned the colorful walls and it seemed like every little thing in the room was directly a part of you, from an old stuffed animal on one of the shelves to the small pile of messy clothes on the chair next to the study table because you weren't planning on receiving no one to remember to put it away.

The tension from before seems to be dissipating and you can see from the expression on her face the exact moment Van notices your small VHS collection up ahead.

“Okay. That's it. We're only hanging out here from now.”

And that awkward moment passes completely.

In a matter of minutes you both are comfortable in your bed with books and notebooks spread around, after convincing Van to start studying with the promise that she could choose whatever movie she wanted for you to watch when you were finished.

Van seems to dedicate herself twice as much, eager to fulfill the agreement and the hours pass quickly as she understands the concepts you explain about the subject and then all you have to do is say that it's time for a break for her to jump out of bed with a smile from ear to ear and choose a movie.

She puffs out her chest holding the tape in her hands and proudly declares that you're watching Jurassic Park and you don't even think to question it when you return the smile and takes on the task of making popcorn.

Van ends up leaning against you throughout the movie, reciting all the lines from memory along with the characters close to your ear – she knows all of them – and your heart remains racing with blood rushing in your ears until she leaves.

The two of you keep hanging out at your house again and again, just like she said it would be. Sometimes you study or watch something together, but most of the time Van simply keeps you company while you do your chores around the house, following you around like a puppy while you cook or do the laundry. Your home has never been so fulled or welcoming.

You go home after classes and practice – occasionally with Nat in tow – and stay together until it's late and dark, every now and then you say that she could just sleep over as a joke, but she never accepts it. You gulps the pang of sadness and rejection each time it happens.

And you guys talk a lot. You've never been so delighted to hear someone blab about anything.

Van spends days talking about how excited she is for summer while helping you chop the things for dinner. She and Natalie always get jobs together and she’s dying to buy a car – “You’re the runner here, lady, not me.” –, an old dark green pickup truck. She shows you the leaflet with a smile so proud that you don't have the courage to admit that you thought the thing was horrible; she tells you about how she wears the clothes of her older brother who apparently left town as soon as he finished school while helping you fold the freshly washed clothes, some of her own included.

It's so domestic that you wonder why this didn't happen sooner, depriving either of you of a routine together like this for so long seemed mean.

One night you’re sleeping soundly when you are startled awake by a loud knock on your window and you turn to find a face pressed against the glass. You almost have a heart attack.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Van!”

She's standing there with a pout and big eyes, pointing at the lock and you consider leaving her outside for the fright she got you. One look at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed tells you that it's already past 2:00 am.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice rasp and tired from sleep, letting her come in, but only because you don't want her to get a cold outside.

Van sneaks into the room, suddenly shy, playing with the hem of the oversized t-shirt she's wearing and avoiding your eyes. She gives you an awkward smile.

“I was just wondering if we could have that sleepover today?”

She looks upset. Something happend. Something that upset her enough that she decided to run to your home in the middle of the night.

“Van,” your expression softened, worry flooding your voice, “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” She clicked her tongue, still not looking at you in the eye.

Okay, you won't get anything out of it then. Van likes to talk, but not when it comes to problems like this. Problems at home.

The thing is that you and Van have a lot in common, like your dubious sense of humor and your love for movies, but are opposites in many others; the main one: where your house is always empty, hers is always full. Full of people who take away the smile that you always try hard to keep on her face.

“Okay." You sigh, taking her hand and making your way to the messed bed, “Let’s get some sleep then.”

“Oh.” She looks even more embarrassed, her sweaty hand in yours, “I can take the couch or the floor. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”

You let out an outraged huff. “You run to my house, climb in through my window, ask me to have a sleepover and now you want to sleep on the floor?”

She drags her feet on the floor, “...Yeah?”

You choose to ignore her answer, practically dragging her over to the bed and making her lie down. When she does, Van moves to the other side of the mattress, clearly trying her best not to disturb you, but in a fit of courage and exhaustion, you wrap an arm around her and press her against your chest. She lets out a squeak of surprise at the action.

“Go to sleep, Van.” You mumble against the back of her neck, burying your face in her thick hair.

Her body is still tense against yours, but Van allows one hand to rest on the arm you keep around her waist.

You lose count of how long you spend lying awake in silence cohabiting in each other's space, but when you wake up in the morning, Van is still asleep, her hand never leaving your arm.

You guys don't talk about it and you never find out what really happened to make her feel so bad that day, but Van shows up more often to stay the night. She never tells you when she's coming and you get scared every time when you hear the knocking on the window – you swear she does it on purpose, that little smartass.

You realize that you really love her, not just as a silly high school crush, in the middle of a hot May. When Van makes you stand in the line at the cinema ticket office for two and a half hours and miss the day of school to get tickets to watch Jurassic Park - The Lost World. Because if you saw the first one together then you should see the second one too, obviously.

You're sure you wouldn't put yourself through this for anyone else – but don't let Natalie know that.

The whole situation feels a lot like a date and you try to ignore the anxiety that washes over you as you rummage through your closet for an outfit that you think is good enough for the night. The way Van's jaw drops when she looks at you when she meets you at the front door makes the effort completely worth it.

She spends the entire movie almost bouncing in her seat with excitement and swearing at the parts that don't make sense. Because apparently the movie is also really bad, even though she's so happy watching it, and you manage to be bold enough to hide your face on her shoulder during the “scary” parts and leave your head resting there until the end.

You're not proud at all to say you spent seven bucks on a squeezy dinosaur for her on the way back, but it's your senior year, damn it, let the girl have fun with her silly toy before college.

You go back home – ‘home’ you think now, not ‘your house’. Your home. Your home with Van. – with her ranting about special effects and scenes you don't remember because you spent more time looking at her than the screen and you end up on the balcony before you know it.

“That was so good.” Van is just inches away from you, looking at you with bright eyes full of happiness; your hands are sweaty, so you put them in your pockets so she doesn't notice.

“Yeah, it really was.” You return with a playful smile, “Even though you convinced me to spend hours under the sun for it.”

“Hey!” She protests, moving impossibly closer, “What would the experience be worth without a little effort, huh?”

“Sure.” You giggle.

She's so pretty, you think. Hair down and a black jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at you as if she actually saw you. Knows you. I want to kiss her.

“You had fun today?” Van asks, unable to avoid the small tone of doubt that escapes her voice.

I want you to kiss me, you think.

“Yes,” you answer instead, “Yes, I did.”

One night Van simply comes in through your window and you don't even react anymore, leaning into her body under the covers.

“You gotta stop coming in through my window,” you grumble.

“Then stop leaving it open,” she huffs, “Someone might break in, you know that?”

You can feel her smile against your neck and you're about to fall asleep again when you hear her voice whispering:

“You’re gonna go to my games, now that we actually have a chance to go to the nationals, right?”

“Of course,” you mumble with a comforting pat of her hand on your stomach, “I’ll be the first one in the stands cheering you on. You’ll be embarrassed of me.”

Van buries her face in your shoulder, “Good.”

You get sick the exact same week that her last game until the nationals happens, lamenting the stupid flu that left you feverish and stuck at home for days.

You can't go to school and Van can't come to see you because Coach Martinez has increased the training routine as the team advances in the championship. You assume it must be really tiring because Van doesn't show up at night either. It's embarrassing the way you can't sleep properly without her.

The worst of all: you lose Van's game.

You resign yourself to spending the afternoon on the couch brooding in remorse until you hear a knock on the door.

Coming across Van's sad face with her clearly trying not to cry was not what you expected when you opened the door, knowing for sure that you would only be greeted later – probably after a victory party – with excited screams and bright little dog eyes asking for help to pack her bags.

"We lost." She says, eyes glued on the carpet.

“Oh." You say stupidly, “Oh, dear.”

Your voice seems to turn a switch inside her, because Van lifts her head to you with her lips trembling and the next moment you two are on the couch with her practically sprawled on your lap and crying. Crying hard. You've never seen her like this before.

You hear something about Jackie hitting the post at the last moment as she sobs, but what seems to make her really upset are the balls she couldn't save during the game. Like it would’ve make difference.

Comforting was never really your strong suit, you can't say you're really upset that the Yellowjackets lost, the idea of having Van so far away from you even for a few days didn't please you at all. A bad feeling in your chest told you that something could go wrong.

“Well,” you run your fingers up and down her back, “You know one good thing about this? We can go to Homecoming now.”

Her breathing hitches, but if Van notices how you say 'we' instead of 'you' she doesn't say anything.

She's on your lap, nose close to yours, eyes swollen with tears but with the same look from that night at the movies, the one that makes your hands sweat and leaves your heart weak.

Unlike the movies, however, she kisses you. Like, she actually moves forward and kisses you.

Her lips are wet and soft against yours and you tilt your head to pursue them only for her to pull away with a panicked expression.

"I'm sorry!" Van exclaims, scooting toward the door as if her skin had burned: “I’m sorry! I– I shouldn’t– I’ll see you at school.”

And then she leaves. You don't even have time to react, she runs out the door and gets into that horrible pickup truck – which she had parked in the driveway for the first time less than two weeks ago, wanting to take you for a ride to celebrate the purchase – and you're left standing in the doorway like an idiot after the car disappears from your vision, as if you were waiting for her to come back – you were.

You don't see her at school for the rest of the week. She doesn't show up in class or practice and she certainly doesn't show up at your house, Van is avoiding you and it's so obvious that you feel like crying the entire time you're there, trying to catch a glimpse of her through the halls.

Fuck. You knew this would happen, that you would screw up and make the person you care about the most hate you.

You huff in frustration, letting your head fall against the table feeling someone's gaze on you, someone who isn't Van.

Lottie Matthews isn't skipping physics class, she has no reason to be, so you shouldn't have freaked out as much as you did when you looked up and saw her towering over you next to your desk.

“Shit–” You gasp, jumping back in your seat and almost hitting her chin.

Lottie tilts her head, completely unfazed, with a look of false innocence and curiosity on her face. The look of someone in search of an information.

The vision of Mari crying at the beginning of the year comes back to your mind and a shiver with a line of sweat runs down your spine. Oh no.

“Did you guys break up?” She asks and it's the last thing you expected.

“What?”

Lottie sits next to you, smoothing her skirt over her legs, completely at ease.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she starts with an anxious air, “But please do 'cause I really want to know.”

"Know what?" God, your head is already hurting from this conversation.

Lottie seems to realize that your confusion is genuine, because she stops and frowns at you.

“Didn’t you and Van break up? I thought you were together.”

What the fuck?

"...No? We’re not?”

“Are you asking me?” Lottie arches an eyebrow, also confused.

"No." You clear your throat and roll your tense shoulders, “We’re not.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t seem to know what to say after that, strangely disappointed – just like you.

The period passes with the two of you in an awkward, resigned silence and as you're leaving, Lottie follows you down the halls, attracting glances as you pass by, which was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

“What now?” You sigh.

“I think you should talk to her and sort things out.” Lottie says, “She seems so sad lately, without her usual sparkle.”

You could understand where Lottie was coming from, seeing Van upset was truly heartbreaking, but you couldn't help the bitter pang in your chest. She ran away after the kiss, not you. The kiss she gave you.

“She’s hiding from me." You admit begrudgingly, “Where else could I talk to her, anyway?”

“In the Homecoming, of course!” Lottie nods at you sagely, as if couldn't be more obvious.

“Of course.” You agree, because, the hell, why not?

The Homecoming is on the weekend, the same weekend the team was supposed to be away for the nationals, which must be why the girls are there, to try and lift their spirits.

You recognize Jackie talking excited to Taissa about something near the tables at the back of the gym, next to a grumpy Shauna with a glass of punch in a hand and the other placed on her waist – in a definitely more then friendly way –, but no sign of of Van in sight.

You end up outside with Natalie, smoking against a wall, as always happen at every party you're at together. She's telling you about how she saw Jeff and Randy with a bottle of liquor before coming in and that they would probably baptize the punch, you both talked about ratting them out to one of the teachers in charge after sneaking a few cups and you probably would’ve done that if Lottie hadn't joined you – coming from who knows where – to ask for a cigarette too.

Nat joked about how it probably wasn't like the expensive brands she seemed to prefer at her parties, but she handed one over without a hitch and the three of you sat there, looking up at the dark and starry sky for a moment.

“You haven’t seen her yet?” Lottie breaks the silence, casually breathing in the smoke.

Nat looks at you sideways and all you do is shrug, not wanting to admit the defeat.

“You should try it near the stands.” She declares.

“What are you, a psychic or something?” You scoff, but go anyway because like Van said, Lottie knows about these things.

She is there. Of course she is. Sitting in the stands staring out at the empty field, wearing a light blue suit with a white shirt and a matching shiny tie that you have no idea where she could have gotten, because there's no way her mom would have let her buy it.

Van notices you approaching by the sound of your footsteps on the ground, her head turning to watch you and for a moment you're afraid she'll run away again.

She doesn't, so you approach, trying your best not to run towards her.

“I gotta quit smoking soon,” you say, stepping on the cigarette your hand was holding and making an overly dramatic effort to sit next to her with heavy breaths, “Or I’ll end up being kicked of track ‘till year is finished.”

Van snorts, “Right, Ponyboy Curtis.”

For a moment it's like anything hasn’t changed between you both, you bet that if you tried with conviction you could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Almost.

“You ran away from me." You say.

“I did.” Van lowers her head, quietly. Embarrassed. You’re not sure of what exacly.

"Why?" You ask, because that's the question that's been running through your mind for days.

“I–” Van looks away from you, “I thought you wouldn't want that.”

“And I thought you knew how much I wanted it." You say and Van lifts her head to stare at you with wide, hopefully eyes, “What do you want, Van?”

Her jaw drops and she looks like she was expecting everything but that, her hands twitch on her thighs, as if she wants to reach you.

“You look so beautiful right now." She sighs softly before steadying her voice, “You look so beautiful that I want to kiss you again.”

"Do it."

And she does, hard and desperate, crushing her nose against yours, as if she's hungry and can't get enough; you wrap your arms around her, hands touching her with the same need.

The lack of air is too much, so Van pulls away from you to immediately start distributing quick kisses down your neck, as if it could all disappear in a second, becoming confident when you tilt your head to grant her more access and only stopping after the hiss that you let go because she bites.

“So…” she laughs nervously, “What now?”

"Now?" You’re out of breath, “Well, can we go back inside and help Nat steal liquour to screw with Jeff and Randy or…”

"Or?" Van arches an eyebrow in amusement.

“We can go home and I can show you how much I missed you.” You shrug, casually tightening your hands on her waist.

“Hm,” she pretends to think about it, “I guess I like the first option better.”

Van laughs at the sound of your offended squeal and avoids the slap you try to give her shoulder.

“Careful, baby,” she intertwines your hand with hers, “I’m gonna start to think that you love me.”

“Oh, you better know that.”

You pull her by her stupid shiny tie and kiss her when she laughs again and let Van guide you to that hideous truck staggering laughing through the crowd of students.

Yeah, you think. I wouldn't have it any other way.

[capri-ramblings]

Happy Birthday,Deuce!

A small drabble, for the big hearted Spade. Ft. Yume.

Guys,send help. I'm not okay.

"Here you go, Deuce. Happy Birthday."

Deuce stared at the omurice Yume placed in front of him slightly surprised.

When he'd been told to come over to Ramshackle dorm once classes were over, he wasn't expecting a sudden birthday wish. More so one coming from the usually distant and aloof Ramshackle prefect he had befriended in the beginning of the year; The boy who seemed more interested in returning home each day he faced a new problem in NRC, and the one he had grown to admire the more they spent time and let their friendship grow.

Yume was blunt and often times scary in his own way despite not having any powerful magic himself, and even on their first day together, Deuce could see how self dependent and capable he was as a person. So naturally he did have a brief belief that they wouldn't be able to be such close friends but that turned out to be wrong.

Despite himself, Yume also had his softer side which Deuce found incredibly charming and there was no denying what a good friend he was to Deuce and Ace and even Grim.

With those thoughts in mind,Deuce still found himself seated and clearly stunned. Though the wafting scent of the egg and rice combo he always melted for helped to ground him back to his senses.

"Yume, you...You made this?" He couldn't understand why it was so hard to comprehend it all, or why he sounded so small and faint when his own words reached his ears. Deuce looked up from the plate to find Yume smiling as if he was amused by his dumbfounded expression, and suddenly from incoherent confusion it shifted into an awkwardly embarrassed panic.

"Ah! O-of course it's not that I didn't think you couldn't cook or anything! I just—" , he glanced back at the omurice. It was warm and smelled great, and the yellow of the egg piled so carefully on top of the white rice felt so endearing,Deuce literally felt his body thrumming with an unspeakable happiness and gratitude.

"...It looks great. I didn't expect you to remember my birthday,Yume." He finally said as his lips curled into a smile and his stomach did this sort of flip which made Deuce wonder what the hell is going on with him.

Yume returned the remark with a smile of his own and an easy shrug before he sat down in front of Deuce.

"I usually don't but Cater bought it up earlier this week," Deuce watched as Yume reached out for the ketchup bottle he'd brought along with the omurice plate earlier and proceeded to effortlessly draw out a cute little chick silhouette ontop of the egg before he gave Deuce another smile.

"I didn't know what you'd like to get so I decided having something nice to eat would be good enough for now." When Yume placed the ketchup back down and Deuce stared at the omurice once again, he swore his heart was beating so loud it wouldn't be a surprise if even Yume had heard it as well.

But the latter simply looked to Deuce with his usually calm expression—The grey in his eyes a great compliment to the way his brown hair fell over them and accentuated Yume's overall soft, pretty features...

"So,are we just gonna stare at each other until Ace and Grim realized I lied about where we were supposed to meet up or are you going to start eating now, Loosey Deucey?"

The blush that crept up his face was immediate but his voice stammered indignantly and Deuce thought he really was being super weird about this whole thing.

"D-Don't call me that!"

"Hm? But you let Ace say it."

"That's—You know that jerk does whatever he wants!"

"Fine. Fine. No more Ace nicknames then, just Deuce?"

Yume's smile turned into a sly grin, and Deuce barely held on to his wits.

"Yeah. Just Deuce!"

And then he started wolfing down the omurice in an attempt to ignore the fluttering he felt in his stomach.

[d3lta-200x]

Lex Luthor with a male S/O headcanons

character[s]: Lex Luthor

Word count: 517

Male reader

A/N: could be read as any Lex Luthor but writen with 2025 superman ver in mind. Also requests are open (๑`◡`๑)

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🥂originally he didn't quite know what to do with you. yeah maybe he experimented with guys but that was when he was younger, besides all the partners he has ever had were all women so he was at a little bit of a loss.

🥂this man doesn't know how to spoil you, should he even spoil you? would you like shopping trips or would you rather go somewhere else like to go watch the f1 races. he is really at a massive brick wall.

🥂asking you would be too easy, so instead he opts for tracking your social medias, he already has access to them anyway. he tries to decipher what you like if it isn't completely obvious.

🥂as for dates, I don't think that Lex is really a date person in the classic sense of posh restaurants. but I do think he is more of go too posh events and show off kinda dates mixed with at home dates. Lex feels like the kind of guy who loves a good homemade meal or desert.

🥂I feel like Lex Luthor would be an amazing at cooking food but would still prefer if you cooked or at a push get a takeout. i mean it would be one of the only things you actually work and do.

🥂although he definitely wont show it in public he does like having you around especially when you are close to him. that's why he brings you to work with him, maybe even help him with certain things although he doesn't get you too involved in case it ends up getting you hurt or dragged deeper into the mess.

🥂obviously he buys you designer things or anything you want, you don't have to wear or use the designer stuff. although he will encourage you to because he thinks you'd look good in it and you should dress your worth.

🥂this might be a little bit of a random headcanon but I feel like Lex has a massive bed, like an Alaskan king sized bed and if you have a collection of plushies they are going on the bed. I feel like he has a soft spot for them not that he will ever tell you. also if you name any of your plushies he has the names memorised. sometimes you'll notice a new plushie show up every now and again, this definitely has nothing to do with him.

🥂he got both of you matching pjs in whatever fabric you are most comfortable with. also stores a stash of yours and his favourite snacks in the bedroom so you don't have to go far at night which means he can stay closer to you.

🥂if you have any sort of hobby expect this man to fully fund it. you like making miniatures? your getting the high quality stuff. you like painting and drawing? your getting all the things you need whether digital or physical. you play a very specific game? well expect to get the deluxe edition and all the DLCs.

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[desmond69miles]

Hi there!

Can I ask for an ink demon x reader headcanons for a chubby fem reader who’s really cuddly and sweet, but can’t always portray her emotions correctly? You can do SFW and/or NSFW, it’s up to you! But I’m in the mood for something cutesy and fluffy!

Also, I love your content, have a great day/night! ^^

It's been a little since last posting and asks have been marinating in the ask box for awhile... It's finally time to get them done in some spring cleaning.

And as always, thank you for your ask! I apologize for taking a literal lightyear - shits been INSANE.

Warnings/Tags: No big warnings! Major fluff, hints at reader being autistic. No NSFW!

[-: Starting off strong, your relationship with Bendy is a little rocky to start. Both of you poorly communicate your emotions. The Ink Demon being the Ink Demon, he's not always open for cuddles, hugs, and kisses, and struggles to properly set the boundary for when it's okay for physical intimacy. Most often him setting a boundary is a violent growl and a snap of his teeth; not the most welcoming thing. And of course, you can't properly communicate that it's hurtful (and scary) when he responds that way to your affection so most instances end in separation and the silent treatment.

[-: I do think that the more you were around each other and the more you got used to each others patterns/behaviors, communication would become easier and less vocalized, more shown throughout body language, especially on Bendy's part. His major communication is through body language, not spoken words, much like any animal (and there are verbal cues such as a low growl - meaning 'space, please' - a hiss - meaning 'I'm getting pissed' - and your personal favorite, a quiet trill meaning 'show me some affection').

[-: I can imagine some frustration on both your end and the Ink Demons, this is new to the both of you. Thankfully Sammy is there to give some pointers on how not to be mauled by his lord (which works a lot better for you). But as I said above, time, effort, praise, and unconditional love will make everything easier.

[-: Oh my lord, I know Bendy would be very stubborn even if communication was therapist approved. Like, imagine this,,

It's the middle of the night. Or, at least you think so; there's no real way to tell time this deep down in the studio. It was a very, very long day of walking, fighting for your life, and dealing with Sammy and there was nothing more you wanted than a hot bath and to curl up with your inky lover. The bath was achieved successfully, Bendy sat by the tub and played with a rubber duck while you relaxed and climbing in bed was fairly easy as well. Half way into your sleep though, your eyes opened to the sound of crunching. This wasn't like a bag of chips crunching or like paper, no, it was... hard. Boney, if you would.

"Bendy, what the hell are you chewing on?"

"A bone."

"...Can you stop?"

"...No."

[-: Back onto the cuddly and sweet part, I think that Bendy would like that in moderation. He needs his space occasionally as I said before, but I do think he'd curl up against you like a huge dog (in the middle of the night you'd wake up to him licking your arm but that's besides the point). PDA around the studio is a heavy no no but in closed doors, in strictly demon domain, the Ink Demon doesn't mind if you cling to his arm (more likely leg, have you seen how tall he is?) while he draws/chills.

And... I got no more inside my brain.

Thank you guys for reading <3 Comments/Reblogs are like cocaine please keep them coming

[hollowflight-propaganda]

hmmmm 🤔

Aged up Bumblebee for wof requests pretty please :)

So.... I went a little overboard, and just decided to draw how I envision the aged up kids for the hypothetical arc 4 in my head. No Peacemaker though, cause 1: I ran out of room, and 2: I have literally no ideas on what to do with him.

I also decided to include some headcanons about them under the cut (also some close-ups of the art above)

Dusky

. 6 years old, making him the oldest of the group (would also be the tallest if he didn't slouch all the damn time)

. He's doing a lot better now :) (dw, I'll traumatize him again later)

. He's still a pretty anxiety riddled guy the majority of the time, but not nearly as bad as he was in book 15

. Overall he's a really gentle soul and is very easy to get along with. He'd have an army's worth of friends if he wasn't terrified of talking to new people

Mink

. 5 years old, just a few months older than Cliff (to fix how her age didn't make any sense)

. Wears a TON of bracelets, which is because she enjoys making them

. Is the one friend that cares for her friends so much that she'll yell at them if they talk bad about themselves

. Is also the type of person to make sure everybody's taking care of themselves. I wouldn't call her the "mom friend," she's moreso the friend that very aggressively cares because she just has a lot of love inside of her

. (also maybe it stems from the trauma of watching her sickly mother get worse and worse until she died much too soon...)

Cliff

. 5, also is the tallest of the group

. The essence of his being is a cross between a himbo, a theater kid, and a bard

. HUGE mama's boy. He's the type of guy who will call his mom for an hour at least every other day (Auklet's jealous of their relationship)

. Has taken lessons for a few different types of instruments, but prefers bowed string instruments the most

. Is incredibly embarrassed by that one published anthem he made as a little kid and rewrote it at some point. Auklet, Mink, and later Bumblebee know this and will sing it at random to mess with him. Dusky's more merciful but he still finds it funny

Auklet

. 4 years old, shortest of the group (Cliff would probably use her head as an armrest if they weren't quadrupeds)

. Looks and is perpetually tired because her sleep schedule is shit

. She's a history nerd, and is especially interested in the history of animus magic

. She's also an enjoyer of conspiracy theories (again mostly with stuff about animus magic and the mystery of where it's gone)

. The interest in animus magic mostly stems from how it disappeared before she would've been tested for it, and the idea of how she could've had it but now she'll never know drives her kinda crazy

. Mommy Issues™ (which is to be expected when your mom is Coral. (I just want more characters in universe that hate Coral okay?))

. Has no real desire to be queen, and really hopes that someone else will take over the throne

. Doesn't wear as much jewelry as you'd expect from somebody in line for the throne, only having a few piercings on her fins

Bumblebee

. 4 with Auklet being about 9 months older than her, making her the youngest

. Her personality has become essentially what you'd get if you took Sundew's brashness and combined it with Cricket's eager nature

. She strikes me as being a bit of a jock as well. I don't know what kind of sports these dragons have, but I think she'd be good at them

. Her and Dusky have a sibling-esque relationship, it's a classic extrovert and introvert dynamic with them

Close-ups: